Paneau: capital city of Dalon
Dalon Detention Center
2.5 APC

Staring once again at the observation center's security cam feed fixed on Horatio's cell, Mand felt a strange mix of emotions coursing through her. Part of her wanted to leave him inside it, stewing for weeks, maybe even months, for being anywhere near her and her friends again. Even a year and a half ago, she had threatened to kill him at their next meeting...but again, she ended up needing him, and it was a bizarre feeling. He was everything she despised about herself and her past that she wanted to forget, but as she faced a dangerous mission that would rely heavily on her skills developed with the nefarious Huxnel, she had to remember and become her former self once more.

She still had a hard time accepting that Horatio had been telling the truth about his business on Paneau. All she knew of his sister Recero was that the woman had once been a bounty hunter, and that Jedi Master Aalon Noor had delivered her son on Ambria after their transport had been shot down. The boy had to be only two years old at the most, and he had been named after Noor, so where had this Max come from?

Koril had been right, though; she had been so focused on Horatio's assumed guilt that she hadn't recognized his uncharacteristic state of distress. She wanted him to be guilty of Veon's murder. She wanted to make him suffer torture at her hands once she found a way around Paneau's docile punishment. But so blinded by her grief and desire for revenge, she couldn't see the obvious fear in Horatio's eyes until she reflected on it later. In all the years she spent at his side with the Huxnel, never once did she see him exhibit any kind of response even remotely associated with fear, though they had encountered countless dangers and hostiles during their missions. No, he had guarded every part of himself that wasn't needed for the job, and he certainly wouldn't have allowed her to see him afraid of her. His concern for finding his nephew superseded his need to put up a front for her as he had always done. For the first time, she had seen his...weakness, and she struggled to believe it.

Though the detention center had been quiet as she stood alone with her thoughts, she heard others approaching, their boots echoing down the sterile corridor. The warden, a middle-aged officer, rounded the corner with two younger guards beside him, and he nodded respectfully as he stepped up beside her.

"Mrs. Natiyr," he greeted her as he introduced himself. "Callin Arito, Warden of this facility."

Mand nodded, releasing a long, tired breath. "You've received your orders, Warden?"

"Yes, ma'am, directly from the High Commander himself. Sheridan is to be released to you at your discretion."

Looking over the console that displayed a brief report on the inmates being held, one short line caught her attention. "It says here he was treated. For what?"

"Several rib fractures sustained during an altercation prior to his arrest, ma'am. He was treated within his cell; he's gotten a few rounds of bactade, and our medics applied some bacta topically. He should recover within a few days."

Though it initially surprised her, she thought back momentarily and remembered him grimacing in pain several times as she interrogated him. It didn't seem to slow him down, though, and he had endured much worse in the past. At least he would be fully healthy as they tried to take on Soran's group...

"I will return for him...after the funeral, Warden," she told him as she turned to face him once more. "Until then, he is to know nothing, am I understood?"

Arito nodded firmly. "Yes, ma'am. We'll keep him in solitary."

Dismissing him and his guards with a faint nod, Mand returned her attention to the console for a few minutes, watching Horatio as he paced his cell anxiously, another behavior she had never seen from him before.

Paneau: capital city of Dalon
Valley of the Royals

At the mouth of a wide opening in the ground with narrow stairs that led down into a deep crypt, Rech Natiyr stood motionless, unable to move. The last time he had been down in the royal tomb, he had said goodbye to Paneau's Queen Tascit two and a half years ago, and guilt had weighed heavily upon him like a herd of banthas since. He had been with her during her final moments as she lay dying on the hillside behind the Dalon Palace, gravely injured after the entire building had collapsed. In shock over the scope of the destruction, he hadn't even thought to lift her to safety with the Force. He was even an accomplished Healer by that point, so he could have saved her life...but she refused him the chance, and the regret alone nearly drove him into the Dark Side. Staring into the darkness once more brought back all those emotions so strongly, but he wouldn't allow himself to go in until he could control them.

King Verojec and his sister Ri were already at the underground cavern's lowest reaches with their aunt Vianne where the private funeral procession had ended, having begun at the Banarecc Estate and woven through the city to the Valley at its outskirts. Despite the air of apparent danger in the wake of the sudden attack on the Estate, the citizens of Dalon had turned out in the thousands to bid their former king farewell, and to show their support for their current king, as they lined the streets in silent mourning. Thankfully, the public eye couldn't see Rech where he stood still in indecision; his own wife hadn't even noticed his reluctance and had gone down into the crypt without him, but one of the last to reach the Valley and conclude the procession, Koril stepped up beside him, remaining silent for several long minutes in the cool evening air.

"I can't bring myself to go in, either," he eventually told Rech with a quiet, shaky voice.

Rech released a shaky breath of his own. "Will we see your father down there?"

Koril's father Merli'il Rys'tihn had also perished in the Dalon Palace collapse, but for a very different reason. Intent on protecting peace and political stability on Paneau, Merli'il had, without Veon's knowledge, orchestrated the removal and replacement of a few unruly Governors, effectively committing treason. The Governors had been unhappy with the disbursement of relief and rebuilding funds in the aftermath of the Huxnel's first attempt to subjugate the planet, and they had been threatening to take up legal action against the monarch. Merli'il had done what he thought was necessary to prevent further turmoil, to guard those he loved, but when a dangerous enemy of the Crown had discovered it, he destroyed the Palace to expose Merli'il's actions.

Still bothered by the mention of his father, Koril's jaw tensed briefly before he answered. "No. Only the immediate family members of the current monarch are laid to rest here. We have our own private burial grounds on the other side of the city."

Again, the two stood together in a tense silence, looking down into the opening with both longing and dread until Koril spoke up once more.

"I failed Veon," he continued quietly with a heavy heart. "...I should lose my rank for it."

Surprised by the gravity of the guilt in his voice, Rech looked over at him, studying his weary expression before offering his own confession.

"Then I should, too...for failing Tascit."

Taken aback, Koril immediately looked at him with somber, muted sympathy. "That wasn't your fault, Rech, th--"

"--And neither was this yours."

Rech's quick rebuttal caught Koril off guard again, but he recovered after a moment and looked back down into the crypt's opening, sighing sadly.

"I'm supposed to protect them... How can the Paneau trust their High Commander, their Head of Security, if I can't even guard a former king?"

Rech cast his gaze back down, as well, and lowered his voice out of reluctance to share his thoughts; though Koril needed to hear it, it was difficult for him to say aloud.

"Veon made his choice when he continued to pursue those spicers, even after you had advised him not to." Pausing briefly, he looked up at Koril once more. "You did your job. No one could've asked any more of you."

But dejected, Koril just shook his head. "It wasn't good enough."

Koril's guilt would bury him in grief for some time, Rech knew, but hopefully making sure he understood that no one blamed him would help to speed his healing. Releasing a long, weary breath, Rech listened as soft voices echoed up from below where the funeral ceremony was concluding. Though Veon's son Jec had given the public eulogy on the Banarecc Estate steps earlier in the evening, his aunt Vianne, the youngest of the three Banarecc siblings, was giving a final, more personal eulogy for her brother. Veon would be left resting in the center of the chamber for a few days, then he would later be buried within its walls, his final resting place beside his wife Tascit and his daughter Li, once a Life Stone was crafted in his honor and placed in the Polu River in Dalon per tradition. The stones represented a major achievement or milestone in life by a Paneau, and the seven major rivers on the main continent were full of the small, intricately carved works of art. Because of its proximity to where the Dalon Palace once stood, the Polu contained mostly stones from the Royal Families, and Veon's last Life Stone would be placed there soon.

Though he knew he'd regret it, he closed his eyes briefly to calm his nerves before he spoke.

"Elena should be here, Koril."

Again Koril shook his head, but he remained silent, his expression hardening with defiance as he locked his gaze on the ground. Rech could easily sense his fear, and it was strangely...intense and tangible. Koril was terrified, though he didn't look it outwardly, and Rech had an idea why.

"Look," he began carefully, "if you're worried that you'll...lose your child, like Mand and I did...we can keep Elena safe. We've done it before."

"No, you can't. She's staying on Hoth."

"Koril, she's not helpless--"

Turning from him suddenly and walking away onto the Valley's lush green grass, Koril crossed his arms over his chest as he stood beside the base of a large, gray and white stone statue, the effigy of a former monarch that towered a dozen meters over him. Staring past it into the darkening horizon, he was too distraught to notice that it was a grand representation of one of his Rys'tihn ancestors, but Rech studied its weathered features briefly as Koril gathered himself to speak again.

"Ever since we returned from Bespin...I've had this...terrible nightmare, every night."

Rech felt his stomach turn to ice. "A nightmare? Like the one..."

Koril nodded, still with his back to him. "On Coruscant, yeah."

The last time Koril had experienced 'nightmares,' they had actually been visions of the future, and everything he had seen in his dreams had played out months later on the city-planet. His recently discovered Force-sensitivity had allowed him to see the same disturbing vision Rech and Mand had, predicting their forthcoming battle against six Dark Jedi. With the knowledge that his visions had the potential to actually be about the future, even Rech was worried about what Koril had seen.

Though Koril only turned back to him partially, Rech could see enough of his face to hear the fear in his plea.

"I need your help, Rech... I don't like what I've seen."

Moved with compassion for a friend and fellow father's anxiety, Rech nodded, stepping toward him to put a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Okay. We'll figure out what we need to do."

"She can't come back here," Koril continued quietly, "not right now. Not until the spicers are gone."

Though curious to know the content of Koril's nightmare, footsteps behind them stole Rech's attention instead. The Banareccs and the rest of the private funeral procession were ascending from the chamber, being led away into the night by the king's Scepter Guard and a few other Elite Guards, though no one said a word. The weary, sorrow-laden look in each Royals' eyes was telling enough, and even as his wife Mand approached them, he didn't need to ask her how she was feeling.

Returning to Koril, though, Rech kept his voice low. "Let's get back to the Manor, and we'll talk some more, okay?"

But as Koril shook his head, he looked over at Mand standing beside Rech. "Do you want to leave now?"

Mand glanced at her husband with hesitation in her expression, but returning to Koril, she nodded.

"Then I'll take you back by the Estate before we head to the detention center. Major Jax said he might have found something that'll help you." Getting the attention of a few Elite Guards who had stayed behind the rest of the group, Koril waved them over and began to leave with them. Before Mand followed, she embraced Rech tightly and kissed him, looking deeply into his eyes with obvious sorrow.

"I'll be gone for a while. Take care of Cordira...and Koril."

Without giving him the chance to ask her what she was doing, she quickly left him confused and alone, the last soul remaining on the dark Valley of the Royals grounds.

Paneau: capital city of Dalon
Dalon Detention Center

Though it had been several days since he had been arrested on Paneau, Horatio's back was finally beginning to heal. The bacta treatments he had been given were allowing him to keep breathing without agonizing pain as his chest expanded and contracted, and now he hardly even noticed any pain as he sat hunched over on a bench in his empty, silent cell.

But his frustration was quickly overriding his lack of pain. No one, not even the medics who treated him had talked to him or told him anything. He knew the Paneau had to have accepted his innocence in Veon's death by now, so why was he still being held in their detention center? The longer he stayed locked up, the closer Tzymo's informants would get to him, and the further away Soran would get with Max.

If he only had himself to worry about, he would've fought his way out of the center days ago, even with a few broken ribs. But if he caused any trouble for the Paneau, it would give them the opportunity to broadcast his name all over the sector, alerting Tzymo and Soran to his location, and putting a blazing bounty on his head so he couldn't get anywhere near Max. Granted, they could have done so already, but something told him they were hanging onto him for a reason. Perhaps it was nothing more than simply denying him his freedom as a way to retaliate for what he'd done to Mand back on Ambria, but this did much more than even the score...it tipped the scale in his favor. He would deal them a grave penalty if Soran escaped before they freed him, before he could find him...

He was getting desperate. What if they had gone ahead with Koril's original plan and sent out troops to search for Soran's group? Since no one would say anything to him, and Koril and Mand hadn't yet been back to harass him, he had no way of knowing. If they had, though, Soran would be long gone already, and he would have no way to find him...

Not an option. He had to escape. Now.

Tensing his muscles to warm them up for the sudden exertion, he stood and paced his cell, not unlike he had done countless times before in the past week. It took all of his mental and physical discipline, though, to keep from making any quick, flashy movements that would give away his adrenalin rush. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall toward his cell quickened his pulse even more, and as they approached, he kept his expression calm, calculated...

But as Mand rounded the corner and stood in front of the cell's containment field, the tension in his muscles dissipated immediately. He'd have no chance of getting an advantage over her...unless...

Her eyes were cold and hard as she stared him down, but she remained still and silent for a long moment before she spoke.

"Lower the shield."

Obediently, the cell's shield disappeared, but again Mand remained motionless. Wary, Horatio waited for an influx of guards to enter the room and apprehend him...but they never came.

"...am I being released?"

Mand's only response was a question of her own. "What do you plan to do to find your nephew?"

Unprepared for her inquiry, he studied her expression for a moment, trying to determine her motive. Why would she care? Was she going to try to stop him? Matching her stony gaze, he answered quietly but intensely. "Whatever it takes."

Seemingly satisfied by his response, she adopted the same determination. "Then we're going to find Soran's group together."

Horatio hardly contained his surprise, baffled as he searched her face for any hint of a ruse. "What? You're serious?" When she gave no further explanation, he continued challengingly. "A few days ago, you were going to strangle me with your bare hands because you didn't believe me. Now you want to work with me?"

Her expression remained resolute, though, as though she had already thought the same thing and had accepted it and moved on. "You won't get anywhere without what I have. We found a few clues, a few pieces of intel in Veon's records that will at least give us a better starting point than what we had before." After a brief pause, her voice wavered slightly. "And I can't pull this off without a partner."

Though he was afraid to ask, his curiosity got the better of him. "...pull what off?"

Her jaw tensed for a short moment, and a distant look flashed through her eyes before she spoke. "The Borleias mission."

Even just the mention of the jungle planet put a bad taste in his mouth for years after their lengthy job for the Huxnel took them there, and he could still smell the foul, rancid air. He hadn't wanted to take the mission, but she had insisted, determined to prove her versatility as a stealth operative for them at just thirteen. It hadn't gone as planned at all, and he couldn't believe she was suggesting they try it on Soran and his group...

"That job...was a disaster."

"But we were still successful."

He scoffed. "Yeah, didn't matter that I was half dead from what they did to me --"

"It will work," she interrupted him emphatically. "Soran has the right kind of personality for it."

At least that was true; Soran would readily fall for their ploy to feed his ego, like their target on Borleias had back then. But still, so much could go wrong, and they hadn't done any preparation...

He ran his hand through his hair anxiously, releasing a reluctant breath. "We don't have enough time."

"Then we'll speed it up. I know you have a name that will get us in quickly."

Narrowing his eyes at her, he watched hers study him in return. How did she know what he already had in mind? The longer he argued with her, though, the less chance they'd have at getting to Soran's group in time. Reluctantly, he lowered his gaze from her and neutralized his expression, nodding just slightly to acknowledge her claim. He would've worked with almost anyone else; she now knew how to wound him deeply.

"I know it might seem like I do right now," she continued darkly after a moment, "...but you know I don't trust you."

Not completely surprised by the abrupt change in her tone, he looked back up at her, keeping his voice quiet and resigned. "You don't have to. All you need to know is that we both want the same thing...for Soran to pay for what he's done."

Though Mand's eyes initially hardened, seemingly incensed that he had made them equals, her entire expression slowly saddened, and he knew she had to still be mourning Veon's death. She tried to hide it by looking away from him, but he knew her body language well. He had been forced to learn it quickly in order to survive one of their first jobs together, and even though that had been years ago, she still reacted the same way.

Before he could stop himself, the words had already left his mouth. "I am sorry, Kil." When she looked both confused and strangely somewhat offended, he continued, though again he wished he hadn't. "He was a good man."

Her eyes narrowed even more as a short breath like a challenging laugh escaped her nose. "You wouldn't know."

Her anger was justified, he knew, so he didn't bite back with his usual caustic wit; he tried to be civil instead. "I know that he was going to give me a chance to explain myself. Around you and your friends...that doesn't happen."

"For good reason. We've learned."

Feeling his face flush with his own anger he was withholding, he looked to the floor, clenching his jaw to keep from himself from snapping. She obstinately refused to forgive him for his recent offenses against her, but if he was honest with himself, he couldn't blame her. He had humiliated her twice in both of their recent encounters: once subduing her with an earnest kiss when her defenses were lowered, and once using a brutish, fiendish monster to force her into Tzymo's custody. She had returned the favor at least once, using Tzymo's own surveillance system and the Force to frame him for her escape from the scientist. But even after defeating Tzymo's vicious creature and securing her escape, she had stayed to heal him where the beast's spiked tail had pierced his chest, which seemed contradictory. She should've retaliated by leaving him to suffocate...but she didn't.

For some reason, his thoughts wandered back to a careful question she had posed to him, having learned that he had smuggled Koril, infected with the Huxnel's virus, off their flagship at great personal risk to himself.

Why? Why after all these years... Why now?

...because she had changed him.

"You asked me over a year ago," Horatio began, his eyes still fixed on the floor, "who it was that had changed me." His hands shook at his sides, subconsciously protesting the secret he was about to reveal, but he clenched them into tight fists to quell the tremors. He was delving far too deeply into his private, personal matters...but something was driving him to prove to her he no longer was the cold, heartless mercenary she believed him to be. "It was my twin sister, Recero. I've saved her life, and she's saved mine...especially when I didn't deserve it."

Though once again sure he would regret it, he looked up and locked gazes with her, hardly able to find his voice. "She's dying, Kil..." But finding strength in his determination to change that fact, he continued with intensity. "This was the one thing she would let me do to help her, to find Max. So no one, not Tzymo, not Soran's thugs, not even you can stop me. We'll find those spicers...but Soran is mine."

To his surprise, Mand's only response was to step back from him into the hallway and give a brief nod, keeping her expression neutral as she spoke.

"We're wasting time."