CHAPTER 49

Closer to the Truth

Valkyrie – 1 BBY

It was terrifying.

The distant, horrific scream had torn her awake in her sleep, and within hours, Trilla had docked the Fury back with its home ship running down the loading ramp. She waved off whatever inspection team had tried to stop her, and minutes later, she had reached her destination. Xur was waiting there for her, his eyes distant, fleeting…but inherently focused on the shut door before him.

"Is she alright?" she begged for an answer, leaving her helmet and cape behind where they had fallen. "Xur, answer me."

His eyes shut, and she watched his arms fall into a crossed pose. "She knows."

Trilla blinked, and felt her own aggravation rise with his broad answers. Her metal fist closed shut, patience wearing thin. "Knows what?"

"Everything," he turned to face her, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his mouth, and she could feel his almost hopeless frustration towards multiple sources. She could not identify them, not even if she wanted to…and by now, her patience was forfeit.

"I'm going in," she motioned, but his strong grip was on her upper arm in moments.

"If you go in there…I'm worried she'll try to…" he trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Trilla, she knows everything. I…don't know how."

Trilla's eyes widened. "You mean…everything."

He nodded gravely. "She's…in a lot of pain."

"And you left her alone?!" she shook her arm free.

"I've tried to speak with her, but she doesn't…she doesn't trust me anymore," Xur explained, now wiping his face, looking as if he'd been through the most testing ordeal of his life. "Trilla…she thinks you're a murderer…a monster. If you go in there…with how unstable and powerful she is…"

"She would never harm me," Trilla vowed, swiping her hand through the air, and began to feel the despair worsen through the Force. Through that door was a dormant hurricane longing to be unleashed, to wreak its destruction upon the new mountains that had risen within the landscape of her consciousness. In there she sensed anger…hatred…terror…the very things she had felt so many years ago…so vividly.

As if she had experienced them all over again.

"I…I told you this would happen," Xur seethed, his frustration beginning to break through. "We should've told her a long time ago."

Trilla didn't know what to say. She had always been afraid to tell her precious little girl about all the terrible things her mother had done, was always afraid of how she might react…but only now did she realize the longer she had waited, the worse it would be.

And this couldn't be a worse time.

She had no choice. It was time to face that reality…and own it.

She shook her head, letting her tone adopt one that was not up for argument. "I'm going in there," she declared. "Maybe just…wait outside."

Xur took a deep, tentative breath, but eventually nodded. "Fine. I guess there's…no way around it."

She nodded, and then let her hand squeeze his shoulder supportively, before gesturing the door open.

Inside, Katara was lying in her bed, her eyes towards the wall as she remained completely still, seemingly clutching something in her grip. Trilla tried to peek over, but once the door shut, she felt the Force churn within their vicinity.

Trilla swallowed. "Katara?" she asked…slowly approaching. "Darling? It's your mother."

Something pressed against her, and Katara shivered. "Go…away," she trembled.

Trilla felt a lump form in her throat, but shook it away. "Katara…I can't do that. If you're going to be in this much pain…I can't."

Katara clutched at the object in her grip that she still couldn't see, and then shivered again. "I saw everything…every life that you took," she revealed, her voice strained…angry. "Every person you tortured…every child you orphaned."

So it was true…she really knew everything…and Trilla was not even remotely prepared for this. How could she possibly explain…no, justify anything she had done? It was unforgiveable, unjustifiable…and in the mind of a thirteen year old…

Everything was dealt in an absolute. There was no middle ground, no reasoning…no real conscience. It was all hormones and naivete, no matter how smart her daughter was…and she had just been exposed to the worst truth Trilla had desperately tried to bury. The Second Sister may have been dead within her…but without her…

Would she ever die?

"Monster," Katara cursed.

Trilla felt her heart prickle and bleed within her, and the raw emotion in her daughter's voice was perhaps the most disheartening experience she had yet to face since she had become a mother. Never once had Katara ever refused to speak to her…never once did she yell or scream with any genuine scorn or hatred.

This…it struck her to her core; froze her in place, almost as if her heart had stopped beating entirely. There were no words that came to mind, no methods she could conjure.

Only instinct.

She stepped forward.

The Force shuttered…and she felt her throat close. At first she thought she had merely coughed, but as she tried to take a breath, no air filled her lungs. She reached for her neck, but nothing was there, leaving her to almost seize as she tried to gasp.

Then…Katara turned.

Her eyes, those beautiful emerald eyes were giving way to a web of amber, and Trilla finally saw what was in her grip.

The black lightsaber hilt once wielded by the Second Sister.

Her lightsaber.

Trilla tried to say her name, but her throat was closed far enough to silence her entirely, and the deprivation of air was beginning to blacken her vision. She had to do something, but she couldn't strike her daughter…as that would only make it worse, and she would only be filling herself in to the role she thought she now adopted. Instead, she closed her eyes, clinging to their familial bond through the Force, and projected the sweet, blissful memories of her childhood, and their experiences.

The grip faltered for a moment, allowing Trilla a gasp, before abruptly closing even harder than before.

"Liar!" Katara growled, now sitting up on her bed as she stared lethal daggers into her mother with her hand raised to her side. "You're nothing but an imposter!

Trilla felt a tear roll down her face as she continued to struggle, this time probing again, projecting regret…and a desire for her daughter to be better; to be free of the dark influence that Trilla had suffered for so long. She tried to project that feeling of eternal hunger sapping away everything that made her who she was, how the darkness had corrupted her…changed her.

How Katara was the very person who had been the avatar of that change.

The grip loosened.

"Katara…" Trilla gasped, still being held, but now able to speak. "I'm sorry."

She sensed alarm from Xur outside the door, but she implored him to remain where he was. No disturbance could be afforded…not now.

"You lied to me," Katara said, her chin beginning to shiver, and her darkened eyes leaked clear, despair-driven tears. "You told me you were perfect."

"I never told you…I was perfect," Trilla said. "I know you may have wanted to believe such a thing…but…it isn't true, Katara. You…you probably can't remember, but…I told you this when you were very young. Very young."

The grip loosened evermore.

"There would come a time where I would have to tell you everything…about my old master…about how your father and I met…about why the Jedi are dead…hunted," she continued. "But I wanted to tell you when you were older, and perhaps more able to understand all the pain I went through at the hands of the Empire."

Katara shivered…and lowered her hand, freeing her mother from her grip. "I…I saw everything…" she trembled, holding up the hilt. "Your terror…your hate…your rage…your suffering. I don't know how…I…I've never been able to see through objects like…" she trailed off, looking at the hilt again. "The crystal…"

Trilla carefully stepped forward, and sat beside her, keeping her distance at a reasonable amount as she reconciled her breath. "What about it?" she asked.

Katara wiped her face clear of as many tears as she could, before setting the hilt aside. Immediately Trilla felt a distinct change in her daughter's demeanor…and horror dominated her expression as she turned to face her.

"Was that…was that…me?" Katara stammered, holding out her hand. "Why couldn't you breathe?"

Trilla shook her head vigorously, and reached for her hand. "It wasn't you."

Katara leaned away from her, a scowl reappearing. "You're lying to me again. I can feel it."

Trilla retracted, letting herself slouch as she took a breath, but didn't let her gaze leave her daughter. "In a way, Katara, it wasn't," she amended. "Depending on a certain point of view."

Katara narrowed her eyes. "Why can't you just speak plainly to me? You always work around the truth…and I'm getting tired of it."

"It was you," Trilla finally spoke frankly, deciding it may be best to be fully up front, and perhaps Katara could understand her secrecy the hard way. "You were angry, so you began to tap into the Dark Side…and since your anger is directed towards me, your darker instincts prompted you to imagine closing my throat…and snapping my neck."

Now Katara seemed to believe her, as she froze in place, probing her mother for the rest of it.

"But it is something you can control," Trilla eased, feeling even herself fall back into her own experience. "Even if its pull can be so seductive…and it is always there. The Dark Side is our eternal struggle to control our deepest urges…to be better than mindless animals or senseless murderers. It is a cauldron of pleasure, one that can bring you unimaginable ecstasy…at the cost of yourself."

Katara blinked. "So…you gave in to that?"

Trilla hesitated, but nodded, knowing by now, there was no other way to put it. "I did. For a time it was all I knew…all I cared about. The Empire had taken my hope from me, leaving me with nothing but despair…destitution. I…thought I had lost everything."

Her daughter seemed to whimper slightly, as if she was reliving something she had seen. "You were so angry…so scary. You…you hurt me."

"Darling, I would never hurt you," she vowed, reaching for her cheek, and this time she didn't let fear hold her back. She gently pulled Katara's head towards her, letting her instill her own will upon her daughter. "You know that."

Katara sniveled, tears beginning to pour down her face. "Do I?"

Now was not the time to cry. Right now, Trilla had to be the guardian…the woman holding the world on her back, otherwise Katara would never believe her.

She poured that promise into the Force, laced with all her love, and all the sincerity she could conjure.

"You do, Katara," she promised.

She stared, and blinking through her tears, Katara nodded.

"I do," she said, and then sobbed in her embrace, and Trilla never let go, holding her daughter as if she was protecting her from death itself.

"I love you, Katara," she said, kissing her hair-filled head.

Katara sniffled. "I love you too, Mama."

Krownest – 1 BBY

The Clan Wren stronghold was a sight to behold, its design geometric, yet artistic in its own way. In many ways it was a reminder of a forgotten, long lost time in Bo Katan's life, one spent more with friends and family…before the war…before everything.

She truly thought she would never be here again, and seeing how her now grown-up son was donned in Imperial armor, her wishful thinking seemed to diminish slightly.

Tristan stopped at the base of the entry steps, prompting Bo Katan to stay where she was, much to the annoyance of Arrum just behind her. This wasn't much of a surprise, but it wasn't a calming occurrence either. Instinctively, she reached down at pulled at Alhara's shoulder, keeping the girl right beside her, yet also in view.

Moment of truth.

The warriors of Clan Wren stiffened as the entry door opened, and out stepped in all her glory Ursa Wren…somehow not looking as if a year had gone by. She looked just as flawless as Bo Katan could remember, her beautiful armor shining against the glow of the snow beneath her boots. With a turn, their eyes met…and Bo Katan felt that internal aggression the woman always maintained.

But no words came.

"Ursa…" Bo Katan greeted, keeping herself steady.

Her brow slanted slightly as her eyes remained fixed upon her, before glancing at her two companions, and returning to her. "You should not have come here," she warned.

Bo Katan let out a small shrug. "I have my reasons."

"They'd better be good," Ursa growled, remaining atop the staircase. "We had an agreement, Bo."

"The circumstances changed," Bo Katan answered, reaching for her belt and revealing the hilt of the Darksaber.

Ursa was taken aback much less than her armored guardians, but the undeniable shock remained in her slowly widening eyes as she desperately tried to recompose herself. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised…and I suppose that also means Arrum and Rondir have sworn loyalty to you?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Arrum pointed, a certain malevolent warning in his tone. "I never agreed to anything other than the fact that the Empire has to die."

Bo Katan felt her fist clench around the hilt, but there was no denial in the sigh she emitted. "I have not claimed it, as I have no right to it yet…but I have come to you in hopes of asking for your help."

Ursa regarded her for a moment, and Bo Katan felt a rush of flooding memories that the two had shared over the course of their lifetimes. Together they had created the Nite Owls, forged the movement that eventually unseated Maul from the Mandalorian throne, and suffered the horrible shame that was losing it all to the Empire. In many ways, they were sisters, but now they couldn't be more different…or farther apart.

Nevertheless, Ursa sighed in concession. "Very well. You may enter our ancestral home, and perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement."

With that, she turned on her heel, and disappeared back into the stronghold, prompting Bo Katan to let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Is that good?" Alhara asked, looking up to her. "I can't tell."

Bo Katan squeezed her shoulder. "We'll see, Alhara."

As it turned out, Alhara may have spoken a little too soon.

"You coming here is going to bring the Empire down on my entire family," Ursa stamped her fist into the armrest of her makeshift throne, which was elevated by a collection of about a decade of steps. Alhara never understood the use of the fancy chairs in the first place, maybe to project some kind of authority with its height compared to them. So far, that just made Ursa seem like a stuck-up person, and not even close to the kind of people Bo Katan worked with. Nara never acted this way, nor pretended to be better than anyone else. "Do you honestly believe the Darksaber changes anything? It's only a symbol."

"One that has been in the wrong hands for far too long," Bo Katan countered, and Alhara could feel the fierceness in the woman's demeanor as she looked up to the Countess. "Now is the time to unite the clans and push back against the Empire before there's nothing left to reclaim."

"Unite the clans?" Ursa almost scoffed. "Have you forgotten how many of them now serve Gar Saxon? The Darksaber won't mean anything to them as long as he remains alive."

"Is that what this is?" Bo Katan stepped forward, pointing towards Ursa's white-armored son. "Have you pledged your loyalty to him?"

"I had no choice!"

"Pathetic!" Arrum shouted, swiping his hand through the air. "Clan Wren has never had the backbone to stand up for itself. Why should I be surprised?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, child," Ursa spat, and Alhara almost felt like she should take cover, as some of the Clan Wren guardians began grasping their blasters. "How much of Clan Vizsla remains after the death of your uncle? How much of your brilliant wisdom has lead to even a shred of prosperity?!"

Bo Katan winced at the last comment, before grasping the man's arm harshly as he pressed forward. "At least we're still real Mandalorians, free of whatever slavery the Empire has to offer!"

"Keep your dog on a leash, Bo," Ursa warned. "I will not tolerate his voice any further."

Alhara felt like she should say something…maybe to lower the temperature a little. They were outnumbered here…and even if Bo Katan could defend herself, Alhara didn't want her to get hurt, or start a war with another Clan. She'd read about plenty of inter-clan wars and how destructive they were, and right now, Mandalore couldn't afford to be divided. She knew Saxon had a lot of influence…but there had to be a way to get rid of him.

"Countess, forgive Arrum, if you please," Rondir stepped forward. "His situation back home has become critical, and he merely wishes to ensure its survival. No disrespect is intended."

Ursa regarded him for a moment, and luckily, her expression seemed to soften a little. "I find that hard to believe, but out of respect for you, I will grant you your request," she then waved her hand, and the guardians loosened their stances. "That being said, my son now serves Gar Saxon in order for my clan to prove its loyalty…and to…protect my husband from immediate execution."

Alhara felt her eyes widen…suddenly it all made sense, and she only felt her teeth grit evermore. Gar Saxon had to die.

"Gar Saxon is a traitor, Ursa," Bo Katan insisted. "You cannot trust him!"

"I don't, Bo," she promised, but still held firm. "But until he is freed, I must protect my people. Joining you will only get each and every one of them killed."

"It's only a matter of time, don't you get it?" Bo Katan pressed. "Once the Empire has what they want, once they've defeated what remains of my forces, they'll come for you. They'll come for all of us!"

Ursa hesitated, but eventually released, letting herself sigh as her stiff demeanor slouched somewhat. After a moment, she rose to her feet. "Lady Bo Katan, I wish for us to continue this discussion in private."

Alhara looked up to her mentor, and watched her incline her head, prompting Ursa to descend the steps and lead her old friend away. Bo Katan seemed to flick her head to Rondir, and soon Alhara found the man standing beside her while she watched the autumn-haired woman go.

"Lots of screaming," Rondir noted, looking down at her. "Hope it ain't too much for you, kid."

"I've heard worse," Alhara shrugged. "My real parents used to argue like that sometimes."

Rondir chuckled to himself. "Ah, the result of a good relationship. Two partners hashing out their differences. I remember when those two were inseparable…long time ago."

Alhara looked back at the closed door, but couldn't spot either woman through the transperisteel in the snowy landscape. "Bo Katan told me she and Ursa were the first Nite Owls."

"Yeah, that's right," Rondir nodded. "That was back when we were trying to find a way to defeat Maul right after he had taken over our little group. Dark days…but…in hindsight, good times. I'm sure one day the kid will tell you the whole story."

Alhara frowned. "Is there a reason you call her a kid? She's all grown up now, and has been for a while."

Rondir let out a hearty laugh. "When you get to my age, the old nicknames tend to stick. Saves my brain some extra space for more important things…plus it reminds me how far she's come…" he trailed off. "She's been through a lot, I'm sure she's told you."

She nodded, her head bowing a little. Soon after, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see he had placed his there.

"You remind me of my daughter sometimes. You've got that same care in your heart, yet an eternal fire within your pupils that will never extinguish. Stick with Kryze, and you'll be a damn good Mandalorian."

Alhara usually tried to ward off excessive praise, but this sunk in more than she expected…and she couldn't stop the smile that pierced her lips.

"Thanks. I want to make her proud."

"You will, kiddo," Rondir nodded. "You will."

Valkyrie – 1 BBY

Anger was not the way of the Jedi.

Yet, anger was an emotion Katara found herself experiencing more and more as she grew older, and its pull was enticing…almost euphoric, in a way. It was a way to release a lot of the internal struggle she found herself dealing with quite often, whether it be her frustrations with training, or just her lack of understanding with the proceedings of the world around her.

As it turned out, it was a tool her mother had been using for a long time. Sure she killed a lot of people, some of them Jedi…but it had kept her alive, hadn't it? If her mother hadn't given in to the Dark Side…hadn't become an inquisitor, she'd probably be dead, and Katara wouldn't be alive. Alhara would've never been born, and all of this…their entire family, wouldn't have come to be.

Maybe anger wasn't so bad.

"You've been uncharacteristically quiet today, Katara," Admiral Vorchenko noted, her eyes still locked on her large data display in her office. "Usually I can't get you to stop talking or asking questions."

Katara cracked the knuckles in her fingers, before resting her head on her fist once more, slouched over in her chair. "Sorry, Admiral…I've just been a little distracted."

Vorchenko shrugged, stroking her chin. "Understandable. I imagine the ordeal you've endured has been rather taxing, especially for one at your age."

Katara frowned. Being called a child didn't bother her as much as it had originally bothered her younger sister, but the Admiral had never made a comment about her age, always speaking to her as if she were just another person, which was while Katara had chosen to see her now. She needed a viewpoint more impartial, free of familial bias or fear of hurting her feelings, and right now, Katara needed someone to tell it to her straight.

"How did you deal with Order Sixty-Six?" she asked.

There wasn't much of a change in the woman's demeanor, but Katara could sense a deep amount of hidden fear…as well as regret. "At first I had to pretend it didn't matter, like it was just business as usual," she began, and her eyes turned away from the display. "It was difficult serving an Empire I didn't believe in, but I had to in order to keep your father safe. Watching the Jedi die, the men and women I'd fought alongside for so long…all gunned down by their own men…it almost destroyed me. I had no faith in the justness of this galaxy, as trust is a long process to build, yet it can be destroyed in seconds."

Katara winced. "I see," she said. "What did you do?"

She turned back to the display. "I made allies, created friendships and networks, all while doing my best to earn the trust of those in the upper echelon of the Empire. It wasn't easy, but for a woman of my skill, it was possible."

Another thing Katara liked about the Admiral; she wasn't afraid to admit she was one of the best.

"What was my mother like…when she was…" she trailed off, abruptly finding herself unable to say it.

"The Second Sister was misguided, driven by some sort of complex combination of vengeance and hunger. She was less of a drone than her counterparts, but she wasn't far off," Vorchenko held nothing back, which still surprised Katara. "Anger, while powerful motivation, never gets the job done. It's rather wasteful in many cases, and leads you to make uncharacteristic mistakes. Better to keep yourself balanced…impartial."

Katara grimaced slightly, and then noticed that she had turned both eyes to her.

"I have seen what the Dark Side of the Force does to a person, even one as gifted as your father. There is no true immunity to one's own persona, and it appears the Dark Side never fails to corrupt all it touches. Your mother may have survived it…but she has never escaped its pull," she explained.

Katara narrowed her eyes. "How would you know?"

"Because I have seen Darth Vader…know who he once was. Its pull is absolute if you allow it," she warned, stepping forward. "Don't allow it, Katara."

"Who says I will?" Katara glared at her, straightening. "I'm a good person! I would never hurt anyone!"

"Good," the Admiral stated flatly. "Although hurting people is sometimes inevitable, your morality must never falter. Do not forget that."

So this was just another scolding. Great. Like Katara hadn't had enough of those recently.

By now, she was too emotionally destitute to even refute it…so she just said nothing, looking away. "Have you found that Thrawn person yet?"

Vorchenko studied her for a moment, but eventually let it be, turning back towards the display. "Since Fulcrum's network began to falter, I've had to use my own contacts, so tracing hasn't been as efficient."

"But possible for someone with your skill," Katara gave her a small smirk, to which the Admiral popped her brow.

"Essentially," she agreed. "Come have a look."

Katara rose from her seat and paced beside the Admiral, looking at the flowing numbers and holographic maps being displayed before them. Most of it looked like gibberish, but she figured it may just be because she didn't have all the pieces yet.

"On the right side is the various sightings and vectors he's taken. I've tried implementing them all to a map, but they don't give me much of a pattern. Thrawn keeps his movements rather erratic, and doesn't visit the same planet too many times. Best I can guess is he's searching, following various leads as well as certain calls for his services from various leaders of the Empire."

Katara studied the map for a moment, still not seeing it…but eventually found the numbers falling into place, and the lines along the map began to make sense to her.

"What about Lothal? He frequents that planet," Katara pointed out.

"Too heavily defended for our purposes," Vorchenko shook her head, stroking her chin. "We also need to consider a battleground we can not only defeat him in, but trap him so he can't escape. With our numbers, we're only dwindling each passing day, and he knows this. The longer he waits, the better chance he'll have, which is why I've accelerated our arsenal build up and emboldened our attacks. Now, he's also sacrificing Imperial resources which each passing day he waits…something the Emperor will eventually become fed up with."

"And press him to act," Katara finished for her.

"Precisely," she enlarged the map, zooming in on a northern quadrant of the galaxy. "There are multiple battlegrounds I have chosen, most of them in vast, dense nebulas. The trick is being there at the right time, while also making it enticing enough for him to follow. Problem is, Thrawn has proven to be rather immune to such tactics."

Katara frowned. "I thought you met with one of his people. What did they say?"

The Admiral didn't respond immediately, before shaking her head. "Nothing entirely helpful, but they may yet serve a useful purpose."

So vague…always vague.

The door slid open, and in walked a uniformed togruta woman, probably in her mid-twenties with yellow skin that contrasted her purple streaks along her head tails. She was rather skinny…almost frail looking in a sense, but no less healthy than Katara herself.

"Admiral, I finished compiling the last bits of sightings you asked for…and I think I found a pattern," she entered, holding a datapad, but stopping as she seemed to notice Katara was standing there. "Oh…I didn't know you were busy. I'm sorry for the interruption."

"No need to apologize, Commodore. I'm just merely seeing if Katara can spot something we've missed," she explained, and then accepted the datapad. "Now, let me see."

Commodore Zhara Zin was apparently one of Vorchenko's first recruits after she defected from the Empire around the time Katara had been born. Apparently she had personally seen to her training thus far, and as a protégé, Zin had proved herself as far more skilled than most Imperial cadets. Many aliens worked aboard the Valkyrie, most of them aspiring naval cadets who would never have a chance within the Empire, and the hidden talent pool had proven effective against the Empire…so Katara was told.

"I was able to translate his tendencies and movements to a numerical notation, and coded most of it accordingly," she explained.

"All this data?" Vorchenko narrowed her eyes. "How did you manage that?"

"I commissioned analysis to formulate a program capable of doing so, Admiral. They came through rather quickly."

"Interesting," Vorchenko keyed the pad and then swiped it onto her display. "Tell me what you see."

Zin stepped forward, and cleared her throat. "The Grand Admiral has spent most of his time in the outer rim, and compared to the other eleven who hold his rank, he spends by far the most. With this filter, I've been able to rule out over half the galaxy…but since the outer rim is so large, it hardly narrows it down."

She then prompted the display to zoom in. "Because of this, I split up the rim into sixteen sections, and color coded them each based on frequency," as she spoke, Katara watched each section paint itself, and even some completely disappear. "Only two have a reasonable frequency for us to expect him."

Vorchenko frowned. "That's still thousands of systems."

Zin hesitated, but prompted the display to change again. "…so I split each of those into thirty-two sections, and color coded those. That brings it down to about thirty viable systems."

Katara swore she saw the Admiral smile for a moment. "Very thorough. Good work."

"Thank you, Admiral," the togruta inclined her head, while Katara kept looking at the new data. "Oh, and that reminds me. General Eon is looking for you, Katara."

Of course he was…but right now, she didn't want to talk to either of her parents. She was past hating them, as there was no need for that, but that didn't mean she would let them off easy.

Liars didn't deserve her time of day…but honestly, her father would find her eventually.

"Alright," Katara sighed, stepping away. "Thanks…and good luck."

"Some secrets are held back for your protection, Katara," Vorchenko said, just before she reached the door. "Do you think I tell your father everything?"

Katara blinked. What was that supposed to mean?

"Um…yes, I guess you're right," Katara said, and then shut the door behind her.

Grown-up stuff.

Krownest – 1 BBY

Bo Katan never cared for titles or superior treatment, aside from acknowledgement of superiority. Standing below Ursa in the manner she had met her was more demeaning to her than she would admit, almost as if years of comradery and friendship hadn't amounted to anything, relegated down to being treated just like any other Mandalorian who greeted her. It was hard to pretend that it didn't hurt, even if it was difficult to get under her skin anyway.

However, once she and Ursa were away from prying eyes, Bo watched the woman's shoulders slump, her posture diminish…and her eyes almost haze with exhaustion. For a moment, she worried she would collapse right in front of her, but nothing as unfortunate as that came to be.

"No offense, Ursa…but you look like shit," Bo Katan commented, feeling a bit of Nara rub off on her with that one.

Ursa grasped the railing of their overlook, her eyes fixed on the frigid, yet beautiful horizon. "How I feel isn't far off," she admitted. "And now you've brought Arrum Vizsla to brighten my day."

Bo Katan winced. "Sorry…but you know just as well as I do that we need him. No one wants the Empire gone more than he, and right now, he's the head of Clan Vizsla, whether we like it or not."

"A clan so ravaged by his incompetence, I wonder if his skills are even worth the trouble," she straightened, biting her lip. "Although, despite my reservations, and professional obligation…I…I am happy to see you again."

"Was hoping so," Bo Katan said, setting her helmet aside to join her against the railing. "Look…I know it's a long shot, but—"

"Kryze…not now, please," Ursa protested, now turning to face her. "Just give me a moment to think."

Normally, she wouldn't have much patience for such a waste of time, but Ursa's towering importance put a little perspective into view…and Bo Katan granted her request. Settling in, she tried to keep quiet, feeling the cold air blow across her skin in an oddly comforting fashion, despite its harshness.

"This planet suits you," Ursa commented, and Bo turned to see her smiling slightly. "With your hair it makes you look all the more radiant."

Bo Katan gave her a thin smile as a form a thanks, but couldn't suppress the suspicion in her eyes. "You usually compliment someone right before you tell them something they're not going to like."

"Only to you," she admitted. "Everyone else isn't as fortunate. I was never the diplomat you were."

"And I'm not even a diplomat," Bo Katan snorted. "So spit it out."

She looked away this time, rubbing her nose with her gloved thumb, before settling in over the rail again. "I can't help you, Bo."

Bo Katan blinked, feeling a bit stunned, before turning to face her full-frontal. "What?"

"Did you hear a word I said in there?" Ursa spat back. "My family's survival hinges on my very actions each and every day…each and every moment. If I leave here, I lose them forever…but I don't expect you to ever understand that."

"I understand more than you know, Ursa—"

"No," Ursa almost growled. "No you don't. You've never had a husband, never had children…never had a family. How could you possibly understand the value or the risk of putting it all in jeopardy for a lost cause?"

Bo Katan clenched her fist, but couldn't find the proper words to respond. Was there anything to say at all? To her, what she was asking was the fate of their entire creed on the line, and yet Ursa still wasn't willing to help her. She just couldn't fathom why.

What was more important than freeing Mandalore? Bo Katan had nothing left to lose…and everything to give towards that one goal, and perhaps there in lay the reality.

But it wasn't entirely true.

"That girl in there, Ursa, she's my foundling," she revealed.

Ursa narrowed her eyes. "Your…foundling? That's…rather archaic, but I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised…however I fail to see why it matters."

"I made a promise that I would protect her from the Empire, that I would keep her safe in order for her to grow…and eventually join our ranks one day. She's like a daughter to me, and I don't want to lose her…but I know if the Empire—"

"Do not make that comparison," Ursa stopped her with a raised finger. "How long have you cared for her?"

"Two years," Bo said proudly.

"Two—" Ursa stopped…and then snorted with snide contempt. "You don't have the slightest idea what it means to care for her then."

Now Bo Katan felt her foot shift forward. "How dare you."

"Have you bathed her every night? Have you fed her? Have you helped her sleep through her nightmares? Have you calmed her when she's crying? Have you taught her how to take care of herself? Did you carry her day after day, dealing with all the internal imbalance, all the doubt that comes with being a mother? Have you looked into the mirror and wondered if you've made a mistake? Have you explained to her why her abdomen won't stop ailing her? Have you watched her fall in love? Have you helped her navigate a tragedy, or be there to bring her together after she's lost everything? Has she betrayed you? Has she disappointed you? Has she looked into your eyes with such fury, that you can't even close your eyes without seeing them again? Have you imagined each and every day what would happen if the enemy skinned them alive, executed them before your eyes…enslaved them?"

Ursa stepped so close, Bo Katan could feel her breath with each word. "Would you give her up…to keep that?" she pointed.

When she looked down, Bo saw the Darksaber…and that's when she paused.

By then, it was too late.

"No," Ursa shook her head, stepping away. "You have no idea."

The door opened, and Tristan walked through. "Mother, you're being summoned by Sundari."

With a nod, Ursa gave Bo Katan one last scowl, before following him inside, and leaving her alone.

She trembled slightly, and reached for that hilt, feeling its grooves against her gloved hand.

It's just a lousy sword.

To Bo Katan, it was more…it had always been more.

Was it more than Alhara's life?

There was something vile about her hesitation, even if every part of her told her it was wrong. Alhara was her foundling…and she would never put anything else above her.

Just like when she put vengeance and anger above her sister.

Just like when she put pleasing Pre Vizsla over those villager's lives.

Just like when she put Mandalore above Ursa's family.

Just like when she put her own arrogance above Saxon's treachery.

Just like when she put her own security over Nara's future.

There was no denial left to have. In the dark kernel of her beating heart, Bo Katan knew that the Darksaber would mean more to her than Alhara's life…and she hated that.

That sick, disgusting, horrible truth.

Inevitable, undeniable reality.

She wanted to throw the damn sword away…cut a hole in the frozen lake and drop it into its depths, never to be found again, and maybe then she'd understand.

But she wouldn't. She couldn't. If she did, her sister's death would've been in vain…all those deaths under her watch would be in vain. Were their lives worth more than Alhara's? All those people she couldn't save, all that suffering she had endured just to get to this point, she couldn't let them go now, not when she was this close.

But Alhara…

Alhara…

"Kid."

Bo Katan wiped the tear away, and turned to face Rondir, keeping herself straight. "What is it?"

He gave her an inquisitive look, but seemed to let it go. "Just making sure you were still alive. Probably not smart to be alone right now."

She sniffed, and then nodded, securing the hilt to her belt. "Is Alhara with you?"

"Right here," she emerged from behind him, looking somewhat bored. "I was going to find a place to do my drills, but I wasn't sure if you wanted me to wait."

Be there for her.

"Uh…that's fine actually. I wanted to see if you've made any improvements," she said. "I know a place. Come on."

Nara kept herself hidden among the trees, using her armor's lighter tint to blend in with the snowy background. The glowing red from her visor had to go of course, much to her dissatisfaction, but stealth was a little more difficult with such a blaring come shoot me color.

It also made her more privy to private conversations.

She knew she was supposed to be watching out for Bo Katan, not spying on her, but she couldn't help but hear exactly what she and Ursa had conversed about. Nara would stand with Bo Katan to the end…but she always had that skulking suspicion that she would sooner sacrifice her to maintain her grip on Mandalore's throne. While what she had just witnessed was no guarantee of such an abhorrent action…it wasn't a denial.

Nara had seen commanders behave that way, paying no regard to their casualty numbers, especially back in the Ascendancy. Luckily, Ar'alani had never even come close to working so carelessly, so she'd been spared such a fear of being wasted pointlessly in a battle not worth winning.

Maybe Nara could help Bo Katan steer clear of that path.

Shaking her head back into focus, she repositioned herself around the side of the hill, sliding to the back end of the stronghold and activating her thermal vision. Through the walls she spotted multiple signatures, one of what seemed to be Alhara and Bo running through a couple of their drills together, Rondir and Arrum watching and commenting. Once she had them cleared, she did her best to spot a form that matched Ursa…and sure enough, she located her seemingly alone in a secluded room.

With a few taps to the side of her helmet, she listened in.

"…Katan Kryze has come to my stronghold," she heard Ursa say.

"Alone?"

Nara suppressed a vile hiss.

Saxon.

"No…she's with Arrum Vizsla…and…" Ursa seemed to hesitate, prompting Nara to increase the volume. "…Rondir is here as well."

"You've done well, Ursa. Keep them there," Saxon commanded, a slight hint of glee in his tone.

"They're yours, Saxon, so long as my husband—"

"Don't you worry, Countess," Saxon promised. "Clan Wren will be well taken care of."

Nara had heard all she needed to hear…and she'd be damned if she let this bitch tear apart her family.