The autumn sun blazed overhead, baking the duracrete roads and sidewalks below. It was a hectic half-hour of weaving through afternoon traffic before they even came close to their destination. Warm weather (and the imminent approach of a harsh northern storm) had initially driven the traders and merc bands to the streets in search of easy coin. But the day wore on, the temperature continued to rise, and many seemed to be regretting their hasty decision.

Tamai and her companion passed the display tent of a reptilian Sundak roasting spiced meats on an open pit fire. The scent was intoxicating enough to draw a line outside despite the overbearing open flames. Even the Handmaiden closed her eyes and breathed deep as they passed.

"I cannot claim to enjoy the intricacies of your culture, Mandalorian," she said. "But your food is another matter."

"Do you want to stop? You can get a plate."

"No," she sighed. "We have more pressing concerns than quieting my stomach."

"If you say so. You know the plan?"

The Handmaiden nodded, still glancing longingly at the Sundak's offerings. "You will interview known associates of the rogues you pursue. I will watch and observe from a distance, to pull whatever information I can from all they do not say aloud."

Tamai sidestepped a thickly pungent pile of trash on the roadside, taking care to avoid the growling Kowakian monkey lizard sitting atop it. Further along the street, a woman with two prosthetic arms and a crew of tittering pit droids was hawking old starship parts.

"I don't expect any serious issues," she said. "The local enforcement office knows we're coming and have our interviewees ready and waiting."

The Handmaiden kicked at one of the irritating little droids when it rushed her with an excited chorus of chirps. "What do they know of the reasons for their incarceration?"

"Not much, and we're not going to give them details unless we have to," Tamai instructed. "This mission - our mission - is top secret."

This, at least, seemed like familiar territory to the Handmaiden. She gave a short, somber nod. Still, Tamai sensed something from the Echani. Not hesitation but a question, one she was trying hard not to ask. It was unusual for the white-clad woman who was usually so serene that no one could guess what was really going on in her head.

"You have something to say."

"Perceptive of you." The Handmaiden frowned. "This task has several questionable variables that defy easy explanation."

"Do tell."

"The urgency of the task cannot be denied," she said. "But the Mandalore's choice of agent is... strange."

"Is that an insult?"

"Simply an exploration of the facts placed before us." The Handmaiden scrutinized her companion with narrowed eyes. "You are no intelligence agent. You are a frontierswoman, more at home in the tractless wilds than in the midst of this urban cesspool."

"Uh-huh. What's your point?"

"Why assign you to this task? Surely the Mandalore has a multitude of agents at his command. It is a mystery with only a select few answers."

She counted off on her fingers as they rounded a corner into the glare of the afternoon sun. "Either your beloved Fenn Shysa is not as well-connected as he likes to appear, they do not trust your abilites, or more likely there is something greater afoot here than a hunt for a pair of renegades."

Tamai frowned deeper. There was wisdom in those words, much as she hated to admit it. "What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking," the Echani murmured, "that your superiors were not entirely truthful when they set you to this mission."

"Not possible." Tamai shook her head. "I've known Tobbi Dala almost all my life. He wouldn't lie to anyone, me included."

"Then perhaps he did not lie," the Handmaiden replied easily. "But there is a world of difference between a crafted falsehood and a withheld truth."

She drifted gracefully around a towering Wookiee in burn-scarred armor.

"Consider my words," was the last she said on the matter.

The local enforcement office was characteristic of the rest of Keldabe: a haphazard collection of old, boxy buildings seemingly stuffed against the third barrier wall wherever space allowed. Several of the windows had been boarded up with old plywood and the duracrete exterior was a tangle of poorly-scrubbed graffiti: the most notable scrawled and spray-painted messages read along the lines of, IMP-LOVERS, and CLAN SHYSA TOADIES. There was also a poorly-rendered depiction of male genitalia with the words, KARLICE WAS HERE.

"What a charming establishment." The Handmaiden came to a stop and surveyed the sight with a sour look. She planted her hands on her hips and sighed. "I had hoped the city Justicars would operate out of a more imposing seat of power."

Tamai shrugged. "Mandalorians make do with what we have. In case you hadn't noticed, the city has seen better days."

"It must have been a sight to see this fortress-hold in its days of glory."

Tamai scoffed and set off across the bustling crosswalk, ignoring the shouts of local street vendors and the blaring horns of overhead speeder traffic. "Unless you can rewind time a few thousand years, you won't find anything close to glory days on this planet."

"I sense derision in your tone."

"Just frustration. Sometimes I can't help but think we Mando'ade are... well, better than all this." She gestured the squalor around her. "I know my friends love this place. They think the sprawl gives Keldabe character or some osik. But I'm not a city girl."

The Handmaiden flashed her a rare half-smile. "A child of the wilds, to the very core."

"You could say that." Tamai paused to allow a lumbering, four-legged reptilian thunder past. It glared down at her with side-slit eyes from a vantage almost twice her height.

The Handmaiden drew even with her and surveyed the afternoon foot traffic with narrowed eyes. "I am not of dissimilar mind. Eshan is nothing like this place. The difference can be... overwhelming."

Tamai glanced at the white-haired woman. "Tell me about it. Eshan, I mean."

The Handmaiden hesitated. "I do not often speak of my homeworld."

"If you'd rather not-"

"No," she interrupted. "No, it is no bother."

She squinted at the ground, watching her boots as she gathered her thoughts. "I remember Eshan from my adolescent years, though it has been many years since I walked its surface. It is a largely arctic world, with expanses of tundra stretching for half a continent or more. There are few places capable of sustaining agriculture - hidden valley sanctuaries and artificial oases amidst the glaciers, mostly. We have no great metropolises such as this."

They passed into the shadow of an overhead speeder truck and she raised her cold gaze to watch its progress across the sky. "Mostly I remember the quiet. There are places amidst the ice wastes where the quiet is so all-encompassing that one can hear the snowflakes kissing the ground. I... have never experienced its like since."

"It sounds like a very peaceful place." Tamai remembered similar places in the forests to the north. There were secluded caverns and gulches where the loudest sound was the drumbeat of her own heart.

The Handmaiden laughed lightly. "Far from it. Most settlements are nations unto themselves, and the tribes are almost always squabbling with each other. Echani Command and the Conclave of the Six Sisters do their best to keep the peace, but conflict runs deep in our blood."

"We have that in common."

"So it would seem. But where you Mandalorians revel in your expressions of power, my people treat combat with a greater reverence. To us, conflict is not merely a means of personal growth or dominance. It is how we express our purest self, a baring of soul from one to another."

"So... these tribal conflicts are supported by your government?"

"They tolerate it." The Handmaiden paused to observe some slithery, tentacled thing rummaging through a nearby trash bin. She then shivered and continued on with a shake of her head. "One could say it falls under the freedoms of religious expression."

A patrol group of stormtroopers marched past, bringing their progression once more to a halt. The Handmaiden's gaze darkened and she hunched her shoulders, withdrawing into the shadows of her hood. "At least that was the tradition. Until the Empire seized control of our lands."

Tamai grimaced and watched the troopers pass on. They barked orders at the locals to move aside, shoving passerby where they could. "Was it bad?"

"They targeted our religious sites first." The Handmaiden's voice was low and strained. "The Temples of Reflection were blasted from orbit, while the tomb of Raskta Fenni was first occupied, then demolished stone by stone. Echani monks, the greatest of our philosopher-knights, were outlawed and hunted down by death squads. They treated us as little better than Jedi."

She seemed to shrink deeper into herself with every word. "Even the matriarchs were powerless to stop them."

Tamai scowled as they drew closer to the main entrace of the enforcement office. "Once upon a time the Republic did the same to us. We called it the Dral'Han, the Annihilation. One of our leaders, Mandalore the Uniter, gathered the ade back to the homeworld for the first time in a millenia. It was supposed to be a time to rebuild, to move on from the mistakes of our failed attempts at conquest."

The Handmaiden glanced at her. "I take it such unification was unsuccessful?"

"The Republic saw the Return as re-armament for war. They demanded we disarm our territories and officially submit to their authority. When we refused, the Jedi launched an invasion. They softened our defenses enough to allow the Republic navy to slip through unchallenged."

"And then?"

"They carpet-bombed the planet. With nuclear ordinance."

The Handmaiden hissed through her teeth. "I have heard tell that the desert wastes of the south are not to be traveled lightly. Your people have suffered much."

"Its part of the reason you see what you see here." Tamai gestured to the towering barrier wall ahead of them. Huge sections of the defenses had been carved free to rain down upon the city below, where boulder-sized bricks still lay piled where they had fallen centuries ago. "Keldabe was one of the first targets to be bombed. Reconstruction managed to reduce the worst of the radiation, but it still took hundreds of years for the city to heal."

"Yet here you stand," the Handmaiden observed. "Bloodied but unbowed."

"I could say the same of you."

"Yes, well..." the other woman turned away. "Perhaps we all must suffer the scars of occupation. Some things, it seems, are universal."

They reached the front doors and slipped inside without further conversation, both lost in their own thoughts. The local enforcement office was all but deserted within - a strange sight for any operation in the midst of downtown - and it only took a few flashes of identification cards before they were ushered into the inner sanctum and the interrogation cells kept there. Only one of the cells was marked occupied and their guide - a helmeted officer in scarlet armor - ushered them in without ceremony.

"Is this all of them?" Tamai inquired as they entered the room. It was surprisingly spacious within, most likely a converted holding cell for general population. It wasn't even close to capacity, but there was still a sizable group clustered inside.

The officer nodded. "Everyone the Field Marshall selected for questioning is here, ma'am."

"Thank you, Captain."

The man saluted as she passed with the Handmaiden hot on her heels. Almost instantly, the Echani's icy stare passed over the room and its occupants.

"Quite the rogue's gallery," she observed. "And they are all related to our targets?"

"Famly is more than blood," Tamai quoted. "These are probably converts and adoptions."

"Hm."

It was a motely bunch indeed: humans and Twi'leks and Nikto mercenaries, sprinkled with a select few Chagrians, Zabrak, and a lone, scowling Bothan. All looked irritated and uncomfortable.

"I'll take the lead," Tamai murmured to her companion. "I want you watching these people like a shriek-hawk."

The white-haired woman nodded. "They will sing for me, even if they are silent for you."

With a terse nod in return and a slow, steadying breath breath, Tamai stepped forward. She waved to draw the attention of the muttering assembly. At least fifteen pairs of decidedly unfriendly eyes fixed on her.

"Su'cuy, vode an," she said. "I'm here on behalf of Mand'alor Shysa. I have some qustions, and I'm hopeful you'll provide some answers."

It was a measured, neutral approach, one she had hoped would relax and unwind her targets. She was, after all, just a mando'ad like them, a bucket-head working a job.

But her words didn't have quite the effect she'd been hoping for. The angry expressions only darkened. She could almost swear the room's temperature dipped a few degrees.

"So you're the one they sent to clean up the Mand'alor's mess," the Bothan grumbled. "Figures it would be a Kur'verd. Rangers have always been in Shysa's pocket."

The canine alien hawked and spit at Tamai's feet, to the muttered approval of the rest of the group.

So, Tamai thought, clearly not my uncle's bigggest fans. Unexpected, but I can work with that.

She raised her hands placatingly. "I'm not here to stir up trouble. I'm just an everyday merc looking for some answers. The sooner I have them, the sooner we can all be on our way."

"Why would we talk to you?" One of the Nikto snarled. "You and yours snatched us off the street without warning and without honor." He folded his leathery arms. "Last I checked, we're independent clanmates, not targets for an Imperial raid."

More muttered approval and a hushed hiss of, "...no better than a stormtrooper."

The towering Nikto steped out of the lineup and advanced on Tamai, ignoring the guard captain who leveled his carbine and demanded he step back into place.

"Unless your precious Shysa wants a mess with Clan Blackhill..." The alien stooped low to glare at Tamai eye-to-eye. "I suggest you let us be on our way without any more funny business."

Again Tamai found herself cursing herself even as she motioned for the captain beside her to stand down. She hadn't expected them to throw up clan law as a defense so quickly. This bunch had clearly run afoul of the city enforcement office before.

Maybe that means they have intel on our rogues. Maybe they were even part of the raid on the data center.

But it also meant she was on thin ice here. The Nikto was right. Without a stated reason and evidence of a Codex violation, holding these people was a direct act of aggression on behalf of Clan Shysa against the Blackhills - whoever they were.

She glanced to the Handmaiden, whose expression was, unsurprisingly, blank as a slate. The woman might as well have been a still-image holo for all the emotion she betrayed.

Well, if they were going to try a knockout in the first round Tamai had to at least try to match their zeal. She narrowed her eyes at the looming alien and snapped, "And unless you want to be excommunicated as an accomplice to treason, I suggest you take a step back and listen to what I have to say."

That certainly got a response. No antagonistic whispers now.

"Two days ago," she continued, linking her arms behind her back as she prowled along the line of suspects, "at aproximately zero-five-hundred hours, two warriors of your tribe - Torq Vindo and Talazar Cren - willfully broke Codex decrees and killed a team of fellow Mandalorians to steal their possessions. Possessions that are the rightful property of Clan Shysa and the law-abiding people of Mandalore."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but nothing that seemed to Tamai an indicator of guilt.

"These warriors have since disappeared," she said. "Vanishing into ba'slan shev'la. I have been tasked with tracking these traitors down and bringing them before Clan Shysa - the offended party - for proper justice."

She let the revelation settle for a few moments and watched the way her audience shifted and glanced between each other. She looked to the Handmaiden and was granted a miniscule nod of approval. It was working - almost. Just a little more pressure and she might just have the answers she was looking for.

The Bothan cleared his furry throat and immediately drew a dangerous glare from his Nikto companion. The scaly humanoid grabbed the Bothan's arm but the Bothan shouldered free.

"So nice of te Mand'alor to send his best lapdog to interrogate us," he sneered. He bared his canine teeth. "We don't know anything about your traitors, so you can go back to Shysa and-"

"You know as well as I do what the penalties are for treason," Tamai forced in. "I'm not accusing you of anything - yet. What I am doing is offering you and the Blackhills a chance to maintain some semblance of honor for you and the accused."

That seemed to have some small pull on the crowd. Their defiant gazes shifted into more self-reflective nervousness. She wanted to press them more, hammering her point home until at least one of them cracked. But the Handmaiden caught her arm and brought her to a halt.

"They can offer us no more at this moment," the Echani breathed. "You have planted the seeds. Give them time to grow."

Tamai hesitated. The answers were right here, she could feel it. But the persistence of the Handmaiden's grip on her elbow could not be denied. She nodded in grudging agreement and shifted back to the others.

"The officers here will take your individual statements," she said. "I urge you to be forthright and honest, regardless of your personal opinions about Clan Shysa. There will be serious consequences for withholding what you know."

She glanced at the captain on her right. "Release them for solitary questioning."

"You will belay that order, officer."

A new chorus of surprised murmurs erupted from the lineup. Tamai turned in time to see a new woman just as she marched into the room.

Her armor was old school, modeled more like an ancient crusader than a modern commando. Gleaming beskar shone through chipped and battle-worm crimson plates. A dark fur half-collar complete with a hooded cloak obscured the woman's features, but her ovular silver-scarlet battle mask and the ornate spear in her hand was all the identification Tamai needed.

Shit. She bowed her head as both custom and creed demanded. "Clanmaster Kelborn. It's an honor."

Kelborn came to a halt and scrutinized her through the thin visor of her mask. Her voice crackled out from behind it in a menacing buzz. "You're a long way from home, Ranger."

"With respect, I could say the same of you. What brings you so far north?"

"Clan matters." The woman brushed past her without a second glance or futher word. She approached and presented her identification holo to the officer, pointedly turning her back to Tamai as she did.

In her absence, the Handmaiden melted from the shadows next to Tamai and studied the Clanmaster with both suspicion and fascination.

"She is formidable." It was not a question.

Tamai scowled and muttered, "You don't know the half of it. But why is she here?"

The Echani tapped her chin thoughtfully and nodded toward the waiting crowd. "I believe she is about to tell us."

Kelborn stepped into the place of attention Tamai had vacated. With a slow and dramatic motion she unsealed her mask and pulled the hood from her head to reveal short-cropped black hair and piercing blue-gray eyes. Those eyes raked over the collected suspects and every one of them semed to shiver under her whithering gaze.

"You know who I am," she declared. "You know my reputation and that of the clan I represent."

She began pacing the line. Her spear hovered blade-down above the dirty floor. Said spear was known across the planet as the Scepter of Kelborn - as great a legend as the woman currently wielding it.

"What you may not know is the Mandalorians slain by your treacherous kin were mine. And by ancient decree, the lives lost demand lives taken."

She leveled the tip of her spear and passed down the line at each individual standing there. "If I cannot take the blood of the offenders, I'm more than happy to take it from others of their clan. It makes no difference to me or my tribe."

"Hold on a second," Tamai cut in. She glanced at the enforcement officer, who just shrugged helplessly. "This is a private investigation. You can't just-"

"Not anymore." Kelborn shut her down with ease. "Blood for blood, as ancient decree dictates. As every mando'ad - including yourself - knows well."

She moved toward Tamai with a single slow, deliberate step. Tamai, in turn, drew back. It was almost reflexive; she'd faced down all manner of beasts and bandits in her time as a Ranger, but this woman carried all the menace of a hungry rancor. Kelborn was only barely taller than Tamai, yet still seemed to tower over her.

"If retribution makes you squeamish," the Clanmaster snarled, "then relay this message to Mandalore the Meek: Clan Kelborn will have the lives we demand. And this time there will be no peace until our demands are satisfied."

She threw Tamai a cold smile. "That will be all, Ranger."

Only now did the Handmaiden step forward with an indignant glare. "You have no right to speak to her in such a manner. She was selected personally to lead this hunt by your Mandalore himself."

Kelborn's eyes fell on her and almost immediately iced over. Her voice was a dangerous drawl. "You are not a Mandalorian."

She took another step forward, but the Handmaiden only raised her chin. The light of pride in her eyes shifted to surprise when Kelborn's spear came up to gently rest on her shoulder. The razor's edge of the spearpoint just missed drawing blood as it caressed her neck.

"I could take your tongue for your insolence, Echani," Kelborn breathed. "But in deference to your warrior's spirit, I will spare you this one time."

Handmaiden's fists clenched until the offending blade moved away.

"Officer," Kelborn declared. "Escort these interlopers back outside. I have matters to attend to with the assembly that do not require a political escort."

The captain by the door visibly squirmed. It wasn't Kelborn's place to command him like a lowly underling of her clan. But his hands were tied; the Clanmaster's justification was ironclad. If Kelborn lives had been stolen from them, she had the authority to investigate and mete out punishment as she saw fit.

The Handmaiden looked more than ready to murder someone. But now it was Tamai's turn to squeeze her arm and mutter, "Not here. Let's go."

"But-"

"Now, Les."

The hiss of her true name seemed to break through the Echani's fury. She blinked, then seemed to shrink back into the shadows once more. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Very well."

Tamai straightened and bowed her head in Kelborn's direction. "We'll see ourselves out, Clanmaster. We wish you fair winds and good hunting."

"I'm sure." Kelborn's eyes flashed. "You are dismissed, Ranger. Give your uncle my regards."

Tamai gave a terse nod before backing out of the room with the Handmaiden in tow. Kelborn returned her attention to the assembly and planted her spear into the ground with dark authority. Then she was lost from view as the door sheathed closed.

The Handmaiden immediately rounded on her. "Has all sense fled your skull?"

"What?"

"You cower away at the first sign of resistance! A nuzz kitten would have proved more ferocious against that woman."

"And what should I have done?" Tamai demanded. "What could I have done?" She jabbed an accusatory thumb toward the door. "Sola'or Kelborn is a Clanmaster. A powerful and respected one."

"And you are the Mand'alor's agent!"

"Which means nothing if this situation blows up into a public clan dispute."

The Handmaiden glared at her. "Your uncle quested you with finding-"

"My uncle ordered me to keep this quiet. And I can't do that if Kelborn is breathing down my neck and making demands she is legally within rights to make. The more we push, the louder she'll get. And that's the last thing we need right now."

The Handmaiden glanced at the door. "You know her well?"

"By reputation." Tamai set off down the hallway, toward the main exit to the enforcement office's central hub. "Her clan's home isn't far from where I was stationed in the jungle. The Kelborns are good people. Intense people, but good ones."

"And their Clanmaster?" Again the Handmaiden glanced over her shoulder.

"The same. Smart and dangerous."

"She now pursues Torq Vindo and Talazar Cren in lockstep with our own hunt."

"Seems so." Tamai scowled. "I need to get on the holo. Dala should hear about this."

Sola flexed her grasp on the Scepter as she glanced at the door through which the two women had vanished. She'd been half-sure the glowering Echani would have seen through her ruse the moment the spear had been pressed to her neck. The surveillance tag was a tiny thing, little larger than a splinter, but Kelborn hadn't known if those intense Echani senses would end the game before it even began.

That was why she needed to get the white-haired woman's blood boiling. Even the most skilled hunter's senses dulled when awash with rage. And so the covert tag affixed to the blade of her Scepter had detached as planned and stuck itself in the cloth of the Echani's bundled hood, inconspicuous almost to a fault. Even now it was plying its trade as planned, feeding her a real-time report of the aruetii's location.

She glanced to the captain and jerked her head toward the door. "Trail them. Make sure they don't cause trouble."

"Yes, Clanmaster." The captain bowed his head. Only the most observant of eyes could have caught the way his outline seemed to flicker in the dim and dusty light. If the overhead illuminators hit him from just the right angle, one could barely make out a skeletal, distinctly mechanical form lurking beneath. The mirage lasted only a moment, then was gone again.

The not-captain stalked out into the enforcement office proper without another word. Kelborn turned back to the civilians waiting nervously on her next words and her expression darkened into a fearsome scow. She reached over her shoulder and raised her hood, casting her face into shadow before she sealed her mask back into place. In an instant she was transformed from a normal woman into anything but.

"Now," she snarled, "tell me everything you know about Torq Vindo and Talazar Kren."

In the fidgeting crowd, the lone Bothan gulped.

"Kelborn? You're sure?"

Tamai scowled. "She's a hard one to mistake, sir."

Dala shook his head with a holo-crackled mutter of, "Damn it. This puts the entire operation in jeopardy."

The Handmaiden frowned at the flickering hologram. "I fail to see how this changes anything, so long as we find our quarry before-"

"With all due respect," Dala cut in, "you don't understand our ways. If Kelborn has gotten involved, you may not be allowed to find your quarry first."

"She's that good?" Tamai asked. "In a city she's visited, what, twice before?"

"She's better," Dala said. "Once tracked a pirate freighter based on a mass shadow imprint alone. If that's not a needle in a haystack..."

"No one hunts that precisely without a support network," Tamai pointed out. She folded her arms with a scowl. "She must have help."

"That... is correct." The Handmaiden quirked an eyebrow in question. "How-?"

Tamai shrugged. "I'm dating a bounty hunter. You pick things up along the way."

"A support network is the other half of the problem. She can theoretically bring to bear all the resources of Clan Kelborn. Limited as they may be, there's no telling who she's already sent to keep tabs on you now that she knows your faces."

"Any intel on her allies?"

Dala grunted. "As you know, the Kelborns are a private bunch. It hasn't been worth rattling cages to dig deeper."

Tamai sighed. "Kriff. How should we proceed, sir?"

"With Kelborns on the prowl, it's safe to assume all prior planned operations can be considered compromised. We need another approach."

"We can't press the civilians any more," Tamai said. "Kelborn has more pull with them, and most were already half-primed to shoot me as soon as I said I represented the Shysas."

"I expected as much," Dala said. "For all the good your Uncle has done, he hasn't made many friends abroad. Frankly I'm surprised they didn't push back harder."

"So what about that information broker?" Tamai ventured. "He would be a third-party asset. We know Kelborn can't use clan law to force him around. Is he even Mandalorian?"

"That's classified," Dala said. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "But I like your thinking. He did claim to have a lead for us."

"Your Imperial Governor will not be pleased," the Handmaiden pointed out. She slowly circled the holoprojector. "Ranger Vasser claims this information broker was to be a last resort."

"Utam can go space himself," Dala said. "This is my operation and, quite frankly, with Sola kriffing Kelborn in the mix we're in last resort territory."

"So we have your permission to proceed, sir?" Tamai asked.

Dala's holographic specter gave a slow nod. "You do, Ranger. But your orders still stand. Remain discreet. This operation is precarious enough. We can't have our cooperation with Null threatened as well."

"Heard and understood, sir." Tamai saluted.

"Then get to it. Dala out."

The blue-lit hologram faded as the projector buzzed and shut down. A few moments of tense silence passed before Tamai trusted herself to let out a long, relieved breath. Recent events had strained her nerves enough. Family friend or not, Tobbi Dala was far from a relaxing presence even in the best of times. His holographic glare alone was enough to twist her insides even further.

There was too much at stake here. Too much riding on her performing flawlessly. Kelborn's appearance was bad news, and if there was another setback like this...

On the other side of the projector, the Handmaiden glared into the projector's glassy depths. She folded her arms tight across her chest and Tamai could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes.

"You have a thought," Tamai said. It wasn't a question.

"I have several. And among them are grave concerns about this mission." That icy stare snapped up. "Foremost among them: you."

Tamai blinked. "Excuse me?"

The Handmaiden prowled around the edge of the projector. A single gloved finger trailed along its rim, carving a path through the dust gathered there. "You backed down at first sign of serious resistance during that interrogation. The answers you sought were within your grasp, yet you lacked the strength to seize them."

She scowled and folded her arms. "Hardly befitting a Mandalorian."

A strange slew of sensations erupted within Tamai's stomach. The hot flush of embarrassment. The bitter chill of fury. And the ever-present anxious twist of the gut as she heard out loud the very words she'd mulled over since they'd abandoned their interrupted interview.

Still, her Mandalorian pride wouldn't let her sit by and be insulted so easily. Not by a foreigner at any rate. She took a step around the projector as well, towards the Handmaiden. "If you have something to say, then come clean and say it."

The Handmaiden stopped a single pace from her. "Put plainly, then: you are soft."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and if the warm flush in her cheeks was any indication it probably looked like it too. Tamai fumbled her response for a few moments but eventually summoned only a weak, "You're wrong."

"Am I?" The Handmaiden cocked her head. "If placed in your very position, what would your lover have done? I find it difficult to believe he would have given in to the demands of this Kelborn woman as effortlessly as you. When confronted with the people in that room, would he have been so coy?"

"This has nothing to do with Cin."

"Yet again, you misunderstand." The white-clad woman leveled a finger at her. "We trail the footsteps of dangerous prey, as you yourself have admitted. In the wrong hands, the knowledge these rogues hold will devastate this entire world. This is no time to be so gentle with your enemies!"

"I don't care what prey I'm hunting," Tamai snapped back. "I won't let my fear lead me to terrorize my own people."

"So you instead will let your fear condemn them!" The Echani hissed with scorn. She took another step forward until they were almost face-to-face. "I have pledged myself to you in this endeavor. As such, we share common purpose. But I will not allow you to cower your way through this task to safeguard your fragile ego!"

If her previous statements had been a slap in the face, these were a full-on punch to the nose. Tamai's breath left her lungs in a harsh rasp and instinct took over. And as was so often the case among Mandalorians, she elected to fight fire with more fire.

Crack!

The slap whipped the Handmaiden's head to the side and she gasped - more from surprise than any real pain. She hung in place for a moment, processing what had just happened, then released a long, slow breath and straightened to her usual stature. Her expression was calm as ever, but her fingers trembled as she lowered her arms to her sides.

"I... apologize," she murmured. "My words were uncalled for."

"Wrong," Tamai corrected. "Your words were wrong."

The Echani sniffed but did not elaborate. Instead, she let out another soothing breath and linked her hands in front of her with a slight bow of her head. "Perhaps we have lingered too long in this place. Shall we continue?"

Tamai gritted her teeth and brushed past her. "We shall. Let's go."

"Mandalorian?"

She made it to the door before the Handmaiden called her back again. She turned to find the Handmaiden absently rubbing at her reddening cheek. There was an unusual, faraway look in her eyes as she caught Tamai's gaze. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Raise a hand against me again," the Echani breathed, "and I will take your life."

Those icy shards bored into her from across the room. Even within the shadowed depths of the assassin's hood, they gleamed like stars in the night. Tamai had seen that look in the eyes of too many frontier predators and knew the Echani's words were as sincere as words came.

"If you can take it," the Mandalorian sneered back, "it's yours."

"As it should be." The Handmaiden nodded once. "Very well. After you, then."