"It's a protection racket until it becomes a government. Sometimes, it's both." - Des Angbin, anti-Imperial partisan
Hyperspace
Cazur's artistic skill didn't lie with music. He loved music, loved to sing and play the seven-string hallikset, but Cazur knew he wasn't very good at either. Being good at it wasn't the point, of course. A Mharin protected art, and when they weren't doing that, they were creating their own. To get down to the real basics, sapients were just meant to do it. It was as much a part of the mortal experience as eating and breathing. And, so, Cazur happily continued to badly strum his hallikset and sing along, out of time and off-key, to the awkwardly worded ballads he had written himself. He did all of this in his room as to not annoy his shipmates. The metal walls served, mostly, to muffle his noise.
Cazur's room was no bigger than anyone else's on the Kath Hound. The walls were covered by pencil sketches, which was the one artform Cazur was actually good at. He sketched from memory, really anything that took his fancy. There were landscapes, animals, urban skylines, celestial phenomena, even somewhat more esoteric things, like one of his blasters disassembled on a table. Cazur did draw people, but those weren't displayed. He kept those in a folio. The idea of sketching random people felt somewhat invasive to him, let alone to have other peoples' faces hanging on his wall. Yet, he felt the compulsion to turn his hand to the trying of it. It felt like he was slowly capturing the Galaxy a fragment at a time.
The hour was late, and Cazur knew he should be sleeping. The task ahead kept him awake. He tried to lose himself in music. Going after an Imperial Marshal and the Remnants said Marshal had gathered around himself was going to be no small task, but had to be done. If the New Republic wasn't going to make the Empire pay for what they did, then someone else was going to have to. Luckily, they likely weren't going in alone. Hylt's previous profession was hopefully going to yield fruit.
Cazur set his hallikset aside. Maybe a late night snack would help him. Putting on a pair of slippers, Cazur padded out of his room and over to the Kath Hound's main hallway. The common room was directly across from him, but a glance down the hall revealed the door to the training room was open. That had been the Kath Hound's crew quarters in the ship's old life, but the internal layout had changed drastically under Jod'buir's care.
Approaching the door, Cazur heard the unmistakable sounds of someone exerting themselves within. He knocked on the doorframe before entering.
Zej was upside down, her feet braced upon the wall as she did inverted push-ups. There was little in the way of actual equipment in the training room; weights flying around at high speeds during rough flying were a great way to smash up the interior of a ship. Instead, there was a large mat for bodyweight exercises and sparring, with bars bolted to the walls for things like chin-ups and dips.
The twi'lek wore a tank top and thick athletic pants, some of the clothing she picked up on Nar Shaddaa with her share of the holocron money. It was the first time Cazur saw her in anything that wasn't a jumpsuit of some kind. Zej seemed to be constructed entirely of whipcord muscle, which could be seen flexing beneath her skin as she did each push up.
"One sec." Zej breathed, finishing her current set before pushing off the wall and letting her feet drop. She stood up and turned around, wiping a hand across her brow. "Something wrong? Am I being too loud?"
"Too loud? Barely heard you 'til I was right outside the door." Cazur said.
"Just making sure. Thought I woke you up." Zej said. She seemed to shrink in on herself, yet also braced for…conflict? Fleeing? Cazur wasn't sure. He was gathering that this was Zej's default setting, so to speak. The zabrak couldn't imagine how exhausting it must have been to live like that.
"No, I was already awake. Couldn't sleep." Cazur said. An idea struck him. "Hungry?"
"I had plenty at dinner…", Zej assured him.
"Not that kind of hungry. C'mon." Cazur said, waving for her to follow.
After a few moments, he heard bare feet padding softly after him.
Cazur walked into the common room and started digging through one of the upper shelves of the cabinets. He brought out a vaguely oblong lump that was about the size of his fist. It had been vacuum sealed in plastic. His name was written across the top of the packaging.
"What is that?" Zej asked.
"Uj'alayi." Cazur said. He got a knife from a drawer and slit open the plastic. A heavy, sweet scent drifted out immediately. "Jod'buir's specialty."
Cazur divided the small cake in half with his knife, offering one half to Zej on a little plate.
"It's yours. I really shouldn't…", she said.
"You don't have to, of course." Cazur said with a shrug. "But I think you'll like it. And you'll save me from eating the whole thing, which I shouldn't."
Zej took the plate. The uj'alayi was a uniform red-brown that was sticky with the uj'ayl syrup that gave the confection its name.
"Who is this 'Jod'buir' I hear you all talk about?" Zej asked. She took a nibble from her cake, chewing thoughtfully. Her eyes bugged a moment later and she took a much more enthusiastic bite.
Cazur grinned. His cake was already half gone. It was incredibly dense and exceptionally sweet.
"Jodihan Mharal. She's the current head of Clan Mharal. Our Clan." Cazur explained. "She's Clan-mother to us all, but she's also…who I consider my mother in the more common sense, I guess." Cazur cleared his throat. "As in, she adopted all of us into Mharal, but she raised me personally from when I was barely old enough to walk."
"I see." Zej said. "You sound like you admire her."
"I do. We all do. She's everything that's good about our Clan. She's been our guide ever since the fall of Mandalore; kept us together when other Clans have scattered." Cazur said. "But, she can't move like she once did. That's why she gave me the Kath Hound."
Zej nodded. She set her empty plate on the counter. Thoughts danced across her eyes but none of them passed her lips. Cazur was tempted to prompt her to speak. He still knew so little about this twi'lek.
"You liked the uj'alayi, I take it?" Cazur asked, keeping things light and easy. He stuck their plates in the dishwasher.
More silence. Cazur wondered if he'd offended her somehow.
"It was the best thing I've ever eaten." Zej murmured.
And the way she said it struck Cazur's soul like a blaster bolt; like that little piece of cake had been a vault full of credit ingots and kyber crystals. It was his turn to be without words. For a moment, he had seen the proverbial bandage ripped from an old wound that still bled.
"Goodnight, Cazur. And thank you." Zej said, retreating from the common room.
"Goodnight." Cazur replied softly, eyes and mind elsewhere as she went. He returned to his room after that.
Doru City, Xenophon
Talon wishes Aegis.
With those three words, Hyltea Mharal set the biggest bounty the Kath Hound had yet taken on into motion.
Xenophon was mostly a world of fresh water ocean. Collectively, the water was called the Sapphire Marches, but as was the tendency of sapients, it had long since been divided up into smaller seas. The area of the world Hylt was in was currently in the middle of a hot, humid summer. As such, Hylt was dressed for the weather in a loose, flowing dress and a large sunhat. She had a satchel slung over one shoulder, occasionally making a show of stopping to look at a map on her datapad.
Hylt had only been a member of Clan Mharal for a few years at that point. In fact, she had been adopted in by Jodihan a mere month before the Night of A Thousand Tears. While she considered herself Mandalorian without question, it went against Hylt's nature to always wear her armor in public. That had actually been a point of contention between herself and Cazur at one point, but they had reached a compromise on the subject. Not even Cazur could deny that, sometimes, it was convenient to have someone not blatantly advertising themselves as a Mando walking in public usually did. It was a time of upheaval and uncertainty in the Galaxy, and the Mando'ade were most certainly included in that description. Such times always, inevitably, involved taboos and boundaries being tested and pushed in the name of survival.
Doru was not a large city when compared to a lot of planetary capitals, but it certainly was no fishing village, either. It occupied the inner curve of a crescent shaped island in the northern hemisphere of Xenophon, ready to handle ships both from space and the sea in large numbers. To many, Doru likely seemed to be a paradise. Not far outside the city were beaches of white sand and idyllic grasslands. The outer curve of the island was dotted with resort towns and the estates of the wealthy.
Much of Doru banked on its aesthetic. Tourists were supposed to feel like they were taking a step back in time to a more rustic, simple age. As such, outside the port facilities and warehouses, the architecture was not just simple; it was downright archaic. Sandstone buildings topped with ceramic shingles made up most of the cityscape, lacking most of the towering skyscrapers one expected to see in a capital city.
Among the inhabitants, most of whom were humans and mon calamari, a clear vein of tension ran visibly. Certainly, they went to shops, met for drinks, put in their time at whatever jobs kept them going, but all was not well here. Fearful glances were thrown at the grey-clad troopers of the Xenophon Planetary Militia that watched from street corners and patrolled in armored speeders. Catspaws of the real enemy on Xenophon, naturally. The reputation of Imperial stormtroopers and the distance of Republic aid kept the local Remnant in power, even though the XPM reportedly outnumbered the Imps by an order of magnitude. Fear was one of the most powerful weapons in the Galaxy, a psychological pathogen that could spread among and lay low entire populations. As the Civil War showed, however, it was only a matter of time before some people started building up immunity. That was what brought Hylt to Doru.
Hylt walked to a plaza centered upon a fountain of crystal clear water, which itself was centered on a life-sized statue of a mon calamari explorer shading her eyes and gazing into the distance. The fountain was surrounded by kitschy diners and shops, the sorts of places that snared tourists like power cables drew mynocks. Hylt approached the patio of one of the diners, taking a seat and order herself one of the local blends of tea and a pastry. There she sat, reading the news on a datapad, reflective sunglasses hiding her eyes. Hylt remained there for twenty minutes, enjoying what ended up being a good tea, when someone sat at the table behind her.
Five more minutes passed as the newcomer ordered their own late morning snack. Hylt didn't look at them. She remained fixated on her datapad.
"Aegis wishes Talon." The newcomer said quietly.
"The night makes suns of stars." Hylt said.
"I'm risking a lot for this, Saffa." The newcomer said quietly. "Those codes are old. Compromised."
"I stay up to date. Yet I knew the old codes would tell you who I was." Hylt said. "How are you, Gelro?"
"Even more stressed than usual now that you've decided to come in and track mud all over my territory." Gelro said, their tone far from happy.
"Oh, please, it's not like you were making big moves here. If you were, I wouldn't be here to do the Republic's job for them." Hylt retorted.
"Things don't work like they used to, Saffa. You'd know that if you didn't turn your back on us." Gelro didn't bother to hide the bitterness in their tone.
"That's exactly why I turned my back on it all. Now, do you want to risk your cover or do you want to be professional about this?" Hylt asked.
"The details are already on a datachip in your bag." Gelro said.
"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch." Hylt said, grinning into her tea.
"Glad to see you can find humor in those of us who still fight for something." Gelro rebuked.
"I do fight for something, believe it or not. You really think the New Republic is worth fighting for?" Hylt asked.
"Nothing's perfect, Saffa. But it's better than the alternative. And we both bled to replace the Empire with it." Gelro said.
"And that's where you and I really differ in the end, Gelro. You think there's only one alternative. I've learned otherwise." Hylt said. She paid her bill and tipped her server through her datapad and stood up, shouldering her satchel. "Regardless of all that, I do appreciate the help."
Hylt heard them chuckle humorlessly. "Right, right." They said. "Don't think this was out of any old bonds or favors. I'm just tired of being stuck on this fucking backwater and the sooner someone puts a blaster bolt in Marshal Lauk's skull, the sooner I get reassigned."
Hylt did not detect any levity in Gelro's voice. In fact, she sensed they were actually holding back on just how much disdain they held Hylt in. Well, Hylt had what she came for. It wasn't her job to help people who were stuck in the past.
Hylt left the diner, never once glancing at her old comrade. Gelro still clung to an ideal that didn't exist anymore. Maybe they knew that, maybe not. Spying for the Rebel Alliance had meant something. But working for New Republic Intelligence? That had been what Hylt had come to know as the "Three W's: Watching, Waiting, and Wishing." How had what had once been the dauntless Rebellion lost so much of its bite in so little time? It was no wonder, as Stroyh loved pointing out, that there were still Separatist hold-outs from the Clone Wars in the Galaxy.
Hylt browsed a couple of shops to make sure she wasn't being tailed, either by Lauk's people or by an NRI agent. No one was there. Then, she made her way back to the Kath Hound.
Doru Spaceport, Xenophon
The entire crew gathered in the room across from the training area aboard the Kath Hound. Within was a caged-in armory, a holo-display table, work benches, and multiple toolboxes of various sizes. It was primarily Stroyh's domain when he wasn't flying the ship.
Cazur looked around the holo-table. Four flesh and blood faces, one metallic, looked back at him. They had agreed upon the plan. Now it was time to initiate the first step.
Cazur initiated a call on the holo-table. It remained unanswered for a full thirty seconds before a life-size torso emergex from the table's center, formed from white-blue light. A human woman looked back at them, one prematurely aged by stress but with fiery determination in her hawkish features. She wore an unmarked camouflage hunting poncho.
"I can only assume you're the ones Iweko spoke of." Said Strategos Verra Pergulos, leader of Xenophon's resistance against Lauk's Remnant.
Cazur glanced at Hylt, who nodded confirmation. One of Gelro's code names, then.
"It's our understanding you would like some help kicking the Imps off your planet." Cazur said.
Verra turned her head and spat out of view. "Their every breath on this planet is an insult I wish to repay in blood. So, yes. But I'm not stupid. I know Iweko works for the NRI. Their intel and weapon shipments, I'll take gladly. The New Republic? No. We won't throw out one tyrant for another. Again."
"Lucky for you we don't represent the Republic, then. We want Lauk's head. Couldn't care less who's in charge of Xenophon." Cazur said. "What sort of numbers do you have at your disposal?"
"Couple hundred partisans, give or take." Verra mused. "Have some plants in the Militia, too. But if you're planning on taking on the Phalanx, then you better have a damn good plan. I'll have to commit all or nothing, you understand?"
"We do have a plan. One that should let us walk right up to Lauk and cut him down. It needs your personal participation." Cazur said.
He explained the details to her, which took several minutes. Verra grew increasingly more and more bemused.
"What do you take me for? An idiot? How can I not see this as anything but a trap? You're Mandos. Mercs. I know how many credits my head is worth." Verra exclaimed.
Every Mandalorian around the holo-table made some sign of displeasure; a quiet curse, an involuntary twitch. Cazur put his hands on the table, leaning forward, a fierce scowl warping his face.
"The Empire occupies your world, Strategos?" He asked, low and dangerous.
"Obviously." Verra said.
"Well they didn't bother with occupying Mandalore. They glassed it. Turned the surface to ash. Millions of our people died in a single day. Millions." Cazur seethed, feeling his hands shake. He took a few breaths to calm down. "The day I consider doing work for the Empire, Strategos, is the day I put the barrel of a blaster in my mouth and pull the trigger."
Verra considered the zabrak. She scratched her chin. In that moment she looked like nothing more than a person worn down to the bone, not a leader of cutthroat partisans.
"Well, it's not as if we've been making much progress on our own." She said. "Fine. I'll send you coordinates. And I'll hope the Force is with us."
"That'll work." Cazur said as he closed the connection. "Alright, people. Let's get ready."
The others got into motion.
Sarissa Island, Xenophon
Zejephone Alacra shifted her shoulders, ensuring the diving suit's oxygen tank was sitting as it should. The tools of her trade were packed away into watertight pouches and cases across her body. It had been a long time since she had done this, but it was not the first time for it.
The waves lapped at the beach Zej waited upon. Scarcely twenty feet away was the dense forest that covered much of Sarissa Island, where the partisans of Xenophon kept their primary base. Four of those partisans, clad in camo cloaks, were preparing a fishing boat. The boat itself was painted in an odd, matte beige material that had been specifically concocted to fool the senses of Xenophon's aquatic megafauna. It just so happened that, with a minor alteration of the formula, the paint could do the same for commonly available sensor systems. Given the Imperials had taken Phalanx Island from the XPM, who hadn't exactly possessed cutting edge technology, the partisans had been using such boats to literally stay under the radar.
Cazur was standing by the boat. The big Mandalorian was clad in his armor, his helmet tucked under one arm. Though his beard and mustache worked hard to hide his mouth, Zej could see Cazur was frowning.
"I appreciate you volunteering for this, Zej." Cazur said in his deep voice. "But you don't have to do it. Hylt will take your place."
"Why would I let her do that?" Zej asked. This Mando perplexed her. He seemed to spend the majority of his waking hours worrying about the people around him.
"You just joined the crew. Sneaking into an Imperial base by yourself like this…it's a big risk." Cazur said.
You're taking a big risk keeping me with you. Zej thought. The anxiety that remained with her through the vast majority of her life flared at the thought once again. She couldn't countenance the idea that her presence might threaten this crew that had taken her in while knowing so little about her. In truth, Zej had considered, more than once, simply leaving the Kath Hound and disappearing into Doru. Yet, every time she pondered that idea, she recalled the taste of uj'alayi on her tongue and the knowing smile on Cazur's face, the eagerness of Kavala filling Zej's bowl at that first dinner, Hylt stopping her to offer professional advice on infiltration. It was almost entirely selfish, but Zej couldn't bring herself to leave the Kath Hound. She was already in too deep. But, while she was here, she was damn well going to pull her weight.
"I know. I'll be fine." Zej assured Cazur.
"Heh, the way you say it makes me believe it." Cazur chortled. He clapped Zej on the shoulder, inhaling to say more.
Something inside Zej rebelled at the touch and she immediately jerked her shoulder away, palm suddenly hovering over the grip of her vibroknife. It happened so quickly she hadn't even realized she'd been reaching for the weapon. Cazur jerked back as if he'd been shocked. Shame struck Zej as she saw the confusion on the zabrak's face.
"Sorry, I just…I don't like being touched when I'm not expecting it." Zej said softly, her hand leaving her knife. The tally of which neurosis makes me too much to deal with is starting early. She couldn't help but think.
After a blink, Cazur nodded, saying, "of course. Thank you for letting me know."
The fact he was offering a thank you instead of an apology threw Zej off so much that she didn't even know what to say.
"Sun's down enough. We're casting off." One of the partisans said from up in the wheelhouse.
"Well, we'll be seeing you soon." Cazur said, the little incident of moments ago apparently forgotten as he smiled at her. "Good luck."
"You, too." Zej said, wishing she could muster a smile in return. Those were not common for her anymore.
The partisans cast off. The boat pulled away from the dock it was moored at. Zej looked back, watching Cazur grow smaller as the boat left the forested cove it was moored in. The zabrak raised a hand, waving at her. Zej lifted her hand in response. When the Mandalorian passed out of sight, Zej took her mind from those troubles and focused on the mission ahead.
The boat skirted a series of islands of various sizes in the Misthios Archipelago, darting into coves and hidden caves to avoid passing patrols of TIE fighters. In a perfect world, Zej's part of the mission would be redundant. As was abundantly evidenced, Zej did not live in a perfect world.
The boat ride was blissfully uneventful. When the craft reached a seemingly unimportant open part of the sea, it stopped in place. The boat paused for less than a minute before powering back the way it had come.
Zej allowed herself to sink down into the water. She felt utterly exposed floating in that black abyss, knowing creatures that were several times the size of the boat that had dropped her off could be lurking just out of sight. Luckily, she didn't need to see. Zej oriented herself and activated the cylindrical device she held in her hands. The battery-powered propeller started churning at high speed, augmented by the kicking of Zej's flippered feet. The twi'lek felt like a torpedo, shooting through the water, angling downward toward her destination. She encountered exactly one fish, a dart of a creature that skirted the very edge of her vision, but its appearance was enough to give her a heart attack all the same.
Pausing a few times to check a compass, Zej finally reached where the sea floor was starting to rise up to Phalanx Island. She made her way to the coordinates given by Gelro and, sure enough, she found what she was looking for. Since the Sapphire Marches were a freshwater sea, the Remnant fortress had multiple intake pipes drawing water directly from the sea. It was through one of these Zej would be making her entrance.
Zej reached one of the pipes, which was covered by metal bars. Carefully, she inspected the pipe with a flashlight, ensuring there weren't any sensors or trip or motion detectors that might reveal her. Once again, it seemed the Remnants had been content to leave XPM tech as it lay; functional and minimal. Zej produced a fusioncutter and went to work taking two of the bars off of the grate. When she was done, Zej wasted no time slipping into the pipe.
Navigating by her light, Zej traveled along the pipe's interior. Strategos Verra had once been the commander of this island, the former headquarters of the XMP, and had been able to give the Kath Hound's crew a detailed blueprint of Phalanx's layout. The pipe would eventually lead to a reservoir that was the first stage in a system of filtration and purification.
The reservoir was a cylindrical tank with a large propeller in one wall that drew the water into the purification system. Zej's handheld motor overcame the pull of that fan and took her to the top of the reservoir, which had an open top. Zej surfaced slowly, up to her eyes, peering around the chamber she found herself in. It appeared, to her eyes, to be a natural cavern that had been expanded by whoever had initially built the reservoirs.
Zej swam over to a catwalk that ran alongside the reservoir and pulled herself onto it, removing her flippers. She found a ladder that led down to the floor of the cavern, and it was down there in the darkness among pipes and scuttling vermin that she removed her diving suit and unpacked her equipment from its watertight containers. A length of rope had been wrapped around her torso beneath the diving suit, as well. She stowed all the equipment down among the pipes, certain of their secrecy by the abundance of cobwebs around her. Then, vibroknife in hand, the difficult part of the mission began. Checking her chronometer told Zej she had one hour until things kicked off. There was no time to lose.
Zej ascended back up to the catwalk. There was only one way out of the water treatment facility, which led up into the service tunnels that honeycombed the underbelly of Phalanx Island. Zej left the water purification facility, finding herself in a dingy hallway of grey ferrocrete and bare lightbulbs encased in cage lattices. The air was musty, cracks spiderwebbed the walls and ceiling, and water was standing in one spot. According to Verra, the credits to properly maintain the bastion on Phalanx Island had dried up sometime back during the latter years of the High Republic era. The Strategos was certain the Imperials would be putting their own limited resources into the defenses on the surface.
Luckily, Zej's destination was not far from her entry point. She crept down the hallway, not needing to check the holo-emitter in one of her belt pouches that contained the blueprints. This was what Zej had been trained for, and though it had not been a willing vocation, even she couldn't deny that she was quite good at it. Memorization, moving silently, killing without hesitation, but also knowing when staying her blade would be wiser. She would never admit it around the one who made her this way, of course. No, in fact, she dreamed of using these very skills on them one day. And now that she had some semblance of freedom, perhaps it was time to begin considering that…
Zej reached her destination. She opened the door and slipped inside. The room was a convergence of ventilation ducts, replete with readouts of air quality and pressure throughout the facility. The dust on the dials and displays was yet more evidence of Imperial neglect of the lower levels. Even after losing a Galactic war, they still managed to maintain impressive heights of hubris.
Though she was quite sure she knew the route, for this particular part of the operation, Zej checked her blueprints once more. Getting this wrong could mean the difference between success and failure, so a double check wouldn't hurt. Once she was certain, Zej produced a screwdriver and started freeing up the four corners of a vent that would let her into the ducts.
The twi'lek had three of the four screws free when she heard the door to the ventilation room open. The sounds of moving air and spinning fans had muffled the approach of whomever it was, and had almost covered even the noise of the door. Zej moved on instinct, diving diagonally away from where she was standing, rolling up to her feet through the opening into a small side room. Against one wall there were metal shelving units holding spare filters, a bucket of screws of various sizes, and old tools left to rust. Oddly, there was a sleeping bag on the floor, tucked under the shelves. She readily recognized that it was the ruggedly made sort that would be issued to soldiers.
At first, Zej was certain this was where someone came to take clandestine naps, but she not only heard two pairs of footsteps drawing closer, but low voices that couldn't stop giggling and the unmistakable smack of eager kissing. Zej squeezed her eyes shut and cursed silently. To think she was going to get discovered like this.
No. She wasn't. Zej hurriedly grabbed one of the screws from the bucket. There was a small gap between the shelving units and the entrance to the side room, leaving about eighteen inches of bare wall between them. The opposite wall was totally free of obstruction. Zej jumped, bracing both feet against the walls. She managed to lever herself up until her back was flush against the ceiling, her feet side by side near the shelves, her hands pressed against the opposite wall. There she held herself, limbs vibrating with the effort, but adrenaline combined with years of physical training to hold her in place.
Two humans in the dark uniforms of noncombat personnel entered the side room, far more focused on each other than their surroundings as they tried to walk and snog at the same time. One said something lascivious in the ear of the other, prompting their partner to gasp with anticipation. Zej rolled her eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of her situation.
Finally, one of the unfortunately timed paramours reached down to pull the sleeping bag from beneath the shelving units. Pressing hard with her left hand, Zej took her right off the wall, using it to toss the screw she had taken at the shelving unit just as the sleeping bag was pulled out. The screw struck metal with a loud clank, causing both Imps to jump in surprise and look that way. By the time one of he Imps was picking up the screw and laughing about how they must of knocked it off, Zej had silently dropped to the floor and slipped from the supply room.
Killing the two Imperials would have been a bad idea. Them not reporting back could alert the entire base even before the bodies were discovered. So, Zej returned to the vent, hurriedly removed the last screw, then pulled herself into the vent. Using a gummy compound often called thief's putty, Zej secured the vent from the inside. There was no way to put the screws back in place, but this clearly wasn't a location the Imps closely inspected, anyway. The sounds coming from the supply room told Zej she had avoided suspicion, and thus she began her crawl. She had some distance to cover and only so much time to do it.
Sarissa Island, Xenophon
"What are these weapons before you?" Cazur asked.
"They are the tools of my calling." Answered Kavala, Hylt, and Stroyh.
Cazur took his Clan-siblings through the ritual battle preparations, ignoring the perplexed expression of Strategos Verra. The partisan leader was standing nearby with her arms crossed. One of her eyes was swollen shut, her lips split and scabbed. It had been a rather shocking experience to watch one of Verra's partisans inflict the injuries on her, by the request of the Strategos, no less, to add even the smallest additional bit of credibility to the plan. Cazur couldn't help but admire Verra. She reminded him of Jodihan, in a lot of ways.
The Mandalorians all stood.
"Skin of steel, heart of iron." Cazur said.
"Mharal, Our Mother." The other three answered.
All four Mandos donned their helmets. Kavala and Stroyh left the lower hold, leaving Cazur and Hylt with Verra.
"I think I should thank you for putting your faith in us, Strategos." Cazur said.
"You should." Verra agreed. "Honestly, we wouldn't have lasted this long without Iweko, as much as I hate to admit it. They assure me you can be trusted, and they haven't steered us wrong yet. Besides, this might be our only chance to boot the Empire out without the Republic's help. Xenophon might finally be able to stand on its own, or at least better set its own terms in the Galaxy." She shrugged. "This isn't the sort of chance that comes along every day. Better to try and fail in a blaze of glory than continue our slow death year by year."
"There was a time I would have agreed with that sentiment, Strategos." Cazur said. The Kath Hound lurched as it lifted off.
"Not anymore?" Verra asked, unable to fully mask her curiosity.
Cazur shook his head, but had no words.
"A blaze was forced on us on the Night of A Thousand Tears, alright." Hylt fielded the question with palpable bitterness. "And it was severely lacking in glory."
Cazur nodded once to this. It had hit every surviving Mando hard, of course, but Hylt had been so recently adopted. She had been optimistic, even ecstatic, about this new world she had entered, this new family that had embraced her with open arms. All that effusive positivity had turned to ash on that day.
Verra had no answer for this. She said nothing. Cazur was content to leave things that way as the Kath Hound went on its way. The flight was not a long one. It felt like it was, but before Cazur knew it, Stroyh was getting on the comms.
"We're heading in. There's a damned Star Destroyer wrecked in the ocean." Stroyh exclaimed.
"How'd that happen?" Cazur asked Verra.
"That Star Destroyer, the Embattled, fled the Battle of Endor after sustaining heavy damage. They managed to keep it in orbit around Xenophon for long enough to bombard the city of Kalkedon off the map and force us to hand over Phalanx Island. By the time we realized how bad of shape the Embattled actually was, it was too late. The Imps had occupied the primary command and control center of the Xenophon Peoples' Militia, depriving us of the vast majority of our heavy weapons and hamstringing any attempt at coordinated resistance." Verra sighed. "Lauk went to work on the XPM commanders, purging some, flipping others. In the end, I had to command those still loyal to me to cut ties, await contact, and go along with the new regime until further notice."
Cazur couldn't help but notice the way Verra said "loyal to me" rather than "loyal to Xenophon." Such politicking wasn't part of the job. They'd remove Lauk and let the people of Xenophon forge their own future one way or another.
The Kath Hound landed.
"Taking position." Stroyh informed Cazur.
"Confirmed." Cazur said. He motioned to Verra. "It's time."
Verra put her hands behind her back. Cazur put binders on her wrists and stuck the barrel of one of his blaster pistols between her shoulder blades.
"Moment of truth, I suppose." Verra sighed.
"It'll work." Cazur said.
Hylt took her place in front of the two of them. They waited an appropriate amount of time, then Hylt pressed the button to open the ramp.
The ramp lowered. When it reached a certain distance, they saw six people standing at the bottom. The white plastoid armor of Imperial stormtroopers set off every alarm in Cazur's instincts, but he held firm.
Hylt started down the ramp. Cazur followed, nudging Verra with his gun. She walked with exhausted defiance Cazur suspected wasn't entirely an act. When the three of them reached the bottom of the ramp, four stormtroopers tromped inside the ship, two more remaining on guard near the ramp. The troopers would be making sure no one was hiding on board.
The Phalanx bastion was a roughly octagonal structure, its outer wall made ferrocrete. At each point of the octagon sat anti-air cannons that were pointed skyward. Around them were a semi-circle of other landing pads, these occupied by TIE fighters and a few boxy shuttles. There wasn't much in the way of out buildings or other surface structures. The vast majority of those were underground, carved and blasted from the bedrock of the island in ages past.
A full score of stormtroopers had surmounted the landing pad, all of them standing at attention around Lauk himself. More troopers manned the anti-air emplacements that looked out over the Sapphire Marches. The Marshal was surprisingly short, but also somehow more arrogant of bearing in person than when he had been contacted on the holo. He clutched his right wrist with his left hand, his other hand holding a sleek sonic pistol. He wore the dark, neatly pressed uniform of an Imperial staff officer under a drab breastplate.
"Strategos." Lauk said imperiously. "How…pleasant to see you again after all this time."
"The pleasure's all yours." Verra growled.
Lauk huffed through his nose. "Quite." His grey eyes shifted to Hylt. "And you, mercenary. You must tell me how you captured this brigand. You were…tantalizingly vague on the holo."
"Simple. I used to be New Republic Intelligence. They have an NRI contact here on Xenophon. All it took was a few codes and an arranged meeting." Hyltea said, casually blending blatant truth with grand deception.
The four stormtroopers exited the Kath Hound. One of them signaled "all clear" to Lauk. Cazur keyed his comms twice without saying anything.
"An NRI agent in the armor of a Mandalorian. Curious." Lauk mused. "I suppose it takes all kinds to make up your…tribes."
Cazur made a face inside his helmet. Tribes? Really?
"Naturally." Hylt said. "Now, I'm sure your time is far more valuable than mine. So. Shall we make the exchange?"
Lauk made a show of thinking. "Perhaps, perhaps. It just feels so awfully convenient, doesn't it? Too good to be true, really, that this thorn in my side seemed to fall into your lap so neatly."
"One could see it that way. But still, we made a deal. Honor it." Hylt said with a bit of force.
"Now, why would I ever bother to pay you, when you have delivered two different enemies of the Empire on a silver platter?" He chuckled at his own perceived brilliance. "No, you'll all be put in cells. I will find out where the rest of the partisans are, and if there are any other Mandalorian scum infesting this planet."
Cazur saw Verra's hands tense behind her back. This was not an unexpected twist in the plan, but his own heart started beating faster.
"Well, Marshal, it's a shame you feel that way. A shame, indeed." Hylt said. "If I were to offer the information up freely, would that earn us a stay of sentence, so to speak?"
Lauk laughed again. "You can offer it up quite freely in the interrogation cells below. Now, no more stalling, get mo-..."
The turret atop the Kath Hound fired, obliterating one of the anti-air positions. The one in the ship's belly swiveled, firing between the boarding ramp and the landing struts to tear a TIE fighter to pieces.
Then all hell broke loose.
Stroyh Mharal had an itch on the back of his leg he couldn't reach that was slowly driving him insane.
"Stop fidgeting." Kavala whispered.
"Show respect for your elders, ika'vod." Stroyh retorted.
"Then act like an elder." Kavala said.
The two of them were crammed into one of three shielded smuggling compartments secreted in the walls and floor of the Kath Hound. Only two were large enough to accommodate people, and the other one was occupied.
These compartments were of Stroyh's design. He had joined the Clan not long after Jodihan had put Kavala under Cazur's wing. Since then, the aging Kath Hound had seen numerous changes and retrofits. The failings in minor things like flickering lights and sticking interior doors belied where the real work went. The Kath Hound wasn't the fastest, most powerful, or flashiest rig to be plying the stars, but the old ship had grit. Like a stubborn old bantha sow, the Hound didn't know when to quit, and it protected its brood.
Two quick sounds on the comm. It was time to move. Stroyh pressed a button near his lower right hand. The wall of the training room slid sideways. Stroyh and Kavala sprinted out at once, both heading for distinct places. The volpai made for a ladder in the spinal hallway of the Kath Hound that led up to the top turret. While he climbed with two hands, his other two rapidly input commands into his personal datapad, which was linked to the ship's systems. The volpais' evolution to having four limbs had joined with a capacity for multitasking most sapients simply couldn't match.
Stroyh reached the turret, sitting low in the seat. For now, the ship's weapons were powered down. They couldn't be activated in the usual way, either. Even the brief amount of time it took for the Kath Hound's weapons to power up would be plenty for the batteries on the bastion's wall to take aim and tear the ship apart. However, Stroyh had a work around, one he had installed years ago precisely for situations like this. It wasn't without risks, but he would take probably death over certain death any day of the week.
The volpai gripped the turret controls with his upper hands. One lower hand held the datapad, the other hovered over the final command that would initiate his plan. All Stroyh needed to do was wait for the signal.
"Well, Marshal, it's a shame you feel that way. A real shame." Hylt said into the comm.
Upon hearing "shame" said the second time, Stroyh didn't hesitate. His finger tapped the datapad's screen. The power conduits of the Kath Hound hummed and crackled as energy was hard-shunted from several systems that were currently unessential; life support, shields, lighting, the ship's forward facing affixed weapons, and the like. Something below him sparked and blew out, but power surged into his turret almost instantly. Now he had to shoot fast and true. Diverting power back into the other systems would not be a fast process. The Kath Hound may have bared its fangs at lightning speed, but it was also completely vulnerable.
Stroyh swiveled his turret and started shooting, raising a fist with a roar of triumph as the first enemy battery was blown to pieces. Even as he took out the second one, he saw the grounded TIE fighters start going up in flames as Kavala did her work.
"That's how it's done, Kav'vod!" Stroyh shouted down the ladder to the lower turret as his assault continued. As the third anti-air battery exploded, Stroyh saw the white-clad forms of stormtroopers toppling off the wall. A smile split his face.
The TIE fighters weren't many in number. The Imps wouldn't exactly be swimming in replacement parts for them. So, Kavala's first task was done within ten seconds, and she was climbing out of the lower turret blister as fast as she could. She emerged just beside the med bay, for the ladder down to the lower blister went all the way up through the spinal hallway to the top blister.
"Heading out!" Kavala called up to Stroyh.
"Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur, ika'vod!" Stroyh replied. Today is a good day for someone else to die, little sister.
Kavala shouldered her carbine, feeling like her heart was about to burst from her chest. She ran towards the boarding ramp, hearing the unmistakable sound of Bucket's rotary blaster unloading.
"Mharal, Our Mother." Kavala hissed through gritted teeth. She hit the ramp, storming down into the fire of battle, knowing her Clan-siblings were counting on her. The zygerrian passed the bodies of the two troopers that had been stationed at the bottom of the ramp.
The landing pad was in chaos. A dozen stormtroopers were dead. Kavala saw white plastoid and started shooting, double-tapping a trooper that was hurrying Marshal Lauk off the landing pad. Lauk himself disappeared from the sight down the stairs, firing a hurried and poorly aimed shot at the Mandos and their deadly droid.
Alarms were blaring. The air was full of smoke and flame. Cazur and Hylt stood near Bucket, who held up the square, concave deflector shield that was projected from an emitter on its left wrist. Verra was knelt behind Bucket, arms still bound.
"This unit missed killing Imperials." Bucket said as she approached. They had seen off the remnants of Lauk's escort with the help of initial surprise.
"Lauk's getting away. Kav, Hylt, up we go. Bucket, stay here, hold the landing pad, and keep the Strategos alive." Cazur commanded. He was lugging a heavy repeating blaster, which he put into Verra's hands after she was released from the binders on her wrists.
"Acknowledged. This unit hopes you enjoy yourselves." Bucket said. It marched to the edge of the platform where it could rain blaster fire and rockets down on the enemy.
"Put an extra shot in his head if you get him." Verra said, putting the repeater's bandoleer around her shoulders.
Cazur nodded to her, then ran for the edge of the landing pad. Kavala followed him alongside Hylt, and as they reached the edge, they jumped.
Jetpacks ignited and the three Mandos lifted into the air. Below them, it looked like someone had kicked an anthill full of ghosts. White shapes swarmed between cargo containers, ordinance crates, and deactivated forklift droids. Kavala was not a flashy shooter like Cazur was, her aim flicking from center of mass to center of mass as the three Mando's drifted hard to one side, passing through the thick, black smoke billowing from the wrecked TIEs.
"Last AA gun is down. Final two managed to scratch the paint before I could paste them, but I don't think anything vital was damaged." Stroyh said on the comms.
Kavala knew that was a lie by omission. The power shunt had definitely blown something in the Kath Hound's power system. Now wasn't the time to point that out.
Something struck Kavala in the left shoulder. The pauldron of her beskar'gam absorbed the shot, but Kavala was spun in the air. She overcorrected and the shoulder strap of her jetpack, which had been half-hit by the blaster bolt, sheared. Kavala suddenly found herself tumbling through the air as the jetpack flopped wildly from one shoulder. Training drove her actions as Kavala deactivated the jetpack with a glance to the proper spot of her visor's HUD, then she hit the emergency release on her chest. Kavala hit the landing pad of the first TIE fighter she had wrecked, the air leaving her lungs and her carbine falling from her grip. She rolled, scrabbling for purchase, but couldn't stop herself from reaching the edge of the landing pad and falling again.
Her luck was somewhat balanced out. Kavala didn't fall the full distance, instead landing on a cargo container, then down to the ground.
"Haar'chak!" Kavala swore in a desperate rasp. A shadow loomed over her and all it took was a glimpse of white for the zygerrian to react. She ripped her beskad from the scabbard at her hip and slashed out. The scream of a stormtrooper who was suddenly missing a foot was her reward.
Kavala surged up to her feet. Another enemy had been immediately behind the first, and she found herself slapping away the barrel of that stormtrooper's blaster and slashing the soldier across the throat. As the man fell back, she snatched the blaster from his grip. The E-11 was a rifle, though it was short enough to be wielded one-handed in a pinch. Kavala held down the trigger on a full-auto spray, trying to keep back the Imps that were pursuing her. The zygerrian dashed for cover behind the container she had fallen on top of, unsure if she was hitting anything.
Kavala heard the wash and whine of jetpacks as two shapes fell nearby. Cazur dropped among a squad of stormtroopers with beskad in one hand and blaster pistol in the other.
"MHARAL, OUR MOTHER!" He bellowed as he slashed out, spraying blood from his first victim across the white armor of her comrades.
Hylt landed nearer to Kavala, her long assault rifle unleashing three-round bursts in covering fire around Cazur.
"Alright, Kav'vod?" Hylt asked.
"Never better", Kavala said, sheathing her beskad and going back to back with Hylt as more stormtroopers came around to flank them. The E-11 bucked in her hand, but Kavala maintained fire discipline.
And Kavala meant what she said, too. This life, that of the Mandalorian, of a Mharin; she knew it was where she belonged. The uncertainty of combat and accompanying thrill, standing with her Clan-siblings against the odds as she was right now, it simply felt right. It was why Kavala had little fear of death. If this was where she was meant to go, that was simply the way of things; the way of the warrior, of the Mando'ade. She would die, and her soul would join the manda. Of that, there was nothing to be afraid of.
And it seemed like that could very well be what was going to happen. The stormtroopers were starting to organize themselves and close on the Mandalorians. Cazur was being pushed back, struck favoring one side; he'd been hit where his armor didn't cover.
The stormtroopers were suddenly raked with heavy fire from above, the large bolts only those that could come from a support weapon. The shriek of many engines started filling the air, drowning out the firefight. The Imps' attention began going skyward.
Kavala knew what this meant and seized the opportunity. She broke cover and ran into the stormtroopers, a wordless war cry on her lips. She fired the E-11 until it went dry, felling several more stormtroopers as she drew her beskad once more and thrust it home into the flank of the first stormtrooper she encountered.
Civilian airspeeders and military transports were buzzing overhead, some of them landing where they could on the landing pads, others disgorging their passengers down rappel lines. Partisans in camo cloaks and dun-armored soldiers of the XPM fell among the stormtroopers. A chaotic, confused firefight ensued at close quarters as the Xenophoni began the long pent up venting of years of rage.
"Xenophon resists! Xenophon resists!" The battle cry went up among the rebels.
An exhilarating feeling swept through Kavala as she plunged into the fray, determined to cut her way to their allies. She found herself among a squad of partisans in short order.
"Where the hell is Lauk?!" One of the resistance fighters, a grey-bearded and grizzled man, half-asked, half-demanded.
Kavala pointed to where she had seen the Marshal flee. "He went that way, underground!"
"Then that's where we're fighting to. Let's move! Xenophon resists!" The old man's voice was a hoarse bark.
The nearest partisan, a human that could not have been much older than Kavala, looked with wide-eyed amazement at the zygerrian. "How the hell did you do so much damage before we got here?"
Kavala smiled broadly inside her helmet at the partisan. "That's just how Mandos do it."
The partisan's grin was fierce, and they gave a sharp nod. "I guess now I've got to show you that a Xenophoni knows a thing or two, as well."
"After you, then!" Kavala said with an exultant laugh.
From there, the battle began in earnest.
Marshal Sadibar Lauk retreated deeper into the Phalanx bastion. Reports were coming in that more partisans and traitorous militia troops were landing on the surface. Already, firefights were raging down the corridors of the base as rebels breached entrances. It was going to be a brutal struggle of hall-by-hall, room-to-room combat, and that was something Lauk wanted no part of. He was in command here, after all. His place was directing the conflict, not standing in a battle line like some common grunt.
"Sir! Upper Hall 3A is completely under insurrectionist control." Said one of his aides as she ran up, holding a hand to the comm piece in her ear.
"Isolate it. I want them boxed in. I want any and all weapons at our disposal deployed, you understand? This is not a time for conservation. Send up the flamethrowers." Lauk ordered.
"Those haven't been used in years, sir…" The aide started to say.
"It wasn't a request!" Lauk snarled. "See it done, or I'll have you executed for insubordination!"
"S-Sir!" The aide said in confirmation, throwing up a hurried salute before running off.
As Lauk turned a corner, an explosion rocked the hallway ahead, two security doors slamming into the wall as they were blown off their hinges. A brief firefight was followed by insurgents in XPM armor emerging from the resulting dust.
Lauk felt anger surge within him. Yes, certainly anger, not panic. He lifted his sonic pistol, which shrieked two shots down the hall. One of them struck a mon calamari rebel and shattered their chest plate apart. He turned to two of his four guards.
"Hold them off!" He commanded, shoving the pair of stormtroopers ahead before doing an about face and retreating back around the corner, firing over his shoulder as he did.
Lauk made his way to a nearby stairwell, descending two levels. It was far quieter that deep, though base personnel were scrambling around. There was constant chatter in Lauk's own comms as Imperial officers requested orders, reported lost sections or mass casualties. Eventually, Lauk stopped replying and simply switched it off. Once he was in the secure command room, then he'd more effectively be able to take charge of the defense.
Lauk reached the room, which was already manned by a pair of stormtroopers. After commanding his escorts go in first and sweep the space, Lauk passed through the blast doors, shut, and locked them.
The command room had not always been a safe room, but Lauk had ensured its retrofitting to be as such. On a planet with so many fifth-column traitors and rebellious ingrates, one couldn't be too careful. Several banks of computer consoles were ringed around a central, circular dais. In the center of the dais was the command station. It was also circular, the ring of buttons, screens, and communication equipment broken up only by the small path needed to step into the middle of them and reach a high-backed leather chair.
"All clear, sir." One stormtrooper said.
Lauk's eyes scanned the room
"Man the door. Let no one through under any circumstances." Lauk growled. Theoretically, other officers were supposed to be in here as well, but if the XPM had turned traitor, well, who was to say other supposedly loyal servants of the Empire hadn't, as well? The two stormtroopers were something of an unfortunate necessity.
A muted explosion shook dust from the ceiling as Lauk took his seat. He reconnected to the comm net to find the base in utter chaos.
"This is Marshal Lauk. I want reports from surviving officers in operational priority order. You will hold the line at all costs. The Empire is counting on you." Lauk said, which stilled much of the comm chatter.
Another explosion, this one managing to knock loose a grate from the ventilation duct in the ceiling. Lauk shook his head. Damned place had been falling apart ever since they got here. Such dissolution was further proof that the Galaxy needed the Empire to put them in proper order.
Lauk felt something cold against his throat. He froze in place.
"You two. Drop your weapons and kick them away. Now." A woman's low, rasping voice commanded.
The stormtoopers both twitched in surprise, aiming at Lauk's assailant.
"Do as she says, you idiots!" Lauk demanded.
The troopers did as they were told, laying their E-11s on the ground and kicking them away.
The mystery woman shot them both without hesitation. The troopers fell back into the walls on either side of the blast doors and collapsed.
"Order your soldiers to stand down." The assassin hissed.
Lauk almost broke his thumb on the comm button. "All troops, this is Marshal Lauk! Lay down your weapons and cease hostilities! I repeat, cease hostilities at once and surrender!"
"Very good." The assassin cooed. "Now, one last thing."
"What? What more could you want?" Lauk whimpered.
The cold against Lauk's neck suddenly became searingly hot as the vibroknife bit deep and opened the Marshal's throat. His lifeblood sprayed over the console and he fell to the floor in an awkward curl around his chair. Lauk's heels drummed against the casing of the command console as he, in vain, tried to stem the flow of crimson that was spilling over his fingers.
And there, Sadibar Lauk died, never having even glimpsed the one responsible.
Phalanx Island, Xenophon
The Xenophoni were not kind to the Imperial prisoners that fell into their hands. Most of the non-combatants were spared, but once the stormtroopers and their officers had been disarmed and rounded up, the grunts were taken to the top of the walls, executed, and fed to the Sapphire Marches. Cazur had a feeling they were getting off easy. The officers were going to be interrogated to figure out who the worst collaborators in the XPM were. If this was the Strategos beginning as she intended to proceed, it did not bode well for Xenophon.
In truth, that wasn't Cazur's problem, and he couldn't muster up much sympathy. It was another day of business as usual in the Outer Rim.
Night had fallen, the bodies were cleared away, the wounded tended to, and now several hundred partisans and XPM troops were having a celebration in the Phalanx bastion. They gathered around bonfires made from furniture and personal belongings not worth selling they had plundered from the base. Music was blaring from somewhere.
Cazur was seated on an overturned crate under the Kath Hound's landing pad, drinking some local spirit he'd forgotten the name of. Cazur was stripped to the waist and bandaged around his midsection, where a bacta patch was held in place over where he'd been shot. Just one more scar of many others.
Most of the Kath Hound's crew was elsewhere. Hylt mingling with the crowds somewhere, Stroyh was avoiding the party to fix the Kath Hound, and Zej was…well, Cazur had no idea where Zej was. The only person he could see was Kavala, who had spent the entire evening in the company of a young human partisan. Currently, they were showing Kavala something on a datapad, the zygerrian apparently deeply interested in whatever it was, based on the way she kept pointing and asking questions.
Cazur smiled at that. Kavala rarely got the chance to make friends. She never really got to have a childhood. Maybe Cazur was partially to blame for that. Mostly, it was the fault of the Empire.
Cazur suddenly became aware of a presence just behind him. He looked back to see Zej standing at his shoulder.
"Not one for parties, I take it?" Cazur asked.
Zej shook her head. "Too many people. No good way to keep all potential threats monitored."
"And if there are no potential threats?" Cazur asked.
"There always are." Zej said.
A wan smile crossed Cazur's face. Right. Of course.
"You saved a lot of lives today, Zej. Taking a facility like this from an occupying force is always a slog where the blood ends up ankle deep." Cazur said.
"It was my assigned role, nothing more." Zej assured him.
"Your 'assigned role' was single-handedly infiltrating an Imperial facility and assassinating a Marshal." He paused and chuckled. "We all played a part. You don't have to take the compliment, of course, but I think you deserve it."
Zej said nothing initially, but then at length, "...thank you."
"Sure." Cazur said, holding up the bottle in his hand. "Drink? Not sure what they called it, but it'll knock you out of your boots if you aren't ready for it."
Zej accepted slowly, sniffing the contents and wrinkling her nose. All the same, she tipped the bottle to her lips and drank a mouthful. A harsh breath escaped her and her usually rough voice became downright smokey. "I have certainly had worse."
"Just wait 'til you try Stroyh's tihaar. He's a got a still in the cargo hold. Should be about done with the current batch." Cazur said as he accepted the bottle back from Zej and took a drink.
Zej scanned the crowd. "It seems Kavala has made a friend."
Cazur watched as Kavala took said friend by the arm and the two of them eagerly scampered off to where most of the dancing was occurring.
"Yeah." Cazur said softly, and there was melancholy in his voice.
"You can give her tonight, Cazur. When tomorrow isn't promised, that's all you can give to her. Your regret is unnecessary." Zej said.
Cazur glanced back up at her, surprised at the statement. It was decidedly more philosophical than Zej had shown herself to be so far.
"True enough." Cazur agreed, then looked away. He sighed, then laughed lightly, "hell, I'd ask if you wanted to dance, but I'm not in good shape for it tonight, sadly." He put his free hand to his bandage.
"You…would ask me to dance?" Zej asked.
"Sure. Is that a problem?" Cazur queried in return.
"No. Certainly not. I simply…", Zej cleared her throat. "...n-nothing." An awkward cough followed. "Enjoy your evening. I must…go rest."
With that, she strode off, heading for the stairs that led up to the Kath Hound, leaving a confused Cazur in her wake.
"Huh." The zabrak murmured. "Wonder what that was about." He shrugged, then drank more, allowing himself to relax. Whatever the circumstances around it or what would come in the aftermath, the mission had been a success, and the crew of the Kath Hound had come out the other side. The uncertainties of the Galaxy could wait for a day.