The great entry doors to the repulsorlift factory outside Salis D'aar were spread wide, and a thousand people were filing out into Bakura's noon light. After days kept as hostages inside the factory they shambled wearily ahead, squinting into the sun their faces grew soft with relief. Some of them had never expected to see the sky again.
Shado Vao felt a flush of pride as he watched them move. The sun shone down on his head too, warming his scalp and lekku. He stood at the open gate that warded the factory grounds, and though two human security guards stood on either side of him he felt he was in no danger. Vlothaw and his P'w'eck could have hurt him at any time while he was in the factory as their voluntary hostage. In the end he'd convinced them to let him go, along with all of the human hostages and the most valuable prize of all.
As the tail of the hostage column marched through the gate, Vlothaw's final relinquishment left the factory. Four P'w'eck ringed by a full dozen human security guards plodded along, tasting the air with flicking tongues but betraying no emotion Shado could read.
These, Vlothaw had said, were the ones who'd passed HIMS technology to the Ssi-ruuk. He'd presented some evidence as well, though it would take time for neutral investigators to verify it. Help promised by the Federation had yet to arrive, which meant a final resolution for the standoff was still far away, but what the P'w'eck had done today was an unmistakable sign of goodwill. Shado knew that most of it was his doing, and though it may not have been Jedi-like, he allowed himself to indulge in pride for what he'd accomplished. Even without touching the Force he was still working its will.
Once the captive P'w'eck were loaded into a secure airspeeder and whisked away, Shado got into another vehicle and allowed the guards to take him to the presidential pyramid on the other side of Salis D'aar. Flying high in bright daylight, he could see the P'w'eck districts marked by scars of violence and the security vehicles forming rings around them. The city was still halfway under siege, and it was a sobering reminder that while progress had been made, they still had a long way to go.
When Shado entered the president's office he took it as a good sign that General Koregion, Bakura's bullish defense chief, was absent. Instead there was merely President Recado and Geral Storr. Both were on their feet, and they greeted Shado with warm handshakes.
"Getting those hostages released is a major step, Master Jedi," said Storr. "You're to be commended."
"Surprised?" Shado gave him a tight smile.
The Imperial looked slightly humbled. "It was a dangerous undertaking. I'm glad it's paid off, for now."
Always the qualifier. "When will the Federation team get here?"
"They're due within six hours."
"In the meantime," Recado said, "Our investigators will start looking into those P'w'eck we've been handed. Not to be callous, but they're even more valuable than the thousand hostages."
He was likely right. "The P'w'eck are still waiting on restitution for their own losses. Vlothaw made it very clear he won't leave the factories until he's got them."
"That could take days. Weeks. The damage to our economy is already dire. We need to get those factories producing again."
"Once the team for Coruscant arrives," said Storr, "They'll do everything they can to expedite matters."
In other words, Shado thought, they'd make certain Bakura remained a viable link in the supply chain. He didn't begrudge anyone for the economics of wartime, but it was a reminder why the Jedi had always been reluctant to wed themselves tightly to any government.
The door to Recado's office slid open and Koregion marched in on long fast strides. The sight of him was disappointing but not unexpected. The general gave Shado a curt nod. "Congratulations on your efforts."
"Thank you," Shado nodded back.
Recado crossed arms over his chest. "Master Jedi, you spent a long time in that factory. We're going to need you to recount what happened, every step of the way."
He'd expected them to plumb him for intelligence, but he was mildly surprised it was happening in the president's office. Nonetheless, he did as requested, describing how he'd been taken through the factory into the observation room overlooking a mess hall packed with prisoners.
"I didn't get to see much," he added. "I'm sure that was intentional. So I can't say to how the P'w'eck are spread out inside."
"But you spoke to Vlothaw repeatedly," Recado said. "What did you get from him?"
It was a vague question. With the Force Shado might have had an answer; instead he took a guess. "I think he's in a difficult situation and he's trying to deal with it as best as he can. He's doing everything for his people but he never struck me as a radical."
Koregion snorted. "How would you describe his actions, then?"
"I think he, and the P'w'eck as a whole, see them as self-defense."
"They're the ones who collaborated with the Ssi-ruuk. We can't forget that."
"They're cooperating with us now. Why else would Vlothaw hand over four of his own?"
"To stall us or throw us off the real culprits," Storr said, thoughtful rather than accusing.
"Maybe. But you asked my opinion. I don't think he wants this to end in blood. None of us do."
"We've started making a path," Recado said. "We'll follow along it for a time and see where it gets us. But we need to travel faster than we are now."
"Until we do get to our destination," said Koregion, "We need to keep the factories surrounded and the P'w'eck districts secure. And we need to keep our soldiers on standby."
The sight of all those security vehicles in Salis D'aar had made Shado uncomfortable, and he hoped that some might be withdrawn with a relaxing of tensions. He and Koregion both stared at Recado; the president shirked and looked away.
"General, keep your men in place for now. Including the ones in the cities. It's as much for the P'w'eck's protection as anything else."
"Yes, Mister President."
"In the meantime," Storr said, "What do you need from myself and Master Vao?"
Recado considered. A buzzer went off at his desk and the man walked over to tap on his comm system. "This is the president. Speak."
"Mister President, this is Lieutenant Envis. We've just received a hail from orbital control," the young voice said. "They've picked up new arrivals from hyperspace."
Six hours early, Shado thought, and gave Storr an encouraged look.
When the young man didn't continue, Recado pressed, "Well, Lieutenant? Out with it."
"Sir, we have over twenty ships in orbit. They're Ssi-ruuk."
Rather than show shock or anger, the president closed his eyes and exhaled. Koregion bent over the desk and said urgently, "Lieutenant, this is General Koregion. Are our defensive screens up?"
"Yes, General. Our defenders in orbit are angling to intercept, but there's so many of them, sir, and they're spread out wide. It looks like a standard siege pattern. They haven't moved to engage yet and they haven't broadcast any signals."
"Understood. Have all ships hold the line and do not fire unless fired upon. I'm on my way to headquarters now."
"Yes, sir. Understood, sir,"
Koregion closed the link and told Recado, "You should come with me, Mister President."
The old man drew himself up. "Yes. Let's get going."
They started for the door without a word to the ambassadors. Shado called, "We'll come with you."
The general glared at him. "Haven't you done enough damage?"
"What do you mean?"
"If it weren't for your negotiating we could have sent troops a day ago and seized those factories. Vlothaw was using you, Jedi. He was using you to stall us so his Ssi-ruuk friends could get here."
It was such a stunning thought Shado struggled for something to say. He looked to Storr for support but the ambassador had gone stony. He'd neither confirm nor deny the accusation.
Koregion and Recado hurried from the room. Storr joined them and Shado, still shocked beyond words, followed in their wake.
-{}-
When Sora Auchs' commandos had taken the tibanna refinery platform they'd charged inside to quickly disable its crew and seize key locations. The fast-strike approach had succeeded in its initial goal but they'd left themselves open to an attack from the rear. Now that they'd taken the facility, and Sora's people with it, Marin's team was determined not to make the same mistake. They were burrowing in for a siege.
The doors from the landing platforms into the refinery itself had been barricaded waist-high with supply crates. Tripod canons had been dragged out of the Bottom Line and mounted at each entry point, and sharpshooters had been placed at several windows looking onto the platform. What really unnerved Ania, though, were the detonite charges that had been placed on the outer shells of half the tibanna gas tanks on platforms' outer edges. Blowing just a few of those would be enough to knock the platform from the sky. Exploding all those charges at once would instantly incinerate everything and everyone.
It was clear to Ania that her mother wasn't just readying for a siege, she was preparing for a last stand. For the past months she'd learned a lot about Marin's ruthless means and obsession with bringing down Yaga Auchs, but her actions on Bespin still surprised her. Marin had seemed determined to orchestrate Auchs' downfall in a controlled fashion and see that justice was done without ruining more lives than necessary. Now she was ready to destroy herself and most of her people, maybe even her own daughter. The fact that she was using Auchs' own child as bait was stomach-turning.
As expected, Marin was too busy giving orders to make time for Ania. She finally managed to pin her mother down in the processing plant at the south end, the same room with the tall central pillar where she'd first seen her mother plunge from the highest platform and pin Yaga Auchs' daughter to the floor.
Sora Auchs was still there. Her helmet was off but the rest of her armor was on, and they had her hands-bound and on her knees midway between the pillar and the entryway. Two Mandalorians- she thought one was Yangar Skirata- lay on the elevated platform behind her, ready to pump a blaster bolt into her or if she moved.
When Ania stepped inside the room, Sora met her eyes and held them. They were dark eyes on a young face framed by dark hair. There wasn't anger in those eyes, or imploring, just a veiled curiosity, as though she were wondering what this unmasked, un-Mando woman was doing here.
Those eyes unsettled her and Ania turned away. Her mother was in the far corner, scouring the tableau like a director evaluating the stage before her play. Marin looked at everything but Ania until her daughter was right beside her.
"Hondo just sent a message to Auchs," Marin said. "He spoke to him directly and told him we have his daughter. He's on his way down to negotiate."
"And then what?" Marin gestured to the large room and the small figure kneeling on the floor. "What do you expect he'll do? Surrender? Admit what he did so everyone can hear?"
"I've tried for years to get proof. It doesn't exist because the Sith wouldn't let it. I waited too now long and now both of them- Auchs and the Sith- are wrecking the galaxy again. Enough is enough. I'm stopping it. Today."
"How? By blowing yourself up?" Ania gripped her arm. The beskar plates were unyielding beneath her fingers.
"I'm ending it any way I can," Marin said, staring hard at Sora's lonely figure. From the cold in her voice, Ania didn't doubt her mother was ready to die.
She felt her own throat go dry. "Is this the justice you were talking about? It seems more like murder-suicide to me."
"No one is here who doesn't want to be," Marin said, voice brittle. "I've told most of our people to get off the platform and wait in the clouds."
Ania looked at Sora's kneeling figure and knew her mother's words a lie. "So what if you blow up Auchs here? The Sith are still out there, and the Nagai and Ssi-ruuk and all Auchs' lieutenants. You're not going to accomplish anything like this."
Marin jerked her arm free. "I'll accomplish what I should have forty years ago."
Forty years ago, Ania thought with a chill, she'd shown mercy to young Yaga Auchs after killing his father. Ania struggled to remember the mother she'd once had, the woman who'd taken joy in the simple pleasures of raising her child and fixing their ship, the one who'd warned Ania over and over not to get involved in the big, messy affairs of the galaxy. What matters is the life in front of you, Marin Solo had said. It was advice Ania had always tried to live by.
Looking at her mother now, the whole thing seemed like a dream.
"You know," Ania whispered, "You're one of the last few people in the galaxy who can use the Force. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Let Skywalker and his Vong puzzle out its mysteries. I'm doing what I can, here and now."
Her mind went back to Jao, far-off Jao, and the things he'd told her about the mystical Force that guided his life. "What about the dark side? Isn't that what this is? Anger, hate, despair? You were a Jedi once."
"A very long time ago," Marin said. "If I hadn't been afraid of the dark side then, things might have been different. For you… and a lot of other people."
"Damn it, you don't have to live in the past."
Marin looked at her, finally, with very sad eyes. "You're so young, Ania. You need to get out of here. I mean it this time. Take your friends with you. Maybe go find Skywalker and help him, it doesn't matter. Just go."
Her mother had been telling her that since they'd reunited, without words at first, and these last two times explicitly. Ania had been telling herself that too, but deep down she balked. If she left now then everything since meeting her mother again was a waste: every action she'd taken, choice she'd made, desire she'd had. Even caring at all about this twisted, tortured old woman was a mistake.
Ania refused to accept that. Without a word she stepped away from Marin and stalked out of the room, sparing only a short glance at the prisoner. Sora was watching her, and as soon as their eyes met Ania looked away. She hurried through the refinery, all the way out to the landing platform. Oren Vevec was manning the tripod cannon there and she asked him, "Any sign of Auchs?"
"Not yet, but Hondo say he's on the way." Oren looked meaningfully at the sky. The sun was a silver disc at the top of its arc, shining down through Bespin's milky upper-layer clouds.
Ania grunted, vaulted the barricade, and hurried toward Free Agent, which remained on the landing pad's far side. Sauk and AG-37 were waiting beneath its nose, watching her, expectant. When she got close enough she said, "Sauk, warm up the engines. I'm going to ask around. If anybody else wants to get off before Auchs shows up, I'll send them to you. Got it?"
The Mon Cal nodded eagerly. He'd been brave coming to Bespin with her, but the sight of detonate pinned to all those tibanna tanks was too much for him. "That means you're coming too, right?"
Ania took a deep breath. "No. I'm staying. But you're leaving. No matter what happens, Sauk, you're gonna fly off, settle down with some nice Mon Cal refugee and father a school of kids. That's an order." She turned to AG-37. "I'm ordering you too. I don't expect you to be obey, but you should get off this platform, A-gee. Get as far away from me as you can."
The assassin droid's twin photoreceptors pulsed. "I made a promise to a Solo once. There are two Solos here."
"My mother doesn't think of herself as a Solo anymore."
"Nonetheless, I made a promise."
Ania knew it would be like that, but she didn't want to be responsible for ending a life a century and a half old. She chided herself; no one was responsible for AG-37 except AG-37 himself, just like Ania's and Marin's choices belonged to them alone.
She turned and saw Sauk watching them, emotion welling in his bulbous eyes. Before he could say anything Ania pulled him close, squeezed him hard, then released.
"No time to get mopey," she told Sauk, and herself. "Get those engines hot and get going."
-{}-
The situation center inside the Bakuran defense headquarters was a shallow bowl of ringed tiers with a massive holo-projection lighting the center of the room. It showed, in horrifying detail, the spread of ovoid Ssi-ruuvi and blocky Nagai warships to surround the planet and their continuous assault on the shield umbrellas raised to defend Bakura's key cities. Shado, trailing Storr, Recado, and Koregion, had arrived just in time to see the last of Bakura's orbital defensive cruisers burst after sustained attacks by swarming Ssi-ruuvi battle droids.
"They've never come at us like this before," Recado muttered as he looked at the holo.
"Their allies have made them confident," Koregion said.
"They don't seem to have brought Mandalorians with them," Storr observed. "That's something."
The general shook his head. "They have all the allies they need here on the ground."
Shado asked, "Has there been any word from the factories since the Ssi-ruuk showed in orbit?"
"None we can tell. The P'w'eck are sitting tight and waiting for their masters to come back."
"We don't know that. If they were plotting to help the Ssi-ruuk, why not take over the shield generator stations?"
"Because the shield generators are defended by the military. The factories weren't. Besides, those are what the Ssi-ruuk are after. I'm sure of it. The P'w'eck secured their primary targets in advance so they can attack us with impunity." Koregion spun on Recado. "Mister President, we have to deny them use of our industrial resources. It's our duty to hurt the enemy and we have to do it now."
Recado exhaled and bowed his head. Shado said, "What do you mean, deny? Destroy?"
"Doing that will cripple Bakura's economy for a generation," Storr said warily.
Koregion pressed, "The Ssi-ruuk are going to take this world. We can't defend against that kind of firepower. We have to hurt them the only way we can. Destroy the factories and destroy the P'w'eck."
"Which P'w'eck?" Shado snapped. "The ones in the factories, or all of them?"
The general's face twisted. "Your obsession with mercy put us in this mess, Jedi. If we had control over those factories we might be able to negotiate with the Ssi-ruuk, or at least stall their attack. We should have struck first and hard and tipped the balance in our favor."
"The Federation would never condone a government that slaughters its own citizens."
"The Master Jedi is right," Recado said, picking up his head. "And it would only stalled the invaders, not stopped them. As you said, general, they have too much firepower."
Koregion wasn't chastened. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't take the option now."
The president looked to Storr. "What kind of reinforcements was Coruscant sending?"
"Just a frigate, and not enough to be helpful. General Jaeger's fleet has been battling them in the Javin sector, and they could reinforce us." The ambassador couldn't sound confident. They all knew the Imperial fleet was in the process of a retreat from their tripartite enemy's advance.
"Bakura is on its own, as it always has been," Koregion said. "Mister President, I will do whatever you order, but please, let me destroy the factories. Don't give them more than they're already going to take."
"You'll ruin all Bakura's industry," Shado warned, "And you'll lose the P'w'eck forever."
"I have a feeling they've been lost for a while," Recado said, "Despite your best efforts."
Storr tried to sound reasonable. "The Nagai have shown a consistent pattern of mercy to planets the surrender quickly. That doesn't seem to have changed since they've joined with the Ssi-ruuk. There doesn't seem to be the threat of entechment either."
"We'll still be slaves to the Fluties," sneered Koregion. "We have to strike now, while we have the freedom to do so."
"The Federation won't let this world rest in enemy hands," Storr insisted.
"And if they liberate us," the general insisted, "The Ssi-ruuk will be smart enough to deny them resources when they pull out."
"Those are Bakura's resources," Recado said heavily. "And those are Bakuran citizens inside them."
"Not anymore. They've chosen treason."
Shado wanted to argue, but he wasn't sure the general was wrong. When he'd worked out the pact with Vlothaw he'd been sure the Force was moving through him; now the conviction seemed bitter vanity. He only knew that the prospect of more slaughter filled him with revulsion.
"So it comes down to mutual ruin… or balance." The president took a deep breath.
Shado leaned close and whispered, "It's about destroying the future, or having hope in it."
Recado's eyes met his. They were old, tired eyes but there was still strength in them. The president said, "General Koregion, broadcast a signal to the invaders. Tell them I'm ready to discuss terms of surrender."
-{}-
Yaga Auch's shuttle plunged through Bespin's upper cloud-streaks, ripping holes in vapor shining silver and white in a midday sun. Standing in the cockpit and peering over his pilot's shoulder, the Mand'alor watched the tibanna refinery swell in size as they descended. He counted three ships on the landing platform, leaving room for Auchs' own shuttle and nothing else. His enemies would have the place thoroughly fortified and he was a fool to walk in there, but he couldn't leave his daughter in their hands.
Standing beside him in the cockpit, watching the refinery grow close, Thorum Rhal said "Let me go in first, Mand'alor. I'll negotiate for you."
Yaga glanced at the man beside him, fully suited in maroon and gold armor. Rhal was a good soldier, but rhetorical finesse was not his strength. "It's my ad'ika in there, not yours," he said. "Besides, Hondo Karr's grudge is with me, not you."
"All the more reason for me to go down."
Yaga snorted. "You just want a shot at the chakaar who killed Chernan Ordo, don't you?"
"Bet your shebs I do," Rhal muttered.
Yaga was glad he had a helmet to cover his face. In the years since he'd killed Ordo he'd asked himself if he felt guilty for betraying his Mand'alor. The answer he'd been forced to come to was that he didn't, not really. He regretted choices he'd made, getting in bed with Sith most of all, but he didn't feel any pang of conscience when he thought of Botajef. He only felt guilt about a precious few things and knew how dangerous it was.
He'd seen how it had hounded his father and ultimately gotten him killed by that red-armored, Force-wielding Mando who still haunted his nightmares. Maybe Yaga had walled himself off from that feeling from that day on.
It didn't matter, and he chided himself for not focusing on Sora. He had no plan for tackling Hondo Karr and whatever help he'd used to secure the tibanna refinery. He had to assume the barve had planted charges and was ready to blow the thing out of the sky. Were Sora not there as hostage he'd gladly send Rhal down to negotiate and get incinerated, but his daughter's life was his responsibility alone.
His shuttle lowered itself onto the platform between unfamiliar ships. Yaga marked the main entrance to the refinery, barricaded by storage crates and protected by tripod-mounted cannons. A few windows from higher levels looked down on the pad, and he had to assume those were manned by snipers.
After the shuttle set down he clapped Rhal on the shoulders. "Stay here. I'll patch you into the audio from my buy'c. Hold position unless I give instruction otherwise. Understood?"
"Very. Good luck, Mand'alor."
Yaga tilted his helmet in a nod, then walked down to the landing ramp. He'd armed himself with a beskar knife and two blasters, one holstered and one hidden in the underside of his right-hand wrist-armor. He expected to be deprived of the first one, but the latter usually got past inspections.
Four of his warriors went down with him, though he gestured for them to stay at the base of the ramp. He stepped out from under the shuttle's shadow and saw a sole black-armored figure waiting for him on the platform-side of the barricade. At least four other Mandos waited behind it, including the one manning the cannon, and all had barrels aimed at him. Auchs wasn't afraid; he knew he might die here, but not yet. They'd want to talk first.
It wasn't until he stepped closer that he recognized the figure in black and gold as Hondo Karr. Back when he'd last seen the man on Botajef he'd had a green kit, but the new paint job was no surprise. Black was, after all, the Mando color for justice.
Karr had pistols holstered at either hip, but his hands were empty. He didn't draw as Yaga stepped closer. The Mand'alor said, "I'd heard you were alive. Even heard you'd convinced your wife you didn't kill Ordo."
"We both know you killed him," Karr growled.
Yaga didn't mind that the conversation was being fed back to Rhal. It was nothing he hadn't heard before. "Saying it over and over again doesn't make it so, Karr. I'm impressed you managed to get enough people as you have to believe your osik."
"I'd say the same to you."
"Well, now that we're even, I want to see my daughter."
"We've got her inside."
"Then bring her out."
Karr planted hands on his hips. "Can't do that. The boss wants her to stay put."
"You've got a boss now, Karr?" That genuinely surprised him. According to rumors, Karr and his wife had been running their little band, but those rumors had never suggested they had the firepower they clearly did. "Bring your boss outside, then, so I can talk to him."
"Her," Karr corrected. "You come in or you don't see your daughter at all. Take your time and think. I've got all day."
They were fools to think him helpless just because he was outnumbered, but he'd still be at a huge disadvantage inside. He switched the comm to his private frequency and told Rhal, "I'll go in and talk to their boss, whoever that is. I've got the tracking beacon on my suit activated, so you should be able to get my location within the building. If I give the signal, be ready to kick off the pad and bring the ship around to deploy at another location on the refinery."
"That's risky, Mand'alor. Those tanks are wired to blow."
"They have my daughter," Yaga said.
It was really all that mattered, and Rhal was Mando enough to understand that. "Understood, Mand'alor," he said, then killed the link.
Yaga switched his helmet speakers back on and told Karr, "Fine. Let's talk to your boss."
Karr nodded and gestured for his people to make an opening in the barricade. They pulled two crates aside just enough for the men to slip sideways through the gap. He was surprised none of them made a move for his blasters, visible or otherwise. They still had him thoroughly outnumbered as Hondo led him through the refinery's narrow industrial hallways. Three more Mandos were at his back with guns drawn; the one in gold might have been Karr's wife but he wasn't sure.
They finally reached a large room where a thick pillar ran four storeys up to the ceiling with circular platforms ringing each level. At least a dozen Mandos stood armed at the room's edges, and two more lay on the lowest platform with rifles aimed at Yaga was he walked inside. His eyes caught two out-of-place figures, all the more incongruous together: an ancient-looking assassin droid and a young woman in a simple white jacket, black hair pulled into a ponytail.
Then he let his eyes go to the center of the room, where his daughter knelt alone. Her hands were bound behind her back and her helmet was off; he was surprised not to see bruises marring her face. Her expression was controlled as their eyes met, but he could see the neediness of a frightened child, the child she would always be to him.
And then one more figure stepped into view from behind the pillar. It froze Yaga's breath and erased all thought. The figure walking up behind Sora was dressed in full red beskar'gam, the same red armor he'd seen in nightmares for the past forty years.
In that instant Yaga was reduced to a terrified child again. He didn't think; he acted as he should have acted all those years ago as he'd cowered in mindless fear before his father's murderer.
He didn't grab the blaster at his hip. He raised his right arm, triggered the release of the small hold-out beneath his wrist, and twisted his palm so it fell into his grasp. Before anyone else could react, he whipped the pistol to level and fired.
And the woman in red reached out and caught the blasts on her palm. They fizzled to nothing against her glove, evaporated.
Like a Jedi could do. Or a Sith.
There were no Jedi, not anymore. Not like that.
It was like he was trapped in his nightmare of forty years ago, like he'd never left at all.
A second after his shot went off, Yaga got a barrage in reply. The two commandos on the platform pumped laserfire into his chest. It sparked against beskar, punched breath from his lungs, and knocked him off his feet. His bottom cracked hard on the floor and as he gasped for air his vision cleared and he watched the red-armored woman holding a hand high, signaling her men to cease their fire.
"Hold," Auchs rasped to Rhal, "Hold, dammit. I'm okay."
He pushed himself off the ground. No one shot him back off his feet. Steadying himself, Yaga looked at the red-armored woman, the one who'd killed his father and stood behind his daughter now, ready to take everything from him once again.
"Who are you?" he asked her. "What do you want?"
The woman stared at him in silence. She had no weapon in hand. She didn't need one, if she still could use the Force. Yaga had no idea how that could be. Not even Darth Nihl could touch it. What she could do was impossible, but a monster like her would be capable of anything.
He was surprised, though, when she reached up and took off her helmet. He sucked in breath as the visor moved up off her head, showing him what he'd never dare imagine. The face revealed was the worn one of a woman at least a decade older than him. Gray hair was pulled back and braided and her dark eyes were tired.
She said, "Take off your helmet." Her voice was surprisingly soft.
Yaga didn't do it. "What are you?"
"Maybe we should trade confessions," she said thoughtfully. "I'll tell you what I've done, if you tell me about how you killed Chernan Ordo for the Sith. And how you're working for them now."
If she had the Force she'd feel the lie and truth in his every word. So would all her commandos watching him, some surely recording too. He glanced purposely at Hondo, a black statue on his right flank. He said, "You've been listening too much to Karr's fairy stories."
"No," the old woman said. "I know what you did, Yaga Auchs. I know you made a pact with Darth Maladi. And I know the Sith came to Mandalore and helped you silence your enemies."
"If you brought me here to tell me lies, I'll just take my daughter and go."
"There was a Nagai among them," she said, and shiver ran down Yaga's spine. He had no idea how she could have known that. "Is it the same Nagai you're working for now? Is it the one who's commanding these campaigns? Has he been your master all this time, Mand'alor?"
His voice cracked, but he got out, "I'm my own karking master."
"Liar," the woman said. Not harshly; almost sympathetic. "You've always been a slave to your family's legacy. To your fear."
To me, she said, though her lips didn't move. Maybe he'd imagined it.
Yaga felt himself cracking beneath the old woman's gaze. Somehow she'd been less terrifying when she was a faceless red nightmare. He didn't dare look at Sora or show her the terror in his eyes. He growled, "Give me my daughter."
"You still haven't confessed."
He wanted to shoot her, stab her, erase her from existence, but he was trapped here and had been the moment they'd taken Sora. The monster was right. Ties of family bound him now as ever.
"What are you? A Skirata?" He asked for his benefit, and for Rhal's.
The old woman nodded.
"I know you, You killed my buir. And my ba'vodu Gevern. Your Mand'alor." That would get Rhal's attention.
"I was no Mandalorian then," she said, then added, "You killed people I cared about, too. Dorn. Ninet."
"Fine then, blood for karking blood. It's not really about this Sith osik at all, is it?"
"The Sith had you kill Chernan Ordo," she said patiently, "Just like you're working for them now."
"Osik," he repeated. "You barge into my work, steal my daughter, all for some karking delusion, you Skirata dar'mada jeti trash."
Insults felt good, but she was unmoved. "Confess," she said.
He dared look down at his daughter. Bravery and need mixed in her eyes. He remembered that day forty years ago when the Skiratas had come for him and his father seeking blood for blood. He imagined his own eyes had looked just like that.
On and on it went, generation after generation left restless by past crimes and seeking bloody recompense. He'd been running from the nightmare for decades, seeking domination over anything and anyone to escape the red monster in his memories, but the monster had finally caught up with him and it was just an old woman, tired and sad but bitterly resigned to bringing her long hunt to completion.
As he looked at Sora's face Yaga remembered the face of another young woman in this room, incongruous against all the masked Mandalorians. And then he knew what to do.
Behind his own mask, Yaga took a deep breath. Then he raised his right arm, slowly and deliberately, so his hold-out pistol was pointed at the old woman again. An empty threat, but a good distraction.
"Give me my daughter, Skirata."
"Confess," she repeated.
"Give her to me," Yaga said, and as he did so quick-drew his other pistol with his left hand and aimed it across the room at the mask-less woman standing beside the tall droid.
"Hold!" the old woman called before anyone could fire.
"Damn right you should hold," Yaga rasped. The young woman was far away but he was a good shot and stood solid odds of dropping her. They all knew that. To the old woman he said, "This is your daughter, right? Right? Let mine go or I kill yours, right shabla now!"
No one spoke, no one moved. Even Yaga held his breath for fear of losing his aim. He struggled to keep one eye on either woman.
The old one sighed, shook her head, and said, "Do it."
-{}-
Marin registered shock from everyone: Sora, Ania, Auchs himself. The Mand'alor didn't budge and didn't shoot. Maybe he was wondering if Marin could block a shot at Ania through the Force. Truthfully, Marin didn't know if she could, but she would try. She would have wrestled his pistol sideways already but wasn't positive she could keep it from going off in his hand.
"Do it," she repeated, "But if you shoot her, I'll detonate the tibanna drums and blow us all out of the sky."
His hands trembled but his pistol stayed on Ania. "You're prepared burn your own karking daughter just to kill me?"
"Or we can let them both go," Marin said. "And then I'll let you go… But only if you confess."
"I've got nothing to confess because I didn't do it!" he snapped, but she could feel the desperation of his lie.
"You killed Chernan Ordo. And you're serving the Sith now."
"I swear if you don't let Sora go-"
"You have your shot," Marin reminded. "Take it."
She felt Auchs' confusion, his anger, his desperation. Even with the Force she had no idea what action he might take, and she braced herself for the flash of either blaster.
To her shock it was Ania who called out, "Stop it! Just karking stop it!"
She looked sideways. Ania was stepping closer, forming the third point of a triangle with her and Auchs. The Mand'alor shifted his left hand to keep his pistol aimed at her chest. Marin wanted to snap at Ania and tell her not to get too close; Auchs would never miss at this range.
But Ania, holding both hands in the air, said, "He killed your family, you killed his family, that was decades ago and you're still trying to do it! That's enough!"
"Ania-"
"You people have been going in circles for how long? Fifty years? More? You need to end it!"
"I'm trying to-"
"Mom, wait." Hands still held high, Ania turned to Auchs. "How long have you been in the Sith's pocket? A decade? More? Bet that must be real fun."
"Shut up, girl," Auchs growled, but he didn't shoot.
"I've got a friend. This Sith offered a pact with him once. Jao didn't take it because he knew they're all lying, cheating sleemos and if you agree to anything they'll use you for all you're worth. That sound about right?"
Auchs didn't speak, didn't budge.
Ania pressed, "I bet those Sith would've gotten nice proof you killed Ordo, right? Something to hold over your head and make sure you'd do anything for them, even crazy osik like this, am I right? Of course I'm right 'cause I know Sith. I karking shot one. In the heart. They die just like anybody else."
Ania was babbling, but impossibly, Marin felt something change beneath Auchs' mask. In a very low voice the Mand'alor asked, "What do you want, girl?"
"What do I want? I want you to stop trying to kill each other's kids! We can end this, really end it! Don't you get it?" She looked frantically between them. "You've both got the same problem and it's not each other! It's the Sith and if you work together you can get rid of them forever."
Marin didn't know if the surprise she felt was Auchs' or her own. The Mand'alor kept a blaster trained on each of them but she felt the wavering inside him. His desperation and anger had been replaced by doubt, and with doubt came freedom he'd never expected.
"Mom, please," Ania pleaded. "You can end this, really end it, the right way."
And Marin wondered if it wasn't the right way out of the cycle of vengeance that had ensnared three generations of Auchs and Skiratas. Maybe Ania could see a way out that Marin and Auchs, so old and wounded, could not.
To her Yaga Auchs had always been an object of hate and defeating him the goal to strive for. But memory returned to her from many years ago. Her own mother Tamar, whose feud with Gevern Auchs had started the cycle of vengeance, had once explained that she'd seen Gevern as the locus of her pain and fulcrum of her life. It was only after Gevern's death that Tamar had realized she'd made the Mand'alor a talisman onto which she transferred her own anger, regret, and self-loathing. In hating Gevern she'd really been hating herself, and liberation only came with letting go of it all.
Tamar Skirata had always tried to be a hard Mando warrior, but she'd been capable of Jedi wisdom all the same.
Realization felt like a heavy weight lifting from her shoulders. Through the Force, Marin could feel some weight leave Auchs as well.
She stepped back from Sora, and with a tug of the Force lifted the young woman to her feet. Sora looked around, uncertain as to how she'd risen. Then, with slow deliberate steps, she went to her father. Auchs lowered the hold-out blaster aimed at Marin, but kept his other aimed at Ania.
"Are you serious?" he asked Marin. "Will you really help me with the Sith?"
She felt him tilting, felt Ania's relief, felt the confusion and shock spreading through the others in the room. Hondo Karr was still right beside Auchs, blaster in hand. His hate for Auchs had been just as strong and just as personal as Marin's, and the prospect of a truce roused only anger.
Marin put her eyes on Hondo and added a touch of Force-suggestion as she said, "We will. Ania's right. This new war's about more than just us… But maybe we can stop it. Together."
Auchs' pistol wavered before he lowered it. Ania exhaled and dropped her hands. Hondo lowered his blaster, just a little. Marin watched Yaga and Sora Auchs embrace and felt empathy she'd thought long gone.
When they separated Yaga turned to Marin. He holstered both blasters, reached up, and pulled off his helmet. It was her first time seeing his face in over a decade. Short hair fuzzed his scalp and jaw, as gray as hers. Jowls sagged off a strong chin. Bags gathered under his eyes. They'd both been fighting this battle for too long.
"Do you have a plan?" he asked.
"Not yet," Marin admitted. "But we've beaten Sith before. Together… I think we can do it again."