For Honour, Glory and Battle

The Mandalorians brought their sleek, long and heavily armed capital ships to bear on the Sith fleet, watching as the obsidian bird-of-prey Sith fighters scattered only to be turned into temporary balls of light from the lances of energy that sprung forth from the cannons and battery emplacements on the cruisers.

Along the Mandalorian warships were four cylindrical and durable wings that spanned about 15 feet from the cruisers' main hull. At the end of each cylindrical shaft was a large, stubby, cylindrical pod. The vessels also carried larger engines than ones normally mounted and used on Republic vessels as well as the Sith warships.

Seemingly thousands of Basilisk droid fighters—ostensibly manned with Mandalorian pilots, as well—littered the view, as their large rectangular engines roared along the massive warships' own trajectory.

Regrouping, the Sith fighters moved together to engage the Basilisk fighters, who gladly joined in the fray.

Destruction seemed to find its own path easily between the two looming Titans, as the fighters slammed against one another and darted back and forth, firing relentless salvos of crimson energy, along with the occasional missile.

Out of nowhere, another group of fighters came by, this time being the same size as the Sith fighters—that is, quite smaller than the Basilisk fighters and slightly smaller than the Republic fighters. Marked in colours of burgundy and silver, these fighters carried a drooping sensor array at the nose of the fighters, a pair of S-foils with twin lasers mounted on both wings, and the chassis was practically designed around one engine that didn't hinder the fighters' abilities in the slightest. These were the fighters of none other than Revan.

Revan's Jedi Knights, lost from the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil Wars, had come into the game, greatly bolstering the battered remnants of the Republic and the resurging Mandalorians.

They joined in the fray, spraying rounds of emerald energy, as one of the fighters scored a hit against a Sith fighters, sending it caroming into the massive Sith destroyer that now made its way towards the Mandalorian fleet.

Joining into the cacophony of the battle, Mandalore—or Canderous Ordo—couldn't help but smile as he watched his fighters assault the Sith with the same energy and bloodlust they had once done to the Republic just over 10 years ago. This is truly a glorious battle that the Galaxy will remember for ages to come!

"Mandalore," one of his men called out, "the Sith have moved their capital ships towards the Republic fleet. Only their lighter vessels are engaging us."

Mandalore frowned in his mask. "So, they don't think we're worth their time, eh?" He brought one hand out and said, "let's make them think twice about turning their backs on Mandalorians! Fire the torpedo cannons!"

The four pods that raced along the compressed wings of the warship let loose a dazzling array of torpedoes that left blue and red streaks as they zoomed towards the destroyer that moved before them.

The destroyer absorbed the impact head-on, as fire began to rip through the hull, racing towards the engines that let out a brilliant burst of fire, enveloping the warship in its destruction.

Following suit, several other Mandalorian cruisers fired the 'torpedo cannons,' since that was what they practically were. The torpedoes were specially designed with more explosives and lesser fuel, as it would be fired as projectiles against oncoming battleships. There was no need for guidance systems or anything else that would only delay the destruction of an enemy. When it came to war, the Mandalorians were prepared for anything.

Several of the frigates and light cruisers detonated in well-timed explosions, while others were simply cast on fire.

The fighters continued to zoom everywhere, as they each raced to kill one another.

Mandalore, however, continued to frown as he watched the Sith continue to move towards the Republic fleet. If I don't get their attention soon, there won't be a Coruscant worth saving—and I doubt Revan would be happy. Neither would Carth for that matter. His upper lip curled as he watched the Sith fleet slowly move towards the Republic fleet that was barely holding its own.

"Can we fire another salvo?" He asked. Normally he would have not worried about the consequences of what would happen to the Republic fleet—he'd let them die for all he cared, especially if they couldn't handle their current enemy. All that changed almost 7 years ago. What he felt wasn't out of misplaced loyalty or friendship as it was merely an honour to fight alongside the vaunted Revan and victories would be even more glorious—that was, if there was a victory in all of this.

"Yes we can, Mandalore," Kex, the quartermaster replied.

"Good," he replied. "Fire again—but this time, target the moving destroyers. I want to catch their attention."

The cruisers opened fire again, unleashing a salvo of deadly missiles and torpedoes that crashed into another destroyer, but only casting enough damage to pepper the hull in minor flames.

Mandalore snarled. "Have every other warship fire at that destroyer!"

The rest of the fleet did likewise, as the lighter vessels, gunboats and picket ships engaged the lighter Sith vessels that had converged on them.

That same destroyer took the damage, highlighted with more damage but still moving continuously.

"Damned Sith," Mandalore cursed under his breath. He looked away from the view and turned to face a tactical screen. "Have groups Fett and Ordo move away and engage that destroyer while Hessian group moves to sector Green-6 and provide defensive cover for our destroyers."

"Yes, Mandalore," Kex replied, following through with the orders.

Mandalore watched on as both groups of Basilisk fighters assaulted and harassed the capital ship, only to watch several of the fighters wink out in the first wave alone. He sighed heavily. Whoever is commanding this batch of Sith is as stubborn as a Cannok. I'd personally like to meet that commander and then shoot him. After another moment, Mandalore turned to face Kex. "Have all groups converge on that moving battle group—leave the Jedi forces to engage the lighter forces."

"But they greatly bolster our forces, Mandalore."

"We'll make do—remember, before Revan and these Jedi, the Galaxy feared us."


Dustil tried to breathe as he felt the dark tendrils of the Force pull him further into the pool of complete black—there was no light, there was no hope.

"Yes," hissed the male figure, "struggle—it makes things all the more delicious."

Dustil closed his eyes as he tightened his muscles over his body, squirming to break away from the grasp of the tendrils and the Meditation itself. It amazed the younger Jedi that somehow those two Sith managed to tear into their meld. He couldn't feel Bastila's presence—he didn't know how she might be faring.

He released his grip on the tendrils and relaxed his body, closing his eyes and trying to close himself from the Meditation.

"You won't escape that easily, whelp," the figure said maliciously. "I am going to enjoy this, Dustil Onasi."

"Who are you?" The young man asked, looking for some way to escape.

"I am the darkness that binds the Galaxy—without me there would be no Force, no war, no death. There would be none of that which you cling so dearly to. I am the Dark Side incarnate."

Great, Dustil thought, another whacko.

The figure snickered. "You are far too weak—admit it. Give yourself to me and I might yet let you live."

"Sorry," he mustered, "but I already saw what the Dark Side has to offer me. Sure it may have its moments—what with the occasional dictatorship and all, but it doesn't come with the health benefits associated with the Jedi Order, I think I'll pass."

"Continue to jest—I might let you stay like that for all eternity, my misguided friend."

"I'm not your friend," Dustil said flatly.

"So be it, but you must be growing tired. All that strain, all of that effort you've put into the Meditation. I'm sure that shell you call a body must be growing tired," the snide voice sent back. "Not to mention, cold."

Dustil bit back a reply, closing his eyes once more and feeling himself try to touch with the Light Side of the Force.

All he felt was the cold chill of the Dark Side. Hope was lost and despair continued to grow within him.

Somehow, the figures managed to send the Battle Meditation back. Instead of Bastila and Dustil using it to prod the Republic forces into victory, Atris and the shrouded figure managed to force the pair of Jedi to bolster the Sith forces.

He continued to feel his life ebb away, as his extremities continued to grow colder.

Master, he thought, where are you?


Bastila closed her eyes and found her the calm center within. Tapping into it, calling on all of her experience as a Jedi of the Light, she opened her eyes and let her hands touch the dark tendrils, melting them away into blue swirls of the Force again.

She regained her ethereal footing, as she walked in the middle of the dark pool, as the dark tendrils that touched her glittered once more into the blue swirls of the Force.

"You won't escape," Atris said, her voice echoing through the darkness.

"I don't need to escape," Bastila replied, her blue silhouette moving through the darkness unabated. "I am merely here to see you at an end, Atris."

"Ah, the Jedi being a tool of the Light Side. A servant, no less." Atris chuckled. "Is that what you will say next? That you will allow the Force to use you as its pawn, nothing more? You will not seek to take control over your destiny—over the infinite power you wield?"

Bastila continued to tread lightly, moving towards the shimmering darkness that radiated towards her.

Without realizing it—focusing too much on Bastila—, Atris was slowly presenting herself to Bastila.

"The Force guides our destiny—even if you feel the need to delude yourself with having powers over it. We are bound to it and the Force—the future is always in motion. You forget your teachings, Master Atris."

Atris growled, unaware that her presence was now completely revealed. She faced Bastila darkly. "The Force is nothing more than a tool! We have infinite power and you've only seen a taste of what is to come! You will be but the first stepping stone to something greater," she screamed, raising both of her hands as she sent a wave of darkness towards Bastila, slamming the Jedi away.

Bastila quickly regained her footing, allowing her spectre to pass through the dark wave of the Force. "There is no infinite power. No matter how great or small you think your powers are now, the Light Side shall prevail. It teaches us endurance, understanding of all things and most of all," Bastila said, extending her hand, as she watched Atris tumble away. "It teaches us inner peace during our darkest trials."

Atris screamed as she rose, revealing a dark spectral sword. "This is but a taste of my power," she exclaimed, revealing the dark blade, highlight in a shade of red.

"Then it seems we're equally matched, Atris. Our battleground is comprised of our minds—it is no different from the other battlefields we face everyday." As she finished speaking, a blue blade shone forth from her hand, finding its cool grip in her hands as she watched Atris' features reveal the dark monstrosity within.

The former Jedi's features had been marred and mutilated, as she revealed her inner self—the monster that was created out of her anger. Her eyes shone darkly with a tint of red, as her nose no longer appeared regal and prominent, yet sharp and predatory, along with her teeth, which appeared as nothing more than red fangs. "Your precious Revan created the monsters within ourselves, Bastila—remember that. He brought the dark teachings to us all and remember that he brought the taint to you. Also long as you have that, you shall forever be bound to me."

Bastila appeared stoic, though she felt some part of her sting from those words. "He did bring them, Atris—but you allowed yourself to fall before he ever found the dark teachings. You allowed yourself to be mastered by the Dark Side of the Force. The will of the Force shall never be bent to serve you because it is quite the opposite."

Atris' momentary grin twisted into a grimace as she raced towards Bastila, her dark sword high above her head, screaming with wild abandon.

Bastila steadied herself and brought her blue sword before her, watching as Atris raced towards her.


Atton brought his fighter around, as he joined the remaining pilots of Red Squadron.

"All right, crew, form up on me," came the voice of the Squadron leader.

"Copy that," Atton replied into the channel, as he veered the sleek arrow-shaped fighter towards the Squadron leader. Guess I'm fighting here while you're fighting all the way over there, huh, Babe? He gritted his teeth as he passed by the fleet flagship, watching as the numerous Sith fighters regrouped and began to move towards the rest of the fleet. This is going to be some ride, he thought, remembering his past during the Mandalorian Wars and his more shameful past during the Jedi Civil War.

Somehow, Theresa looked beyond it and sought out to train him and teach him the ways of the Force.

Somehow, she had forgiven him and even looked past it, loving him all the more for his honesty and truth.

He tightened his grip on the yoke, as he steeled himself for the rushing onslaught of the Sith fighters. This is for you Babe—I'm not going to go down yet. He clenched his teeth as he hit the boosters, weaving and wending his way through the Sith fighters that rushed past him. He squeezed the trigger on the yoke, watching as green energy lanced away and slammed into an unfortunate Sith fighter that zoomed towards him.

He smiled, watching in delight as the fighter tore apart under the bursts of emerald energy.

"We've lost Lead!" cried a voice on the channel. It was Red 2.

Atton gritted his teeth. This is going to get hectic, he muttered.

His astromech, T3-AR3 muttered something.

"What do you mean the stabilizer is out?"

The droid muttered again.

Atton brought a gloved hand to his face, feeling it touch the mask he wore instead. Great, just what I need—another tin can who can't get the job done. "Look, I don't care what you're doing right now! Lock it down!"

Three Sith fighters veered off and moved towards him, firing unremittingly, and forcing the former assassin to weave through the debris of his former comrades.

AR3 whistled and hooted.

"I know what I'm doing! Just lock those stabilizers down! I'm going to lose my lunch here!" Atton spiraled the fighter through the debris, as he pulled his fighter close towards one of the Republic frigates.

The fighters continued to follow him closely.

Atton gritted his teeth as he watched them follow him like a hungry pack of wolves. "So you think you're a bunch of hotshots, do you?" He slammed on the fighter's breaks, watching the Sith fighters overshoot him. He smiled as he squeezed the trigger, watching as one fighter explode in a fireball, while the other two split up, one of whom was caught in an array of energy fire from his comrades.

He followed through with the fighter that managed to evade him, chasing it as the Sith pilot flew just a few precarious feet from the hull of another frigate.

"Oh no you don't," Atton drawled as he flipped a switch that gave him missile control. He continued to evade the fire from other fighters, spotting two more members of Red squadron burn up under the slaughter of the Sith. He continued to match the fighter speed for speed, as it tried to dodge him and the missile lock that was aiming for him.

Come on, Atton thought frantically.

Come on.

He was rewarded with the light beeping sound that turned into a long tone. "Gotcha." A red streak was sent from his fighter, veering towards the Sith fighter, only to hit debris as Atton watched two bolts of scarlet slam into his kill, destroying it.

A boxy fighter with two large engines darted past him, causing Atton to veer away. "Thanks for stealing my kill!" Atton groaned, as he could have sworn he saw the Mandalorian in the fighter wave back to him.

In fact, Atton could have sworn he'd seen that same Mandalorian elsewhere.

The pilot's voice crackled over the radio. "Pleasure to see you too, Atton Rand," the voice of none other than Kelborn greeted.

"Should have known it was you," the cocky pilot snorted.

"You should be more wary of your kills," Kelborn replied, obviously enjoying the battle.

"Yeah, well, go kill somewhere else—that Sith still counts as my kill!"

"All's fair," Kelborn reasoned, manoeuvering his fighter away from Atton, as he locked onto another Sith fighter.

"Cut the chatter, Red 5," the voice of Red 2 called.

Atton groaned as he veered his fighter away, locking onto another Sith and switching back to twin lasers, as he fired discriminately towards the Sith, scoring several searing hits across the fighter's port solar panel.

The Sith fighter veered away, moving towards the Dissident flagship.

You haven't met the likes of me, yet, Atton thought determinedly as he flipped a few more switches. "Tin Can, throw whatever power you can to the engines!"

AR3 retorted with several beeps as the droid did the pilot's bidding.

The Sith fighter barrel rolled, as it dodged the lancing emerald bolts.

This one's good. Atton banked his fighter port, narrowly dodging a piece of wrecked cruiser from Carth's earlier Alpha Strike. He brought the fighter to run parallel to the flagship's hull, only to see the fighter engulfed in flames, as a pair of Jedi fighters unleashed a torrent of torpedoes at the battle cruiser that slammed into the hull, sending plumes of fire dissipating into space.

Stang! Atton pulled the fighter away from the heavy cruiser, watching as the Jedi pilots unleash deadly fire from their fighters against several more cruisers.

A brief blinding flash told Atton that the Jedi's handiwork had paid off against a destroyer.

He pulled his fighter around and began to move towards the Sojourn, eager to pick out his new set of targets, until he saw a concentration of dull silver moving towards the Republic fleet. Oh no, he thought, his heart leaping into his throat as he pegged the silver wedged shapes for the Sith fleet.

I have a bad feeling about this. He accelerated his fighter towards the Sojourn, his finger caressing the hairline trigger on the yoke.


Mandalore watched on at the carnage that was being wrought, tapping his fingers gently against his armour plating that ran along his right thigh, lightly shaking the heavy repeating blaster pistol strapped to it. It had become a habit he developed while he traveled with the so-called 'Exile.'

He turned to face the tactical computer simulations. He frowned in his mask.

There was hardly a scenario where both the Mandalorian and Republic fleets would emerge victorious.

Perhaps this is a good day to die, after all, he thought morbidly. He turned back to look at the view before him, his appetite for battle unusually satiated. "How far are we until we reach those Sith cruisers?"

"We'll move to intercept their fleet in 2 minutes, standard. We'll be joining the Republic fleet in 1 minute 30 seconds," Kex replied, looking out at the battle. This was what he had been waiting for his entire life—now he'd have a chance to participate in it.

"Good," Mandalore replied, closing his eyes for a moment, remembering the moments in his life that had led to this point. He found himself remembering the Mandalorian Wars, watching as they burned the Cathar homeworld and glassed the cities of Serocco. He remembered the final, horrific battle of Malachor V, watching as the planet pulled both Republic and Mandalorian ships alike into its gravitational pull, imploding, thereby killing countless millions.

He opened his eyes again, watching the carnage unfold before his very eyes. And so this is where the Mandalorians end, he thought grimly. At least it will be known that we fought with honour, glory and took many of them down with us. He turned to face Kex, who continued to tap away at the console. "Fire every available weapon we've got towards those heavy cruisers—let the Republic and the Jedi coalition forces deal with the lighter cruisers. Bring us as close to them as possible, I want them to look us in the eye and remember the Mandalorian Wars, and let them remember it as if they were staring death in the face."

"Yours will be done, Mandalore," the quartermaster replied.

Now, Mandalore thought bitterly, we get to see who wins out this day. His eyes shifted to the tactical computer at his side. This is going to be a lot worse than Malachor.

The odds were still against him.