CHAPTER 1

Old Friends Never Forgotten

Artakha – 4 BBY

Xur, back in his heyday, was somewhat of an early riser, or at least he never let his days slip away via the comforts of his bed. His wife Trilla, however, certainly had the tendency to be out and about, sipping on caf by the time the sun breached the horizon. That habit dwindled away after giving birth to two children, now giving the sun a bit of a head start across the sky before she dared to drag her tired body out of bed.

Of course, that gave him ample time to snuggle into her after they both awoke, a little event he always looked forward to at the start of his day. He'd been able to enjoy this for six years uninterrupted as they continued their secluded life on the enigmatic world of Artakha, still far from the Empire's reach. Today his eyes had opened a little earlier than necessary, an odd dream pulling him from his sleep. When he noticed that he still had a few more hours to spend getting some rest, he shut his eyes and felt himself drift off again.

"Dad."

No…

Xur wished to shake his head and ignore the voice, but he knew his daughter was too smart for that to work. Forcing himself to turn over towards the side of the bed, he saw his six-year-old bronze-skinned daughter, her black hair always braided with a seemingly unfeeling expression on her face…dressed for combat training.

"Alhara…" Xur groaned groggily. "The sun's not even up yet."

Her green eyes didn't falter, and she merely shook her head. "I can't sleep. I want to go practice."

Xur grumbled in slight annoyance, increased by his current faltered state. "We'll practice in a few hours, hun. I promise."

She seemed to consider it for a moment, but then stubbornly shook her head. "I want to go now."

The zabrak felt his frustration blossom, but he was far too tempered as a father by now to lash out. "Go talk to Rava. I'm sure she'll train with you until I get out of bed."

"But Rava said you wanted to train early today."

Xur almost grit his teeth, but didn't, as he wasn't in the slightest angry with his daughter…more at the presumptuous bucket of bolts who had the audacity to lie about his preferences…certainly to spite him. He was still adamant about finding a way out of this anyhow.

"Why don't you go ask your sister?" he suggested.

Alhara looked at him like he was joking. "Katara would yell at me for waking her up."

That was a fair point. Alhara and Katara would certainly look out for each other, but at home…Katara had a tendency to be the mean older sister as much as possible, which drove Trilla utterly insane. She was getting better, but they still would get into fights, and Xur had been separating the two of them way more than he liked. They were never too nasty, but as Katara reached adolescence and surpassed five feet in height, she had a risk of hurting her much smaller sister merely with her size.

It sometimes made him wonder if he and Zahira would've been the same way.

Probably.

He could ask Zahira to oblige her request, as she was also permanently based on Artakha, assisting Cal with the training of the next generation of Jedi, but that was a tall request, especially since he could very easily give his daughter what she wanted. Zahira loved spending time with her nieces, and they their aunt, but she was a busy woman, and a far greater person than her brother considered himself to be.

Now he was feeling guilty…and his wife was now beginning to stir beside him.

"Dad…you said you'd get me ready for the verd'goten," Alhara reminded him, using the Mando'a word for the Mandalorian rite of passage…something he had joked about to her the other day.

"Alhara…that was a joke…" he chuckled, just as he felt Trilla turn over, shaking the bed. "You're not a Mandalorian anyway."

"What is it now?" she asked, her voice far behind his in terms of restoration from sleep. "Alhara…is that you?"

"Mom, I want to go practice," she repeated, and Trilla wouldn't even need to see Alhara to know it was her speaking. She and Katara may be sisters, but their manner of speech was so drastically different, they were simple to pick out. Katara referred to Trilla with "Mama", "Mother" and very rarely just "Mom". Sometimes she even used the echani word for Mother, Xokie, while Xur, on the other hand, she only referred to as "Dad".

Alhara, however, strictly and only called her "Mom", while referring to her father sometimes with the Mando'a word for parent, Buir. Why the two of them had a certain affectionate attachment to a specific parent probably had something to do with the fact that Xur was out of Katara's first four years of life, while he had virtually raised Alhara himself at times, making their disparity of accents rather astounding. One could perhaps never suspect the two of them to be related.

Trilla didn't seem to be in the mood to argue, and as she began to pull herself out of bed, that was when Xur knew he couldn't deny her any longer. He gently grasped Trilla's shoulder, "No…it's fine. I'll go with her."

His wife seemed indifferent, and merely slipped back into bed. "Just lock the door as you leave, and I'll probably send you a holocall in the morning to check on the two of you."

In the morning…ugh.

Alhara had a glimpse of excitement in her green eyes. "I'll meet you out front, Dad."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure thing," he groaned, flipping onto his feet as she marched off. "Sure thing…"

In hindsight…he shouldn't be surprised.

She was his daughter, after all.

Dxun – 4 BBY

Smoke, mirrors, deception…those three in the eyes of a Mandalorian, in an ideal galaxy, should be considered moot points and dishonorable engagements in any given conflict. However, in this galaxy, those three were what helped a Mandalorian remain alive long enough to have a conflict in the first place.

Especially one as prominent as Bo-Katan Kryze.

Onderon, Dxun's parent planet, was a hotbed for Imperial dissent, still raging with unrest since the Empire's inception, sparked by covert operations by powerful figures and prominent rebel leaders. Bo didn't consider herself a rebel per se, more a patriot, a rightful advocate for proper Mandalorian conduct, which was lost with her sister's murder at the hands of a menace far more powerful than she.

So much damage…millennia of culture uprooted by one man in less than a decade, and she had nearly been virtually powerless to stop him. Smoke and mirrors had kept her alive long enough to see that man removed from Mandalore's throne, to get a taste of a free Mandalore for little more than a few months…until a man named Palpatine called himself Emperor and declared that their planet belonged to him.

For someone who so despised deception, she could not deny its results.

And yet, in all the hopelessness of the galaxy, a chance to take a step in the right direction had finally presented itself, and it involved contact with an old friend she certainly thought was dead.

"The last time I saw you, I still had to pan down my eyes," Bo remarked rather dryly. She was never one for humor, as it wasted time, but pleasantries were effective if kept to a reasonable minimum…and among friends, it almost felt necessary.

Ahsoka Tano was perhaps the exact opposite, interpreting her joke with a slight laugh and her arms crossed, unable to contain her smile. "Sorry to inconvenience you."

Bo nodded, letting her eyes wander around the darkened tent as she held the hologram before her. "I take it you got my message?"

Ahsoka nodded. "Yes. It's slightly alarming, but I can't say the opportunity isn't worth it. My only question is, what do you want from me?"

Bo figured she should be offended somewhat for Ahsoka not taking the implication, but she surmised the togruta had already accepted the deal, and was not trying to be presumptuous, otherwise she would've never responded in the first place.

"I'd like to know if you'll help me…and if you know anyone else. Maybe dig into that vast array of connections you have."

"Of course I'll help you," she implored, her expression concerned and all-in. "But this isn't a grab and go operation. This takes an army…and a fleet. Those two things aren't just lying around outside of Hutt territory…much less people who are willing to fight the Empire—"

"Ahsoka," Bo cut her off, her tone measured. "I want to know if you can get me in touch with the Galactic Alliance Admiral."

The togruta's eyes widened slightly, before letting her composure settle in. "I see…"

Her hesitation was uncharacteristic of her, and it had Bo somewhat unsettled. "Well?" she asked, masking it rather masterfully.

Ahsoka sighed, and by then Bo already knew she'd earned her meeting. "I'll see what I can do. Meet me at the coordinates I'm sending you…and bring a few of your friends."

Artakha – 4 BBY

Katara was awakened by the perpetual shining light from her window, and after rolling over in bed, her chrono relayed to her that it was approaching midday, and her eyes widened, fumbling to her feet. She never liked to waste her days in bed, as she'd rather be out exploring or at least thinking about training. Never did she consider herself a "workaholic" as her parents would put it sometimes, and she enjoyed her recreational free time to do as she wished instead of sticking to a strict schedule.

Lying in bed all day ate out of that free time.

When she had finally left her room, rubbing her eyes free of the remaining grogginess that sullied her outlook, she blinked them into focus and took in their living room. Its spacious luxury was always a nice view, not to mention the glass end wall that looked out into a vast valley below them. Once again, however, it was occupied by the smells of spices and burnt meat in the morning…a byproduct of an occurrence that had grown better with time.

Her mother's cooking.

"Did you burn breakfast again?" Katara asked, leaning over the bar to the kitchen, where her mother already radiated slight annoyance in the Force.

"Snarky as always," she grumbled, but she could detect her acceptance of the joke, making Katara chuckle a bit. "Why don't you give your mother a chance to work?"

Katara smirked. "Dad would say," she altered her voice. "Well that's not as fun."

Trilla let out a laugh. "Yes, I imagine he would."

It was only then that she noticed that her father was not on the couch with his datapad as usual, and she furrowed her brow. "Where is Dad?"

"He went out training this morning with your sister," Trilla answered, her head engulfed in steam for a moment, before it disappeared, while the sound of searing meat blasted around the room.

Katara snorted. "Again?"

"Yes, darling, again," her mother confirmed, putting somewhat of an admonishing edge to her tone. "Don't go antagonizing her."

"I wasn't!" she protested, but her mother easily caught her lie, flashing her a warning glance that made her bow her head in slight shame. "Alright…"

"You should be nicer to your sister," Trilla continued, turning back to the pan while running her fingers through her black hair and readjusting the bun atop her head. "When you get older, she may be the only one you can trust."

Katara scoffed. "I can always trust you."

"You're missing the point, Katara. I won't always be—"

"Around to protect me, yeah, yeah," she bit back, annoyed with the same, tired old line her mother was using once again. "Well, Alhara isn't nice to me, so why should I?"

Trilla's shoulder's slumped, and Katara sensed an almost similar emotional reaction within her mother to the one she had just experienced. "Because you're the big sister. Believe it or not, Alhara looks up to you, follows your lead. If you treat her badly, she will think it is alright to return the favor."

Katara thought for a moment. It did make sense, logically anyway, but she couldn't suppress a deep feeling of annoyance with just the image of her sister's face. Just the thought of Alhara going to, doing or saying whatever she wanted nestled an inbred feeling of injustice that Katara was powerless to suppress or ignore. It felt like instinct to enforce her will upon Alhara, to make her eat from her hand and obey her commands.

Then she had a thought.

"Aunt Zahira tells Dad what to do," Katara pointed out. "And they're both grown-ups."

Trilla let out a light chuckle at that. "While that is true, you are missing the crucial crutch of that. Zahira makes suggestions to your father that sound like commands, but that is merely because she understands that is the only way to get him to listen. Also, your Aunt Zahira doesn't craft them in mean or deprecating ways."

Katara furrowed her brow in confusion. "Deprec…what?"

Trilla cleared her throat. "Deprecating means in a manner of condemnation, or shaming. Like, if I said 'shame on you' right now. That would be deprecating."

That made sense. She'd have to try it out later. Right now, she still had to convince her mother she was innocent, because she most certainly was. As to why…Katara hadn't figured that out yet.

"Promise me you will," Trilla pestered her further, flashing her a sideways glance, only making Katara cross her arms and look away. "Katara…"

"Fine," she bit out.

Her father and Alhara returned home about a half an hour later, just as Trilla finished cooking and had already set the table. Xur looked weary as he rounded the corner, lead by the dirty, soiled form of her sister, who was already locked on to the smell of breakfast on the table. Plopping her dirty pants and rear on the seat, she grabbed a fork and began to eat. Katara grimaced at her smell, but her mother's words held her tongue.

For a full three seconds.

"Alhara, you're gross. At least wash your hands," Katara whispered, hoping her mother didn't hear. When her sister merely ignored her, Katara forwent all composure. "Alhara!"

"Shut up Katara," Alhara retorted, her mouth full of food. "Go back to combing your hair."

Katara balled her fists and rose.

"Katara!" Trilla shouted, just as Xur disappeared into their room. "What did I say?"

"She didn't wash her hands, and she's gross!" Katara protested.

Trilla flashed her an admonishing look but turned to Alhara next. "Alhara, go wash your hands please."

Only then did Alhara finally do what she was told, but not before whispering "Tattle-tale," as she passed by Katara.

"Shut up, Alhara!"

Now Trilla marched to where she sat, her frustration so obvious on her face, and freakishly potent in the Force. "If I have to scold you one last time, you will spend the rest of the day in your bloody room, understand me?"

Katara bowed her head, still annoyed, but the threat made clear. "Yes, Mom."

It wasn't fair…nothing was.

Xur spat his toothpaste into the sink before watching it swirl down the drain and out of sight, before shutting off the water and drying his hands. The shower after a morning of training was always the greatest thing, as it made his muscles feel relaxed, that feeling of soreness that he was so addicted to.

Watching Trilla was perhaps more enticing than that, however…and over a decade of marriage had taught him when to know she was upset. It was usually when her expression was blank, displaying nothing but an internal dilemma, as well as heavy sighs and the continued ruffling of her hair.

She pulled out the wrap holding the bun above her head together, letting her black hair fall down to the top of her back, just between the pointed edges of her shoulder blades. Rubbing her eyes, she asked, "How did it go?"

Xur shrugged. "She's getting better…in fact she's really good. Better than I ever was at her age."

"Force techniques?" Trilla asked, which she always did. He shook his head, which was the eternal answer to that question.

"She wanted to do all combat and a little bit of shooting…" he trailed off, and she let her head fall back with a groan.

"Xur, you know how I feel about her and bloody guns. She's six years old! She doesn't need to know how to fire a blaster," Trilla insisted in an annoyed tone, to which he remained calm.

"I know. We used the practice one with the stinger bolts. I don't plan on letting her shoot a blaster until she's at least approaching your height," he chuckled.

"Even then that might be too early," she slouched into the recliner positioned at the corner of their bedroom, taking a deep breath as she settled in. Once her eyes opened again, she did not speak, but merely stared his way, looking miserable.

"What's up?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Sometimes I hate being a mother."

Xur shrugged, pacing to their bed to take a seat, keeping his eyes fixed on her. "Katara's almost at that age. You see how tall she's getting."

Trilla rubbed her eyes. "I'm starting to wish we had a son instead of two daughters, that way you would have to explain to them how procreation works."

The zabrak narrowed her eyes. "Who said I couldn't tell them about mag lev trains and airtight tubes?"

She rolled her eyes. "Menstrual cycles?"

"Fair point. That's all you. I don't know shit about the week in which all wives scream at their husbands."

Trilla flipped up her middle finger.

"Such as now," he added.

Dropping her hand, she shook her head slightly. "I keep forgetting how much of a cunt you are."

"It's part of the package."

Trilla granted him a small, amused smile before letting her head sway to the side, shutting her eyes. "I made breakfast, by the way."

"I saw. Thanks. I'll probably heat some up later."

She snorted. "One day my husband will eat my food with me."

"Save some for yourself. Problem solved."

Trilla's snappy retort was silenced by the approaching presence of Katara, who quietly opened the door with her head held low. Her embarrassment was obvious, because she did not lift her head until she was standing directly in front of Trilla, her hands clasped before her.

"I'm sorry for being…difficult, Mama," she apologized.

Trilla had never been an overly strict mother. Protective maybe, but she didn't have her children constantly doing chores or following some strict mandate. Xur was as laid back as it gets, letting his kids basically do whatever they wanted, as long as the house didn't burn down, while Trilla was more the voice of reason. She didn't want them talking back, cursing or arguing with each other, to which Xur agreed with the ladder, but she wasn't full "fun police" as the phrase went.

And she loved them so much…it always showed on her face, especially now.

"It's alright darling," Trilla gave her a relieved smile, and then reached out. "Come here."

They nestled in together, and it made Xur smile, only to have his mind pulled towards the beeping of his commlink. This was the usual time for his data review back to Vorchenko, so he instinctually activated it without thinking.

What appeared was a hologram of Ahsoka Tano.

"Xur…I know it's been a long time, but if you're receiving this message, I want you to know that I wouldn't be asking you this if I didn't think it was important," Ahsoka's message played, and he could feel Trilla's eyes harden even without seeing them. "I've come back into contact with Bo-Katan Kryze, and she wants an audience with the Admiral…but I think this is bigger than that. I know you wanted to walk away from this fight…but…" Ahsoka trailed off, letting her sentence linger and the holorecording capture her hesitation.

"The Empire is up to something…and I don't think anyone will be safe if we don't act on this. We need you…both of you. Please get back to me…and…may the Force be with you."

She disappeared as the message ended, and Xur felt his arm drop into his lap. It wasn't quite fear that ravaged him in this moment, but this was what he had been afraid of. There was going to come a moment where the galaxy could no longer tolerate his retirement, where the Empire would engage in something so egregious that he would have no choice but to return to the fight.

He didn't know what it was, but Ahsoka was no liar, and also not stupid enough to let someone impersonate her. Besides…he could feel it…a darkness rising within the Force, almost like a spreading plague waiting to infect the galaxy.

"Was that Ahsoka?" Katara asked.

Trilla kissed her daughter's forehead, ignoring her question. "Can you give your father and I a moment?"

She projected a look of dismay, but obeyed, and Xur felt Trilla's emotions rising with each step Katara took, before reaching their peak once the door was shut.

"I'm going to assume…that this form of contact with her was…exclusive," Trilla pointed out, and before Xur could protest, she raised one finger, leaning forward in her chair. "Xur, that's not what I'm upset about. I can see that look on your face. You're going to try to do this alone."

He grimaced. "Trilla…it's better if—"

"Stop," she spat. "Oh for the love of…just stop. I don't want to hear that garbage. I made you a promise…remember?"

Xur nodded. She was referring to the time in which she promised him to return to the fight when he was called on. He had no objections, but he couldn't help but ask, "What about them?"

Trilla rose to her feet, and by now, Xur knew this argument was already over.

"They're coming too."

ISD Valkyrie – 4 BBY

Bo Katan struggled to comprehend the ability of a third-party rogue fleet to sustain itself during the reign of the Empire, better yet one so large. Boasting nearly ten capital ships and nearly fifty frigates, the Galactic Alliance Fleet was the single largest independent force outside of Hutt space. Protected by numerous Senate sanctions and legal loopholes, according to what Ahsoka had told her, it had been able to operate free of direct engagement, so long as it essentially sat still.

She almost grimaced at the idea. To not fight was to forgo her way of life, as Mandalorians were judged by the strength of their enemies…but as of late, they had so many enemies to fight, their strength hardly mattered. The only reason she had agreed to come here in the first place was because her forces were stretched so thin, and if they could not execute this strike, then Mandalore would remain in chains indefinitely…and all the blood she had shed would be for nothing.

Ahsoka's composure was one to envy, showing little to no anxiety in her expression. She'd always been stoic around her, which she attributed to her Jedi personality, forgoing emotion and whatnot. Bo never understood it, and likely never would, but she could manage admiration for the grown adult before her anyhow. Like those from Mandalore, Ahsoka had to survive in a galaxy bent on exterminating her and her kind.

"Just a warning," Ahsoka's voice rang out of the silence, and Bo fell into a quick state of readiness, before letting it go once she shock wore off. "This friend I've called in…he…may look unsettling."

Bo cocked a brow. "Unsettling?"

"You'll see what I mean," Ahsoka frowned, keeping her gaze forward and arms crossed. "Just please let me do the talking at first."

No sweat off her back. She hated talking.

"Is there a reason you're telling me this?" Bo inquired, just as their shuttle powered down its engines and set its landing gear afoot.

"I just don't want you to shoot anyone just because they look slightly familiar," Ahsoka finally met her gaze. "That's all."

The autumn-haired warrior gave her one last trying glance, before leaving it be. "Noted."

Once the loading ramp lowered, Ahsoka descended with Bo just behind, and was followed by a small contingent of Mandalorian warriors. It was odd to see such a large hangar again, bustling with commotion and crewmen manning their stations. Had she not known any better, this could certainly be mistaken for an Imperial vessel, were it not for the gold and black emblem displayed via a large banner on the far side.

Instinct gripped her as her eyes fell, and she twitched for her blaster at the mere blurry sight of red, black and horns in a humanoid shape. She felt herself shiver, hearing his vile voice echo in her head once again.

My lady, is that any way to treat your rightful ruler?

"…burn in Hell," Bo cursed behind grit teeth and under her breath, the memories of the dead man finally fading away. Ahsoka flashed her a reminding glance before returning to the lead…and the cheer of a child pulled her into the present.

"Oh!" Ahsoka half-giggled, suffering the full brunt of a smaller body colliding into her arms. "Hello Katara."

Bo tuned out the rest of the greeting as her gaze finally fell on the man Ahsoka surely had been speaking of…a man who looked so similar to the one who had nearly destroyed her people. The zabrak, however, was without the black tattoos to cover his face…and was too tall to fit Maul's build.

As well as the fact he still had his legs.

"…catch up later, I promise," Ahsoka finished, just as the red skinned child stepped aside, her face tattooed slightly. "I need to talk to your father first."

Father…certainly explained the red skin. Bo could only assume that the lengthy woman standing beside the Maul lookalike had to be the child's mother, as upon close inspection, the resemblance was too uncanny. The couple looked formidable on their own, the woman even more so in some regards than the zabrak, her very stance commanding an intimidation that felt natural. Her expression seemed more displeased, while the man beside her looked refreshed, perhaps excited to get started.

Or…excited to see Ahsoka, which could possibly explain the woman's bitterness.

As Ahsoka finally freed herself from the child's grip, they approached the couple, and the togruta held out her hand. "Xur…Trilla…thanks for agreeing to see us."

The man who she assumed to have the more masculine of the two names, 'Xur', shook her hand without a second thought. "Of course…honestly, I've been itching for some action."

'Trilla' did not offer her hand to Ahsoka, to which Bo took note of for later.

Ahsoka stepped aside. "Bo Katan, this is Xur Eon and Trilla Suduri, both former Jedi like myself. Xur, Trilla, this is Bo Katan Kryze. She and I fought together during the Siege of Mandalore."

Xur regarded her closely, and then offered his hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Lady Bo Katan. I've heard a lot about you in my time."

The way he offered his hand was interesting and took Bo slightly by surprise…but it was a more proper Mandalorian shake, in which the two engaged grasped each other's forearms instead of their hands. She accepted it, and was glad she had not shot the man on sight merely because of his appearance.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'd prefer that we got straight to business," she dropped her grip, letting her free arm dangle at her side. "I'm sure your Admiral is risking much by remaining here in open space."

"Indeed," Trilla finally spoke, her accent making Bo's ears perk for a moment at its Imperial bearings, before dismissing it.

"Works for me," Xur shrugged, and then turned towards the hangar exit. "This way."

Bo almost let her sigh of relief free itself, but once she began to follow the ground, she felt her knee collide into something stiff…like duraplast.

Looking down, she spotted another child, this one younger than the last, wearing crudely assembled armor over her small body. Her green eyes instilled within Bo kindling for a pyre, and while the girl with black cornrows for hair barely reached her waist in height…she felt as if she was staring directly back at her on even ground.

The Mandalorian had no idea what to say, other than, "You need to watch where you're standing, kid."

"You're Mand'alor, aren't you?"

The question froze Bo in her tracks, her heart stung by a knife that tore fresh open an old wound she had forgotten was there. Her tongue ran dry, her confidence shattered…all via one question uttered from a little girl's mouth.

She stammered, "N-no…I'm not…" and then tried to push past her, only to find the girl remaining in her way.

"Are you Mandalore's leader?" the girl asked, her voice lower-pitched than she expected. "I want to find Mandalore's leader."

Bo snorted. "So do I, kid."

When the girl would still not let her pass, drawing the attention of some of the other Mandalorians, that was when Trilla's voice emerged to save her.

"Alhara!" she called; her expression somewhat livid. "Get over here and leave her alone."

Alhara let her head droop, making Bo think to bite her lip in mild pity. "Ni ceta," the girl apologized in Mando'a, and then stomped off, not looking the least bit pleased to have to bend to her mother's will.

A snort followed by her right ear, just behind her, and the familiar female voice of her right hand, the most recent member of the Nite Owls, huffed, "Interesting little girl. Had the guts to talk to you like that."

"She's too young to know better, Nara," Bo waved off, letting her sideways glance meet the red-visored Mandalorian.

"Too young to know better and speak Mando'a?" Nara retorted.

Bo had no response, and then realized how pointless it all was. "Come on. We've got work to do."

Still…she couldn't deny the oddness of the encounter…or the intense intrigue she was trying to hide. There was something about that girl…something she saw deep inside her soul that reached up and gripped her heart.

That would not be the last time they crossed paths.

Xur had known Vorchenko since he was a teenager, and in those fifteen years he had come to know her as no-nonsense, but not strict to the point in which those who served her had to develop a sense of loathing. She was well respected by her peers, at least during the Republic, a staunch supporter of the Jedi Order, and underneath her stoic guise was the heart of a good woman.

But she was certainly an opportunist…and she was indifferent towards Mandalorians.

Xur had already warned Ahsoka beforehand, as there was no way in hell Vorchenko would agree to this plan without receiving a formal agreement of alliance between the GA and Mandalore. From her eyes, it was a no brainer, as it would certainly end with a formal invasion of Mandalore itself…but Xur knew Mandalorians. They would not give up their independence with merely a promise, and they were certainly weary of outside influence.

He kept himself prepared for a shouting match…perhaps even drawn blasters, which was why he had asked his daughters to remain outside and watched by Antaria, Vorchenko's echani guardian. She certainly had no qualms about being with them, as she had watched at least Katara many times before…but Xur imagined Alhara would sneak her way in, especially with her dogmatic interest in Bo Katan already. No amount of scolding from he or Trilla would stop her now…as her brutal stubbornness knew no bounds.

"Through my contacts, I've been monitoring Imperial movements and supply runs," Ahsoka continued to speak as they surrounded the holotable on the bridge, Vorchenko regarding the hologram closely, while Trilla watched from beside her. "Usually a lot of this is typical behavior; meaningless data…but I began to notice a pattern," she directed, and then displayed a pathway leading from Mandalore to the planet Botajef. "Recently, most shipments from Mandalore are being rerouted to Botajef, which are then transported in large quantities directly back to Coruscant."

"And most goods are dropped at Brentaal before reaching the capital," Trilla added. "But you're saying an increased volume is bypassing that stop."

Ahsoka nodded. "Right. After discovering that, I sent one of my agents to investigate, and they reported that the Empire has been shipping large amounts of the beskar alloy to Botajef to be repackaged, forged down to size and taken directly to Coruscant."

Vorchenko stopped massaging her chin with her thumb, letting her wrist hang. "You have this intel on good authority?"

The togruta nodded without hesitation. "Very."

The admiral turned to Bo, who stood with her helmet under her arm. "Mandalorian raids could easily seize your rightful property from the Empire, and in some cases, I would say it would be more effective than sending an entire fleet…if of course, that is why you are here, sharing this with us."

Bo let her eyes pan downwards for a moment, before beginning. "We've executed a few raids, but by now the Empire has stepped up security, bringing in some of the loyal Mandalorians from Clan Saxon to defend the convoys. They are also now transported by Imperial Star Destroyers instead of frigates, which outguns everything we have."

"I'm sure there are certain rebel cells who would be more than willing to accommodate you," Vorchenko offered.

"Anyone in range of Mandalore isn't nearly strong enough to support us, and even if they were, I couldn't be sure we wouldn't be sabotaged from the inside. The Empire is taking these shipments seriously, and the Alliance Fleet is the best chance we have at stopping it," Bo countered. "I am proposing a joint operation. It is my understanding that your Alliance wishes to begin a full-scale open attack upon Imperial forces along the Outer Rim. This is a chance to not only hurt the Empire's economy, but to hopefully drum up support for dissent across the galaxy."

Vorchenko regarded Bo's proposition with analytical eyes, and Xur thus far didn't see much of an issue with assisting the Mandalorians…but his job was to kill things, while she called the shots, so he preserved his knowledge of his place.

"If the Alliance aids you in your attack, we would be forgoing our Senate treaties with the Empire, which will not stop them from openly hunting us down. We could effectively be throwing away everything we have tried to build thus far," Vorchenko said, letting her arms fall behind her back. "Some of my allies would forgo our alliance out of fear of retaliation."

Bo leaned forward, her eyes intent and demanding. "The Emperor has made many promises to many people across the galaxy and has broken most if not all of them. How long until he decides he no longer needs to Senate to rule his Empire? What will be left of your treaty then?"

The admiral furrowed her brow. "It is not wise to base our strategy and reactions off events that may occur…but you make a compelling point. I had no intention of bending to the Empire's will…and if they knew I was in command of the Alliance Fleet, we would not be in this position anyhow…"

Bo and Ahsoka shared promising glances, while Trilla looked more lost in thought than anything else. Xur would've already agreed to help them anyway, and by now he was already running through his head what he would need to requisition for the effort.

"But the fact still remains," Vorchenko continued. "I find our secrecy to be a vital asset while we continue to gather strength…and this effort does not constitute enough of a gain in exchange for our exposure."

"I agree, unfortunately," Trilla chimed in. "The risk factors do not balance in our favor particularly well."

Fancy words for lopsided deal.

By now, Bo was already clenching her fist against the holotable, but Ahsoka jumped in before she could lash out in annoyance. "What could Mandalore offer in return?"

"It's not a matter of resources or payment," Vorchenko shook her head. "You are asking us to expose ourselves—"

"Nothing is exposed if we aren't a part of it," Xur interrupted, playing on a theory as he took command of the holotable. "Most of the GA fleet is repurposed starships and outdated clone wars models. If we merely provided the Mandalorians with the craft, as well as volunteers to man the crews, there would be no proof implicating the Alliance, and even if a ship were captured, it could merely destroy itself.

"If we're going to hit the Empire one day, having the Mandalorians indebted to us will be extremely handy when the time comes…and it's all for a couple of ships out of your fleet. If anyone is getting ripped off, it's them."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

Vorchenko inhaled and let out a deep sigh. "How many?"

"Five," Bo answered.

"Two," Vorchenko countered.

Xur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck sake, give them four."

Vorchenko shrugged with resignation, caving to Xur's request. "Very well. But who will command this contingent? I am not committing such forces without a trusted advisor."

The zabrak snorted. "What do you think I'm here for, to stand and watch?"

Now Vorchenko's annoyance was starting to show, and Xur wisely shored up his attitude, and instead gave her a curt nod when she flashed him one of her half-glares.

"Very well…you'll get your ships, Kryze," Vorchenko agreed, somewhat begrudgingly. "And my General."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her without a second word. Bo Katan looked halfway shocked at the turn of events, but it didn't show long, the muscles around her eyes hardly shifting at all. "I'll be at our ship," the Mandalorian tipped her head. "Don't keep me waiting long."

Xur suppressed a snort. "I won't."

As the room finally cleared of all but Xur and his wife, Trilla finally loosened her stance, letting a huff escape her lungs.

"You are…a fucking cunt, you know that?" Trilla spat.

The zabrak blinked, stunned. "…why?"

Her stern gaze met him, letting her gloved left hand grip the edge of the holotable tightly. "You just took complete advantage of Reyna's respect for you and pressured her into giving up far more than she was comfortable with…all to placate a request from some woman we've never met and…" she growled. "…Tano."

Xur groaned in tiresome resignation. "By the fucking Force, are you serious? It's been almost two decades! Let it go."

Trilla shook her head but did not respond to him harshly. Years of speaking to him had taught her that his tone was not confrontational, even if it sounded as such. "Just understand how I feel about this, and do not be upset with me if I'm rather…harsh."

"Trilla…you don't have to—"

"Don't do that," she pointed with a stern finger, facing him fully. "I'm coming with you. Conversation settled."

Xur narrowed his eyes. "And our kids?"

"I am sure Antaria would not mind spending more time with them."

The zabrak pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not her that I'm worried about."

"You can't leave us here! It's…boring!"

Katara's protest pulled Trilla's eyelids over her emerald irises in emotional exhaustion, trying her best not to shout down her ten-year-old daughter. Why in hell she agreed to do this without her husband beside her was another question.

"I am sure the Admiral will find plenty for you to do around here to keep you occupied," Trilla kept her fists planted against her hips as she towered over the smaller spawn of herself.

Katara flashed her a disgusted look. "What? Chores? Mom!"

"Stop whining," Alhara bit from her seat across the room, but looked no more pleased than her sister.

"Shut up, weirdo!"

"Hey!" Trilla bellowed, letting her voice resonate. "What did I tell you about name-calling your sister?"

Katara bowed her head, even if she still wore an expression of scorn. "Sorry," she bit out.

The groan that escaped the mother of two was harsh and hardly suppressed. "Will you two please learn to stop arguing with one another? You two are sisters…you have to learn to get along."

"We do get along," Katara insisted, but earned a reserved pout from Alhara.

"No we don't."

"Shut up!"

"You are only proving her point, Katara," Trilla grasped her daughter's upper arm, pulling her for her attention…but quickly realized her growing annoyance was only worsening the situation. Instead, she took a deep, calming breath, and then projected feelings of ease and calm into the Force, hoping that her children would pick up on its suggestion.

Taking a knee before Katara, she gestured for Alhara to approach, and only when they both stood before her did she begin to speak in a warm, motherly tone.

"I love you both…so dearly. Do you understand that?"

They both nodded, Katara's hiding her continued detest, and Alhara's making no effort to hide her indifference.

"One day you'll both grow up to be inspiring, powerful young women, and I have truly cherished the chance I've had to watch you both for such a long time," she continued, making sure her gaze remained on each of them. "But…that time of freedom may have come and gone, and more than ever will both of you need to learn that you have to watch out for each other. As much as I may wish to…I won't always be around to watch over you."

That admission broke her heart slightly, but she didn't let the emotions break her moment. "Katara…you need to be looking out for your little sister—"

"I don't need someone to look out for me," Alhara insisted.

"And I'm sure that is the case, darling, but that isn't the point," Trilla softly gripped the little girl's shoulder. "You two will always be stronger if you stand together, just as how your father and I are stronger when we stand together."

"But you and Dad argue too, Mama," Katara pointed out.

"Sure, but no matter how upset we are with one another, we still love each other," she countered. "We still protect each other."

"I didn't say I wanted to hurt Alhara," Katara shook her head. "Just sometimes…ugh."

Alhara just crossed her arms, looking away.

"Alhara doesn't like it when you boss her around, Katara," Trilla pointed out. "You may be her big sister, but that doesn't mean you can tell her what to do."

Katara let her head droop. She had a good heart, Trilla knew this, and she knew her words were getting to her.

"But Alhara can also find better ways to stop this other than antagonizing you," Trilla let her tone waver over to the armored little girl. "Because that only makes it worse."

Alhara snorted, continuing to look away.

"Alhara…"

"Okay," she finally said. "Whatever."

Katara balled up her fists. "See?!"

Trilla's mistake was letting her frustration peek through for only a moment…and that was all it took.

"Alhara…" she warned again…and eared a fury-induced whirl around from her daughter.

"You always do this, Mom! Always taking her side. Always making me look like the bad person!" she shouted. "You think I'm a weirdo too, don't you?! Sorry Mom, but I'm not the girly girl you wanted me to be!"

Trilla hardly knew how to react. This was a first for Alhara…always the quiet one…never one to burst out into a tirade of anger. It was so out of character, Trilla was still fishing out the words from her mind as Alhara continued.

"I've always wanted to meet a Mandalorian, but all you do is try to hide me and baby me! Why can't you just be like Dad?! Why can't you just let me be me?!"

"Alhara!" Trilla shouted her down, which was the final mistake, as she soon realized. "Do not shout at me…"

"What are you going to do?" Alhara challenged. "You're already grounding us here on this spaceship while you and Dad go help people. How much worse could you make it? Go on! Yell at me! I'm not scared!"

Alhara's chest was puffed out in a confrontational stance, her eyes dominated by a fury all too familiar to her, an immovable stalwart bastion that could not even be broken by her own mother. Something inside her had finally snapped, and Trilla had no idea how to quell it.

"Don't yell at Mom!" Katara finally jumped in, seemingly emboldened now. "She loves you and takes care of you!"

"No she doesn't!" Alhara spat. "All she does is hold me back!"

The door behind Trilla slid open before she could respond. "What the hell is going on in here?"

It was Xur, and Trilla once again could not even speak before Alhara began. "Mom is yelling at me just because I don't want to be babied anymore!"

The zabrak gave her one glance before returning his eyes to Alhara. "Okay, everyone just calm down," he eased, but his voice making it obvious that it wasn't a request. Shutting the door, he came around, standing to the side but in between the two of them. "Now, what's the problem?"

Trilla rose to her full height, bearing no interest in explaining herself or feeling a need to win over her own husband. Her decision was her decision, and she had no intention of going another way. "Alhara is making her feelings about me very…clear," she said, and couldn't stifle the lump growing in her throat. "I asked the two of them to get along, and then Alhara began to criticize me for supposedly maintaining a short leash. It is settled. There is no need to—"

"Now you're lying?" Alhara grit her teeth, and Trilla shut her eyes at the hurt those words carried.

"Alhara…it's okay to be upset," Xur granted. "But it's not okay to yell at your mother. Whatever you're trying to prove or achieve here, that isn't the way to do it."

She envied his composure, and desperately wished to forget this ever happened.

Xur's words seemed to resonate within her far deeper than hers ever did, and Alhara finally seemed to lose that fury in her eyes, instead just crossing her arms and looking at the floor.

"Look hun," Xur eased. "I know you were excited about meeting a Mandalorian, but this thing your mother and I are about to do is too dangerous for you. I promise…when you get a little older, you'll be out there with us…fighting."

This time, Alhara didn't seem to care much, and simply turned away. "You're leaving us here, aren't you? So just go."

"Alhara," Xur reached out, but with much less force than Trilla ever had.

"Just go!"

Trilla knew her daughter. At this point, no amount of force, fear or easing would pull Alhara now. Unclenching her fist, she knelt, giving Katara a warm hug and leaving the two of them to the care of Antaria.

Left to wonder why her daughter didn't think she loved her.

Welcome to Star Wars Eons: Posterity! For those of you from Inquisition, welcome back. For those who are new, happy to have you! This is a sequel to one of my previous works, but honestly this story will be able to stand by itself, so if you want to just delve into this, you can easily navigate. This is kind of a prequel to the Mandalorian TV show, and will also center itself heavily around Thrawn.

Ghost crew won't be super heavily prominent in the beginning stages here, but they will be making their appearance down the road. I have made some adjustments to the timeline around the TV show, but for the most part, it's going to proceed as it did. Fans of Sabine will be pleased :P

Since a majority of this story is already written, I will be posting rather rapidly in the coming days. Not sure on a pace yet. Probably 1-2 chapters a day. Get ready!

Happy to have you here, so let's get started.