CHAPTER 2

Proving Ground

Botajef – 4 BBY

Stealth tech had been a special commodity during the Clone Wars, something used only for large frigates that could generate enough power to maintain such a field. While cloaking was older than many, many millennium, stealth itself was a newer concept, as instead of requiring massive amounts of energy to hide a ship, it could instead be compiled of materials that kept it off radars and sensor arrays. The idea itself wasn't new, but spacecraft created with matte-black fiberplast strong enough to hold a full frame, machinery, cargo and living beings was, and only at the inception of the Empire was the concept formulated and implemented.

Ahsoka had been crafty enough to "borrow" a pair of stealth gunships courtesy of the Empire.

Standing in a gunship itself full of friendly combatants was liberating, especially ones she knew so well. For over a decade she had been somewhat of a recluse, stuck to her information hordes and coordination of various efforts against the Empire, and she had missed the excitement of field work. This was hardly something as simplistic as field work, but Ahsoka felt that with the people that had, this operation actually had a chance.

Still, those good spirits and confidence was soiled by an overwhelming, brooding presence in the Force, coming mostly from a person Ahsoka had never been able to win over.

Trilla Suduri.

The wife of one of Ahsoka's oldest comrades and fellow former Jedi had never liked her much to begin with, and after the horrible experiences she had at the hands of the Empire, those harsh feelings had only worsened. While Ahsoka had made progress, a full turnaround was becoming less and less likely as the years continued, as it had hit a point in which the burden had fallen on Trilla's shoulders to close the gap…and she truly had no need to.

In truth, why would she? Ahsoka was hardly a blink in her life, merely a source of bad memories and deep insecurities that she most likely would rather not confront. The togruta had no ill-will towards her, and she never had, as Trilla was actually an inspiring figure, in her eyes. To suffer so much, and not just overcome, but also thrive was incredible, and a true testament to her willpower.

And her children were the most beautiful creatures Ahsoka had ever seen. She loved Katara like her own, and Alhara had a look in her eye so familiar…it almost made her feel nostalgic. The little girl wanted to be a warrior…to fight on the front lines and protect those in need of her sword. Even at the age of six, she casted a long, protective shadow over all she surrounded, and the demeanor she maintained reminded her so much of her father…as well as the armored woman standing beside her.

But it was the subject of Alhara that seemed to be souring the vibe within the gunship, and as for why, Ahsoka was unsure. She at least seemed to be getting along with Xur alright, which was a good sign for the success of their mission, as well as Ahsoka's sanity.

Bo Katan checked her gauntlet for a moment, and then looked up. "Hang on," she directed, grabbing ahold of the overhead handle.

Ahsoka was nearly bucked over as her fingers wrapped around the above support, her stomach lurching as she wasn't given a chance to brace herself. Still, the gunship remained relatively quiet, especially compared to the mass Republic models Ahsoka had become so accustomed to back in the day.

"Have we been spotted?" Ahsoka asked, just as the gunship began to stabilize.

"If we'd been spotted, you would know it," Bo assured, keeping her eyes forward. "Clan Ordo has a forward camp in an abandoned industrial complex. The Empire hasn't bothered to seize complete control of the planet, only the major port cities, so we've been able to maintain a base here for our initial scouting."

Ahsoka furrowed her brow in thought. "That's what I thought, but from what I've been able to gather, the Empire is clamping down hard, expecting to have the entire planet under lockdown by the end of the galactic year."

"Which is why this is so important," Bo maintained her grip as the gunship turned again, evening out much smoother this go around. "I won't let the Empire continue to take from us."

The togruta gave her a confident nod and grasped her shoulder. "No…we won't."

The gesture was somewhat of a risk, but Ahsoka had resonated enough to Bo Katan that she knew there would be no ill reaction. It had been over a decade since their efforts on Mandalore, just before everything changed so drastically and so quickly, but they both managed to make it here, fighting together once again.

After Ahsoka lowered her hand, Bo cocked her head for a moment. "What do you know about…their youngest?"

It took a moment for Ahsoka to realize she was talking about Xur's daughter, and then looked to the back of the gunship, where the couple was well out of earshot. "You mean Alhara? Admittedly, I know more about their oldest than her…and I don't spy on them. My guess is probably no better than yours. Why?"

Bo let her head straighten. "When we arrived, and you had already started heading for the bridge, she stepped in my path and asked me if I was Mand'alor," she said, and Ahsoka caught the sound of Bo's gloves squealing against the handle, not to mention to outcry of dismay within her Force aura. "She said she wanted to find them."

Ahsoka blinked, and then gave her a smirk. "It just goes to show the feeling of a leader you give off."

The Mandalorian's jaw tensed, and already Ahsoka knew she had said the wrong words. "I'm no leader."

Her smirk long faded, Ahsoka grimaced. "In my experience…the choice is never yours."

She didn't respond immediately, and before Ahsoka could make the assumption that she was beginning to get on her nerves, Bo shook her head and flatly agreed.

"No."

When they finally touched down at their staging point, Bo Katan and Nara were left with the duties of squaring away their respective stealth gunships while Ahsoka, Xur and Trilla went on ahead to get a head start on delivering their intelligence to her fellow leaders. Since Bo was well aware of all developments on Botajef, she had taken the time to center her mind and prepare for the battle that was surely to come to a head. While she'd never meditated, she preferred taking walks alone to contemplate her strengths, but more importantly her weaknesses. She found utilizing imagination to prepare her mind to act on instinct had perhaps saved her life in a few cases.

Tonight, however, she merely wished for a chance to escape the memories that Ahsoka's presence had brought forward. It was always a risk she considered, as her only times with the togruta were those poised against Maul and his Shadow Collective…some of the most traumatic years of her life. Not even the betrayal of Clan Saxon and their sell-out to the Empire could compare to the loss of Mandalore to a monster, the murder of her leader, or the death of her…

Only then did she realize that whatever she was doing wasn't working.

Letting out an irritated sigh, she activated her jetpack just enough for her to jump atop the gunship, carrying the tarp along with her and then landing on the other side. Taking a knee, she hammered each corner into the ground via a stake, securing the cover in place.

Dusting off her hands, she turned back to the ramp and entered the cabin, making sure they had not left anything important behind. She rummaged over various empty bags, and only when she activated her helmet light did she notice the pile of supplies still in the corner.

She slumped and emitted a growl behind her helmet. "Dammit…" before proceeding to reach for the first bag.

Something squirmed within, making Bo jump back with her blaster drawn until the bag revealed the form of a young, humanoid child.

It was Alhara.

With a huff as her heart stopped beating at an unhealthy rate, Bo lowered her blaster. "Kid, are you crazy? I could've shot you."

Alhara didn't look the least bit frightened, and Bo figured shocked was a better word, as the child had no words for her. Merely looking up with her emerald eyes, Alhara appeared as if she was awaiting judgment before even explaining herself.

"How did you get on the gunship?" Bo asked, holstering the blaster. "Not just anyone can sneak past me."

"I-I didn't have to," Alhara finally answered, still sitting on her rear. "I—"

Bo's reflexes jerked as her ears perked up, flipping around with her blaster in hand at the sound of footsteps. She was greeted in the same fashion, but the red visor and Mandalorian helmet checked off her friendly stand down order. With so many years of training, most if not all of Bo's movements were instinctual and quick, threat analysis taking all but mere moments before she knew whether to shoot or speak.

Seeing Nara's form wasn't enough, however. She checked mannerisms, her ready stance, even the way her finger wrapped around the trigger. In a matter of moments, she could pick out an imposter and eliminate them…or she could play along and eliminate them in time.

This, however, was certainly her second in command.

"Nara…" Bo warned, but let her blaster sag in her grip. "Want to tell me what the kid is doing here?"

After a moment, Nara lowered her own blaster and slumped, letting out a sigh behind her helmet. She had a small helmet in her hand, filled with a bundle of clothing and light armor. "Shit…you weren't supposed to find out."

"Well," Bo shrugged, holstering her weapon. "I found out."

Nara knew she wasn't about to be scolded, so she paced forward and knelt before Alhara. "Are you alright? Sorry about the bag."

"It's okay," Alhara nodded.

"You'd better start explaining what's going on," Bo pointed towards her counterpart. "Because this is going to come down on my head when you get caught. Not only does this certainly fall under the category of kidnapping, but you may have just cost us the four frigates covering out escape," she felt her voice rising, the gravity of this transgression becoming more apparent. "This girl may as well be fucking royalty, as far as Mandalore is concerned, because if we ruin a possible good relationship to the Admiral's right-hand man, we will never see Galactic Alliance resources again."

"Alhara asked me to help her escape, so I did," Nara replied unapologetically. "And don't start giving me that pe'nr osi'kyr that you give a damn about all the politics."

"Nara, that isn't the point!" Bo shout whispered. "Even if none of that fallout happens, her mother will still try to kill us!"

Nara looked to Alhara…who bowed her head and looked away. "Is your mother a little crazy?"

"A little," Alhara admitted.

"Hm. Would've been nice to know that you little schutta," Nara bit out, and then looked back to Bo. "Alright fine, I screwed up, but we can't send her back."

"I'll just go tell my Mom," Alhara offered, rising to her feet. "I don't want you guys to get in trouble."

"If you didn't want us to get in trouble, you wouldn't have asked Nara to help you escape," Bo pointed out.

Alhara bowed her head. "Sorry…I just…I've been…I've been training my whole life for this."

"For what?" Bo asked.

"The verd'goten," Nara answered for her, and Bo felt her eyes bulge just a moment. "She wanted a chance to prove herself worthy of continuing her training as a Mandalorian. That's…why I helped her…plus her sister is a pain in the ass."

"Right?" Alhara agreed, and the two shared a fist bump…which made Bo smile a little wider than was proper.

"I'm guessing that's why you brought a bundle of cadet armor," Bo's boot tapped the collection in Nara's grip. "You were going to have her spend the mission with the other recruits her age."

"You know me so well Bo-Bo," Nara quipped, making Bo shake her head and place her right hand on her hip.

"And if she gets hurt, if she winds up missing or worse captured by the Empire, what were you going to tell her parents?"

Bo could tell Nara was rolling her eyes. "I was never going to let that happen…and now that you know, it definitely won't be happening."

You scheming little bitch.

Kryze partly wanted to gouge her own eyes out…but she couldn't deny an internal feeling of familiarity in this girl. Here sat a child, desiring nothing more than to become a warrior…a fighter, or just whatever her parents were not, and was willing to defy them at such a young age to earn that chance.

That time for our world, our culture, has passed, Bo. It is time you allowed yourself to let go of your primitive instincts…and evolve.

Her sister's words echoed, rattling in her skull as they aroused that same doubt she had felt when she was no older than Alhara was now. She would've given anything to wear the armor she now bore…even lie…even steal…even murder…

Even become a terrorist.

Bo lifted her helmet from her head, taking a knee before Alhara. "Look…Alhara…there is nothing easy about being a Mandalorian. Not everyone will want to help you, and some may even want to kill you. You may not see it now…but you have something you may never get back once you turn away from it…"

You have a family, Bo. Your place is with us.

"…once you walk away from your family…you may never see them again until it's too late," she admitted, and the girl merely watched, continuing to listen.

You can't just leave us. You can't just walk away!

Bo bowed her head, and against her better judgment, continued. "I'm going to go along with this…but I need you to promise me that you will keep that in mind. We can't accept you without the approval of your parents…as it violates certain traditions and codes…but I'm going to give you a chance."

Alhara sprang up, her eyes glowing. "Thank you! I promise Mand'alor…y-you won't regret it. I'll show you. I'm ready!"

Bo's expression faltered for a moment, shaken by the use of the title once again, but she shook it off. Rising back to her feet and pulling her helmet back over, she gestured to Nara. "Get her in that armor and don't take your eyes off her. Consider that your punishment for this."

Nara huffed, and then began to help Alhara do just that. "Right, right. I'm sure you have a meeting to get to."

She did, and with one last nod to Alhara as they shared a glance, she turned away and left them to their deception. Anyone sane would tell her this was a horrible idea, and in truth, it was…but it had to be done.

Too much of herself existed within that girl.

To Trilla's relief, the briefing did not last long, as it was a mere recitation of the intel they had gone over on the Valkyrie. She'd never liked being around too many people, and that only worsened with her secluded life on Artakha. More than six eyes on her was something she hadn't experienced in almost six years, as well as the prospect of disagreeing with someone that wasn't her child or her husband.

She had to be diplomatic…proper…willing to stay her hand when another was so obviously wrong or far too incompetent to hold their position. Many of these Mandalorians were trigger-happy brutes instead of analytical warriors, save for Bo Katan to a degree, and listening to their tired, rah-rah speeches made her sick…but if the Empire truly was up to something distasteful, then she could tough it out.

But that wasn't why she was brooding.

How could her daughter think she didn't love her?

Trilla couldn't possibly explain how much she loved her children, both her children, as they continued to remain a testament to her freedom. After being a slave to the Empire for so many years, Katara and Alhara were living proof that she had bested and grown beyond that dark and destitute time…as well as the joy she had at meeting a man like her husband. Love truly transcended unbreakable barriers…crossing vast distances throughout the galaxy, eternally linking individuals through their hearts. That hadn't been all that had saved Trilla, but without it…

She tried not to dwell on her fate if it hadn't remained in her heart.

When she gave birth to Katara…it was a different kind of pain. Rava had told her that cross-species births between humanoids were always messier than otherwise, as it required special procedures to properly deliver the child. Still, it was simple enough to be done, but she had chosen not to take any pain dampeners of the sort, as that was most ideal to avoid a possible miscarriage.

Despite all that hardship, not to mention the withdrawals from her alcohol addiction and the constant nightmares that she still suffered somewhat until this day…holding her firstborn daughter in her arms was the most incredible experience of her life. She held a piece of herself in her hands…a tangible piece of proof that she could have a future. Alhara had been no different, and if anything, it was the final stamp of approval that she was a mother.

Trilla had known Alhara would be different. She was quiet but not soft spoken, showing little to no emotion. Her crying was short-lived, even when she was born, always stalwart and undaunted. Katara was the exact opposite in many ways, full of emotion, loud and prideful, smart and witty, a true mix of her mother and father.

Despite this, Trilla swore she never treated them any different. She had no reason to, not when she loved them equally.

Did she? Did she love them equally?

No she doesn't! All she does is hold me back!

"Oh Alhara…" Trilla whimpered to herself. "What have I done?"

No matter how she looked at it, she could not fathom an explanation for Alhara's feelings, other than the face value of them. It was a shank to her heart, one that remained within the vital organ and bled her dry of any delusions of being a worthy and loving mother…one that struck at the very core of her new identity.

One that called to the dark…one that fed life into the dead corpse that was the Second Sister.

These were the thoughts that crossed her mind as she watched the group of young Mandalorian recruits from a distance. She couldn't help but spot the armored woman that had constantly followed Bo Katan in protective fashion, the one that bore similar markings upon her helmet, aside from the visible red visor contrasting her blue armor. Beside her was another child, although this one had their face covered, their height so similar to Alhara it almost made her grit her teeth in annoyance.

She just needed to complete this mission…then she could decipher why.

"It's…been a long time since Onderon…" a voice she so desperately wanted to avoid hearing at this very moment spoke, and she stifled a groan. Flashing a half glance, Trilla confirmed that it was indeed Ahsoka Tano who had come to speak to her.

She had no words, other than a desire for her to disappear…but she had no qualms either. "Indeed," was all she granted her. "You're looking a little different."

Ahsoka shrugged. "A byproduct of time, I think."

"Such is the nature of things," Trilla turned away, looking back towards the children. "What can I do for you?"

The togruta had her answer long prepared, it seemed. "I'm interested in your take on all this. You usually have informed opinions."

A compliment?

Trilla silently applauded her for the respect, but then again figured it was likely a tactic to get her to talk, which Ahsoka was no one to shrug at in terms of data gathering as it seemed. Her answer was never going to be the entire truth, as only Xur was ever granted such an honor, but Ahsoka wasn't vindictive or much of a harmful opportunist, so she let on a bit more than usual.

"I am not sure. While beskar is certainly a valuable resource and pinnacle to Mandalorian culture, the Alliance has little to gain from this operation, and it risks certain exposures to Imperial retaliation," Trilla revealed. "Not to mention the fact that Kryze has not offered a formal alliance as part of the terms."

Ahsoka frowned slightly. "She's insular…but I can hardly blame her. Bo Katan hasn't exactly had it easy, to say the least. Despite that, she's about as trustworthy as it comes, and if you ever need a job done…she's the one to call, without a doubt."

"She's certainly passionate about her people," Trilla finally turned her gaze to Ahsoka, tearing them from the recruits and the thoughts of her daughter. "I admire that."

"It's funny," Ahsoka looked amused for a moment. "When she and I met, she tried to kill me."

Trilla huffed. "You're forgetting that I actually killed my husband."

Ahsoka didn't laugh, but Trilla sensed her late acceptance of the edgy joke through the Force, leaving them to an awkward stare that Trilla was enjoying far too much.

"I guess that's a…fair point," Ahsoka rubbed the back of her neck for a moment, before shaking off Trilla's half tease. "But anyway, I worked with her during the Siege of Mandalore, just as the war ended."

"You two certainly seem like you've spent time together…but Kryze does not come off as the friendly type."

"She's more friendly than you might think…but you're also right. She and I have a more mutually-beneficial relationship than an actual friendship."

"I see," Trilla noted. "Someday I perhaps would like to hear the story as to how you went from trying to kill each other, to mutually beneficial allies."

"You'd probably be bored by it, as you proved earlier," Ahsoka quipped, giving her a smile.

Trilla smiled back and returned her attention to the recruits for a moment, before letting a chuckle work its way up her throat.

"Most likely."

"Lady Kryze…a moment?"

Bo Katan felt her senses irked for a moment, but the quick grasp on her blaster didn't remain. Noticing the red-skinned horned male that had made her uneasy with merely his appearance, she let her elbow sag, and her hand return to the edge of the holotable. At the small tent's entrance was Xur Eon, the man who had supposedly been a revered war hero during the Clone Wars…someone she was supposedly supposed to have heard of.

All she knew was that his name was strange, also spelled unexpectedly…and that he looked like Maul. By all means, he seemed decent, but she wasn't sure why it mattered if she knew him or not.

She also didn't have a good reason to deny his entry prepared…as the secret of Alhara's presence weighed heavily upon her.

"Sure," she said, and then returned her golden eyes to the schematics she was reviewing for tomorrow's formal planning and eventual assault. "Is it important?"

"Probably not particularly," he admitted, which made her brow prickle with annoyance momentarily. He must've sensed it, judging by his sudden clasping of the holotable and forward lean. "But I just wanted to talk to you about my daughter."

Now she felt a tinge of fear but stuffed it away before it could reveal itself.

"I hope you can forgive her for the…encounter the two of you had on the Valkyrie. Once she has her mind set on something, it's hard to pull her attention away. It is my understanding you don't take kindly to distractions or people who slow you down, which…well…you and I have that in common," he continued, talking almost in a tangent by now.

She decided to ensure this conversation didn't dip into personal territory. "I hardly noticed. There's nothing to apologize for."

Xur's expression fell slightly, his eyes turning sad before snapping back into place. Somehow that was the wrong thing to say.

"I've been training her since she was old enough to walk…it's always been her passion, and she's read a lot about your people…their customs and so forth. She's insisted that I train her for the verd'goten, even if she'll never actually run it, which was why she was excited to be here…and why she was upset we left her on the Valkyrie."

Bo blinked, and felt an immediate urge to tell him the truth. She never lied, which was why this had made her feel so uneasy, and part of her knew it would be better if she did.

Why was she keeping this a secret? Surely Eon wouldn't mind as much as Alhara's mother, not when he so obviously continued to hint at his displeasure about it. Why else would he be here in the first place?

She had to tell him. It felt wrong not to…but she couldn't tell the whole truth. They couldn't know it was Nara who had done it on her own accord…

"Which is why I'm glad you let Nara carry on with her plan…" Xur broke her thought process.

What?

Bo must've looked much more stunned than she desired to reveal, because she could've sworn Xur was holding back his laugh.

"That was your idea?" Bo asked, and he nodded. "So Nara didn't kidnap your kid…"

"No," Xur shook his head. "I already knew Trilla would never have it, but I feel I'd be a terrible father if I didn't give Alhara this chance."

"What kind of chance?" Bo narrowed her eyes. "No offense, but we're not an experience. You've put your daughter at great risk to try being a Mandalorian for a day."

"I never said this was a chance for my daughter to have fun," Xur kept his gaze stern. "I'd say this is more like an audition."

Bo took his meaning immediately, but she couldn't fathom how that would be the case. Frustration began to take root, and she attempted to vent it through a harsh huff. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you're getting at, that way neither of us waste anymore of each other's time?"

Luckily, he didn't take offense to that, not like she cared, but it had a measure of truth to it. She hated that he had gone behind her back and used Nara to get his six-year-old daughter to the surface, no matter how intriguing she was, as well as the fact that he'd lied to his wife who certainly had good intentions…

But of course…good intentions weren't worth anything anymore.

They never had been.

"I've been around long enough to know when something's changing," Xur began, and Bo felt his innate sincerity, as well as the seriousness of his demeanor. "This mission, whether we like it or not, will be a point of no return for my family. We've lived hidden from the galaxy for six years…but it's not in my nature to remove myself from a cause I believe in. I knew that once I accepted Ahsoka's plea for help…I'd never want to go back."

The moment you don this helmet, you'll be leaving your old life behind.

"And the reality is, we can't keep our children safe, not the both of them. Katara is almost at an age where she can begin to defend herself, but as I'm sure you will agree, almost is not enough. Trilla will never part with her, never want to leave her anywhere that isn't either in her arms or on the Valkyrie, surrounded by echani warriors and armed guards.

"Alhara…Alhara never really fit in with us, her mother and sister anyway. Sometimes we wonder if she was swapped for another baby when we turned our heads," he smiled at that, which at least meant he knew it wasn't true. "But she's got a combative spirit I've never seen before, not at her age. She's strong, frighteningly smart and committed, and despite her differences, she would defend her family whatever the odds."

I'll always protect my sister. You can't ask me to abandon her.

"She's got all the makings of a true Mandalorian," Xur finally reached his point, but by then Bo had been so lost in reverie that she had been paying close attention.

"She might," Bo nodded, and scooped up her helmet, shutting off the holotable. "But that isn't for me to decide…and while you may think letting go of your daughter to be cared for by another may give you a sense of solace, I promise you…it won't."

Xur sighed, staring blankly at the unlit table. "This isn't about me. What I want for my daughters is for them to be themselves, to not have to live in a galaxy that despises them. Alhara was born for this…I can feel it."

Bo scoffed, raising one brow with a hint of mockery. "What, in the Force?"

Xur shook his head. "My gut."

She'd never admit it to him…but Eon wasn't half bad.

"I make no promises," she granted him. "Because it's all on her…but…I agree. I will take note and observe."

Xur bowed his head. "Thank you, and you needn't worry about Trilla. I'll take care of that."

"You'd damn well better. The last thing we need is another force-wielding maniac thinking we stole her child."

Just be you.

Those words were simple, but Alhara hated words. They were slow, boring, and wasted time, especially if the enemy was on the verge of getting away…which was never an option. They were distractions, excuses, and most of all…utterly confusing.

Her mother used big words all the time, as did Katara, and she hated it. Why couldn't they just be like Dad? Why couldn't they just speak plainly and say what they were thinking? Why did everything have to be hard to understand?

She didn't hate her mother or her sister…but they annoyed her, always looking her way as if she were some creature they didn't like. Katara always called her a weirdo, which really made Alhara mad, just like every time she told on her. For a big sister, Katara seemed to take a lot of pleasure in selling her out and being a snitch, which made Alhara's chest broil with anger. Sometimes she just wanted to punch her or smack her, but she was too big, and better at fighting than she looked.

And she couldn't see a thing in this helmet. It was too big for her as well, wobbling around her head and smacking into the sides of her skull. How the Mandalorians her age could stand it didn't make any sense…and how they were talking to each other made even less.

So many strangers…all in one place. How could she blend in if she didn't know anyone? Dad always said that stealth was useful, but ultimately a waste of time in most cases…and that she was bad at it anyway.

But she had to try. She couldn't let her mom find her, not when this was her chance, and not when Bo Katan and Nara were taking a risk to give it to her. Paying it back was the only way to make it worth it, and the only way either of them would respect her, even if Nara had made it clear that the two of them were already friends.

Alhara didn't want friends. She wanted clanmates who respected her as a warrior, not friends who thought she was cute because she was a little girl, and while she liked Nara, the ladder was definitely true for her.

This was her chance to prove herself, to put all that training to use. Usually, based on what she had read, Mandalorians respected animal kills, or those who could win in hand to hand combat without weapons. Maybe if she could just…

"Recruits! Battle circle!"

That was it. A battle circle was where Mandalorians faced off against each other in combat duels, usually without weapons traditionally. If only she could—

Larger bodies smacked into her as the recruits rushed to the circle, knocking Alhara to her knees and her helmet off her head. Another kicked her in the rear until they finally got the hint that she was an obstacle.

"Move, vaar'ika!" one of the older recruits shouted, earning laughs from the others.

Great. It had only been a few seconds, and she'd already been embarrassed and called a runt.

Scrambling to slide her helmet back over her head, Alhara quickly realized she was the shortest one, and had to squeeze through just to see what was going on. Across a small dirt area stood an orange and white armored Mandalorian, bearing the signet of a rose on his right shoulder. His accent was harsh, even more than her mother's, but Alhara had no difficulty understanding him.

He called out two names, and two boys stepped forward, appearing to be around her sister's age. Engaging in a respective ready combat stance, they squared off, waiting for something.

"Begin!"

Alhara couldn't take her eyes off the confrontation, and the various cheers and chants from the others recruits made her heart race with excitement. She joined in quickly, even if she didn't know any of these people, clapping and cheering with each strike and block. They were good…no better than her of course, but very good…and it was only then that she realized she had never watched a spar before.

She had never watched a fight before.

All this time, this was what her mother had been hiding from her? Why? What was so bad about being with people like her?

It only made her angrier with her mother, but the conclusion of the duel distracted her again. One of the duelists yielded after surrendering to a choke hold, resulting in cries of "Oya!" from the others, and she could hardly contain herself as the next two began.

A knee pounded into her back just as the second fight concluded. "Quit rubbin' me vaar'ika!" a boy protested, almost twice her height. "Children can watch from between our legs."

That earned chuckles…and sparked Alhara's ire.

"Be quiet, di'kut," she spat.

Others gasped somewhat as her insult carried during a quiet moment, and the overseer turned her way, just as the boy kicked her again.

"I'll smash your skull you little schutta. You'd better take that back!"

"No one is smashing anyone's skull," the overseer pointed, drawing everyone's attention. "Save your animosity for the circle."

She felt it in her gut, and she reacted.

"I'll face him in the circle!" Alhara vowed. "Unless he's scared."

More chants of challenge emerged from the crowd, just as she turned to look directly at her quarry. He scoffed. "I'll flick you off my armor like a bug, little girl. Overseer! Let's get this over with."

In time, the overseer eventually accepted her challenge, and Alhara made her way to the middle of the circle. It was much larger than it looked from her original vantage, as did her opponent, who was a boy around the age of 12, towering above her. She could already hear others laughing at her, betting minute amounts of time she'd be able to last.

Let them doubt her. She'd been doubted her entire life.

"Begin!"

Her opponent hardly shifted or move once they were given the go ahead, almost trotting around her as they looked for respective openings. With such a height and reach disadvantage, Alhara knew she would have a better chance at reacting instead of attacking, if her opponent could make mistakes. Instead, he continued to keep his distance, leaving Alhara to test her luck with an advancement.

His boot crashed into her helmet, and she fell backwards onto her rear.

Laughs ensued, but he didn't make her submit, meaning the fight was still on. Scrambling back to her feet, she dodged his first kick this time and was finally close enough to swing, but she was only kicked away again, the impact infecting her ears with an incessant ring as she hit then ground and slid away.

But this time she was caught.

"Catch his leg and take out his support behind his knee," a female voice coached in a whisper, until she was shoved back into the circle. Alhara had no time to decipher who that was, as her laughing opponent kicked out again.

And she reacted.

Dodging the kick, she caught underneath his leg and propped it atop her shoulder, before executing a roundhouse kick into the back of his standing knee. He grunted and fell atop her, and she utilized her smaller frame to hide her movements and secure her arm around his neck. She tightened as hard as she should, her teeth gritting behind her helmet as the cheers continued. Her opponent tried to pull himself free, but he seemed so stunned he had fallen into this position that he began to panic, unsure as what to do pull her arms away. She was far too secured for him to use brute strength, no matter how small she was.

He refused to yield, still trying to free himself, until the overseer finally called out, "End duel! Victor!"

Alhara released him, and she took in heavy breaths as he pounded his fist into the dirt bitterly. Turning towards the overseer, hoping to see her mysterious benefactor, she spotted the blue armor and golden eyes of Bo Katan, who gave her a confident smile and curt nod.

The nod she gave back was the proudest she'd ever given.

Imperial Transport Ship – 4 BBY

"Keep all squads on high alert. We will be approaching Botajef within the next five hours."

"Yes ma'am."

The stormtrooper's crisp salute was plenty for Agent Elena Markov, who had just submitted her final inspection report to command. These were rudimentary tasks, occasionally tedious but ultimately necessary for the continued efficiency of her operations. This assignment was from the very top, Colonel Yularen himself, and its success equally imperative. Transporting such raw amounts of beskar alloy drew many eyes, most hostile to the Empire.

She cared little for its drawbacks, only that she continued her exemplary service of the Empire she loved so dearly.

Free of the subordinate trooper, Markov made a harsh turn down the hall and to the command quarters, stopping just before the door. With a tap of her freshly cleaned gloves, she signaled her presence and situated her hands neatly behind her back. After a few moments, there was a ding of acceptance, and the durasteel door slid to the right.

Inside sat a dark-skinned human, his black hair slicked back in a wavy pattern, while his wrinkled face and fierce, brown eyes were perhaps his most striking features. Dressed in dark black ISB garments with a shined chest plate, he gave her a diplomatic smile.

"Agent Markov, please have a seat," he gestured. "We have much to discuss."

She tipped her head with respect. "Indeed.

"High Agent Gideon."

Stay safe and stay tuned.