Wil stared through the window of Jewel's room, unable to move, much less go inside to join her mother at her bedside. Jewel slept peacefully in the large, plush bed that dwarfed her, but Liaa hadn't let go of her hand since the girl had been settled in, and the two had been alone for some time. Wil instead felt inexplicably drawn...elsewhere, but he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Perhaps, as much as his heart had fought against it, he'd finally given into his father's efforts to remove him from Jewel's life as a means of protecting them both. Clearly it hadn't worked, he mused bitterly, since she had been targeted anyway, but...maybe it was for the best, if given enough time.

Jewel wasn't a Rys'tihn. She was his half-sister, but Wil intended to one day soon take up his mother's mantle as a Rys'tihn Ghost Heir; he couldn't serve as a protector of both the Rys'tihns and a twi'lek hybrid girl, especially when each job would pull him to opposite edges of the galaxy simultaneously. Liaa had told him Horatio had regretted his decision to leave Wil behind, but maybe there had been subtle wisdom in his painful decision. Was that the inner torment he felt? Knowing how much his father had hurt him, but also knowing that it had still been the right choice? Or was there something else entirely that was straining his heart?

Though he expected the Paneau guard to make his rounds and approach him with his report again, it was Master Rech Natiyr who slowly stepped up beside him, remaining silent as his sightless gaze calmly studied him. Wil already knew the answer, but he engaged the Jedi for his assessment anyway.

"How is she?"

Rech hesitated a moment, briefly confused by his unexpected question. "Perfectly fine. I've run every exam I can: she had no injuries or wounds, she was properly nourished and hydrated, and she should be waking up soon. The sedative she'd been given was powerful, but her system will clear it out in a few hours." Perceptive as always, though, he released a slow breath as he lightly placed a hand on Wil's shoulder. "But that's not what's troubling you."

Still looking into the room, Wil clenched his jaw, frustrated by his ineffectual position and ongoing anxiety.

"Bex told us they knew that she had been sent home, that she's safe here now. Why didn't they come back with her? Why haven't we heard from them?"

Rech considered his questions with little reaction; he seemed to already be wondering the same thing. "I don't know. Bex didn't say?"

Wil shook his head. "He won't say much of anything. I just..." he sighed, struggling to understand his concern, much less explain it to someone else. "I feel like something's wrong. Like there's something we're missing, and they're walking into a trap, wherever they are...and I don't know why."

Again the wise Master was silent a long moment, worrying Wil further. Did he feel it, too?

"...they never told you, did they?"

"Never told me what?"

"Your Rys'tihn cousins aren't the only Jedi on your mother's side. I discovered that your uncle Koril was Force sensitive years ago, before any of your cousins were born, and it's apparently run in the family for a long time. Your mother likely had it, too, and it wouldn't surprise me if you do, as well."

Wil furrowed his brows, unsure why his family wouldn't have mentioned it to him over the years. "So...I can connect with the Force? It's telling me that my dad is in trouble?"

"Perhaps."

"Do you sense the same thing about your wife?"

Rech cast his gaze aside briefly in thought. "Mand would let me know if she felt that they had gotten to a point where they needed help."

"Then I shouldn't worry?"

Still gripping his shoulder, Rech squeezed it gently. "Your uncle was frequently given specific, potent warnings about the future through the Force, often accompanied by visions. I don't know if that was the case with your mother, but...if it's something you feel strongly about, you have the choice to act on it."

Wil hardly breathed, his anxiety tightening its hold on his chest. "...would you?"

A weak sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he dropped his hand. "Had you not needed such extensive healing, I would have already gone with them when they left. Trouble always seems to find its way to my wife, and your father is no different. The two of them together could probably use all the help they can get."

After he gave Wil a faint bow, Rech turned and stepped into Jewel's room, briefly tending to the girl as Wyliaa looked on with a bright smile. They exchanged a few quick words Wil couldn't hear, but he didn't need to. It didn't take Liaa long to meet Wil's gaze as her expression fell, and he knew immediately what Rech had told her. He could easily see in her eyes her worry for him, but he put as much confidence and determination as he could behind his own. With a twinge of sadness but acceptance of his decision to leave, Liaa gave him a small nod, sending him on his way with her reluctant blessing. He thanked her with a nod, as well, giving a short, shrill whistle to call his tooka Phantom to him. Recovered well from her own injuries, Phantom bounded down the hall eagerly, swishing her fluffy tail behind her as Wil grabbed his jacket and holstered his blaster at his side.

"Ready, girl?"

Phantom answered with a firm mrrow as she affectionately brushed her body against his legs, looking up to him for direction. He wasn't immediately certain what his plan was going to be, but as he stared far down the hallway in thought, a solution suddenly came into focus. A familiar astromech, alone and furtively turning his dome about to be sure he hadn't earned anyone's attention, silently rolled his way toward the hangar. The unassuming Sheridan droid was making another sneaky escape, and something, perhaps the Force, told Wil to follow him.


The silent ascent of the four up into Azira's Rishi facility had so far gone without any alarms being raised or encountering any rogue guards, and Horatio's internal chrono was nearing the end of its countdown. They would certainly be coming up on some kind of unexpected obstacle or attack any minute now within the dim, decaying station, he could just feel it. His luck couldn't be, and had never been, this good.

Leading the group down a corridor with the facility's holomap in one hand, Max held his other up to halt the others behind him as they came to a crossing. He carefully peered around the corner, studying the adjoining hall only a few quick seconds before returning to them and powering down the projector to arm himself instead.

"Main communications center is just behind that door," he informed them quietly. "No guard posted."

"If there are any," Horatio noted gruffly, "they'd be inside with her. Azira always kept her guards close."

"We take them out first," Aalon asserted, but Mand was quick to counter, her words sharp.

"Azira is a wanted fugitive of the New Republic. We are here to apprehend her, and any of her crew. Is that understood?"

She looked pointedly to each of the men, awaiting a nod from them all. Horatio was the most reluctant, holding her gaze defiantly to test her before he finally relented. She held no weapon at her side, having foregone even her lightsaber since their capture at the Bounty Hunters Guild base, but she was a dangerous weapon herself. He knew that well.

With another swift survey of their surroundings, Max led them to the large bulkhead door, punching in a rapid sequence onto his wrist commpad as they approached. The lumbering door yawned open, revealing an equally darkened room illuminated only by a central holo console, projecting a number of design specs and spinning objects in the air. Two people stood before the console, a slight, old human woman with short, spiky platinum hair and a tall, broad Trandoshan male, and neither appeared interrupted by the sound of the opening door behind them. They spoke quietly to each other, and it wasn't until the four of them stepped closer, side by side in a line blocking the door, did Horatio finally hear what they were saying and immediately recognize Azira's sharp voice.

"...not ready, but it'll have to do. Just get those crates packed for the next shipment, we'll deal with it later."

Both Azira and the Trandoshan turned toward their surprise guests, quickly halted as they noticed their company and the three blasters suddenly trained on them. Azira's ice blue eyes widened in patent alarm as she quickly recognized Horatio and Mand, two of her most dangerous operatives standing before her uninvited. She even appeared nervous and afraid as she stood motionless and awaited an attack from them, but when none came, her gaze found Aalon familiar, as well, and her expression slowly morphed from shock to a devious grin.

"Well done, Mr. Roeken," she sneered with a short laugh. "I am impressed."

Shards of ice tore through Horatio's veins as he recognized what had just happened. That was the warning he'd felt in the back of his mind since they'd begun their trek through the station... His youngest nephew, the Hunter Lead and the one he had been the most reluctant to trust, had delivered them right into Azira's hands.

Mand stood between Aalon and Horatio on his left, and with the smallest of movements, he felt her grip his hand at his side as she shook her head the faintest bit to stay his reflexive response. His blaster was still trained on Azira and the Trandoshan ahead of them, but Aalon had turned his onto Mand, the closest to him. Horatio and Max lowered their weapons and dropped them to the floor reluctantly; the tension in the air could have suffocated them all.

"I want triple my rate."

Azira narrowed her eyes at Aalon, clearly displeased with his new terms. "Double."

"Triple the return, triple the credits."

"I don't even know who this one is," Azira scoffed as she gestured toward Max who stood to Horatio's right. "You're in no position to offer me someone I didn't ask for and make that kind of demand."

Mand's voice was low but pointed. "Aalon...don't do this..."

But Aalon ignored her, readily giving up his brother without any hint of remorse. "He alone is worth the price. Maxoran Redgrave, the ghost you've been chasing in your network."

Azira's eyes widened and flashed to Max instantly, recognition rolling over her expression. "Soran's son... Of course. I see the resemblance now." She shrewdly studied each of the Sheridan men in turn, eventually nodding to Aalon. "Fine. I'll pay you triple, if that's what it takes to ease your conscience for betraying your brother and your uncle." Though Horatio refused to look at him, Aalon's expression must have faltered somehow, and Azira took notice with a wry grin. "Yes, I know you are a Sheridan, Mr. Roeken. At least, by blood. You were raised by...a different caliber of family. Although," she paused briefly, taking a few steps towards Max as she discussed him instead. "You two aren't that dissimilar, you know. Mr. Redgrave here is, after all, suspected of killing his own father...for substantial personal gain." She looked to Mand. "Did you teach him that?"

Mand's hand around his tightened the slightest bit, but the only trembling he could perceive was his own; Mand remained resolute against Azira's icy stare. The old Huxnel Admiral reveled in their collective dread, though, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced before them. "I can't imagine that you three would have come so willingly to my door had you known you were becoming my captives...which means you came expecting to exact revenge." Her expression darkened. "Where is the girl?"

"She's safe," Max answered with emphasis, "where you can't touch her."

Azira matched Max's defiant gaze. "We'll see about that. With you out of my way, I could send a hundred bounty hunters to Paneau, where I'm sure you've stashed her, and you couldn't stop me. They'll tear through your stubborn and meddling family, too," she told Mand, "after I'm through with you."

Mand's voice was so...calm against Azira's icy venom. "You're delusional. They would not trade my life for the life of a child."

"You weren't listening," Azira sneered. "I don't need them to. Not after I arm the entire Guild with my new weapons. You Jedi won't stand a chance. For the first time in a millennia...the playing field will finally be even."

Horatio's breath froze in his chest, unsure what kind of terrible weapon Azira could have created that had given her such intense confidence as she stared down the most powerful Force user Horatio had ever known. Mand's expression hadn't changed, though, prompting Azira to continue.

"I've learned so much since you left us, my dear... I know how to better handle you now. I will admit that at this particular moment, I am not as prepared as I wanted to be, but...you are still a welcome surprise." With a quick glance at Aalon beside Mand, Azira nodded. "Stun her."

The words had no sooner left Azira's lips when Horatio felt Mand's hold on his hand loosen as she almost threw his arm away from her, sparing him from also receiving the stun bolt intended for her. She gave only a weak grunt as the charge shut her down a moment later, reducing her to the floor in a heap and only just holding onto consciousness. Beside him, Max was quick to grip Horatio's upper arm as he began to lunge for Azira, keeping him in place though he wanted nothing more than to fight back.

"I'll start with you, Mr. Redgrave. You'll give me the rest of the codes that I don't have for your father's network," Azira concluded as she turned to leave, meeting Horatio's gaze as she passed him. "You'll have to wait your turn."

Aalon stepped up behind his brother, pressing the barrel of his blaster into Max's back and ushering him away with Azira as the lumbering Trandoshan approached Horatio and Mand's crumpled form on the floor. Soft moans escaped her as she fought the stun bolt's effects, and her eyes even began to flutter before the Trandoshan delivered a swift kick across her head, gashing her temple open and sealing her in unconsciousness.

Unrestrained this time and blinded by rage, Horatio launched himself toward the Trandoshan - to be stopped almost immediately as another stun bolt rang out, his muscles suddenly seizing and his vision blurring. He collapsed helplessly, watching his nephew lowering his blaster he'd fired from the doorway as darkness pulled him under just beside his former partner.