Governor's Mansion, Sodra, Mikkia, 1500 hours

"Governor, incoming transmission from Count Dooku," the protocol droid TC-23 announced.

Quontera's blood ran cold at the droid's words and he began pacing around his office, the high ceilings and cavernous interiors only helping to intensify his fears. This was the real Urodan Quontera, not the man who had so gloriously boasted about his supposed victory over the Republic. No, he was a coward; a greedy and opportunistic leecher who'd have nothing were it not for his family's influence in the Corporate Alliance. Wealth and personal well-being were the only two things that motivated the puppet ruler of Mikkia. Far from being a mighty warrior, the Koorivar was an embodiment of almost every negative stereotype of his species. The only reason he was here was due to his family's insistence as they needed one of their own to take over the planet if they wanted to obtain any profit whatsoever from its resources.

"Put him through," he ordered, quivering with fear.

The two Koorivar Fusiliers guarding the elevator to the other floors of the mansion stood at attention while the curtains that led to a large balcony closed automatically. The dim lights that illuminated the room turned off as the holotable produced a bluish reproduction of the count of Serenno. His tailored cloak was draped over his arms to his sides and held by an elegant clasp made of pure Serennian silver, and his close-fitting black tunic was simple but elegant.

"My lord, I-I was not expecting your transmission," the Governor blurted out, looking down at the floor.

"Your family assured me you were the right man for the position, Governor", said Dooku, dismissing Quontera's comment. He remained calm and composed as a true nobleman, which only frightened the Governor even more. "I hope they have not placed their faith on the wrong man."

"Of course not, Count Dooku. The occupation of the planet is going as planned," Quontera replied, looking up at the hologram of his master. "The rebels are almost taken care of, their destruction is at hand."

Dooku's face suddenly turned into that of an infuriated man. His sense of serenity faded into one of irritation as if he were talking to an inferior life form not worthy of his time.

"Then perhaps you would like to explain why their attacks have intensified," the count ordered, his tone growing more threatening with every word as he clenched his fists and furrowed his brow in anger. "Does that sound like a defeated enemy to you?"

Sheer panic crossed the Governor's face as he scrambled to give an answer to Count Dooku. The insurgency he was facing was one problem he did not anticipate once he accepted the offer to rule Mikkia, product of his lack of knowledge on the history of the locals and their relationship with the Jedi and the Republic.

"M-My lord, I was just about to explain that!" Quontera retorted, desperate for an excuse. "We need... fresh units to destroy the rebels. My forces are depleted, but victory is near!"

"I am not interested in your excuses, Governor. When you were assigned this task you were granted an entire army of battle droids. I have more important places to deploy my forces. Destroy the rebels with the forces already under your command or I will find someone who can," Dooku countered.

"Of course, my lord, of course. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about!" Quontera quickly assured, nervously laughing at the poor excuse he had offered.

"Good, I am glad we have cleared this matter. And remember, Governor..."

Dooku halted in his speech, holding his left hand slightly over his waist. Quontera suddenly felt as if a pair of strong hands were wrapped around his neck, first lightly and then more and more tightly as he was beginning to cough and he began to run out of breath. His two guards were confused as to what was going on but simply stood at attention, fearful of the fallen Jedi.

"Failure is not an option," Dooku warned, a glint of yellow in his eyes as he spoke.

The transmission ended and Quontera was released from whatever force was holding him and left gasping for air. His two guards rushed to his aid but he shoved them off.

"Find them..." he whispered, turning to face his men in anger. "Find the rebels! I want them destroyed!"

**********

News had spread quickly through the camp of the rebels' success, and as they returned to their camp with Julara she was given a warm welcome that reminded Karel of the one he himself had received on Kashyyyk. Arathor even offered her to take his tent for herself, which was opposite Hamar's and directly in front of the command post inside the temple.

Karel stood next to his father, who gazed forward at Julara and the other rebels, and he began slowly moving away from him. If he could disappear for a few hours then maybe Hamar would forget his little insubordination.

"And where do you think you're going?"

He halted. There was no way his father would let him get away with this one, and he considered himself a fool for even thinking he could.

"Haarchak," he mumbled to himself. He pointed at his tent with one hand and began rubbing his neck with the other one. "I, uh, was going to check my gear..."

"Well, I'd say your gear is just fine, given how you used it just now," his father noted, glaring at him under his visor and extending his arm towards the command post. "In fact, I think you should inform Commander Tamm of how well it worked."

Karel sighed, slouching his shoulders as he did when he was a kid.

"I didn't raise you not to take responsibility for your mistakes," Hamar reminded him, firm but understanding of the situation.

"I know, let's just get this over with," Karel replied in defeat.

They headed into the empty command post and immediately called Commander Tamm, who had been expecting their transmission for a while now. Her holographic depiction stood at attention with her hands behind her back.

"Gentlemen," she greeted. "Am I correct to assume your plan was a success?"

"Mostly, Commander," Hamar replied. "Casualties were high, half dead or wounded, but we managed to release a high-value prisoner from the enemy's custody, a priestess in one of the local religions."

"Impressive," the Commander replied, her eyes lighting up at the news. "Well, then I'm glad to inform you that I have good news too. Republic forces on Wayland have taken the planet ahead of schedule. Reinforcements bound for Wayland are being redirected to Mikkia at once."

"Well, that's a relief," said Karel.

"Indeed. The first battlegroup should arrive within the next forty-eight hours."

Hamar pushed Karel slightly from behind towards the holotable. Karel turned his head and glared at his father, before turning back to talk to Commander Tamm.

"Master Chief, is something wrong?" the commander inquired, her gaze fixed on the younger Mandalorian.

"Commander, during the ambush we..." He sighed, rubbing his neck. Behind him his father looked at him, silently indicating to him to tell the truth. He wasn't judging him, which calmed Karel significantly. Karel took a deep breath, then replied firmly, "Commander, during the ambush I purposefully ignored orders not to personally engage the enemy. I take full responsibility for my actions."

"Colonel, is this true?" the commander asked, looking at Hamar. She was most displeased by the matter, but was glad to at least be informed of it.

"It is, Commander," he replied, nodding his head. "However, his actions prevented the death of an important figure within this resistance group. As his commanding officer I believe a verbal warning should suffice in this case."

The commander looked at both Mandalorians with a slight smirk on her face. It was clear to her that Hamar was being lenient, something which she would not tolerate otherwise. Punishments for insubordination in the GAR were varied depending on a number of factors and were often decided by a court martial, which would take a long time, and that was time they did not have.

"Well," she said. She smirked in amusement, her shoulders relaxing as she spoke. "If that is what you have decided."

"I have," Hamar stated, firmly.

"Would that be all, then?"

"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.

"Alright, then. Keep me informed of the situation, and I will need the after-action report within the next 12 hours."

"You'll have it by then," Hamar assured. He ended the transmission, then turned to his son. "Don't think you're in the clear. I want that report by midnight, and it better be good."

"Oh, come on. You know how I am with reports. It will take me hours to get it right," Karel complained. As much as he liked reading them, writing after-action reports was one of the most boring and tedious assignments he had to deal with in the army. They had arrived at the camp well past noon and he would have to spend the rest of the day writing that report.

"Then I suggest you get on with it," Hamar countered as he left the command post.

"Elek," Karel replied unenthusiastically. He slouched his shoulders and bashed his head against the holotable, the sound of beskar clashing against durasteel echoing through the high-ceilings of the temple.

**********

Karel read his report one last time and, satisfied with what he had written, signed the document and sent it to his father. He left his datapad on the table next to the small bed in his tent. His stomach grumbled as he hadn't eaten anything that day save for a ration bar in the morning and another one during their hike back to the camp. He got up and left his tent, then looked up and realized that night had already fallen.

He sighed as he headed to the kitchen hoping to find some leftovers from the day's meal. The kitchen tent was empty and he began looking for anything that would satisfy his hunger but to his dismay all he found was a few nuna jerky strips and some pieces of bread. Working with what he had, he took the knife sheathed on the back of his belt and cut a piece of bread in half, then placed the nuna jerky between the two halves of bread. He was too hungry to care about anything else, and scarfed the meal down.

"What I would give for one of Dex's nerfburgers right now," he mumbled between mouthfuls.

"Didn't fancy you for the kind of person to sneak around for a midnight snack," said Veria from behind him.

He was startled by her voice and dropped his dinner as he turned to face her. His instinct when being caught off guard was to go for his nearest weapon available which in this case was his knife, and he raised it in front of himself as the Mikkian began laughing at him.

"Would you please stop sneaking up behind me?" Karel asked, irritated. He sheathed his knife and looked at his dinner on the ground, then faced Veria as she was bent forwards and holding her sides. "Next time I swear I'm gonna shoot you and I'm not sure it will be an accident."

"Oh please, stop being so dramatic," she replied, laughing. Her head tendrils waved energetically in the air as she stood straight up and said, "I'll make sure you get a double portion tomorrow. How's that sound?"

Karel didn't respond as he focused on her. She wore her usual brown pants, black boots and dark green shirt with short sleeves, but she was missing her brown leather jacket. It was not a revealing attire in the slightest, but it made Karel blush as he realized how the mood in the air changed and he was reminded of her visit to his tent on his first night on Mikkia and of how he had saved her life earlier that day. Over the past weeks the two of them hadn't interacted much save for a few brief conversations and exchanging glances here and there until their experience during the ambush.

He had never been that bold before when it came to women, mostly due to his inexperience with dealing with women of his age. Growing up the only women in his life were much older than himself and therefore not romantic interests, but he had learnt enough from his father's interactions with Mira to know what was going on. His blush deepened as she moved closer to him, her gaze never leaving him as he looked abashed at the ground. Ask him to climb a mountain while carrying some 30 kilograms worth of armor and supplies or disassemble and reassemble over ten types of blasters with his eyes closed and he'll do it without breaking a sweat or missing a beat. But none of those skills mattered right now and he felt like a karking shiny while she watched his every reaction with amusement, a smirk on her lips.

"You know," she said, slowly lifting her right hand and splaying it across his chest. "I didn't thank you for saving my life."

"It was nothing," he mumbled under his breath, still not daring to meet her gaze.

She was a bit shorter than him so she had to tilt her head upwards to look at him. She raised her free hand and placed it below his chin, lifting his head slightly so he met her gaze. Her sapphire eyes were intoxicatingly beautiful as the light from the moon reflected on Karel's armor and then on her eyes, making them look like two perfect gemstones that stared right into his soul. Her lips were now just mere inches away from his and he swallowed harshly, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips.

Every logical argument for why they shouldn't be doing this was lost as she leaned forward, catching his lips with her own before he had a chance to think twice about it. He tensed for a moment but quickly melted into the kiss and closed his eyes, his arms hanging limply to his sides. Her head tendrils began moving much more vigorously than before, relieved that her advances were not misguided. Her left hand moved to the back of his head and she grabbed the collar of his vest with her other hand, pulling him closer and trying to extend the kiss for as long as she could. Only when they felt they were about to pass out from oxygen deprivation did they pull back, both left gasping for air as his forehead rested against hers.

"Thank you," the Mikkian whispered, their noses brushing against one another.

Veria leaned back in and this time Karel met her in the middle, his hands moving to hold her by her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck.