CHAPTER 3

Red Dawn

Botajef – 4 BBY

It was an assembly of muck, grime, stink and loud volume that Trilla had been forced to suffer, and it could not progress any slower. Packed within the war tent was the bulk of the Mandalorian forces, along with herself, Xur, Rava and Ahsoka, all watching as Bo Katan removed her helmet and set it aside, prompting many of the others to follow the same movement. To Bo's left around the holotable was Rondir Ordo, a tall, mostly muscle warrior with tan skin and brown hair. His armor was orange and white, standing out in contrast to Bo's blue, while his full clean-cut beard stood out among his revealed skin.

To his left was a younger, black-haired man calling himself Arrum Vizsla, apparently the close cousin of the late Pre Vizsla, his shaggy hair tied into a knot and let hang from the back center of his head. His facial hair lacked the magnificence of Rondir's, struggling to fill small patches of stubble in various areas, but he seemed to hide them well.

She never found it much attractive anyway, hence why Xur's lack thereof never bothered her.

The last notable Mandalorian was Nara, who hadn't removed her exotic, red-visored helmet as she tended to stand guard just behind Kryze most of the time. Trilla had a few theories as to who she was, and why she kept herself concealed, but none of them were worth mentioning. From what she knew, fleeing from the norm of Mandalorian armor tended to display a characterization that differed from most, if not all Mandalorians.

In time she figured she would know the answer or be done with this mission and no longer care. Either result satisfied her.

Bo batted her gloved hand atop the rim of the holotable, seemingly an attempted beckoning for silence among the rowdy warriors. It was not received very quickly, and Trilla felt her own annoyance bristle until Nara's voice gave animation to her thoughts.

"Hey! That means shut your fucking mouths!" she reminded them, while Bo merely kept her eyes forward. Eventually the other Mandalorians orbiting the meeting finally quieted down with waves from their respective leaders. Many of them matched the armor hue of Ordo, which impressed Trilla with the idea that Clan Ordo was in control of this camp on the far side of Botajef…but why Bo Katan remained in command was still an enigma. While the woman carried an undaunted demeanor, she hardly spoke to anyone other than Nara, making her not exactly someone who lead with commands…more by example.

Perhaps that was a Mandalorian thing. As an inquisitor, Trilla had quickly learned that words were powerful…and could win battles before they even began. She wasn't sure if a Mandalorian could not understand this, or purposely chose to ignore it.

Both were possible.

Rava's whisper came in as the voices began to die down. "And here I thought I was rowdy."

Trilla smirked. "You are. Just a more…productive kind of rowdy."

"Compliment accepted. I'll repay you at my next earliest convenience."

"I'll set a reminder for after I'm dead to expect it."

The android tried to hide it, but Rava smiled a little.

Bo Katan emitted an intense amount of necessity to press on, so she jumped straight to the point as the holotable was activated. "In thirty minutes, we will board our stealth gunships and make way for the Empire's smelting plant here, about 20 klicks south of our camp. We will be split into two teams, one lead by Arrum. They will be responsible for our distraction," she pointed as the hologram simulated the gunship dropping off its collection of troops near the front of the complex. "From there you will draw as many of the Imperial security forces as you can to your location, while our second team, led by myself, will hit the cargo ships directly."

The floor was then handed to Ahsoka, who took the lead. "Based on our collected intel, these ships are carrying unsmelted Mandalorian armor, and are guarded by squads of death troopers, ISB operatives and occasionally Imperial Supercommandos. All three have been confirmed for this case."

"We'll make short work of Imperial dogs," Arrum closed his fist with a sly grin. "They'll be guzzling their own blood by the time we're through."

"This is no time to give in to overconfidence," Bo warned, her gold eyes intense with such. "The Empire has shown to have crafty and lethal deception up their sleeve, and you're only digging your own grave by ignoring it."

Trilla silently commended her affinity for common sense, which was far more lacking in the galaxy than the name implied. Arrum's brow furrowed for a moment, but he backed away, tossing Bo and curt nod as her stare persisted.

"Everything else is self-explanatory. We have uploaded maps to everyone's HUD that will detail how to get through the complex and where to find the convoy. Once we find the shipment, your droid can hijack the transports and remotely pilot them back into orbit, where our fleet will be waiting for extraction," Bo continued, her attention on Xur.

"I am not a—" Rava began, but Trilla grasped her wrist, just before many of the Mandalorians could shuffle for their blasters.

"Apologies, Lady Kryze, but she is far more advanced than a droid, and finds the connotation insulting," Trilla explained. "Perhaps you could explain her role a little further?"

Bo's expression of indifference did nothing to lighten the tension, but she didn't press the issue. "Ahsoka tells me that…Rava is capable of hijacking aircraft and mechanical systems. We will need her to redirect alarms towards Arrum's distraction and pilot the shuttles back to the fleet, while we return to our respective gunships and cover their escape. The objective is to be in and out as fast as possible, preferably before the Empire even knows what happened."

Xur finally leaned forward. "You've got two baradium missiles in the form of myself and Trilla. What are you thinking?"

"I was going to leave that up to the two of you," Bo tipped her head. "But as a recommendation, I'd like for you to join the distraction, Eon. I think Trilla's skills would be better served with the infiltration."

"Agreed," Trilla mused. "Rava and I work well in tandem…and the Empire never knows when I am around until it's too late."

"As long as I'm taking all the fire," Xur quipped, to which Trilla struggled to contain her grin.

"Whatever works," Bo shrugged. "Rondir will begin loading up the camp and the recruits to join us in our escape. You all know your roles…now let's make the Empire pay for stealing from Mandalore."

"Oya!" the cry persisted, and then Trilla's grin emerged.

This might just work.

ISD Corona – 4 BBY

"This had better be worth the effort and resources it has required, High Agent. The Emperor is not as keen to your special project as you may believe," Tarkin's superimposed hologram spoke, revealing only his shoulders and head. "There are rumors that its funding will be split between the TIE Defender initiative and Project Stardust if it does not provide results this go around."

"Worry not, Moff Tarkin," Gideon replied calmly, revealing no hint of unease at the distrust. "By the end of our operation on Botajef, the Emperor will have his results, as promised."

Tarkin's tone held mild threat as he lowered his brow. "Yes…be sure he does. Regardless of the outcome I will be recalling the Corona at you operation's conclusion. I will require it once I return from the Lothal sector."

"Understood. I will not allow even a scratch to ruin her hull."

Tarkin glowered for a moment, before cutting the communication, clearly finished with what he certainly considered a nuisance…or was it a farce in order to inspire fear into Gideon?

Of all people in the Empire, Markov had never been able to read Grand Moff Tarkin.

The shades in Gideon's office raised, filling the room with light after a long bout of darkness. Markov didn't dare try to shield her eyes or wince at the change in light level, just as her superior did not as well. Spending so many years in the ISB had forged her into an inspired Agent, responsible for numerous completed missions and critical intel for the Empire…and yet she had remained unpromoted. There wasn't much advancement in ISB, more specialization, but she knew without a doubt that she could do Gideon's job just as well as he did.

Politics certainly…or Imperial misogyny, which hadn't made much progress. All the stuffed shirts on Coruscant still used Admiral Vorchenko's distant betrayal as an example of female mistrust or ineptitude…and it had boggled down her career. Even this shuffling of resources between Thrawn's TIE Defenders, Krennic's Stardust, and Gideon's "Alpha Red" was all tied down in red tape and depended on connections and cutthroat maneuvering. Of the three, Markov still favored the chiss Admiral's, as he was her preferred superior, but her orders were her orders, and she was to progress the agenda of whoever she currently served.

Whether it annoyed her or not was immaterial, but Gideon's ability to seem unaffected was a leg up he had on her, admittedly.

"Something on your mind, Agent?"

Markov had looked away for just a moment, and the man's eyes were boring into her skull when his voice reached her again. She stiffened, almost choking on saliva in the process.

"No sir," she said.

"Speak your mind, Agent," he interrupted sternly. "I'd prefer not to spend time being followed by a scowling subordinate."

She had five seconds to do just that.

"It's the politics, High Agent," Markov answered. "I feel all this infighting does the Empire harm. I believe it is what the rebels take advantage of."

Gideon turned away from her at last, shutting down his systems and slightly inclining his head towards the door. In stride, she followed just behind him as they exited his office into the empty command hall.

"Your training has served you well, Agent Markov. You have learned the harsh reality of our great society, as well as the means to which our enemies, no matter how small, could bring about our downfall," he said.

Markov furrowed her brow. "With all due respect, I do not believe the meager rebel cells could possibly unhinge—"

"Agent…" Gideon stopped his pace, turning to face her with his superior height. "The moment you dismiss a threat is the moment it destroys you."

Markov suppressed her hard swallow and met his gaze. "Yes, sir, but I would argue that the reports of the fleet massing in the deep Outer Rim should be where we focus our—"

"The fabled Galactic Alliance fleet is the rebellion, but the Senate has tied our hands for now, which means we must focus on the smaller, immediate threats…while also keeping in mind our true, ultimate enemy."

She blinked. "You do not believe Reyna Vorchenko was killed at the Battle of Eriadu?"

"I believe our esteemed former pupil of Grand Moff Tarkin would never be incompetent enough to enter a battle with more ships and end up defeated. We've seen her achieve victories with far less, take Fortress Inquisitorious for example."

Markov's eyes panned down for a moment, trying to hide her scorn. "That was due to the incompetence and arrogance of Admiral Slovis. Grand Admiral Thrawn was at Eriadu, in fact that is where he earned his final promotion…"

"All things I am well aware of, Agent," Gideon curtly quipped, and she flinched backward. "But we are deviating from my original point. The Empire is not as sound as you may believe. It is still fresh out of the womb, as the Republic had existed for well over twenty millennia. If we do not establish dominance and order in the galaxy, this Empire will fare no better than its predecessors."

It was a frightening thought. Living her childhood under the banner of the Republic was a time of chaos, insecurity, and constant, never-ending war, a war in which the Separatists had orphaned her at fourteen when they seized her home planet Abregado-Rae. Under chaotic and illegitimate Separatist rule, Markov had seen the cost of weak leadership as well as the horrors terrorists could inflict. When the Republic had finally retaken her home, and soon after the Empire took its place, she enlisted into the Imperial military, and after five years she was accepted into the Imperial Security Bureau.

She would never let an illegitimate band of terrorists control the galaxy again.

"I assume, then, you have a plan, High Agent?" she asked.

Gideon's half smile returned, and he inclined his head. "Annihilation."

Botajef – 4 BBY

One big, beautiful family.

Xur let the holo of himself, Trilla, Katara and Alhara assembled together in an almost cookie-cutter family capture. Taken just recently, he and his wife stood together shoulder to shoulder, while Katara wore a wide and bright smile in front of her mother…and Alhara maintained a look of mild stoic confusion, standing in front of her father. He never realized the misery in the faces of both himself and Trilla, even if they had felt happy at the time, both adopting forced glee with sagging eyes…however maintaining a stature of happy hearts.

He worried that would be the final holo they took together, as the reality of the state of the galaxy began to become more vivid to him. It wasn't just the practicality of it…as Xur had a lingering feeling not only in his gut, as he had told Kryze, but in the Force as well. The Empire's darkness, unchecked, would tear down the protective barrier they had hidden behind for six years, and by then, it would no longer matter what he wanted for his family any longer. He sensed that his duty would become shackled to the galaxy itself…as a galaxy with the Empire would never allow his children to grow into the women he dreamed of.

Katara wanted to be a Jedi…and a cook, and perhaps a holodrama star. She was a colloquial, energetic, all-around lovely person, and while she may only be able to be two of those things he had just listed, she was smart enough to do whatever she wished.

Alhara wanted to be a warrior, square and simple. She was silent, harsh, but good-natured. Even at her age she wanted to be the shield that protected all who needed her, and her respect for those she admired knew no bounds. Alhara would make an excellent Mandalorian, whether Trilla wanted it or not, and he knew his daughter would find her happiness among these people.

But he would have to help them make it all a reality.

"My little girls…" Trilla's voice eased in behind him, just as he felt her presence enter the tent he was yet to leave. She stooped in beside him, wrapping her arms around his own and resting her head on his shoulder as she observed the holo with him. "Here's hoping they aren't killing each other."

"Or deactivating the fusion core on the Valkyrie," Xur smirked, expertly hiding the fact that Alhara was not where she should be.

"They learned from the best," she nudged him with her elbow. "Wanton destruction and blatant disobedience."

"Yeah…" he gulped slightly. "They did."

Trilla froze in his grip for a moment, and by then, he knew she was already smelling something was off.

Operation flattery.

"You know I love you, right?" he said.

She huffed, letting go of his arm…and then proceeded to cross her own, making his heart sink. Flashing him her signature stern look and a heavy sigh through her nose, she glowered at him.

"Xur…what is it?"

I've got to get better at this.

It was a fool's errand, trying to sneak things past his wife. It always had been, and yet he never learned that lesson. His own arrogance had already overridden any resemblance of common sense, truthfully believing that this time might be different.

Just like last time, and the time before that…

Operation half-truth.

"I'm just…worried about them. You know, the way Alhara was acting when we left…and you know how Katara is with her, especially when her little sister gets into disagreements—"

"Do you want to know why I know that's not true?" Trilla cut him off, and then shrugged, but maintained her stern gaze. "No one else is able to pick it out, but every time you lie, you let your head sway back and forth. You also always try to flatter me, and when I don't fall for it, you give me something that's almost true, but not quite."

Xur sighed, meeting her gaze as he slumped in defeat slightly. The tactic didn't ease Trilla's ire, but her presence in the Force was less imposing, and she stepped towards him, letting her hands brush his shoulders.

"How much longer will it take for us to be honest with each other?" she asked, now trying to coax the truth out of him with her intoxicating touch and presence. "Why can't you just tell me what's bothering you?"

Because you'll want to murder everyone in this camp...even if this is exactly what our daughter wants.

He almost said that directly, and in all honesty, it's what he should say. Running through the scenarios, even with the best possible outcome of this mission, the best they could get out of her was: never do that again, followed by perhaps a month of her disgust with him, and a loss of complete trust in Bo Katan and Nara, people who would be their allies in due time.

The worst possible outcome was Alhara dead, and Trilla taking her vengeance on not only him, but every Mandalorian she could. She might get far…but she'd probably die in the process, and then he would lose two of the three most important people to him in the galaxy.

All because he didn't tell her the truth.

"You have to promise me something," Xur finally said, shoring up his defeatist demeanor, while she cocked her head in slight warning. "You'll blame me, and me alone."

Her chin trembled, and brow slanted. "Very well," she bit out, stepping back with her fist clenched. "What are you hiding from your own wife?"

Xur almost laughed at her hostile assumption but saved the mockery for later. Instead, he merely said the words.

"Alhara is here with us."

At first she blinked, loosening her fist for a moment in confusion. "But…"

Then her eyes flashed with intense and certain recognition, as if pieces of a massive puzzle slapped into place all at once. "That…you!" she growled, and then marched towards him with livid eyes and grit teeth. "You went behind my back?! Are you trying to get our daughter killed?! I should strangle you…you tremendous, stupid fucking IDIOT!"

At least she was keeping her promise.

"Where is she?!" she demanded to his unflinching gaze. "I'm taking her back right now."

"You're getting on that gunship and completing your task," Xur pointed towards the tent entrance. "And you're leaving her alone."

Now she looked stunned, so stunned, in fact, she began to chuckle.

"How about I drag both of you back to the Fury and have you sleep outdoors for the next 5 months?" she threatened, meeting him fully. "Perhaps that would be long enough for you to purge your own stupidity."

"My stupidity or your fear?" Xur challenged. "Are you going to shelter Alhara for the rest of her childhood? Have we learned absolutely nothing?"

She chuckled again. "You and I are going to have a serious conversation when this is over, my dear, and the next time you l—"

"You don't love her do you?"

Trilla's face was shocked into a statuette of raw horror, hurt, and unbridled fury. He could sense in her moment of released emotions that she couldn't believe he had actually suggested such a thing…but he had to. It didn't need to be true, it just had to get her to listen.

"Why should Alhara have any reason to think you do?" he pressed. "Tell me. What would make a daughter think her mother doesn't love her?"

Trilla swallowed, and he saw a slight glistening under her eye. "How…how dare you."

"This is what she wants, Trilla," he shrugged. "She asked me to do this. I didn't force her or smuggle her on my own. She's doing this on her own accord and own freedom."

She sniveled, hiding her tears and pushing down the anger she still held. "She's too young, Xur. How can you not—"

"She's three times the age I was when I lost my parents," he continued. "I wasn't given a choice. It was be a Jedi, or die, starving in the streets. I don't want our daughter to think she doesn't have a choice…that she must stick to a plan that we've laid out for her. I don't know if you've noticed, but Alhara isn't happy at home. She doesn't want to be there. She doesn't want anything to do with us."

Trilla had no denial for that.

"When I saw her, cheering on recruits in that battle circle…even with a helmet on, I'd never seen or felt my daughter so happy…so engaged. She was her in there, taking down a boy twice her size, even if she got a little help."

Her smile peeked through, but she lowered her head to hide it. Taking his chance, he stepped forward and grasped her shoulders, earning an immediate shake…until she relaxed.

"Think about it…how proud we'd be…knowing our daughter was a Mandalorian. What else could we want?"

Trilla looked up, her expression still unconvinced. "I want her to be safe. Do you understand that? That's all I've ever cared about."

"I'm not asking you to commit to anything now," Xur shook his head. "I'm asking you to keep your mind open. Can you do that for her?"

For her, not him. That was the key.

Xur already knew that Trilla's greatest fear was her children succumbing to the suffering she had to endure, and he couldn't even come close to imagining that terror. While he had preached her leniency, he had always understood where she stood, and why she was always to hesitant to let her children leave her sight…but he also knew her truth…that she wanted Katara and Alhara to be who they wanted to be. Trilla did not wish them to have their future stolen from them as it had been from her…which was well short of beyond reason.

Her left hand slid up her arm as her head drooped, but she eventually answered, "Very well…I will go along with this…as much as I may still disapprove."

"She's under watchful eyes and capable protection, Trilla," Xur promised. "Ahsoka assures me that Bo Katan is one of the best."

She snorted. "Forgive me, but her assurances don't mean much to me."

Xur let his smirk return. "How about mine?"

Trilla gave him her own smirk, and then traced the center of his chest with her finger. "You do realize you just admitted you lied to me, no?"

"I never told you 'Alhara is definitely on the Valkyrie'."

Her fist collided into his stomach, making him wheeze momentarily. "I still can't believe I married you," she shook her head while he rubbed where she punched him.

The zabrak coughed. "…sometimes…neither can I."

She feigned hurt.

"Oh, fuck you," he chuckled…and she gave him a wink.

"Let's go, go, go!"

Bo Katan came up beside Rondir as he shouted orders across the camp, the recruits all beginning to take down tents and carry equipment to be loaded into their original gunships. Dusting off her helmet and sliding it over her head just before the downdraft of the first stealth gunship blew her autumn hair into oblivion, her presence was obvious enough for one of her most trusted to take notice.

"This reminds me of Carlac," he muttered behind his helmet. "Scrambling from rat hole to rat hole."

She scowled at the prospect of being reminded of Death Watch. "It's either this or we die, and I prefer the former."

"Tell that to Arrum. That di'kut is going to get us all killed if he were in your position."

Bo Katan grumbled, shaking her head in annoyance. It was no secret he and Arrum never saw eye to eye, but she didn't have the patience to deal with it now.

"Where's the kid? I need to speak to her before I go."

Rondir scanned the crowd of bustling recruits before whistling sharply at one of the shorter ones. "Aruetii!"

"Don't call her that," Bo bit out, clenching her fist as some of the other recruits laughed…and her reaction had them silenced.

"Was her idea," Rondir shrugged. "What do you care anyway? I never took you for the type to."

"It's disrespectful," Bo pointed. "Especially towards a potential ally's child."

Just as Alhara began to jog their way, Rondir motioned to give them space. "If that were true, you wouldn't be asking to talk to her," he said, and then inclined his head as Alhara reached them. "Lady Kryze."

Bo didn't take his meaning immediately, but she didn't allow it to bother her. She just wanted to get out a few words to Alhara that could improve her chances, that was all. After all, it was her job to make sure she made it back alive.

If that were true, you wouldn't need to talk to her.

"Holding up alright?" Bo asked, and then beckoned her to the side, to which she followed. "I'd imagine this is probably all new to you."

Alhara nodded. "I'm fine. Thanks for helping me when I was in the circle. It was a great honor you gave me," she bowed, just as they stopped to face each other.

Bo mentally cringed. "Just trying to help out, kid. You're the one who won the duel."

She bowed her head…almost as if she expected a reprimand. "R-right…sorry."

"Why? I gave you a compliment."

"You did?" she asked, letting her head pop up to meet her towering gaze. "Oh…well, thanks, Mand'alor."

"I'm not—" she lurched forward, making Alhara rear back in fear. Almost immediately she regretted it, and just felt her own spirit fade for a moment. She didn't want to see Alhara upset…as to why, she wasn't exactly sure, and only found Rondir's question resonating within her once again.

Why do I care?

Bo hadn't cared about anyone for over a decade, sometime after her sister had been murdered, and she never imagined letting someone else into her heart again. That hurt, that pain of knowing that she had spent so long hating a person she didn't agree with, and only after she had been taken from her did she realize what she had meant.

You're Satine's sister, aren't you…I'm so sorry.

"I'm not Mand'alor," Bo Katan finally said, calmly, and fell to one knee to meet the girl's gaze. "It's a long story…a very long story."

"Why?" Alhara asked. "What happened?"

Bo didn't know how to say it. "I had my chance to lead…and I failed. I lost…I lost someone I cared about…or…didn't know I did until they were gone."

Alhara leaned in. "Who?"

Bo let her head incline, before shaking away the reverie. Gripping the girl's shoulder, she promised, "Maybe I'll tell you the story someday."

She nodded. "Okay."

With that, Bo knew her time was running short, and proceeded to rise to her feet. "Now get back to work. We need all the help we can get."

Even if she couldn't see it, Bo knew Alhara was smiling. "Yes, Lady Kryze."

As she ran off, Bo Katan knew her own question had already been answered.

"You see that new Z-25 model?"

The stormtrooper companion beside him shrugged, looking out from their railed perch multiple stories up a warehouse, looking over the fenced-off tree line that extended into the horizon. "Seen one, seen them all."

"You're kidding! I can't believe you actually said that."

Silence followed, and it was clear this conversation was going nowhere.

"Want to take a guess as to what the package the High Agent sent down?"
The other sighed. "No."

"No?"

"For fuck sake, how many times do I have to say it? Just…stand there in silence…or something," he suggested, turning his gaze away from him and back to the view.

His companion tried, shuffled…and then turned.

"I think it's a bomb."

"Why would it be a bomb? Nothing happens here," he made the mistake of replying. "Unless they wanted to demo this place."

"Heh, wouldn't blame 'em," he chuckled, and then looked out to the trees. "How much you want to bet I could hit that branch from here?"

"There's thousands of them, you wouldn't—" his throat shut, and within moments, his friend watched his neck snap and his body fall limp before his eyes.

"Oh m—" the other gasped, before his vision went black from a well-placed blaster shot.

"Clear," Bo Katan confirmed as she swung down from the overhead bar and landed on the overlook, blasters quickly drawn into each hand. She was followed by the landing of another Mandalorian, as well as two graceful boots just behind, and a synthetic body contorting its way up from below. After a quick look over her shoulder to confirm that Nara, Trilla, Ahsoka and Rava had made it, she led the way down the narrow hall, just outside the maintenance entrance to the main warehouse chamber.

With a simple gesture, Rava advanced, revealing her arm scomp link and plugged in. "One moment," she warned.

"Get a readout of their patrol patterns," Trilla directed.

On cue, the door popped open, and Rava's eyes ceased their usual glow when interfacing. "I know the drill," before taking a knee and projecting the schematics via her MAHI. Bo slid off her helmet for a better look, utilizing the responsive interface.

"Looks like your intel was good, Ahsoka," she confirmed. "Multiple squads on the top levels, and special forces with ISB on the ground floor. Our target is the transport and getting Rava a chance to hijack control."

"How long will that take, dr—I mean…Rava?" Nara asked.

Rava cut the feed. "Hijacking? No more than 5 seconds, but we have a problem," she then turned to Ahsoka. "Your intel isn't as good as you claimed."

The togruta furrowed her brow, just as Bo resisted the urge to smack down this idea of playing games during a mission. "What do you mean? Of course it is."

"The shipping manifest states they are transporting beskar, yes," Rava nodded. "But my sensors aren't detecting the alloy within the warehouse."

"Your sensors could be off," Nara shrugged.

"Don't insult me."

"Rava, just…" Trilla eased with an admonishing turn of her head. "Explain."

The android flashed Nara one last glare, to which Bo's second in command let her head sway back and forth in mock fear.

"Beskar is a unique alloy, and the Empire can't block a VI's sensors. They don't have the technology or the hardware."

"The Empire could've recreated you," Bo pointed out. "If you exist here, the Empire can replicate you."

"I'd detect them in the system if that were true. Not even I can hide myself completely," Rava denied. "There's no beskar. We should pull out."

"Pull out? Some of my agents died to get this tip," Ahsoka spat in disgust.

"And your sentiment will get all of us killed," Rava retorted. "Well, all of you anyway."

Bo's commlink blinked, and her raised finger silenced any further argument. "What is it Arrum?"

"What the bloody hell is taking so long? We're ready to strike!" Vizsla protested, making Bo grimace.

"One minute," she replied, and then muted the comm as she turned to Rava. "You're 100 percent sure there's no beskar?"

Rava shook her head. "98 percent. Standard error makes complete certainty impossible in this situation."

She didn't like those odds, but they couldn't just pull out. Their entire plan was predicated on the distraction of the Imperial forces, as did their method of escape. Tucking tail and running now would only result in needless deaths for no results…and that wasn't an option, not to Bo Katan.

"Kryze?!" Arrum shouted into her ear. "It's now or never!"

Tapping her helmet, she made her decision. "Go Arrum. Start the attack."

"With pleasure."

Killing the comm, she rose to her feet and slid over her helmet, prepping to charge the door once the first explosion hit.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Rava let her brow slant.

"Decision's been made," Bo drew her blasters. "Deal with it."

Trilla chuckled. "Now that is a sentiment I can get behind."

ISD Corona – 4 BBY

The bridge of a star destroyer never got any smaller each time Markov walked across its command deck, and even after well over a decade of service, she still felt like she didn't belong. She was an agent, an investigator, not a strategic commander, even if she was somewhat competent at the job. More often than not, she merely desired to complete her purpose and subsequently return to her quarters to continue her work…but ever since she had been assigned to High Agent Gideon, he had taken her everywhere.

And she meant everywhere.

In honesty, she knew better than to complain. Shadowing a superior nearly always meant that one was being groomed to assume that position in due time, and Markov liked the sound of High Agent before her name, allowed a seat at the high-level meetings deciding the course of the Empire as a whole. There was much she wished to change, and much she wished to undo…but she was getting ahead of herself.

There was no guarantee the High Agent wouldn't kill her along the way.

Gideon had a reputation for "laying down the law" wherever he went, establishing his dominance in a clear-cut fashion. While she was yet to see him execute a subordinate for a petty violation, stories made that possibility very clear to her. She wasn't insubordinate, and certainly knew her place, so she didn't possess any fear of the occurrence, but that didn't alleviate her anxiety much at all.

Still, she respected him, and while his methods didn't sit well with her, that didn't diminish her opinion of him much at all.

As she followed just behind her superior, but visible over his right shoulder, the commanding Admiral let out a huff of dismay. "I sincerely hope your idea of superior position has merit, Agent Gideon," the red-haired woman looked to their reflection off her viewport. "I am not too keen on allowing rebels to stare down my forces unopposed."

Neither was Markov, frankly.

"Perhaps unopposed visually, Admiral, but in reality, our enemies are positioned in such a state where our advantage is absolute," Gideon argued.

The Admiral snorted, finally revealing her green eyes and tied braid left to rest over her collarbone as she turned to face them. "I suggest you retain your talents to espionage. By the time your metaphors ran their course, the enemy would've already wiped out have your fleet."

Gideon hardly reacted, merely giving her an upward curl of the corner of his lips. "All in due time, Admiral Daala."

"I do hope so," she quipped, and then turned her gaze to Markov. "Agent Markov, pleasure to see you again. I do grow tired of all the dreadful odor men tend to emit in such enclosed spaces. I believe you will finally grant me a reprieve."

She tipped her head, hiding a smile of amusement. "Glad to be of service, Admiral."

Daala was young for her post, and Markov had her own theories as to how, but the most prominent rumor was her closeness to Grand Moff Tarkin himself. She was his protégé, perhaps a replacement for the disaster that was Reyna Vorchenko, though as to why Tarkin had a fascination with female students didn't seem to fit his other radical views and prejudices. She certainly shared many of Vorchenko's old tendencies, aside from her much harsher personality and outspokenness. Daala tended to demand obedience more than insight it naturally, the latter skill in which Markov was beginning to become convinced that one must be born with.

Markov respected her, certainly more than Gideon, but not to so much a degree that she'd let it show in her expression.

"Has the transport reached Botajef's surface?" Gideon asked, keeping a cool stance and tone.

"Yes," Daala answered. "Whatever plan you have for dealing with these Mandalorian insurgents, it had better be good. I'm practically throwing an entire squad away."

"I did promise you that their sacrifice would be worth it. I intend to keep that promise," Gideon assured her, stepping towards the viewport dash and pulling up a holoimage.

Throwing lives away…it made Markov's stomach turn.

The image was a live feed of the building that was now under assault by a contingent of Mandalorians, the same colors and symbols she had seen in the reports of earlier attacks…only this time…

Daala stepped forward, suddenly interested. "That's a lightsaber."

"Not just any," Markov blurted, feeling it was her duty to speak up. There was no doubt about it. His eyes, his red skin, and the ease in which he carved through their ranks.

It was him.

"Sir, if I may…we must inform Lord Vader that Xur Eon has resurfaced."

Daala began to massage her chin in thought while Gideon regarded Markov with a sideways glance. In fact…she detected…surprise in his stature.

"Unless you can reassure me that you plan will still work with him present, I will be pulling my men out and reporting to Moff Tarkin, High Agent. Even you must admit we are not equipped to deal with such a threat."

"Your concern is greatly exaggerated," Gideon noted. "This test will commence as scheduled and promised. Moff Tarkin assured me as much."

"I'm afraid that's not entirely accurate," Daala shook her head, looking to Gideon. "The situation has changed, and this is my ship, so unless you can give me a better reason than just your…promise…"

Markov grimaced. This had nothing to do with whether or not Gideon's alleged test would succeed…just politics and maneuvering. Daala was thinking about her own resources and loyalty to Moff Tarkin, while Gideon was solely concerned with completing his test to report to the Emperor.

And Markov had just unwittingly given Daala all the leverage.

But Gideon did not look upset, even after what she had done, and Markov knew better than to think that meant any reassurance…but he wasn't hiding anything. He was never afraid to tell her when she had made a mistake, even in front of other superior officers, and yet he looked calmer than he had ever before.

What game is he playing?

Daala seemed to pick up on it, and she furrowed her brow. "I do not enjoy being forced to wait, Gideon. Usually when I see that expression, a man is about to tell me he knows something I don't."

He still said nothing, until finally stepping forward and swiping the image, showing a camp not far from the warehouse…one teeming with young Mandalorian recruits.

Now it was Daala's turn to be stunned.

"You seem to have been misinformed on the parameters of my test," Gideon let his lips curl upwards again, ever so slightly. "None of your men will be sacrificed…but the message to Mandalore will be swift and everlastingly cruel…even by their standards."

Only now…now did Markov understand.

Daala shook her head. "You are forgetting Xur Eon. He does not care about civilian casualties."

"No," Gideon agreed. "Unless among those civilians…was someone he loved."

Even Markov had to admit that was a cruel card, but very well played. Daala would not be able to deny him now, especially if the news of Xur Eon broke out after she turned and ran from the scene.

"And this person is…?" Daala raised her brow.

Gideon turned away, stepping towards the viewport until he watched over Botajef from afar.

"Someone who means more to him than you could ever know."