Author's Note: Short update, things are still a bit shaky IRL but they're getting better. I appreciate the patience and I appreciate everyone taking the time to read and review as always! Hope you enjoy the chapter.
An unexpected turn! Following their run-in with the malevolent First Order, Kyle Katarn and Rey Skywalker find themselves aided by a group of Mandalorians. With tensions between the Mandalorian Dominion and the Reformed Republic at an all-time high just how much will these newfound allies alter the course of the coming conflict remains to be seen…
Rey drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind lost in the void between waking and dreaming. There was only darkness at first, pierced by the noise of the explosion that had torn through the hangar. Fire crackled in the distance, and she could feel the weight of debris pressing down on her. The pain felt distant, muffled, as if it belonged to someone else.
Faintly, she heard Kyle's voice. It was distant, echoing like a whisper from miles away. His words were unclear, but the urgency in his tone cut through the ringing in her ears. She struggled to respond, trying to find her voice, but nothing came. Her body refused to move, completely consumed by the rubble.
Then a flash—a blur of motion as she saw Kyle cradled her in his arms. His face was lined with worry, his brow furrowed in concentration as he spoke to someone beyond her sight. Rey tried to focus, to understand what was happening, but the world around her was slipping away, dissolving into a fog of indistinct voices. They were unfamiliar, low and metallic, speaking in tones she couldn't grasp.
Suddenly, the sensation changed. She felt a blast of wind against her face, the roaring of engines all around her. The weight of the debris was gone, replaced by the sensation of being lifted into the air. The heat of the hangar, the crackling fire, faded as she and Kyle rose toward the skies. She glimpsed shadows—figures above them, leading the way—but they were too distant to make out. Her eyelids fluttered as her vision blurred, the world spinning in and out of focus.
An explosion rocked the air around them, and the shockwave jolted Rey's consciousness, pulling her back—back into a memory.
She was no longer in the hangar, no longer cradled in Kyle's arms. Instead, she stood on the bridge of a ship, chaos swirling around her. Military officers rushed from station to station, Jedi darted through the corridors, and the ship itself shook violently under the force of external explosions.
The noise was deafening, alarms blaring, the floor trembling under her feet. Rey blinked, disoriented, as she tried to piece together where she was. This wasn't real—it couldn't be. But it felt so vivid, so tangible.
"Rey, are you there?" A voice broke through the chaos, familiar and grounding.
Finn.
Rey turned toward the source, her gaze falling on a flickering hologram of Finn standing before her. His image was blurred, distorted by interference, but his voice rang clear through the noise.
"I copy, Finn," Rey said, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding her.
Rey's hands trembled as Finn's voice broke through the static.
"They're throwing everything at us down here," Finn said with a voice that exhumed urgency, "The Mandalorians... I don't know how long we can hold. We're getting the last of the refugees onboard, but—"
"We'll send a task force as soon as the evac shuttles arrive," Rey said, her voice tight, not wanting to reveal her own uncertainty.
Before she could say more, Jacen Syndulla limped onto the bridge, his face marked with exhaustion and bruises, his armor battered with scorching marks of blaster fire, his expression was soft but filled with unspoken concern.
"Rey," he began, his voice calm as he approached her with a struggling footing, "We can't stay in orbit any longer."
Rey spun to face him, disbelief flashing across her face, "What? No. I'm going down there."
She turned back to Finn's hologram, "Hold on, Finn. I'm coming!"
Finn's face softened, a look of grim understanding apparent in him before his image flickered and disappeared.
Rey began walking out of the bridge toward the hangar, determination driving her forward as Jacen followed close behind, his voice rising in frustration, "Rey, we've already lost too many people. Going down there is suicide."
She didn't break stride, her gaze fixed ahead, "Then stop me."
Jacen's struggling pace quickened as explosions rocked the ship, and he shouted after her, "What happens when the Mandalorians destroy this ship while you're gone? What happens to every wounded man, woman, and child that's counting on you?"
Rey then froze at the entrance to the hangar, her eyes falling on the sea of wounded and desperate faces. The hangar was filled with makeshift medical stations, exhausted soldiers, and families clinging to one another. The scene was one that brought her the realization of what Jacen was telling her—this was their last hope.
Jacen stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Finn would want you to live to fight another day. He stayed behind to make sure they got out. Don't waste that..."
Her lips trembled as she tried to find the words to argue, her voice cracking, "I can't leave him behind, Jacen. Finn… he's down there because of me."
Jacen's expression was pained as he glanced down, "He knew what it meant to stay behind. That's his duty, Rey. Just like yours is to stay alive for everyone here."
Rey clenched her fists, tears threatening to break through. Suddenly another explosion rocked the ship, more violent this time, forcing both of them toward a viewport. Outside, the space battle unfolded in chaotic horror—wrecked ships floating aimlessly while Mandalorian cruisers tore through what little resistance remained. Three Resurgent-class Star Destroyers loomed, their hulls emblazoned with the red Mythosaur sigil, raining fire on the last of the Republic's vessels.
As Jacen looked over to Rey he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice faded as Rey's mind was suddenly flooded with Kyle's frantic cry.
"Rey!"
Kyle's arms tightened around Rey as they flew through the darkened skies. Her limp body leaned against him, her breath shallow, barely audible against the wind. Every now and then, her eyelids fluttered, and she murmured something incoherent, lost in a world between consciousness and oblivion.
"Stay with me, Rey!" Kyle urged, his voice hurried. He flicked on his commlink. "How much longer?" His voice was tight, trying to be as audible and clear as possible over the comms as his worry grew.
Silence followed. The Mandalorians ahead of him remained focused, the propulsion blast glittering as they soared through the night sky. Ragnar led the group, silent and centered in one direction through the dark, Kyle strained to keep up.
Suddenly, Ragnar's voice crackled through the commlink, breaking the quiet, "We're coming up now."
Kyle squinted through the haze of darkness and, ahead he saw the outline of a dense forest. An ocean of trees, thick and untamed, spread out across a rocky valley. Their flight path curved downward, and as they descended, the forest canopy parted like a shadowy mouth, swallowing them whole.
The Mandalorians adjusted their positioning, jetpacks shifting into vertical mode as they slowed their descent. Kyle glanced down at his wrist pad, tapping the button to activate his own descent mode. His jetpack complied, reducing its thrust, easing them toward the ground.
They landed in a clearing, surrounded by towering trees and jagged rocks. Kyle's boots hit the ground with a forceful thud, his stance struggled while he held Rey protectively. He had never used one of these jetpacks before, it really was not as he had imagined, though practical to an extent it also felt rather blunt and clumsy, though perhaps that was mostly due to his inexperience. He glanced around, noticing rounded pods hanging from the trees and rocks, casting eerie shadows against the moonlight. Below amidst the trees, multiple tents were scattered across the valley floor, what seemed to be a temporary yet organized camp nestled in the wilderness.
Ragnar stepped forward, his armored boots crunching on the dry earth. Kyle managed to eye him more closely for a brief moment, he was clad in an armor that was sleek but unmistakably strong. The plates gleamed under the moonlight, their dark blue surfaces etched at the chest with the emblem of a short branch adorned with red spots, faintly displaying against a white background. His hands hovered over the dual holsters strapped to his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if expecting pursuit.
After a few moments of stillness, nothing appeared, and he turned back to the group.
"Hexa, take care of Skywalker," he ordered, his voice calm yet commanding through his helmet.
Hexa nodded, she approached Kyle alongside another Mandalorian, the two silently glared at Kyle before Hexa extended her hands to take hold of the unconscious Rey. Kyle hesitated, his grip tightening on Rey, but he knew she needed help. He allowed them to unstrap her gently from his hold. They took Rey with care, the two taking hold of her across their arms and elevated her toward one of the pods hanging from the trees.
Kyle watched as Rey was carried away, worry noticeable across his face. He turned to Ragnar, his brow furrowed, "You know who she is," his voice was reaped with suspicion.
"Why are you helping her?" He questioned.
Ragnar stood still for a moment, his visor fixed on Kyle before he glanced briefly at his fellow Mandalorians, all of whom were watching the interaction silently. His voice, when it came, was measured, "Because she's with you. And you fight the same enemy as us."
Kyle's eyes narrowed, "The First Order?"
Ragnar nodded, but then added, "Yes. But more importantly, you fight Resolute."
The name made Kyle's expression harden in confusion. He had already suspected these Mandalorians were not part of the Dominion, but this declaration—this sudden alliance—felt unexpected.
"You mean Mandalore The Resolute?" Kyle asked, his voice incredulous, "The leader of your own people?"
Ragnar's gaze seemed to scowl by how he moved his helmet, his tone became grim, "Resolute does not fight for Mandalore, he fights for himself. He's turned his back against all that the Creed once stood for!"
Kyle felt a mixture of shock and relief, ever since the battle on Ajan Kloss he had practically been collecting enemy after enemy, but now this new information brought him some level of comfort, Mandalorian allies, the thought made him squirm for a brief moment. Even so, the tension in the air was still noticeable as the surrounding Mandalorians watched silently, their eyes on Kyle, evaluating him.
Ragnar continued, stepping closer to Kyle, "We helped you because your war is our war. We know about you, how you alone stood against the Dominion's forces and survived, we can help you bring the fight directly to Resolute. But we also need your help here…"
Kyle processed Ragnar's words, realizing the Mandalorians' motives weren't solely about saving Rey or defeating the First Order. This was personal for them. And now, whether he liked it or not, he and Rey were entangled in this mess.
Kyle glanced once more at the Mandalorians around him. Though they had helped him, there was a sense of unease in the air, still he took a deep breath and looked right at Ragnar.
"Okay, let's talk then…"
Rey gasped awake, her chest heaving as though she had been submerged underwater for eternity. She bolted upright, her vision spinning, her breath ragged and shallow. Darkness surrounded her, thick and oppressive. Her hands frantically clawed at the ground beneath her, her mind disoriented, struggling to comprehend where she was.
"Where… where am I?" she muttered, her voice trembling. The words echoed endlessly as she dragged herself backward, her palms scraping against the cold darkened surface beneath her. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, her pulse quickened as fear began to seep in.
Blurs of shadow danced around her, the shapes twisting and morphing into menacing forms that seemed to close in on her. The world was spinning out of control, an unfamiliar place that suffocated any and all happiness or sense of confidence in her. Her back hit a corner—there was nowhere left to go. Her fingers dug into the wall behind her, gripping tightly as her eyes darted across the dark void surrounding her.
Suddenly, a faint cackle echoed from the depths of the shadows.
Rey's eyes widened in horror, her heart slamming against her chest.
"No…" she whispered, the word catching in her throat. The cackle grew louder, more menacing, bouncing off the unseen walls, tightening like a noose around her neck.
She clutched her head in desperation, her fingers tangling in her hair as tears streamed down her face.
"No... please..." Her voice was small, pleading, but the cackling grew more diabolical, as if revealing in her misery, it was unmistakable now. She knew who it was…
Sidious.
The sound of his voice echoed through her mind, cold and taunting. She curled into herself, trying to shut it out, trying to push the nightmare away. She could feel him—his presence wrapping around her like a snake, choking her in fear.
The laughter stopped abruptly.
Rey blinked, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Slowly, she lowered her arms, her fingers trembling as she dared to open her eyes. The darkness shifted, and there, staring back at her, were the cold, yellow eyes of Darth Sidious. His face was twisted into a grotesque smile, his decayed features reflecting a sickening joy at her terror.
Rey recoiled in horror, her voice catching in her throat as her mouth moved silently. It wasn't him, it couldn't be him. She then realized, the smile… the eyes… they weren't his.
They were hers.
Her reflection stared back at her, contorted with Sidious' evil grin. She screamed, her voice breaking as the sheer terror of the moment consumed her.
"Rey!" Kyle's voice cut through the nightmare, sharp and urgent, "Rey, wake up!"
With a jolt, Rey snapped back to reality. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her eyes darted wildly around the dimly lit room. The darkness that had surrounded her was gone, replaced by the low glow of lamps inside a small rounded chamber. She blinked, her hands flying to her face, feeling her own skin—her own features. She was still herself.
Kyle was beside her, his hands on her shoulders as he tried to calm her.
"It's okay" he whispered, "You're safe now, you're with me. We're safe." he comforted her.
Rey's chest heaved as she fought to regain control, her mind still swimming in the lingering terror of the nightmare. She looked at Kyle, her eyes filled with confusion and fear. The echoes of Sidious' cackle still lingered in her mind, but slowly, reality began to seep in.
Kyle's face was close to hers, his worry apparent. He reached out, his hand gently brushing a tear away from her cheek, "You're here, Rey. It's over."
Her hands trembled as they rested on her face, tears still seeping from her eyes, "I… I saw him," she whispered, her voice hoarse and fragile, "It was... him."
Kyle looked at her solemnly, his jaw tight. He didn't push for more details; he didn't need to. He could see the fear in her eyes, the horror she had just experienced.
"Here," Kyle held a small steaming cup to Rey, "you need to drink something…"
Rey, still shaking from the nightmare, took the cup from Kyle's hands. Her fingers wrapped around it loosely, her gaze distant as she stared into the murky liquid. She brought it to her lips, the warmth surprising her as she sipped. It had a bittersweet taste—earthy with a hint of something sour. Her brow furrowed, and she pulled the cup back, her voice weak, "What is this?"
Kyle gave a slight chuckle, his attempt at lightening the mood evident, "It's a healing ale," he explained, "They call it a 'Vitalizing Cocktail.'"
He shook his head with a soft smile, "Bit of a ridiculous name, don't you think?"
Rey hesitated, the cup still hovering near her lips, but Kyle gently nudged her hand "Go on, drink up. You took a bad hit back at the hangar." His voice was calm, reassuring, but the concern in his eyes never left.
Reluctantly, Rey sipped again, the warmth spreading through her body. With each swallow, the tightness in her chest began to loosen, though the lingering sense of fear still clung to the edges of her thoughts. She could feel the dull ache in her body fading, the throbbing in her head subsiding with each gulp. As she finished the drink, she noticed for the first time the bandages covering her arms and torso. Her robes were gone, replaced by a simple, worn tunic.
Kyle took the empty cup from her and stood up, placing it aside, "Try to relax," he said softly, "They're washing your clothes. You'll feel better soon."
Rey leaned back against her pillow, her body sinking into the soft fabric. She let out a long, exhausted sigh, her mind still swimming in confusion. Her eyes, still hollow and distant, flickered toward Kyle, "How long… have I been out?"
Kyle, busying himself with putting the cup away, glanced back at her, "About a day," he answered, his tone casual, though there was a trace of relief in it.
"The healer said you'd be out for longer, but I didn't believe that."
He moved back toward her, sitting cross-legged beside her on the floor. His presence was steady, bringing some sense of security to the still shaken grandmaster. He studied her, his gaze softening as he noticed the tension in her shoulders.
"You were lucky back there," he said quietly.
"We both were," Rey replied with a faint smile.
Kyle looked at her pensively, his eyes scanning her bandages, "You scared me."
Rey's gaze drifted back to the ceiling, her fingers absently brushing over the bandages on her arms.
"What happened to AD?" She asked.
After a moment of silence Kyle answered, his tone uncertain, "I don't know, there wasn't much time to check for him when the entire hanger was falling apart…"
"I'm sorry…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
A silence ensued between the two, Kyle, unsure of what to say, merely looked at Rey with a faint smile. Rey for her part was also silent, her eyes darting around and it seemed as if the usually stoic and determined grandmaster of the Jedi Order was at a loss of words herself. Their eyes then met briefly, an unknown sense passed between them before the moment was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps bringing their attention elsewhere. The curtains that lined the entrance to the pod shifted as a large figure slowly emerged, silhouetted by the light from outside. The sound of armor clanked with each step, and the figure's presence seemed to fill the room.
Rey's eyes widened as she clutched the sheets tightly, her mind still reeling from the lingering nightmare. Her eyes focused on the figure, a tall Mandalorian wearing a broad beskar chest piece, blue helmet and a cape dangling on his shoulder. Her gaze darted around, searching frantically. She spotted her sabers resting on a small table in the corner. With a swift gesture, she summoned one to her hand, the familiar hilt slapping against her palm. In an instant, the yellow blade ignited, casting a golden glow that filled the dim room.
The unexpecting Mandalorian, momentarily stunned by the sudden display, took a step back, his hand instinctively dropping to the blaster holstered at his side. His visor focused on Rey, who stood up shakily but ready, the hum of her lightsaber filling the air as she readied herself for a fight.
Kyle quickly stepped between them, his hands raised in a calming gesture, "Rey, wait, stop!" His voice was calm but firm.
Rey's breathing was ragged, her body still weak from the nightmare and her injuries, but the adrenaline rushing through her kept her upright. Her eyes flicked from Kyle to the Mandalorian, distrust evident in her expression. "What the hell is going on, Kyle?" she demanded, her voice trembling with anger and confusion.
She staggered slightly, her muscles trembling as she struggled to keep her balance. Kyle reached out, trying to steady her, his hand hovering near her arm but not touching her just yet.
"They're not with Resolute. Put the saber down, please," he said softly, "They want to help. You have to trust me."
Her grip on the saber tightened, the golden light reflecting off her face, "Help? They got a bounty on your head Kyle!" she shot back, her voice filled with incredulity. She looked at the warrior standing before her, his posture tense but controlled. Her instincts screamed danger, but Kyle's presence was grounding her just enough to hesitate.
Kyle glanced at the Mandalorian, his eyes pleading silently for cooperation. He gestured for him to stand down, his voice measured as he signaled to him while saying "Ragnar, don't… don't draw your weapon."
Ragnar, after a long, tense moment, raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, showing he meant no harm.
"I'm not here to fight," he said, his voice modulated through the helmet, "We brought you here to recover."
Rey's breath hitched, her saber still humming between them. Her mind raced, torn between trust and fear. She glanced back at Kyle, who met her eyes with a certain gaze, "You have to trust me on this," he repeated, softer this time.
There was a pause, one that seemed to last an eternity as Rey's grip on her lightsaber wavered, her exhaustion creeping in as the adrenaline began to fade. She exhaled sharply and lowered the blade, the light retracting into the hilt with a hiss. She still held the weapon in her hand, but the immediate threat was gone.
Kyle let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Thank you," he murmured, his relief palpable.
Rey collapsed back onto the bedding, her body trembling from both the nightmare and the sudden burst of energy. Her eyes never left the Mandalorian, though she no longer had the strength to argue.
"I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered.
Kyle nodded, stepping closer to her, "I do." He turned to Ragnar, still feeling shaken but no longer on edge. "What is it?" he asked.
Ragnar, lowering his hands, took a careful step forward, "We're convening in our circle," he explained, "both your presences re required, there's more we need to discuss."
Rey groaned, rubbing her temples, "Of course there is…"
Kyle glanced at Rey for a moment with a disapproving look before nodding to Ragnar, "alright, we'll be there in a moment…"
Ragnar didn't say anything, simply walking out without further haze.
Rey, still reeling from the surprise of it all, laid herself back to the pillow, calmer but with a visible scowl at Kyle.
Kyle could feel Rey's gaze burning into him as soon as Ragnar disappeared beyond the curtains. He let out a slow breath, knowing exactly what that look meant, "I was going to ease you into it," he said, his voice gentle but weighed with the knowledge that there was no perfect way to break the news.
Rey's brow furrowed, annoyance written across her face, "Ease me into it? How long were you planning to take before telling me I woke up in a Mandalorian camp?"
Kyle didn't reply immediately, he knelt beside her, his hands moving to check the bandages around her arms. His fingers worked carefully, gently loosening the fabric. He didn't push back on her frustration; he understood it.
"I didn't want to overwhelm you the second you woke up," he said softly, inspecting the bruises beneath the wrapping, "You've been through enough. I thought… I thought we could handle it one step at a time."
Rey didn't resist as he worked, her shoulders slumping slightly. The sting of her wounds was dulled now, her body slowly regaining its strength, though the nightmare still clung to the edges of her thoughts. Her anger flickered out for a moment, replaced by the dull ache of weariness and then appreciation for Kyle's attention, even if she wouldn't say it openly.
Kyle's touch was gentle as he finished checking her bruises which seemed to be subsiding thanks to the ale, his gaze serious as he continued.
"Ragnar's the contact Maz pointed me to, he's the leader of a group of Mandalorian outcasts leading a resistance against the First Order here… 'The Reclaimers of the Way' they call themselves," The mention of such name drew a raised eyebrow from Rey, Kyle also seemed somewhat put off by the name, "Anyway, he's the one who saved us back at the hanger and brought us here, and… he thinks he knows where Polina was taken to."
At the mention of Polina, Rey's softening scowl faded entirely. She watched Kyle carefully as he moved on to the bandages around her side, his focus divided between her injuries and the conversation.
"Well… that's at least some good news," Rey muttered, her voice quieter now, less biting.
Kyle allowed himself a small smile, a long overdue glimpse of hope through the never ending fight he seemed to always be stuck in.
"Yeah," he said, "it is." But his smile was brief, and it quickly fell as he added, "But there's a catch."
Rey narrowed her eyes, already sensing where this was going, "Of course there is."
Kyle nodded, his voice low, "Ragnar's group are planning an attack on the First Order. They need our help before they'll help us."
Rey scoffed, shaking her head as she leaned back into the pillow, "Typical. They wouldn't just offer aid without something in return now would they… I should've known."
Kyle sat back on his heels, his gaze steady on her, "You're not wrong," he admitted, "but at least they fight the same enemy we do. And when you're in my position—"
Rey raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly, "Your position?"
Kyle chuckled softly, though it was a humorless sound, "Yeah. Fugitive of the Republic, Bounty Hunter Guild's most wanted, and the Dominion wanting my head on a pike. So, rogue Mandalorians who just want help with their insurgency? A nice change of pace."
Rey rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at her lips, "Lucky you."
Kyle smiled, a much needed moment of humor passed between the two Jedi. Rey still didn't fully trust the situation, but Kyle's presence was at least a steady anchor. Though their situation remained somewhat messy, at least the storm of tension, anger and confusion had passed, leaving something quieter for now.
Commander Tempest stood motionless, his armored figure standing high above the charred remnants of Hangar 76. The ruined structures groaned in the wind, twisted metal and debris strewn across the floor, the scorched remains of the Jedi interloper's ship laid motionless at the center of it all. Tempest's helmeted gaze, always impassive and unreadable, remained fixed on the destruction below him. He could make out the markings of stormtroopers who had perished in the flames. The dim lighting of the early morning cast a subtle glow over the remains, but nothing stirred. The entire scene was grotesque, almost suffocating, but Tempest felt nothing.
He had witnessed the rise and fall of the First Order firsthand. He had seen its triumphs and its failures, and now, in its supposed rebirth, he found himself in the same position: surrounded by the rot of incompetence. The same arrogance, the same ineptitude that had led to their downfall clung to the remnants like a plague, infecting even the highest ranks. Tempest's jaw tightened beneath his helmet. He was not one for speeches, nor for grand displays of emotion. He was a man of action, of precision—qualities that were increasingly rare in this new era of chaos.
He could feel the frustrations and impotence of it all pressing down on him, though he would never admit it. The First Order, once mighty, was now a shadow of its former self, scrabbling for control in the lawless reaches of the galaxy. And here he was, tasked with leading the remnants of that broken empire.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of nervous footsteps approaching from behind. A junior officer, one of the many scurrying like insects through the facilities pretending to be busy, hesitated at a distance, his fear noticeable. The officer cleared his throat, his voice small as he called out, "Commander Tempest."
Tempest didn't turn, his silence an answer in itself. The officer swallowed hard, his uniform crisp but ill-fitting, as though he didn't belong in it. He waited a beat longer, steeling himself under Tempest's cold indifference before speaking again.
"Commander," the officer began again, this time with more determination, though his voice still trembled slightly. "Governor Rylik is arriving."
Tempest finally shifted, his helmet turning slightly to glance over his shoulder at the officer. His thin darkened visor hid his expression, but his reaction was unmistakable. The mere gaze was enough to make the officer take an instinctive step back, his composure faltering at the commander's sudden shift.
Tempest's voice, when it came, was low and measured, a tone devoid of the slightest hint of emotion.
"I'll be there."
The officer nodded quickly, though Tempest had already turned his gaze back to the ruined hangar, dismissing him with the subtle shift of his body language. The officer hesitated for a moment longer before retreating, his footsteps echoing faintly as he disappeared down the hallway.
Tempest stood alone once more, his eyes scanning the wreckage in silence before walking off, his heavy steps clearing the path ahead.
Kyle and Rey moved side by side through the dense valley forest, the towering thin trees around them rising like great pillars into the sky. Their tall, narrow trunks stretched upward before flaring into long dense foliage that rustled faintly in the breeze. A natural path led them deeper into the forest, where Ragnar and the rest of the Mandalorians awaited. Though the setting was peaceful, there was no hiding the pain in Rey's movements.
Her gait was unsteady, and every so often, she'd wince, her hand instinctively gripping her side. Despite her usual resolve, she was visibly weakened.
Kyle shot her a sidelong glance, concern furrowing his brow, "You should've stayed behind and rested, Rey," he said, his voice calm but insistent.
Rey didn't even look at him as she retorted, "If these rogue Mandos really need our help, they'll need the both of us." Her tone was direct, clearly not in the mood to entertain the idea of sitting this one out.
Kyle exhaled, shaking his head slightly, "You can't help anyone if you're still hurting. Sometimes, before helping others, you need to help yourself first."
Rey's steps then faltered for a moment, and her face tightened in pain as she instinctively held onto her stomach. The words seemed to strike her deeper than she wanted to admit. She stumbled slightly, and in an instant, Kyle was at her side, his arm steadying her before she could fall.
She met his eyes, her breath catching. The concern in his gaze softened something in her as she gave him a small, grateful nod.
"I'm fine," she muttered, though the weakness in her voice betrayed her.
Just as they continued forward, a group of Mandalorians passed them, moving silently despite their armor. Their helmets hid any expression, but Rey could feel their judgment towards her as they passed. Among them, Hexa, slowed her pace as she came alongside the two Jedi.
Hexa glanced at Rey, her visor dipping slightly as she took in the Jedi's condition, "You should've stayed and rested, you're a detriment if you go into battle like this…" she said flatly, before turning and walking on.
Kyle raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rey with a silent somewhat smug expression.
Rey rolled her eyes and scoffed, her usual defiance flaring up again. "Oh, kriff off, Kyle," she muttered, though there was no real heat behind it. She straightened up, pushing through the pain, "Let's just get to this damn meeting."
Kyle bit back a smirk, but he couldn't resist the slight chuckle that escaped him. As the two of them pressed on through the forest, the trees growing denser and the air cooler, the sound of the Mandalorians' lowly chatter filled the air as the two walked into a rounded formation of rocks and fallen trees.
Kyle and Rey took their seats on a pair of large, flat rocks in front of Ragnar and his band of Mandalorians, neither of them fazed by the many helmeted stares fixed on them. Rey could feel the weight of those gazes, sharp and scrutinizing. The Mandalorians surrounded them, some perched on rocks above or among the thin tree pods hanging overhead, their armor glinting ominously in the filtered sunlight.
Each suit, while distinct in color and style, bore clear indications of use and ruggedness, and all of them bore the same blue signet at their shoulder plates. Some of the armors were patched in places, showing signs of multiple repairs, others had pieces that were dented or scratched, the marks of hard-won conflicts evident on their surfaces. A few other's helmets were chipped, their visors scratched and bearing obvious signs of damage.
Kyle noticed this far more than Rey did, his mind flashing back to the ones he had battled at Ajan Kloss. Those Mandalorians had worn their pristine battle armor like badges of honor, each of them backed by the resources of an empire. In stark contrast, the armor of this ragtag group showed signs of wear and tear, each dent and scratch telling a story of survival in the absence of support. The Reclaimers were clearly without the backing of an entire empire as opposed to those that fought for Resolute.
Meanwhile, Rey couldn't quite tell if their looks were filled with curiosity or disdain, but it didn't matter. She straightened her back, ignoring the discomfort of her injuries as best she could, trying to project strength in the face of the unwavering scrutiny.
Kyle, ever the one to cut through silence, spoke first, "You wanted this meeting, Ragnar," he said, his voice calm but direct, "We're here now."
Ragnar, seated at the center of the group, gave a slow nod, "Our healer says you'll recover well, Skywalker," he said, addressing Rey formally.
Rey remained silent, her expression steady, though she could feel a flicker of something stir within her at the mention of her last name. Kyle, sensing her unspoken thoughts, nodded in gratitude, "Thank you, we're in your debt," he said, offering a solemn, almost archaic nod of respect.
Ragnar nodded back, his body language stoic as ever, "We do what we must," he said plainly, a hint of fondness in his voice.
His tone shifted as he continued, his visor turning slightly toward his fellow Mandalorians, "But there's still a matter to be discussed."
Kyle glanced at Rey, a look passing between them before Rey spoke up, her voice steady, "We know you need help against the First Order. What do you need from us?"
Ragnar paused for a moment, his visor tilting as he surveyed his comrades in the circle, he spoke "We had intended to launch an attack on docking bay 98. Our objective was to secure supplies, including the means to resist the First Order's growing presence here. We planned to meet with Katarn there so he would assist us." His gaze shifted from Rey and towards Kyle, as if silently pointing out something, "But things got complicated when he went off back to bay 76."
Before Ragnar could continue, Hexa interjected, "We had to abandon an entire crate of thermal imploders to come save you," she said, gaze directed at Rey, her tone had the unmistakable aura of contempt, "It cost us more than you know."
Her words lingered in the air, Rey glanced at the Mandalorian, her lips tightening, but she said nothing.
Kyle glanced at Hexa, her words lingering in the air like a blade waiting to be unsheathed. He nodded once, acknowledging her frustration, "I understand what it cost you, and I'm sorry for the loss. But now we need to focus on the fight ahead..."
Ragnar gave a brief nod, accepting Kyle's response, Hexa for her part seemed to momentarily calm down as she relaxed her posture. Without further delay, he pressed a button on his gauntlet, and a holographic image flickered to life at the center of the circle. It displayed a detailed image of docking bay 98's entrance, the same that Kyle had observed back at Jabiim-Selim, the structure towering and heavily fortified.
"This is Bay 98," Ragnar began, "It's the main supply hub for the First Order here. They get weapons, fuel, and other shipments through this location."
Rey studied the image closely, her eyes narrowing, "It's probably all stolen," she said. "I've heard reports of First Order patrols raiding hyperspace trade routes. They're nothing more than thieves, taking what they want."
Kyle nodded in agreement, disdain clear in his voice, "Everything I've seen tells me they're just glorified thugs. That tracks."
Ragnar nodded again, "Recently, we've noticed large containers arriving from off-world. We don't know what's inside them, but if we could secure one, it might give us the information we need to understand their next move."
Kyle's brow furrowed as he stared at the holographic display, "Where are the containers going?"
Ragnar pressed another button on his gauntlet, and the image shifted. It now showed a flat, rocky route stretching out of the city, lined with a dozen vehicles. Kyle's attention was immediately drawn to a massive walker near the front of the convoy. It resembled an AT-AT, but it was far bulkier at the front legs, its armor thicker, and most notably bristled with a heavy turbolaser cannon at the top of its back and turrets on its side.
Kyle's eyes narrowed, his voice low, "That's… not the kind of walker I'm used to seeing. It's far more heavily armed."
"It is," Ragnar confirmed, his gaze hard behind his visor, "The convoy is well-defended. The walker, hover tanks, all with mounted side turrets and laser cannons. It's clear they're taking no chances."
Kyle nodded grimly as he took it all in, "And you think they're moving these containers outside the city?"
"Exactly," Ragnar said. "The convoy travels to a facility embedded into the terrain. We've tracked it to this location." He pressed the gauntlet again, and the holographic display changed once more, showing a rugged mesa with a single set of large blast doors and a narrow window slit carved into the rock. "It's a heavily reinforced location. The blast doors make it nearly impenetrable. We've tried to hit the convoy before, and while we were successful in the early attempts, the First Order reinforced the route. Now, we can't even get close without being detected."
Ragnar's gaze swept over the two Jedi, "That's where you come in."
Rey blinked, incredulity flashing across her face. "You want us to destroy the convoy?" she asked, incredulous.
Ragnar paused for a beat before simply replying, "Yes."
Rey shook her head slightly, as if trying to grasp the enormity of the request, "You want the two of us to take on that entire convoy… alone?"
"Yes," Ragnar repeated, his tone unchanged.
Rey looked at Kyle, her disbelief evident, "Are you hearing this?"
Kyle's expression was pensive, he didn't flinch from the challenge, "Yeah. I'm hearing it." He turned back to Ragnar. "What's the plan?"
Ragnar leaned forward slightly, his posture rigid as he continued, "We can't attack the convoy head-on. The First Order's armament is too heavy. But two Jedi should be able to hijack the AT-M6 with relative ease," his voice was calm, as if this was a reasonable expectation.
Rey's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face, "Hijack it? That's insane." Her voice rose slightly, incredulous, "You expect us to take over that walker with an entire convoy backing it up?"
Kyle, however, didn't dismiss it outright. He frowned thoughtfully, "Show me the walker again."
Ragnar pressed the button, and the image of the AT-M6 flickered back into view. Kyle studied the massive vehicle, his eyes tracing over its bulk. After a moment, he pointed at its underside, "It's heavily fortified, sure, but the underbelly… looks as exposed as a regular AT-AT."
Ragnar nodded, "Exactly. The First Order didn't cover that weakness. Once the walker is taken, we can use it to mount an assault and secure the containers."
Rey looked between Kyle and Ragnar, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief, "You're actually considering this?" she asked Kyle, her voice low and exasperated.
Kyle didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked at Rey and then turned back to Ragnar, "Give us a minute." He gestured for Rey to follow him, and they stepped away from the group, just far enough to speak privately.
Rey's expression was tense, her voice low but heated as she spoke, "Kyle, this is reckless. You know how close we came last time. We barely made it out alive when we fought the First Order before."
Kyle nodded, his gaze softening slightly, "I get it, Rey. I really do. But this is the best chance we have to get Polina back. We need these Mandalorians on our side if we want to lead the fight against Resolute."
Rey's frustration didn't fade, she shook her head, "We barely survived that skirmish, and now we're talking about taking on an entire convoy—an AT-M6, no less! I'm not even at full strength." Her hand subconsciously drifted to the bandages around her side.
Kyle's gaze followed her movement, and for a moment, concern flickered across his face. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, "I know you're hurt. I understand. But this plan—" he hesitated, "it could work, Rey. We can do this if we work as a team."
Rey's jaw clenched, still uneasy, but she knew Kyle wasn't going to back down. At this point she had come to realize he carried a relentless determination when he believed in something, and this was no different.
Kyle turned back toward the Mandalorians, taking his seat again. He looked at Ragnar and the others, his expression decisive, "We'll do it…" there was a pause as the Mandalorians looked at each other seemingly pleased with the response but before any could speak Kyle continued "But Rey still needs rest. I'll need help from just one of your warriors if we're to do this."
The statement hung in the air, catching both the Mandalorians and Rey by surprise. Ragnar's visor tilted slightly, as if gauging Kyle's seriousness. The other Mandalorians exchanged glances, murmurs passing between them. Rey leaned in, whispering urgently, "Kyle, you can't possibly think you can do this alone."
"I'm not doing it alone," Kyle murmured back, his gaze fixed on Ragnar.
Ragnar's visor shifted back toward Kyle. There was a brief pause before he simply said, "Done."
Docking Bay 98 was a fortress from within as much as it was from the outside. Massive flags bearing the unmistakable emblem of the First Order fluttered from the high platforms, their stark black and red colors stood out from the worn, industrial tones of the surrounding refineries. Rows of stormtroopers stood at attention, the rugged and long worn out armor didn't rob them off the perfect discipline long instilled in them practically since birth.
At the edge of the landing pad stood Commander Tempest, his tall, rigid frame silhouetted against the backdrop of the bay's towering walls. As he stood with hands behind his back, scanning the cloudy skies above, his mind wavered momentarily at the knowledge of what was to come, but he would never openly demonstrate any kind of worry, much less fear.
Then, cutting through the clouds, the dark unmistakable shape of an Upsilon-class command shuttle appeared. Its wings spread out like the talons of some great predatory bird as it descended toward the landing pad. The dark, angular shape of the shuttle, with its imposing wings and sharp, menacing angles, commanded attention, much like the figure it carried. As the vessel touched down, a hiss of steam escaped from its landing struts, the heavy landing reverberating through the dock.
A moment passed in silence, save for the hum of the shuttle's engines winding down. Then, with a low, mechanical whine, the ramp began to descend. Mist billowed from the interior, shrouding the figures that emerged, their forms slowly becoming visible as they stepped into the light.
The first two figures were clad in a vibrant red armor, their movements were strong and their postures immobile as they exited. The armor was unmistakable—Praetorian Guards. The pair carried distinct weapons, one a long staff with lethally sharp edges, and the other what seemed to be a sword of some kind, Tempest didn't bother overanalyzing it. The two stood at the base of the ramp, forming a defensive line for the individual who followed them.
Heavy footsteps echoed from within the shuttle, a the mist cleared, Governor Rylik emerged. He wore the sleek, dark officer uniform of the First Order, but with notable differences. His uniform was enhanced by a dark chest plate, contoured with a smooth, body-hugging design that hinted at both elegance and protection. A long crimson cape draped over his shoulders, the hem just brushing the tops of his polished black boots.
Rylik's presence was immediately commanding, even before his face was fully visible. When the mist fully dissipated, it revealed his sharp, well-defined features—chiseled cheekbones, a smooth jawline, and sleek black hair swept neatly to the side, quite a young appearance for such a high rank. His green eyes were piercing, scanning the surroundings with a quiet intensity that conveyed both intelligence and control. He walked with an effortless grace, his gaze focused on Tempest.
Behind him, two more Praetorian Guards descended the ramp, forming a protective escort around the Governor.
Commander Tempest, ever disciplined, snapped to attention as Rylik approached. The stormtroopers remained still, their helmets reflecting the scene.
"Governor Rylik," Tempest greeted with a salute, his modulated voice steady and formal.
Rylik's expression barely shifted, his lips curling into the faintest trace of a smile, "Commander Tempest," he replied smoothly.
Rylik's green eyes locked onto Tempest as he approached, the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips vanishing into a more neutral expression.
"I trust things have not escalated since the incident?" Rylik's voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet it carried an unmistakable edge of authority.
Tempest straightened even further, his hands clasped behind his back, "The town has been locked down, sir. I've mobilized all available men to secure the perimeter," he responded, his tone as crisp as his stance.
Rylik said nothing at first, his silence heavier than any verbal acknowledgment. Then, with a mere nod, he signaled his approval, "At ease," he added quietly as he passed Tempest.
Tempest immediately shifted to a less rigid stance but remained close behind the Governor, following him as they moved deeper into the facility. The four Praetorian Guards formed a tight escort around them, their red armor gleaming under the harsh industrial lights.
As they walked, Rylik spoke again, his voice lower but still carrying that same steely tone. "Matters are becoming increasingly difficult at the other outposts," he began, his eyes focused straight ahead. "But the tensions between the Reformed Republic and the Mandalorian Dominion have allowed the last shipments to move more swiftly than anticipated."
Tempest nodded as they passed several young officers who, upon noticing the Governor, immediately stopped to salute. Rylik didn't acknowledge them, his attention fixed on the path ahead.
"Failure to get the material to the Imperius is not an option, Commander," Rylik continued, his words cold and direct.
Tempest's response was immediate, "No, sir."
Rylik's gaze flicked to Tempest for a brief second before returning to the corridor ahead, "The presence of Republic agents was a concerning development," he added, his voice tightening slightly, "but Jedi... that is a nightmare we cannot afford, especially if what you say is true and she is here."
They continued walking, the rhythmic thud of their boots echoing off the walls. Tempest's voice was firm as he spoke, "We managed to incapacitate their vessel before they could call for aid. But the insurgents struck before we could finish them off, they will not pierce the perimeter again."
Rylik's expression remained inscrutable as he responded, "I expect as much, Commander. Otherwise, there will be consequences." He paused for a beat, before adding with a touch of disdain, "These renegade Mandalorians are proving to be more of a headache than the Dominion."
"I would've never expected to see Mandalorians coming to the aid of Jedi," Tempest's spoke with skepticism as they continued walking,
Rylik's gaze sharpened as he considered the statement, "Expectations are dangerous, Commander," he replied, his tone reflective.
"If you assume they are set in stone, you blind yourself to possibilities. That kind of rigidity invites failure."
The Governor paused in his tracks momentarily as they approached a large sliding door, "This cooperation between Jedi and Mandalorians... it makes one wonder what deeper alliance might be forming. And what it could mean for us."
As the door slid open with a soft mechanical hum, the charred remnants of Docking Bay 76 were revealed. The scene was a mess of scorched metal and debris, smoke still rising from it all. In the center of the destruction stood the remains of the Barloz freighter, its frame twisted and battered, yet still recognizable. Ash covered the floor, and sparks flickered across the few cables that remained dangling in the bay.
Rylik stepped forward, his polished black boots crunching softly over the ash and debris as he took in every detail. He ran the tip of his boot lightly across the ash before removing one of his gloves, his bare hand hovering over a pile of soot as he inspected the extent of the damage.
His gaze turned to the freighter, curiosity flashing in his sharp, green eyes, "Who was the officer in charge of intake?" Rylik asked, his voice quiet yet cutting through the silence of the destroyed bay.
"First Class Lieutenant Dion, sir," Tempest answered promptly, standing only a few feet behind him.
Rylik's eyes remained fixed on the freighter as he responded. "Is he still alive?"
"He is, Governor."
Without breaking his focus, Rylik gave the order, "Have him brought to me."
Tempest gave a sharp nod and stepped away to carry out the order, leaving Rylik alone in the wreckage. The Governor moved slowly through the remains of the bay, his hands now free of his gloves as he traced the walls, scorched and cracked from the firefight. The faint smell of charred metal invaded his senses.
His steps brought him to a row of bodies covered by tarps, stormtroopers cut down in the chaos of the battle. Rylik knelt beside one of the tarps and carefully uncovered it, revealing the burnt remains of a trooper who had once stood in disciplined formation like the others. The body was badly burned, the marks of a lightsaber's lethal precision clearly visible.
Rylik's expression didn't change, but his eyes lingered on the fallen soldier. Suddenly the voice of Tempest echoed across the ruined bay, snapping Rylik's attention back to the matter at hand.
"Governor," Tempest called out, re-entering the bay, flanked by two stormtroopers. Between them hovered a stretcher, suspending the badly injured figure of Lieutenant Dion.
The once-proud officer was barely recognizable now. His left side was covered in a thin white coverall, his left arm encased in a brace attached to a network of tubes feeding bacta into his bloodstream. His face was scarred by burn marks, the skin around his left eye pulled tight and discolored, giving him a ghostly, hollow appearance.
"Lieutenant Dion, as requested," Tempest announced, stepping aside.
Rylik approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, taking in another ashen breath. His sharp green eyes flicked over Dion's damaged body, his expression unreadable.
Despite his state, Dion tried to raise his one good hand in a salute, the movement shaky but determined. His voice was weak but filled with a painful attempt at formality, "Governor Rylik... it's an honor to be in the presence of the savior of the First Order…"
Rylik didn't bother with pleasantries, as he closed the distance he addressed Dion sternly by rank, "Lieutenant," he said coolly, "how did you allow two Jedi to scurry their way onto my planet?"
Dion's breath hitched, and he struggled to speak, his voice rasping as he tried to explain. "I... didn't know at first, Governor. The first one... he hid himself well. But I uncovered his charade. I did everything I could to stop them."
Rylik's eyes narrowed, his face morphing into the faintest hint of a disdainful sneer, "By the looks of you, Lieutenant," he said coldly, "your best wasn't enough."
Dion's mouth twitched as if he wanted to argue, but his body betrayed him, a cough wracking through his chest. The pain of his injuries silenced him as Rylik stood over him, not even waiting for further justification. The Governor's attention shifted back to the destruction around them, his mind clearly already working through the next step.
Rylik's sharp green eyes turned back to Dion, a cold glint apparent, "Many troopers perished due to your incompetence, Lieutenant," he said icily. "Have you anything else to offer besides excuses?"
Dion struggled to speak, his body wracked with pain, only managing a weak cough as an answer.
Rylik's lips pressed into a thin line as he waved dismissively, "Very well. Your usefulness has run its course. You're now little more than a drain on our resources," he said, his voice smooth but the disdain in it unmistakeable, "The most sensible option is to liquidate you quickly and painlessly."
Without hesitation, Rylik gave a slight nod to one of the Praetorian Guards. The red-clad warrior stepped forward, his blade moving into position, but before the lethal strike could land, Dion's raspy voice managed to utter a single word.
"Droid…"
Rylik's eyes flickered with faint interest. He halted the Praetorian with a raised hand and leaned closer to the wounded officer, "What did you say?"
Dion's good hand trembled as he pointed weakly towards a heap of scorched metal near the freighter. Among the debris, the broken, burnt remains of a tall protocol droid slumped against the wall, seemingly forgotten.
"The droid," Dion rasped, his voice barely a whisper, "It has information... about the Jedi."
Rylik's gaze shifted to the droid, curiosity flickering behind his cold font. He approached the pile of wreckage and knelt beside the droid, wiping away the grime on its chest plate. Beneath the soot, the designation "AD-10" became visible, its blue plating barely discernible beneath the damage.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Rylik's lips as he rose, "Commander," he spoke smoothly, "have this droid sent to my chambers. It may prove more useful than the lieutenant here."
Tempest nodded and immediately signaled his men. As the droid was lifted away, Rylik turned his gaze back to Dion, his face devoid of emotion, "The First Order thanks you for your service to the Rebirth of the Empire," he said coldly.
Dion, his body failing, barely had time to register Rylik's words before the Praetorian's blade thrusted into his chest. His final breath escaped in a strangled whisper, "Long live the Empire…"
Rylik, already walking away, didn't glance back.
