The Taung was dead before he could react to the sound of a lightsaber igniting behind him. One moment he was patrolling back and forth, sharp yellow eyes passing over the jungle before him. Then, before he could even flinch, a half-foot bar of glowing blue-white plasma erupted from his chest.

Vhetin caught the alien before the body could crash loudly to the ground. He deactivated his saber and eased the body to the jungle floor, motioning for the others to move up. The other Rangers at his back crept through the underbrush, their weapons – both real and makeshift – held at the ready. They moved almost silently, as swiftly and efficiently as a jungle cat on the hunt.

Once he had hidden the body in a nearby cluster of bushes, Vhetin stepped toward the final holding cage to join the others. His helmet sensors were acting up from the damage his hardware had taken over the past few hours, but his motion sensors weren't picking up any further enemy contacts. They were clear, at least for the moment.

Lee was already hard at work cutting through the bars of the cage with a serrated beskad blade. It took effort to saw through the thick ironbark bars, but eventually there was a large enough opening for those inside to clamber through to freedom. Lee gestured to them and hissed, "Move your asses! The Corps isn't paying you by-the-hour hazard pay, you know."

The captive men and women were quickly helped to safety by their companions and a few reluctant Taung. The weakest were escorted to the safest place the group could find; a hollowed-out tree that seemed to serve as a smokehouse. It had a heavy wooden door with a bar lock and would keep out attackers for a short time. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.

Only those who were able to fight – since all were more than willing – were given weapons and told to join their group. They had freed three other groups of captive Rangers, all members of the earlier ambush or missing patrols. It seemed the Kar'ta Epar'e were not as lethal as the Rangers had originally thought; many of the missing men had only been captured and saved for sacrifice at a later date.

Vhetin watched the others regroup. Their miniature army now consisted of almost thirty men and women. All of them were tired, sore, and wounded. But with Taung support – and an osik-load of luck – they might just be able to stage an effective counteroffensive. It was a long shot, but Vhetin had survived worse plans in the past.

He didn't hear someone at his side until one of the allied Taung let out a short huff of breath. Vhetin glanced over at the alien, who was staring with narrowed eyes at their newest recruits. The Taung's shoulder-length dreadlocks waved in the humid jungle wind, rainwater making his thick hide shimmer in the moonlight. But what stood out the most was that furious glowing golden gaze that raked across the jungle like a shriek-hawk searching for its prey.

The Taung were an impressive people, to be sure. Even after being cut off for so long in the jungle, they had not abandoned their warrior roots. They were primitive and savage, but they still carried that spark of the Manda within them. Vhetin wished that his cultural ancestors hadn't adopted the practice of ritualistic human sacrifice, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Some of the clan had agreed to help. He counted himself lucky they had made it this far.

He glanced at the Taung again. "Do you think this will be enough?"

The Kar'ta Epar's lip curled and he snarled, "Against Mandalore and his followers? We could have thrice this number and I would still find the odds concerning."

Vhetin scowled and turned back to the other Rangers. "We metal men aren't as inept as you seem to think. We've been trained for decades, the same as you."

"That remains to be seen," the Taung grunted noncommittally. He shook his head, the beads in his dreadlocks clicking. He eventually glanced over his shoulder, to the flickering firelight of the central clearing where Vhetin could still hear the clash of swords.

The Taung obviously heard the clamor as well. "We cannot leave Werd to battle his father for long. We must hurry."

"I thought we didn't have enough people."

"In this matter we have little choice, unfortunately. Werd is a fine warrior, but he is no match for the brute strength and power of his father. And any chance of peace between my people and yours will die with Werd if he does not have help."

The Taung turned away and hefted its spear with a snarl. "If our coup is to happen, it happens now."

He motioned for his fellows. "Come, siblings! A battle awaits us!"

Lee stepped up to Vhetin's shoulder. "He's certainly excited, isn't he?"

"He's a revolutionary," Vhetin muttered. "You're surprised?"

Lee shook his head as he handed a sword to one of the formerly imprisoned Rangers. "Can't say that I am, now that you mention it."

He glanced back at the others. "You think we have a chance?"

Vhetin narrowed his eyes behind his helmet. The only way he had a chance to get home – the only way any of them were getting home – was by following this plan. If not, he and the others would be thrown right back into their prison and ritualistically slaughtered like the poor vode that had preceded them.

"I don't care if we have a chance or not," he eventually said. "I'm going home. And you're coming with me. I swear to te Manda that I'll kill any Taung that stands in the way."

Lee thumped a fist against his chest plates in affirmation. "Oya."

Vhetin gestured after the Taung and jerked his head, drawing his saber pike into his hands once more. "C'mon. Let's go kill us a warlord."

Werd leaped forward to drive his sword toward his father's chest. The blade clashed against Mandalore's spear and was quickly shoved off to the side. Werd turned the deflection into a swift riposte that send Mandalore hopping away from the blade. Their blades danced and flashed through the night, sending sparks flying as they collided again and again. Their taloned feet churned the dirt underfoot into thick muck in the jungle rain, and Werd felt sweat pouring down his face from the concentration. Eventually, he saw an opening and threw a shoulder into his opponent's chest, sending the two fighters staggering away from each other.

The clanmaster was breathing heavily, rain and sweat running down his face in equal measure. He rested his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, pointing his spear at his son's chest.

"You are certainly bold, challenging me in this way. But I have not ruled this long without learning to turn away would-be challengers."

Werd pressed his advantage, slamming his sword down against Mandalore's spear. Mandalore brought his spear up to parry the attack just in time. The descending blow sent the clanmaster's heels digging into the dirt, but he didn't budge beyond that. Werd grimaced, throwing all of his considerable strength behind his sword.

"Your ways blind you to the truth, old man," his voice was a furious snarl. "If our people are to survive, they will survive under my rule, not yours."

Mandalore shoved his son away and stabbed with his spear. The blade punctured Werd's armor, stabbing deep just under his ribs. Before the spearhead could continue deeper into his body, Werd grasped the shaft and halted its progress. With a grunt, he yanked the weapon free and wrenched his arm to the side.

The wooden shaft splintered into sharp slivers and the spearhead clattered into the dirt. Mandalore whirled the broken pike in front of him, using it as a blunt-force instrument now, and landed three blows to his son's head and shoulders before Werd could even begin to anticipate an attack.

Werd staggered back, feeling blood beginning to soak his side. He wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. His father was larger and stronger, and had years of combat experience bolstering his attacks. He would fall soon if the others did not uphold their part of the plan.

I made a terrible gamble, challenging my father like this, he thought. I only hope it was a well-founded one. Even if I fall, my actions may yet inspire others. Pray that they are watching…

He stepped forward and parried the next flurry of blows from his father. Mandalore's attacks were as swift and precise as a striking Jaig Hawk, and each successful strike left Werd gasping and staggering away in pain.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Werd yanked his sword back and struck forward with a powerful sweeping kick to Mandalore's legs. Mandalore threw himself into a tight front-flip and dodged the blow. He slashed at Werd's back and sent his son staggering.

The elder Taung didn't give him a second's reprieve. Relentlessly he pressed his attack, focusing on Werd's weakest points: the head to disorient him, the wounded ribs to weaken him, and the legs to trip him up. When his son tried to counterattack, he pulled his weapon in a swift hooking motion and knocked the blade from Werd's hand. The blade thumped into the dirt and Mandalore struck with a series of attacks that drove the young warrior to his hands and knees.

Werd collapsed into the mud, his breath coming to him in short, pained gasps. He clutched at his side as he furiously tried to rise to his feet again. He stumped and fell face-first into the mud with a defeated groan.

Mandalore watched his son with a merciless gaze. He slowly reached down and picked up Werd's fallen sword, inspecting the blade as he circled his fallen opponent.

"You cannot hope to best me, son," Mandalore growled. "Would that I could simply imprison you until you learned that your defiance is a useless endeavor. But you have publically challenged me. That cannot go without retribution."

Werd looked up through the rain and his own streaming eyes to see dark figures creeping through the underbrush, sticking to the shadows outside the mass of Taung that were surrounding the duel. He spotted the metal man – Lee, he called himself – crouching low behind a tree stump. He shot Werd a thumbs-up and raised a sharp-edged beskad in preparation.

Mandalore stepped closer and raised his sword, prepared for a stroke that would sever his son's head at the shoulders. "Alone, you stood no chance against me. Perhaps my next son will be less a fool."

"Alone?" Werd's laugh quickly broke into a coughing fit. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and gasped, "Who said I was alone?"

With a roar, the hidden solders burst forward to battle. They leaped from the underbrush, dropped from the trees, or simply charged out into the open with weapons held high. Werd was astonished at their numbers; they must have successfully freed every prison cell in the village!

The other Taung spectators scattered at the surprise attack, breaking apart to engage the new intruders. The sacrificial clearing was suddenly filled with the clang of beskar weapons and the shout of fighting soldiers. Chaos reigned wherever Werd's eyes focused. Blood sprayed through the air, further dampening the ground underfoot.

Werd scrambled back to his feet and threw a shoulder into his surprised father. Mandalore was driven away, far enough that Werd could yank his sword from his father's grasp once more and bring it to bear with a steady two-handed grip.

Mandalore staggered right into a cluster of fighting Taung and humans. He barely paused to take stock of the situation; within a blink he had grabbed the nearest human by the throat and wrenched a beskad from his tiny pink hands. He then tossed the human to the side like a child with a straw doll and advanced on Werd with fury in his eyes.

"My brothers… they walk among your heretics?" Mandalore snarled. "My sisters march with you?"

Werd charged forward and attacked with renewed strength. He slashed his blade down in a powerful overhead strike that Mandalore barely parried in time. He followed with a horizontal blow that Mandalore had to duck to avoid. Werd's blade hissed through the air as he drove his father back, his limbs flooded with renewed strength. "They march for the belief that peace will strengthen us all! Do you see now the damage your traditions have done? The dissension they have caused?"

Mandalore roared and slammed Werd's sword aside with strength Werd couldn't hope to counter. He reached forward and grabbed his son by the throat, hoisting him bodily off the ground and slamming him down against the broken sacrificial pedestal. Werd hit the stone surface with a crack and a shout of pain. Mandalore brought his sword down, but Werd rolled to the side, falling off the pedestal and onto the ground. He quickly staggered to his feet to see his father leveling his blade.

"Your ideals have brought this war upon us!" Mandalore shouted. "You have brought death and destruction to our people!"

As if to make his point, the sudden sound of blaster fire drew Werd's attention. The sound came from an overwhelmed metal man who had switched from his sword to his ranged weapon to fend off his attackers. A hail of bright red energy bolts felled first one, then two, then three Taung that were pressing in on him. Even more followed before the human was forced to reload. The opening gave the Taung the time they needed: within seconds, the man was skewered by three different sharp-tipped spears.

A hard fist suddenly smashed against Werd's nose and a swift kick to the gut brought him to his knees again. Another kick sent him sprawling onto his back. Mandalore towered over him, eyes filled with fire as rain pattered around them and lighting split the sky overhead.

Werd coughed and tried to rise to his feet. But the wound in his side and the exertion of battle had sapped his strength completely now. All he could manage was to wipe away the blood dripping down his nose and gasp, "Kill me if you must, father. But I fight to strengthen my people, not leave them mired in a history that is no longer theirs. Our destiny lies beyond this forest, among the stars! You cannot hinder that forever."

Mandalore knelt and wrapped his long-fingered hands around Werd's throat. "Your destiny lies in the dirt, traitor. You will be fed upon by maggots and carrion beasts. And when your bones have gone back to dust, no one will remain to remember you or your heresies."

Werd choked and struggled against his father's iron grip, but could not escape. The hands around his throat tightened further still, cutting off all breath from his lungs. He gasped for air and writhed in the mud, watching as his vision began to darken around the edges. He reached up and tried to claw at Mandalore's eyes, but the elder Taung simply shook him off and squeezed tighter.

"You were my eldest!" he shouted as Werd sputtered and gagged beneath his hands. "You were to succeed me in protecting the clans from the dangers of the forest! Instead, you have only brought destruction to yourself and your people! You are a shame to me and all my forefathers!"

A human leaped from seemingly thin air to assist Werd, but Mandalore simply batted the human away. He removed his hands from Werd's throat for a moment to wrap them around the human's neck and wrench them sideways. The man's head twisted at an odd angle, and his corpse crumpled to the ground.

Mandalore stared at the body for a moment, as if pondering something difficult. Then he slowly reached down to the human's belt and pulled away a thin, angular blaster. He stared at it curiously, passing it between his hands. He flinched when his finger pressed the firing stud too hard and the pistol discharged into the ground.

Gripping the blaster tightly in one hand, he turned back to his son and knelt in the dirt next to him. He raised the pistol and pressed it squarely between Werd's eyes. Werd tried to scramble away, out of range, but Mandalore pinned him to the jungle floor with one heavy knee. He narrowed his eyes, lip curling.

"Die as you lived, my son: a failure."

Werd's mind was racing, searching for something – anything – to deliver him from this fate. He could not die now. He would not die now. His people needed him more than ever, and—

Before Mandalore could pull the firing stud an earth-shattering roar echoed through the jungle, loud enough to drown out all other sounds. Everyone still present in the clearing instantly froze and turned toward the clamor.

Seconds later, the roar came again, this time accompanied by the crash of falling trees.

Instantly, two bodyguards were at Mandalore's side, spears held at the ready. One of them glanced at the elder Taung and barked, "What is that noise? One of the river serpents?"

Mandalore shook his head. "I have not heard this beast call in my lifetime. Exercise caution."

He glanced down at Werd with a sneer. "The gods have seen fit to spare you for a few minutes more. Perhaps you are more use to me alive."

He snarled for the two bodyguards to restrain his son, and the Taung quickly set to their work. The sounds from the jungle were only growing louder and closer. As the guards hauled Werd to his feet and bound his hands behind his back, he saw that the fighting in the clearing had stopped, at least momentarily. The Taung and humans alike were staring with wonder and fear at the jungle that surrounded them. The black-armored one – Vhetin, he called himself – ignited his glowing energy blade and held it close to his chest, preparing for a fight.

The sounds were right on top of them now, and Werd could hear the sound of heavy footsteps pounding through the underbrush. He saw Mandalore tense, gesturing for his followers to prepare for a fight. The Taung that had remained throughout the ambush – over twenty in all – quickly formed a defensive line with their weapons at the ready. The humans, rather than take advantage of the distraction, grouped together to form a defense of their own. For now, the animosity between the groups had died, their focus instead on a much more pressing threat.

Werd saw a flash of reflective black armor plating a moment before something huge and very angry burst through the trees. It was a beast, taller at the shoulder than a Taung and bristling with muscle and armor. The monster charged into the clearing with a roar that shook the ground beneath their feet, flailing its thick tail as it approached.

"Attack!" Mandalore ordered, and the Taung loosed everything they had; arrows, spears, even thrown swords. All the projectiles simply bounced off the creature's shimmering hide.

Werd took advantage of the distraction to break free; he drove his head into one captor's jaw, then spun and lashed out with a whirling kick to the other. Both Taung collapsed to the ground, leaving Werd free to rip his arms free of the flimsy restraints and grab the nearest weapon.

The shining creature was joined by two more beasts that rampaged through the treeline into the open. Werd could see a flash of armor here, glowing red eyes there. The beasts were a whirlwind of destruction as they smashed into the Taung defensive line. Bodies flew through the air as the creatures' sharp talons and swift-striking tails made short work of the lightly-armored Taung facing them.

Werd flinched as he heard a deafening report and saw one of the creatures unleash a hail of blasterfire from cannons mounted on its shoulders. Another creature grabbed the nearest Taung in one massive paw and smashed the body into the ground. The third charged forward into a knot of five warring Taung and all five were pummeled into the ground as the beast continued its devastating advance.

Mandalore sprinted toward the new beasts with a drawn sword and a roaring battle cry. He barely made it into the fight, however, before one of the creatures spun and leveled him with a blow from its tail. Mandalore was smashed hard against the ground. He rolled a few meters and came to a rest, face-down in the muck. He didn't move again.

"Protect Mandalore!" one of his loyal followers shouted. "Fall back and protect the clanmaster!"

A few of the Taung fell back to defend their fallen leader, but the others were too busy defending themselves to hear. A heavily-muscled warrior was hoisted into the air by a grasping appendage on the end of one beast's tail, then hurled at the nearest building. The warrior burst through the wood and straw with an almighty crash and didn't remerge.

Werd's mind was blank. He charged forward with a shout toward the nearest beast, sword held at the ready. He leaped into battle and slashed at the charging monster's leg.

His sword bounced away with a loud clang.

He quickly regained his footing, ducking a vicious swipe from the creature's taloned paw, and stabbed at its glowing red eyes. His attack was met with a shower of sparks and a high-pitched roar from the beast. He hopped back at the inevitable counterattack and stabbed again, meeting the same result. He was about to move in for the kill when a massive weight hit him from the side and pinned him to the ground.

He saw one of the beasts towering over him and a second later it crouched low and roared into his face. He was buffeted by a blast of heat, the immovable weight on his chest making him sink into the soggy ground. The creature pinning him reared up again, preparing to strike, when a powerful voice cut through the din.

"Hold!"

Within a heartbeat, everything stopped. The beasts stopped roaring and flailing, the screaming fell away to silence, and everything went still. The weight pinning Werd to the ground lifted as the creature fell back a few paces and lashed its tail along the jungle floor.

Werd instantly scrambled away from the beast, eyes wide. He fought to rise back to his feet, assisted by a few allies who rushed forward to help him from the battle. The three great creatures had fallen still, watching the assembled Taung with those blazing red eyes. As Werd watched, a dark, humanoid figure dismounted from the creature's back and strode toward them.

The rider emerged into the light, and Werd was both fascinated and appalled to see that it was a metal man. Or, more precisely, it was a metal woman. She wore blood red armor adorned with dark stripes and sigils, and she had a long blue cape fastened to her shoulders. A hefty pair of pistols were in each hand, and both were pointed at his chest.

She must be a warrior of great importance, he thought in a haze of shock.

Then his gaze fell upon the still creatures behind her and his jaw very nearly dropped. He heard reverent whispers break out throughout the clearing as the besieged Taung took in the creatures before them.

What Werd had mistaken for blazing red eyes were actually glowing scarlet photoreceptors. What he had believed to be thick bands of muscle were actually twisted messes of wire and thick conduits of durafiber. The creatures' talons were sharpened steel, splattered with equal parts mud and blood. The flexible, flailing tails were studded with shining black armor plating and capped with barbed grasping appendages. The mechanical beasts surveyed the clearing before them with dead crimson eyes, their hulking chassis shifting in a synthetic mockery of breath.

Werd had never seen anything so magnificent in his life.

He instantly fell to his knees, face turned down to the bloodied muck beneath him. He could both see and hear other Taung around him doing the same, all crying, "The Holy Serpents! The Holy Serpents live once more! It is a blessed day!"

The woman was drawing near enough to speak now. He bowed his head at her approach, not trusting himself to meet her helmeted gaze.

"Hail, hyooman," he intoned. "Are you friend or foe?"

The woman looked surprised at his use of archaic Mando'a, but replied in kind, "That entirely depends on you. What the hell is going on here?"

Werd kept his eyes on the ground. "I am attempting to seize power from my father, so that I may assist these lost metal men in returning to their ancestral home."

He gestured in the vague direction of the other humans. The woman followed his pointing finger and a great mass of tension immediately vanished from her shoulders. She looked down at him and sighed, "You just said the magic words, friend."

She gestured to the creatures behind her and barked something in her harsh native tongue. Instantly, other riders began to dismount from the backs of the Holy Serpents and made their way across the clearing toward the tight cluster of Rangers waiting for them.

One of the humans, a female with long brown hair, smiled widely at the sight of the black-armored warrior, Vhetin. She moved forward to embrace him, but before she could, there was a blur of blue-yellow armor and another warrior threw her arms around the man, hugging him so tightly Werd could hear their armor clack together even from his distance. The brown-haired female blushed and hung back, staring at her boots.

The woman in front of him snapped her fingers and said, "Hey. Eyes up here, big guy."

His yellow gaze snapped back to her and she continued, "How many of our people are still standing?"

Werd shook his head, dreadlocks rustling. The rain was finally beginning to taper off, the clouds beginning to clear away from the moon high overhead. "I do not know. Many were sacrificed tonight. But many yet live."

"Sacrificed? What the hell do you mean, sacrificed?"

"Please," Werd interrupted. "My father is still the prevalent threat. As long as he lives, your people remain in danger. Help me to defeat him, and—"

"There is no need."

Werd turned sharply to see his father walking toward him, eyes wide. His sword was limp in his hands and he made no move to attack, even when the red-armored woman trained her weapons on him. He had eyes only for the hulking Serpents arrayed before him. He drew even with Werd and looked down at his son with tears streaming down his gaunt cheeks.

"Our people," he gasped, "have waited eons for this day. To see the Holy Serpents walk among the living once more… And now they appear, on the dawning of your treachery, bearing metal men upon their backs!"

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I have been foolish. So foolish to doubt your words, my son."

He extended a hand to Werd. "I ask for no forgiveness, Werd'cetara. But know that you stand the victor this day. I was wrong. So wrong about so many things…"

Werd narrowed his eyes. "A Mandalore does not surrender, even when his life is in jeopardy. How can I know you speak the truth?"

Mandalore gestured to the great machines standing before him. "The Holy Serpents live! The Gods have seen fit to grant us our place in this world once more! And the metal men are their heralds! Can you not see it?"

He reversed his grip on his sword and stabbed it hard into the ground. It stuck there, pommel pointed toward the sky. He then turned to Werd and stripped the tattered cape from his shoulders. With a whimper, the once-mighty warrior fell to his knees and offered the bloody and mud-stained red cloth up to his son.

"In this regard," he murmured, "I have failed my people. You spoke words of wisdom that I did not – could not – heed. I am not fit to lead our people to glory. But you, my son… you are the leader they need in this glorious and confusing time."

He bowed his head, dreadlocks falling to cover his face. "I kneel before you and offer you my life as payment for my many misdeeds."

The red-armored woman shook her head, then slowly lowered her pistols. She said nothing, though, and turned her attention cautiously to Werd.

Werd's eyes were wide. His father's words had reason; the Holy Serpents lived, just as the Gods had prophesized they would. The fact that the metal men had tamed them proved to one and all that they were the chosen of the Almighty Ones and not enemies as it was thought. Mandalore knew he would be punished for resisting this turn of events, just as he knew that the only options facing him were to resign his title or face death for heresy.

Werd slowly reached out, fingers brushing over the rough cloth of the cape. Then, with trembling fingers and a very acute knowledge of the number of eyes that were fixed on him, he drew the cloak from his father's hands and threw it around his own shoulders. With a flick of his wrists, he fastened the cape to his own armor.

It suddenly felt like an incredible weight had fallen upon him.

"You are Mandalore now, my son," his father said, eyes still turned to the dirt. "Do with me what you will."

Werd hesitated, then put a hand on his father's shoulder. The old Taung looked up to his son with a hesitant gaze.

The new Mandalore shook his head. "I will not kill you, father."

Tears welled in the old Taung's eyes and he rose to his feet to wrap his son in a desperate, tight hug. Werd threw his arms around his father and returned the hug, reveling in the affection that had vanished from the clanmaster so long ago.

They remained that way for a time, the old Mandalore greeting the new, until the father drew back with a smile on his gaunt and pointed face.

"Lead our people to the glory I could not see, my son."

Werd nodded, a determined set to his jaw. "I will. I promise to lead our people with the honor and grace befitting a child of the jungle. You have my word."

Too late, Werd saw the tiny red spot on his father's forehead. The red-armored woman saw it too, for she instantly sprinted forward and shouted something in her alien tongue. Werd did not know what was going to happen, just that it was going to be bad.

A moment later, there was a loud crack and the back of Mandalore's head exploded.

Norac Benz reached up and plucked the charred smokestick from his lips, grinding out the embers on the tree trunk next to him. He then pulled the sniper rifle back over the lip of the ledge and linked his arm through the straps of his shield. With his other hand, he drew his hefty battle axe into a firm grip, ready to leap into battle.

"All right," he hissed. "Let's get this show started."