A/N: With a username like mine you all probably guessed that some Mandalorians would turn up in this series at some point. As always any and all feedback is appreciated. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Reviews:

Rob Sears (False Masks): Thank you for your kind words and support. I'll work on improving those areas and will go back and fix such mistakes when I get an opportunity to.

seabo76 (False Masks): I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I started writing False Masks mainly in order to give something back to this site, which has given me so many great stories to read. Knowing that some people enjoyed that one in the same way I've enjoyed others is probably the best thing about doing this as a hobby.

Guest: Thank you.

AnarionRising27: Thank you very much! I think that have some interesting ideas for all of the things you mentioned, so stay tuned!

Chapter 3: Horizon

The batarian paced up and down relentlessly, tension oozing from every step he took. The armoured figure watched him expressionlessly from where they leaned against a nearby wall, displaying no visible reaction to the obvious frustration of the room's other occupant. The Mandalorian continued to wait in silence for the alien to give voice to his thoughts. That was how it worked, and she had made it abundantly clear to him that it would continue to work like that. They might be partners in their little venture but they were not equals. She would not ask him for his thoughts; he would offer them to her.

The batarian suddenly turned to slam a fist into the wall next to him, showing no signs of pain despite the force behind the blow, even though his fist struck unpainted grey metal. The Mandalorian continued to display no emotion that he could detect, but smirked slightly within the confines of her helmet. The batarian had proven useful so far but it was nonetheless entertaining when he lost his temper. The man suddenly snapped around to face her, seething in his frustration.

"How much longer will this take?" He snarled, four eyes narrowed in anger. "Justice has waited long enough; I want it served as soon as possible, Mandalore."

She bristled at the way the man in front of her sneered the title. Not many things could anger her easily, but not showing due respect to the position she had recently been granted was certainly one of them. "Watch your tone, batarian," she hissed, "you are certainly beneficial to me at the moment, but are not a necessity for my plans. You on the other hand would have nothing without my warriors."

The batarian smirked at her attempt to intimidate him. "I've overheard your men speaking," he began, eyes glinting with mirth. "I believe some of them mentioned that the title of Mandalore is something granted once an agreement has been made between your clans. Unless I am mistaken, you only lead a small force, a mere fraction of one such group. You lay claim to a title you have decided to grant yourself, with support from only your group of boot-lickers."

The four-eyed bastard was now beginning to seriously annoy her. She had suspected that he might try and alter the status of their relationship eventually, but he was an even greater fool than she had thought if he believed he could try and do so when he still needed her far more than she did him.

It was time to remind him who held the real power between them.

The self-declared Mandalore moved from where she had been leaning to stand in front of the batarian, who was by no means short but still notably slighter than she was, her armour only amplifying the difference between them. The man hid his reaction well, but even so she could detect the trace of fear in his eyes at her approach. The batarian's eyes widened in panic as she lunged forward without warning, slamming a forearm against his neck and driving him backwards to slam him against the wall opposite where she had been leaning. He tried desperately to remove her arm, but she simply leaned forward, applying more pressure to his throat as she reminded him just why she was the one in command. The batarian's eyes rolled backwards, his grip on her arm slackening before she dropped her arm back to her side as quickly as she had used it to pin him in place. The man dropped to his knees, wheezing loudly as his body tried to make up for the amount of air it had been denied.

"When you use my title you will treat it with due respect, batarian," she snarled, making sure to carefully enunciate each word so there was no possibility of miscommunication. "As for your question… it will take as long as it takes." The communicator on her wrist beeped suddenly, causing her to turn her attention to the incoming call. The Mandalorian pressed a button on the inside of her left-wrist, the voice of the caller following a split-second later.

"Mandalore!" The voice reported, filled with a small amount of panic, but mainly excitement. "We have an unconfirmed report of a Jedi on Horizon! Two of our men were found near the wall of the colony; one sliced in half and another impaled through the heart. One of my corporals swears that he saw a flash of bright blue behind a building, though nothing was found there when we investigated. What are your orders?"

So there was a Jedi here.

She was the first Mandalore this galaxy had ever seen, and if she had her way then she would not be the last. It was only fitting that if there was indeed a Jedi present here somehow, then her rule should witness the death of such a worthy foe. In truth she was disappointed that she wasn't currently on Horizon; she would have relished the opportunity to test her skills against such an opponent.

Mandalore took a moment to quell her excitement before giving her reply. "Operate under the assumption that the Jedi is not alone. Continue the destruction of the colony; that should draw them out. Consolidate the smaller squads into a smaller number of larger ones. This will be the same Jedi that one of the last groups to make the trip reported beat them here. I want to know how much they know about this galaxy and whether any others are coming. Take them alive if at all possible, but no matter what, they don't escape." She paused for a moment. "If you have to kill them then bring me the body as proof." Whatever critics the worm at her feet had overheard, they would be silenced if the Jedi was paraded before them, either dead or alive.

"Understood, Mandalore," her subordinate replied, the excitement in his voice now fully eclipsing his fear. "The colonists have proven entertaining, but everyone is craving a proper challenge."

She smirked at the man's enthusiasm, stepping around the still gasping batarian. "Good. This wasn't planned, but it is not entirely unwelcome. The men can have their fun; just make sure that the Jedi either leaves Horizon in chains or in a bag." Mandalore cut off the call and looked down at the batarian, who was holding his throat as though that would help him to breathe more easily. "Remember who is ultimately in charge, fool. You are useful… but I can see another of your people replacing you should you continue to challenge me." She turned away from him and headed in the direction of her private quarters.

Rassen slowly leaned round the edge of the wall he was using as cover before ducking back behind it. He forced himself to breathe as quietly as possible, lest his target hear him. A lone Mandalorian stood only a few feet away, back turned and oblivious to the Jedi behind him. Several others stood about fifty feet beyond that, blaster rifles at the ready and backs turned to him as well as they prepared to breach the door of a nearby house. Rassen returned his currently unignited lightsaber to his belt, eyes practically boring through the metal wall in front of him as though he could see the sentry through his cover. He slowly began to inch out from behind the wall, the Mandalorian in front of him totally unware of his presence.

When he was practically on top of the Mandalorian, Rassen lunged forward, wrapping one arm around his target's throat, using his other to strengthen the chokehold. The Mandalorian may have been trained, but the attack had caught him completely off-guard. The soldier desperately tried to break Rassen's hold through sheer strength alone by trying to pry his grip loose while the Jedi had him off-balance. Rassen grunted quietly at the man's resistance, tightening his grip as much as he could, the padding around the Mandalorian's throat providing nowhere near as much protection as his helmet or chest plate.

The Mandalorian suddenly changed tactics, stepping backwards into Rassen and then tilting one side of his body in an attempt to throw the Jedi over his shoulder. Rassen had been expecting such a tactic though and maintained his grip, slowly crushing his target's throat. The Mandalorian's struggles began to grow weaker, and Rassen slowly began to lower the sentry to the ground, allowing himself to look over at the group of Mandalorians who had necessitated the quiet but brutal approach.

The first of the three was in the process of raising one of his legs off the ground in preparation for breaking down the door in front of him. The man's boot slammed into the object with a crashing noise Rassen could just about hear from his position, despite the continued sounds of fighting that still raged around the colony. While the door appeared to be in good condition, it clearly had not been designed to withstand a blow from a well-built adult human wearing heavy armour. The door shuddered in its frame, now positioned at a slight angle where before it had been straight. The Mandalorian raised his leg again for another strike.

The man in his arms stilled as Rassen observed the small group in front of him attempt to break into the house. Rassen maintained the hold as the presumed leader of the squad in front of him continued to bring his boot crashing against the door, which gave slightly more with each blow. Now his target had stopped struggling, Rassen adjusted his hold on the man's neck before twisting it swiftly to one side. The subsequent snapping noise was swallowed up by a distant explosion and he lowered the corpse of the Mandalorian the rest of the way to the ground, the sound far too quiet for the others to hear from this distance. Rassen slowly began creeping forward, slowly drawing his lightsaber from its place on his belt as he did so, senses alert for the arrival of any other Mandalorians as he closed in on the three in front of him.

He had made it about halfway to the closest armoured figure, keeping himself concealed as best he could using the shadows of the buildings around him before the door, having taken far more punishment than it was ever designed to, finally broke free from the door-frame, falling backwards into the house with a tremendous crash. The lead Mandalorian stormed in, his two subordinates quickly following suit while providing cover with their rifles. Rassen picked up the pace while continuing to remain as quiet as possible, determined to reach them before they could kill the house's inhabitants.

As he reached the entrance, Rassen could make out the sound of shouting, noting in surprise that it was in Mando'a, rather than Galactic Basic. His mind flashed back to the woman he had left asleep hours away among the grassy hills that seemed to dominate this planet. Some small part of him worried whether she had woken up yet. A far larger part of him didn't care. That realisation caused Rassen to pause just outside the entrance to the house. Since when had he become so uncaring?

The sound of a blaster rifle being cocked reached Rassen's ears and he entered the house, now standing in a narrow hallway, doors to various rooms on each wall. The sound of the blaster rifle preparing to fire had been very close and come from somewhere to his left. Rassen crept over to the closest door on that side of the corridor, noting that it was ajar while the rest, bar the one he had passed through, were closed. The Jedi slowly leaned his head around the door, eyes widening at the sight before him.

The room appeared to be some sort of living area, being a wide open space with several comfortable looking chairs and a sofa scattered around it. The floor appeared to be made of wood or at least something which resembled it, with the walls being painted a light shade of yellow. On the sofa, two human children huddled together, arms tight around one another as they looked in horror at the sight in front of them. A turian lay on the ground between the two children and the three Mandalorians that all had their weapons aimed squarely at him. Clearly the turian had lunged at his attackers in an attempt to defend the two children behind him, only to be knocked down, hence the shouting.

One of the Mandalorians suddenly stiffened and turned around to face Rassen, blaster rifle rising to his shoulder as he did so. The element of surprise lost, the Jedi lunged forward, lightsaber hissing to life as he did so. The first Mandalorian didn't even have a chance to pull the trigger before he was impaled through the stomach, the deadly energy of the lightsaber cauterising the flesh around the fatal wound instantly. The other two Mandalorians instantly turned and opened fire, bolts of scarlet energy screaming though the space between them and him. Rassen withdrew his lightsaber from their comrade and blocked their attacks with only a little difficulty, sending one of the blaster bolts back at the man who had fired it. The projectile slammed into the Mandalorian's blaster rifle, blowing it cleanly into two useless halves which the warrior continued to clutch in surprise.

The amount of fire he was being subjected to now halved, Rassen seized the now unarmed Mandalorian with the Force and pulled him in front of the armed one. The man now between him and the third Mandalorian, who Rassen recognised was the leader, shook horrifically with the impact from each blaster hit. The leader continued to fire, seemingly uncaring about the fact that his subordinate had become a human shield. The blaster rifle in his hands finally stopped firing after a few moments, power pack exhausted, and Rassen threw the second Mandalorian to the side, the corpse sailing several metres before hitting a wall with a tremendous crash. Rassen prepared to lunge forward, intending to skewer the last surviving Mandalorian in the same way as the first.

The leader, clearly more experienced than his soldiers, caught on before he could do so and hurled his now useless rifle at the Jedi opposite him. Rassen was caught off-guard and ducked before the heavy weapon could catch him full in the face. He looked up to see that the Mandalorian had used the momentary distraction to close the distance between them, but could not respond in time to avoid the man's shoulder slamming into his chest, causing both of them to crash to the floor, his lightsaber spinning away, hissing as it deactivated.

While his armour took the impact of the Mandalorian's charge well, Rassen's vision exploded with stars as the back of his head slammed into the floor, causing the Jedi to groan in pain. His sight began to return almost instantly, causing Rassen to quickly raise his arms to cover his face at the sight of the Mandalorian kneeling next to him, about to attack. His attempt to defend himself was only able to partially block the fist which crashed down upon him; such was the force behind the Mandalorian's punch. Rassen tasted blood as the man's armoured gauntlet caught him across the jaw, only adding to the feeling of disorientation which still lingered from the impact of his head against the wooden floor of the living room.

The Mandalorian used the opportunity to grab the front of his armour, lifting the Jedi slightly off the ground before slamming him back down again. Stars filled Rassen's vision once more as the back of his head collided with the ground for a second time. The Jedi felt his strength fading, his arms knocked away by the impact, leaving his face exposed to another punch from the man above him.

Are you really going to give up so easily, Rassen?

Time seemed to slow as Zaressh's sneer filled his mind. The Mandalorian seemed to waver for a moment, colours shifting strangely, before he changed, morphing into the man Rassen despised more than anyone else he had ever fought, more than any enemy he had ever vanquished. Rage seemed to consume him as Zaressh's fist slowly made its way down towards him. If he died now then it would all have been for nothing. He would never know why the Mandalorians were attacking this colony. He would never know if anyone would be able to stop them from achieving whatever goal had brought them here. He would never see Shaela again.

Rassen lunged forward with all of his remaining strength, one hand grabbing the fist about to smash into his face. He could feel his attacker's surprise as the man attempted to pull his hand out of grip that held it fast. Zaressh prepared to punch him with his other hand and finally Rassen snapped. He glared at the Sith's mask hatefully and squeezed.

A choking noise emanated from behind Zaressh's mask and the Sith brought his free hand to his throat as though trying to remove a hand gripped around it. Rassen smirked at the man's struggles and concentrated harder, tightening the hold as Zaressh attempted to breath. He raised both of his legs to his chest and kicked the weakened man away, slowly rising to his feet, anger allowing him to ignore the agony radiating from both his face and the back of his head. Rassen watched as the Sith struggled against the invisible pressure slowly crushing his throat, smirk widening into a full smile as the man's struggles began to grow weaker.

Eventually Zaressh stopped struggling, arms falling to his sides as he lay on the ground next to the Mandalorians. Rassen stood there panting as the adrenaline and haze of rage left him. Killing Zaressh had felt… good. He had deserved it, hadn't he? Yes of course he had. Rassen had only been defending himself. He froze in confusion as Zaressh's body began to waver, being replaced by a blue and white armoured figure much like the two next to it.

Then the realisation of what had just happened sank in.

Rassen staggered to the nearest wall before collapsing against it, allowing himself to slowly slide down to the floor, paying the turian and two children who watched him in horror no attention. Killing the man was not what bothered him; he had killed in self-defence or to protect innocents before. No, what bothered him was how he had done it. Rassen could justify everything else he had done since returning to this galaxy so far. He had needed information from the first Mandalorian. He had come to help the colonists and so had killed the pair of Mandalorians he had encountered when he had first entered the colony. The method he had used to kill the lone sentry had been brutal, but it had been quiet. He had needed to get to the house without attracting attention; if the three Mandalorians he had just killed had seen him approaching then they could have called for reinforcements.

The first two of those three he had killed were likewise justifiable. They had been about to kill the turian and the two children, so he had intervened before they could. All of the deaths he had caused up to that point had been tolerable in the methods used.

Then there was the most recent one.

The hate, the rage he had felt when the Mandalorian had gained the upper hand. The satisfaction of slowly choking the life out of the man when Zaressh's voice had filled his mind and he had changed into the Sith. A lot had occurred during the time spent trying to find a way back to this galaxy, but in all of that time Rassen had not compromised who he was, at least not too much, he had always reassured himself. He was undoubtedly different, hardened, but what he had just done was horrific. He had given in to the Dark Side, just for a moment.

The Jedi began shaking uncontrollably as he thought back to everything he had done since awakening, seeing it all through a new lens. Just because he could justify it, did that make it right? Had he needed to keep threatening the first Mandalorian he had met even once she had agreed to answer his questions? His mind turned to the device he had touched which had brought him back. Had it done something to him? Ever since Zaressh had died, he had heard the Sith's voice in his head, taunting him or encouraging him to do things he would not have normally. He had learned to ignore it, putting the phenomenon down to being the result of the Force bond the Sith had created between them, an echo of Zaressh's personality. Whatever part of the Sith lingered within him tried giving voice to decisions he would normally never make, a personification of the worst parts of him perhaps, the parts which everyone had but only a few ever embraced. But what if, Rassen had to swallow the bile that welled up in his throat at his next thought, what if the device he had touched had amplified the Sith's influence somehow? The bond between himself and Zaressh had been tied to the Force and so could the device have strengthened the Sith's presence within his mind? If so then Rassen had no idea how it could have done so. He had been able to ignore it relatively easily before coming back, but now perhaps Zaressh's voice was no longer simply enhancing certain thoughts at the back of his mind. Perhaps it had begun introducing ones of its own. Perhaps it was no longer simply an echo of the dead Sith, but had become something more.

Now isn't that an interesting development?

Shaela finished examining the report before glancing at the woman it pertained to. The human had made a swift recovery, no doubt due to the vast knowledge and skill of Matriarch Wessa. The asari had left to investigate an apparent disturbance in the reception of the hospital where they both worked, leaving her to deliver the report to the patient. The quarian turned to face the human, who looked back at her with a small amount of anxiety.

"Everything seems to be well on its way to healing completely," she smiled, not that the human could see it. "Just avoid putting too much strain on your leg and the pain should fade completely within three days at the most."

Her patient relaxed with a smile before turning to her partner, a beige-suited quarian who had been far more apprehensive than his other half, practically right on the edge of the chair where he sat next to her. The quarian took the human's outstretched hand in one of his own before squeezing it gently. He then turned his attention to Shaela. "Thank you so much for everything," he began, eyes shining behind his visor, "when she was wounded I was so worried and-"

"You worry too much," the woman interrupted, though she smiled lovingly at the man as he turned his attention back to her. "I love you, but you always worry too much about me. I'm an Alliance marine, remember?"

"I remember."

The human's smile widened and she leaned over to kiss the side of the quarian's mask. Shaela smiled widely at the sight, before a pang of sadness seemed to stab deeply into her chest. She loved helping patients, particularly when they had people they were close to. Seeing the joy they and those close to them felt when she announced that a full recovery was almost certain always seemed to make everything worthwhile. Still, the displays of affection that followed, particularly between lovers always served to remind her of Rassen, and whether she would ever see him again. Despite the encouragements of Wessa, there were moments when she wasn't quite as sure as she wanted to be that Rassen would miraculously return. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the door to the makeshift hospital room open behind her and jumped slightly at the voice which followed.

"Hey, sis! Wow, this place is so cool!"

"Rissel!" Shaela's enthusiasm at the unexpected appearance of her sister was dampened slightly at her sudden barging in. "You're not supposed…" she trailed off as Wessa gracefully entered the room after the enthusiastic green-suited quarian, smiling slightly at Shaela's reaction to the disturbance.

"This one," the asari began, turning to face Rissel for a moment, "has just spent ten minutes badgering the receptionist about how you were supposed to be home half an hour ago, before then ambushing me once I arrived expecting something more akin to a pirate attack. Suffice to say, I was rather shocked that one quarian could cause so much commotion." Wessa's smile grew during the course of her explanation, much to both Rissel and Shaela's embarrassment.

Shaela glanced at her omni-tool in surprise, having lost track of time due to being so invested in her work. "Sorry," she began, looking back at the couple who were watching the proceedings in bemusement. "I must have forgotten that I needed to head home early today."

Wessa smiled again, the asari still beautiful despite centuries of treating injuries of all kinds across the galaxy. "I'll finish up here, why don't you take your sister home before she causes any more trouble?"

The sun had begun to set as the two quarians left the building and began to make the trek home. Shaela smiled at the sight of the city taking shape before her. All of the houses she could see were cobbled together out of the ships the quarians had used for hundreds of years, but they were still homes. The struggle wasn't over for her people, but they had passed the biggest hurdle. They had Rannoch back, even if there was still plenty to be done. She was only twenty-three and so would likely live to see the vast majority of the reconstruction completed, Shaela realised, smiling more widely.

Rissel drew alongside her, the shorter quarian's hood flapping slightly as a sudden gust of wind caught it. "Race you home?" Her sister asked, leaning forward in preparation for her confirmation. Shaela shook her head in response, more than a little irritated at Rissel causing trouble several minutes prior.

"No, Rissel."

"Loser!" The other quarian raced away, leaving her standing there in surprise for a moment. Shaela shook her head again, though this time she couldn't help smirking slightly.

She's going down.

Their home, a ramshackle structure in the same vein as all of the other ones in the area, lay only five minutes from the hospital, but Shaela was still able to overtake her sister in that time, laughing as she did so. Rissel huffed in frustration as she was overtaken, and Shaela laughed even harder at the younger quarian's frustration.

She could have continued widening her lead, but held back, preferring to keep only a few metres ahead of Rissel in order to avoid making her too upset; her younger sister could be very competitive. She may have been eighteen, but in some ways it seemed like Rissel never would grow up. Shaela soon reached the final corner before their house, still in the lead. The finish line was in sight, another victory to add to her unbeaten record. She was less than ten metres away before there was a slight throbbing sensation at the back of her mind, a feeling she had not felt in more than two years. She skidded to a halt, Rissel racing past her with a whoop of victory before turning back to face her sister, arms held above her head.

"Victory! You didn't reach the door, so I win! Come on, let's head inside…" Rissel trailed off, arms still raised above her head as Shaela gave no indication she had heard her. The other quarian might as well have been on another planet. That sensation… she recognised it, but it was different somehow, it felt… conflicted, for lack of a better term. Shaela's eyes widened and her breathing became quicker and shallower as she realised what that feeling was. She paid no attention to Rissel calling her name as she turned and walked slowly over to a nearby rock before raising a hand in its direction. She had to be sure, she just had to be.

Shaela focused and reached out, willing the rock to rise. For a moment nothing happened. Then slowly, agonisingly slowly, the rock, about the size of a brick, rose from the ground, slowly rotating in mid-air. She vaguely heard Rissel gasp in surprise at the sight, but was too amazed at the feeling of warmth the Force provided to explain what she was doing. The feeling of connecting with the Force was exactly like she remembered, perhaps better even. She had lost the ability to feel it when Rassen had vanished; presumably the bond between them wasn't strong enough to allow her to do so when they were literally galaxies apart. But if she could feel it now…

Rassen was back. Somehow he had found a way.

That sensation… that was him, Shaela realised with a start. It was the same sensation she had felt when she was around him, but it was different, darker. That scared her, the thought that he was fighting something deep within himself. The idea that what had nearly happened to her, what still occasionally gave her nightmares could be happening to the man she loved was horrifying. More than fear though, she felt resolve. Rassen had saved her in that moment when she had almost let her hate and fear control her. Now she needed to save him. She had found him on Omega before she knew that he loved her back. Now he had managed to find a way from one galaxy to another for her. He had come far enough. She could make it the rest of the way.

Despite her fear, tears of joy began to make their way down Shaela's cheeks and she flung her arms around Rissel in a hug, almost knocking the other quarian over. She gazed up at Rannoch's setting sun, silver eyes narrowed in determination. One day was ending so another could begin.

Hold on, Rassen. I'm coming.