They said Mandalore was a planet that never changed much, supposedly because the locals were uninterested in anything besides killing and carousing. The first part seemed accurate enough to Darth Havok. After setting his shuttle down on the outskirts of the capital Keldabe he walked through its streets to the place where he was set to meet Yaga Auchs, and it seemed as though nothing had changed in the thirteen years since he'd last been here. The town, walled and perched on a hillside overlooking a river valley, was a jumble of low buildings and winding streets barely big enough to fit a landspeeder through. The population was dominated by Mandalorians in armor and faceless T-visor helmets, but there were enough unmasked visitors that Havok didn't feel totally exposed.

Everything looked the same as thirteen years ago, including Havok's face. The process of removing his tattoos had been excruciating, and for fear of looking weak he'd not asked for medication to dull the pain. Even now, after almost a week in transit, his skin sometimes broke out in itches and he wasn't used to the face he saw in mirrors. Removed of its golden iris and scarlet-and-black lines, it looked ordinary and tired and old. Not the face of a Sith it all.

He was far more than Eshkar Niin, even without the Force. He'd told himself that adamantly on the way here, and now that he'd finally arrived it was a relief to get to work. Before landing he'd broadcast a signal over a secure priority channel, one the Sith had used to communicate directly with Auchs in the past. The conversation that followed had been short and brusque, and Auchs had given him instructions on where they would meet.

Havok didn't expect an easy conversation, and he didn't expect Auchs to be subservient. After Darth Maladi had bought the Mandalore's allegiance at Botajef, the Sith had helped him secure his grip over the rest of the warrior clans. After that they'd mostly left him to rule his little kingdom, contacting him rarely to use his mercenaries for minor missions. Their alliance had been of convenience only.

More importantly, everyone knew the Force had gone silent. The Mandalorians had flinched before the Sith's deadly mystique, but the days of grudging respect were gone, and it was good Havok had the blackmail card to play.

He followed Auchs' instructions and wandered into the downslope industrial part of the city. Its bulky, plain warehouses overflowed the crumbling walls and stood in contrast to the traditional architecture of the old city. Havok had been to this drab district before. As Eshkar Niin, he'd tracked Auchs' agents to a secret hideout in one of these warehouses and uncovered his Sith allies. It was here that his life had tipped toward Darth Havok, and he wondered if this choice wasn't a deliberate show by Auchs. That was unlikely; he'd never spoken with Auchs face-to-face and he doubted the Mandalore knew his story. Still, it disquieted him. Too much of his past was coming back.

When he reached the warehouse Auchs had designated, Havok tapped the entrance panel to the door and heard a buzzer muffled by layered metal. He waited, looking up and down the empty street. Just as he was getting impatient the door slid open, and he found himself looking at a figure in full beskar'gam, dark violet plates streaked with black.

From the frame and armor color, he guessed this wasn't Yaga Auchs, and got confirmation when a female voice sounded through the helmet speakers.

"Get inside," the woman said gruffly. She had a blaster hefted and resting on one shoulder-plate.

"I'm here to speak to the Mandalore," Havok said. "Is he here?"

"He's here. Now get inside."

Havok stepped through the door. The woman followed and closed it. With blaster still drawn but not aimed, she escorted him down a hall, past the office attached to the warehouse, and into the large central storage chamber. It was just like the place where Nihl and Vorkan had captured him all those years ago, maybe even the same building.

In the center of that plain empty space was a Mandalorian in full armor, green and brown. Havok recognized this one as Yaga Auchs.

"That's enough, Sor'ika," the man said. "Leave us alone."

The woman walked silently back into the office, closing the door and sealing them here. Havok didn't step closer to the Mandalorian. "You are Yaga Auchs, aren't you?" he asked. "I came all this way so we could speak freely. Face to face."

"You Sith," he said. "Always thinking you call the shots."

Havok didn't deign to retort. The Mandalorian reached up and wrenched the helmet from his head. The face beneath was that of a human in his middling years, strong and square-jawed, scalp shaved down to a retreating gray stubble. It was indeed Yaga Auchs.

"Satisfied?" Auchs asked as he tucked the helmet underarm. His free hand dangled near a holstered blaster.

"I am. My name is Darth Havok." The Iktotchi folded his hands in front of him. "Given the circumstances, I expected you to be more polite. Or at least apologetic."

"Maladi hired my people to kidnap Jedi and Imperial Knights. We had no idea what she was using their bodies for."

"And when she had you deliver two live captives back to the Jedi?"

"We did what she paid us to do. We had no idea what kind of disease she was sticking them with."

"And if you had known?"

"We didn't. That's all that matters."

"I hope that's the case." Havok began walking a slow circle around Auchs. It was an old technique to rattle someone. He'd be forced to either constantly pivot to watch the other man or stay firmly in one place and leave his back exposed. "Mandalorian antipathy to Force-users is well known. With us temporarily disabled, it leaves an opening where your kind can become more assertive."

Auchs elected to keep both feet planted. As Havok passed his flank he said, "We don't have the numbers or the resources to go crusading again. We're mercenaries. We fight then we're paid to fight and the rest of the time we keep our noses out of galactic affairs. Sticking them where they're not wanted only gets us trouble."

He knew Auchs was speaking from personal wisdom. Helping the Sith stage a false-flag attack on the Chiss had gotten his uncle killed.

"You've inserted yourselves into galactic affairs whether you wanted to or not," Havok reminded. "You're lucky Coruscant hasn't come down hard on your people for the help you gave Maladi. I heard they almost captured one of your lieutenants at Ord Mantell. Thorum Rhal, wasn't it?"

Auchs wasn't intimidated by his show of intel. "Rhal escaped. And like you said, Coruscant hasn't bothered us since. Maladi's dead and they've got their own messes to sort out."

Havok circled back around to face him. "You're lucky. Coruscant is forgiving. The Sith are not."

"What kind of Sith are you if you don't have the Force?"

It was the central question for all of them now. Havok hid doubt behind a wicked smile. "We are still Sith, and we're making our presence known."

"Manpha?"

"Manpha is just the first step." He began another circle around Auchs. "We're going to need help with our war effort."

"I told you, we're not meddling in the big stuff anymore."

"You're mercenaries and you fight when you're paid to fight. Don't you?"

"We choose what fights we take up."

"Then you'll choose to take up this one. Not just because you'll be paid a respectable sum for it, because you do not want to make an enemy of the Sith."

As Havok walked behind him Auchs asked, "We're not enemies yet?"

"The Sith and the Auchs are historic allies. It would be in all our interests if it stayed that way, especially yours."

As he came around on Auchs' other side, Havok removed a small holo-projector from his tunic pocket. He held the disc up and tapped its side, causing it to play. Two shrunken blue figures faced each other across lightyears, both recorded for posterity. One was Yaga Auchs, the other Darth Maladi.

"It's done," the decade-younger Auchs said. "We've withdrawn from Botajef. I left a few companies behind as rear guard, but the Imperials will be all over them."

"What about Chernan Ordo?" Maladi asked.

Havok came in front of Auchs and lifted the holo close so he could watch his own image say, "The Mandalore is dead."

"Are you sure?"

"I killed him myself."

"And no one knows?"

"Nobody left alive."

"Excellent. The Sith won't forget this."

"You'd better not. I'll need help consolidating my authority. You made a promise-"

"The Sith keep their promises," said Maladi. "Don't worry. Go back to Mandalore. Gather as many allies as you can. My agents will be in touch shortly to deal with the ones who don't welcome you as their new leader."

Havok tapped the projector off and slid it back into his pocket. Auchs' face was pinched to a scowl.

"I'm sure there are plenty who'd be interested in that conversation," Havok said casually. "We both know your reign as Mandalore couldn't survive a revelation like that. So let's be straightforward. You will lend your mercenaries to our campaign in the Outer Rim. I will put you in contact with Lord Nihl, and you will obey his orders to the letter. You will naturally be paid for your services. If you renege on that arrangement in any way, you'll no longer be Mandalore. Likely, you'll no longer be alive. Do you understand?"

Auchs glared murder at him. Havok was acutely aware of the danger; without the Force as his aid, this man could certainly kill him. Auchs was a violent and angry man but he'd not stayed Mandalore this long by letting his passions reign. He gave a single nod of acceptance.

"Very good," smiled Havok. "With that out of the way, we can discuss details."

"We won't help you for cheap."

"I already said you'd be paid. You should know by now, the Sith do keep their promises."

-{}-

When the Darth Havok left, Yaga Auchs stayed inside the warehouse, helmet tucked underarm, thinking. The moment the Sith had announced his arrival he'd feared something like this, and he'd known it was coming ever since he learned the full truth of Maladi's scheme. It was true that neither he nor Thorum Rhal had understood her virus when they'd helped her spread it, but when Yaga had heard the truth from Empress Fel's own broadcast, he'd broken out in gleeful laughter.

He hadn't been able to help himself, even as he'd realized the Sith- the real Sith, the ones Maladi had betrayed- would seek recompense. Rhal and all his other lieutenants had been suffused with joy for days over the news. For millennia, the shabla Jedi and Sith had warred with each other, dragging the galaxy into one bloody conflict after another. The Mandalorians made good coin off those wars, but unlike the Force-users they'd never kidded themselves they were fighting for a greater purpose. Many Mandos admitted respect for those Force-users' combat abilities, but the mystic jibberish and self-righteous platitudes they used to justify their wars made them objects of contempt. Now, in the blink of an eye, their orders were extinct, their vaunted knights and lords turned into hapless mortals, and even without knowing it, the Mandalorians had played a part in their downfall. It was hard not to feel pride.

The problem was that, even without their Force, the Sith still had power over him.

Yaga watched the door from the office open. Sora stepped toward him, wrenching off her helmet and shaking loose matted brown hair. The young woman said, "He's gone, buir. I didn't see anyone shadowing him either."

"I didn't think there would be."

"He was brave coming here alone. Or arrogant."

"No, just smart," Yaga said. "You heard it all?"

His daughter patted the side of her helmet. Its audio transceiver had been patched into his, which had recorded the whole conversation. That meant she'd even heard the audio of her father admitting to killing Chernan Ordo. Sora already knew about that; he'd told her himself not long after he'd done the deed. She'd been a child then, not even ten standard years, but he'd told her because she deserved to know. He wanted no secrets between them, just as she'd had none with his father.

"Even without the Force the Sith are dangerous," he said.

"Nothing a blaster to the head won't stop."

"You could kill Havok but the Sith still have proof of what I did. They'll always have proof."

And that meant he was still trapped beneath them. He'd known when the Sith first came to him, that it would end like this, but he'd been desperate. He'd been chafing as a hanger-on to Chernan Ordo and hated the way he was dragging the Mandalorians into the Imperial-Alliance war. Then Darth Maladi had come to him, offering to make him Mand'alor and keep his people out of the fight. All he'd had to do was betray Ordo.

He'd known it was a bad offer, but he'd taken it anyway. He'd been young and ambitious and smoldering with inner anger and it had overriden his hatred for Force-users. He'd thought he could use them better than they'd used him, and for a while it seemed he'd succeeded. That illusion was gone.

"So we'll do what he said?" asked Sora.

"We'll give him his mercenaries." Throwing the Mandos into whatever the Sith and Nagai were doing would reverse all their isolationism of the past decade. Some of his lieutenants, like Thorum Rhal, would approve. Others, like Vaun Zerminar, would object but comply anyway. All would wonder what had come over their Mand'alor.

"I heard the Nagai took over most of the Saijo sector and are moving into Setia," Sora said. "Those are a lot of nothing planets, but Coruscant's going to have to act."

"That's why the Sith want us there."

"How do they think they can hold that territory, even with us? The Imperial and Alliance fleets combined could retake those sectors in a week."

"Don't underestimate the Sith. They make layers of schemes. They'll start sowing problems on Coruscant, just watch."

"Sith chakaare," the young woman shook her head. "You'd think without their shabla Force they'd be done mucking up the galaxy."

"It's the only thing they know how to do."

"A blaster to the head would fix them all."

Sora's thinking was crude and brutal, like most young Mandalorians, but she was ultimately right. Without their powers they could die as easily as anyone, and with them all dead the galaxy would be a better place. Unfortunately, that wasn't something Yaga could accomplish without destroying himself and his daughter.

"Someone has to pay our bills," he grunted. "So we'll go along with them for now. We'll help them fight their war."

"And look for a way out?"

Yaga doubted they'd find one, but he nodded just to see hope in her eyes. "We'll do what we can."

During his talk with Havok he'd been tempted to just take out his blaster and put a bolt between the Iktotchi's eyes. Liberation from the hold the Sith had on him would have felt eminently satisfying at first, but in the end, it wouldn't just be Yaga himself who paid for Chernan Ordo's death. It would be his daughter too.

He knew that from experience. He'd joined his own father Kaynar in the quest to avenge his uncle and restore some honor to the Auchs family name. Even at the time he'd understood that his father had been driven less by grief for Gevern than by the shame of having failed his clan. Because of that shame, he'd brought his son with him to ruin.

Yaga had been fourteen when he'd watched a Force-user in red Mandalorian armor attack and kill his father. She'd jolted him with dark Force lighting, slashed a knife across his throat, then walked out of their crashed ship, leaving Yaga frozen in horror. He could still remember his father's arterial blood splashing against the T-visor of her helmet. He didn't know what Force-user cult she'd belonged to or even her name. Literally faceless, the woman was a red nightmare dogging his memories, even after all these years. Thought of her still filled him with terror.

Yaga loved his father, revered him, but he wouldn't make the same mistakes as Kaynar Auchs. He wouldn't let his passions drive him to error and he wouldn't pass on his sins to his daughter. It seemed an impossible task, but he owed Sora a better legacy than the one he'd inherited.

If he were ever free of these Sith, he might even give it to her.