I, in no way, hold the rights the Star Wars and or the Universe it surrounds. This story is just a reflection of the characters I create and who just happen to fit into their own little corner in George's wonderful space opera.

I'd like to give thanks to the talented Author Karen Traviss, who inspired this story, with her books, Hard Contact and Triple Zero.

Thank you for giving my little fiction a chance, while not finished I hope to be working on this story to the most of my abilities, if there are terms and or Star Wars references you are unclear of, check out the glossary at the bottom of each chapter. The Star Wars Wiki is also quite useful.

Yay for chapter 2!

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CHAPTER 2

Galaxy's Best, Cantina and Bar.

Mission Clock: 4:40, Day 1, 42 BBY

Icy blue liquid sloshed about as Lizean fiddled with her glass upon the bar top. Hoda was to her side, engaging in a rather lighthearted conversation with a bright red and rather and attractive Zeltron waitress. It was only until the girl motioned to Lizean in question that Hoda broke from the charm of the women.

When he looked over he noted her eyes contemptibility focused into the azure substance and felt the lightest bit of guilt. He sent the girl away, pushing a small bit of some sort of odd-looking appetizer towards her, shoving her helmet out of the way. Lizean glanced up and nearly spilled her drink if it wasn't for his quick grasp.

"Sorry, I guess I kind of blanked out."

He took a small bit of the food and popped it into his mouth and placed her drink next to her again; she gave him a slightly disgusted look. "Kinda... chewy."

She pulled her gray and burnt orange helmet into her lap and managed a small grin. They were in full armor, minus the helmets. So of course when they first stepped foot into the busy club they had drawn quite a lot of attention. It was hard not to, her armor was really a sight to see, the bright oranges and reds melted into grays and blacks, with sharp almost tribalistic symbols covering her back side and helmet.

But the crowds where thinning now, morning was dawning and many had a days work ahead. Lizean pulled a few strands of her small tight ebony and burgundy smudged dreadlocks behind an ear when she felt a light tap on her shoulder armor.

When she turned she was greeted by a foul smelling Duro, whom drunkenly giggled at her. He was just about to speak when Lizean wasted no time in sending her gloved fist straight up into the being's jaw. Carefully enough to make sure not to strike with him with the possibly fatal row of knuckle spikes as he flew back. Hoda watched simply with blank stare still munching a wad of the food.

The gray skinned alien landed with a thud and Lizean turned back to the bar finishing off the rest of the Corrillian aide. The waitress from before rushed to the drunk's side but not one person dared to speak a word to the female Mando'ade. Of course that was only common sense. It was common sense that the Duro lacked, never intentionally bother a Mandalorian, and especially never touch them.

She glanced down to the alien's slick spots of blue gray blood gathering on her gloved hands and with the blink of an eye she was back in that large hazy room 3 years ago.

The air was thick with the familiar smells of a hospital, but this was no ordinary medical facility, the walls, or what she thought the walls were jagged and rocky. Her vision was still blurred and her head dizzy but this dreary lighted place seemed familiar and the slurred voices about her too… She was home, she was alive and she could still feel the wet bacta clinging to her skin.

She felt the muscles tug at the corners of her mouth into an impulsive smile and wasn't sure if the people around her could understand her happy babbling but she didn't really care either.

They sat her up now, helping her into some simple clothing. Modesty had no value amongst her clan, but it was a simple comfort in the chill air that filtered into the cavern.

A woman was before her in an instant, reaching into and grasping her hands tight. Lizean's eyes focused and the outline of red hair illuminated by the spotlight high above and beneath soft sympathetic pair of baby blue eyes bore into her own.

"Fayre." Lizean said longingly.

They embraced tightly and Fayre let out a relieved sigh, "You pulled out ok I'm guessing then."

Yeah, she thought breathing in the familiar soap smell off of her friend.

They had been close since childhood. Fayre was one of the few adopted, taken from her parents at infancy who's fate was decided under a bounty contract. Lizean, five years younger, was of the slightly more fortunate and was born into the Mandalorian lifestyle. At a young age they trained with each other and even experienced their first real contract together.

She recalled for some reason, a long time ago when Fayre had been injured in a training exercise, her pinky finger was sliced off and lost. She had finished the exercise anyways, insisting that she was fine, until the point were she blanked out. She was strong, she was always strong and Lizean admired that. I have to stay strong, she thought.

The room around her was an actual mining shaft and home to her clan; the 10-meter ceiling was lined with dramatic jagged lines of carved rock, with the occasional support column. Through a forward archway, the tunnel led into a much more massive cave, with 33 meter ceilings, housing, star ships, speeders, you name it, lined the large hall and system of similar catacombs. The system of tunnels and open spaces had been here long before her clan, left behind by past miners, they were just lucky enough to stumble over the moon they inhabited.

Lizean turned to get up but paused and let out a suppressed grunt, a hand was bracing her abdomen; she recognized the hand, pale, wrinkled with thick fingers. Bryen, Fayre's aging adoptive father held an uneven grin, the scar that had taken his left eye along with it was covered with a familiar ornate black patch. "Be easy, Liz'ika"

Lizean hesitated, longing to visit with the rest of her clan, then Bryen's smile faded. It took the few quiet moments for Lizean to recall why the force she'd been in a bacta tank anyways.

"We…" The man started, Lizean stomach turned just by his tone. "We have many things to discuss"

The following evening contained an extensive briefing where as Lizean was informed that her husband was MIA, missing in action, only a few weeks after she had sustained her injuries. She took the blow hard, like any other person would and clutched the blood red fragment of his ceremonial Kama. Taking little comfort in the attempt of remorse from her peers. She shrugged off their "sorrys," rubbing the thick cloth between her thumb and fingers; this was all that's left.

She had married young, at 17 years and in the traditional mandalorian manner, a very simple ceremony to the tall broad shouldered man clad in bright yellow armor. They had known each other for no longer then a cycle of 5 years but there was an obvious, special bond. She remembered the first time they'd met, during a training exercise and recalled his frustrated expression when she pressed a foot to his chest, breath knocked clear from his lungs after the fairly amazing throw she'd performed.

The small group of fellow clan members around her watched solemnly, it was a difficult thing, death, but also something they had to embrace with their warrior-like lifestyle. They all stood there, silent with stern faces, of all different skin tones and ages, most suited up in a rainbow of colors.

She blinked again and turned some finding her train of thought back into the present and her eyes met Hoda's.

"The job." She said, finally picking up one of the oddly fried chunks of meat.

"20:00, after dark." He replied, his smile eased and his natural cool disposition took over.

She nodded and slid the odd looking food into her mouth and chewed. "Not bad."

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Glossary:

42 BBY: Star Wars Cronology, 10 years before the battle of Naboo

'Ika: Mando for little one "affectionate"

Zeltron: A near human species with red toned skin and hair, known for their seductiveness