An unintentional hiatus! I am so so sorry. I went on a month-long holiday, planned to keep updating... then had my phone stolen. Alas.

I hope through the month of silence I've not lost all of you (but I wouldn't be surprised if I had). The story will continue because I simply love Korkie that much. Back to weekly updates, with hopefully no more breaks.

Enjoy our beautiful young warrior growing into a hero in this chapter - one of my favourites I've written so far.

Chapter 8: The Magic Prince

"They're a formidable little battalion, Vod'ika."

"Don't I know it."

Bo-Katan presented her new travelling companion with a mug of steaming tea as a blissful, precious quiet fell over the ship. Over the course of two hours, of the now strangely familiar routine of rocking and singing and bedtime stories, the seven foundlings had fallen asleep.

"How did you all come to find each other?" Sewlen asked, unclipping her boots and rubbing at her weary feet.

Ruma sipped her tea, burned her tongue, grimaced.

"I'm not sure if you saw much of the evacuation. You'd both have been busy readying for battle. But it was chaos," she recounted. "There weren't enough ships to get everyone out. So we were loading up children wherever we could. Families were splitting up. It was…"

Ruma shook her head, her voice wavering with rare vulnerability.

"Horrible. But anyhow. This lot were from the Children's Haven in the Palace. You remember the halfway home your sister used to run out of the East Wing?"

Bo-Katan nodded, her hands tightening on her own mug. Satine had been so proud to finally put to good use the grand drawing rooms of the East Wing that had been forbidden in their own childhoods.

"For the children who required a foster home," Bo-Katan recalled. "Where they came in a crisis and waited for long-term arrangements to be made."

"Yes," Ruma agreed. "So these children had already lost their parents. And this lot were the last to be placed on a ship. We had run out of proper freighters and star-liners at that point. They were loaded up in a terrible hurry onto this shitty old repurposed starfighter that an old man donated us. He said he used to fly it only once a year, to visit his grandchildren on Kalevala. It was the best we had so we threw the kids on and told them they were clear for take-off. Little Meri stuck her head out the hatch and told us, 'There's no grown-ups on this ship!'"

Ruma gave an aching smile.

"We'd forgotten. We were so panicked. We'd nearly sent them into space without an adult on-board."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"So then there was a big scramble to see who'd go with them. I think all of the staff from the Children's Haven had boarded the previous ships; there'd been some sort of mix-up. I stuck up my hand and said I'd go with them. Someone had to."

"And you went straight to Fest?" Sewlen asked.

Ruma shook her head.

"No. Fest wasn't the plan at all. We went to Vinsoth first. It was a major stop on the refugee route out of the Inner North so I figured we wouldn't attract much attention as Mando'ade. Problem was, the slavers and pirates and other assorted scum of the galaxy came to Vinsoth to take advantage of all those vulnerable people. So we got out of there as soon as I could get us a better ship."

Bo-Katan picked at the only one of her nails not already cut down to the quick.

"Galaxy's a kriffing mess, these days."

Sewlen nodded soberly.

"More sentients are homeless than not."

"And you've really found only eight others?" Ruma asked.

The eight Mando'ade in question were scattered across the sizeable people-freighter, half-armoured, cleaning up the kitchen or playing cards in the main bunk-room.

"Across three different locations," Bo-Katan affirmed grimly. "They're all miraculous survivors of big freighters of Mando'ade hunted down by the Empire. As far as we know, the whole evacuation was a kriffing disaster."

It was as close as she came to crying these days, speaking of this.

"The Hydian Way and Perlemian Trade Route were both crawling with star destroyers from the day they purged Mandalore," she recounted, voice hollow. "Their intention was and still is to destroy our entire people."

She rubbed at the tense muscles in her jaw and neck.

"Which they'll never do. We'll never let them. But they've had a good kriffing swing at us, haven't they?"

There was no answer but the hum of the ship and the clinking of dishes in the cramped sink.

"I'm just glad Satine never lived to see it," Bo-Katan muttered.

Ruma's eyes flickered upwards from her tea at this.

"The Prince?" she asked. "I'd forgotten. Did he make it out?"

Bo-Katan shrugged miserably.

"He made it off-planet, yes. His ship was one of the first to leave. He had Padme Amidala with him. But as for where they are now…"

She leaned back in her chair and recounted the facts that whirred in an endless cycle inside her aching mind.

"There's been no news of Amidala whatsoever, despite being one of the most famous figures in the whole kriffing Republic. There was one report of Korkie-"

Her voice fractured over his name. It always did.

"-on Corellia," she managed. "Not publicised. We've managed to hack a few stupid stormtrooper radio channels. They thought they had a sighting on Corellia. Patrol droid. But they're known to make mistakes. He was sighted once and never again. We tried, we went to Corellia, just after Empire Day, but…"

She shook her head.

"A few whispers and rumours that could have meant anything. No clue as to where to find him. It all amounted to nothing. Nothing there and nothing since."

"The galaxy's too kriffing big," Sewlen muttered, scratching at a stain on the table. "But I've got hope, Bo. He's such a resourceful kid…"

It was an argument they'd had too many times. Tonight they allowed it to die before it began.

"I'll help you search, Ori'vod," Ruma offered, with a weak smile.

Bo-Katan shook her head.

"I can't make this search about me and my family. We've got to do what we can for all Mando'ade. To keep our people and our culture alive. I hope Korkie's okay, but…"

She recited the words that struck her, every kriffing time, no matter how often she repeated them, like beskar to the heart.

"We have to look forward. We have to survive. We have to keep going. However we can."

Lillee was sitting at the hearth, rubbing at her shins where the radiant heat was almost too intense, soaking up the warmth that came with their bubbling dinner, when the stranger appeared in her house. He brought with him an unwelcome rush of cold air but shut the door hurriedly behind him. Lillee turned and rose to stand but found her mother's hand coming to rest protectively upon her head. Her father rose from the table to block Asta from view and opened his mouth to say something, but the stranger beat him to it.

"Good evening. Sorry for intruding."

Lillee had never in her life heard an accent like that. She gaped unashamedly. There was no HoloNet in the slums of Kabal and the accent of the Coruscanti intelligentsia could only be that of a prince from a fairy-tale.

He didn't quite look like the prince she had imagined. He wore battered black combat boots and the sort of pants that the riggers wore with lots of pockets in them for carrying tools. His rain jacket was a royal blue but covered in patches like the special purple blanket that had been bought when Lillee was born then had been given to Asta and which would soon swaddle the new coming baby. His nose was crooked like a warrior and his sun-gold hair was swept back by a leather tie. Her father always said that long hair was for girls but Lillee thought he was beautiful.

"I have some important news," the stranger went on. "I'm afraid it's not good."

His eyes softened with apology.

"A crew of Imperial thugs are making the rounds and I have reason to believe that this family will be arrested," he told them. "For unpaid taxes, or similar."

Lillee's father folded his arms.

"But we have paid our taxes."

"I'm sure you have, sir," the stranger acknowledged, dipping his head. "Sorry, I didn't explain. It's a farce, whatever they plan to arrest you for. In truth, the Empire has interest in this family because there is word in the community that one of your daughters can move objects without her hands."

Lillee felt her mother's fingers knot protectively in her hair, then. It hurt but she almost didn't feel it. She knew about Asta moving things without her hands and she knew that it had to be a very top-secret secret that no one could know about. Lillee was so worried that her whole stomach felt sick.

"She didn't mean to!" Lillee blabbered, looking up into her mother's ashen face. "Karius threw a mouldy potato at her, Mama, he was being a bully and Asta was scared and by accident she stopped it-"

"I'm here to help," the stranger told them. "I've seen this happen many times. I have a plan to get you out before they arrive in this village."

A confused silence fell, but for the urgent hiss as their dinner boiled over the pot and into the flames below. The stranger lifted his hand. The pot rose from its hook and landed precisely upon the kitchen table. He had not taken a single step from the doorway.

"I'm one of you," he told them. "I'm here to help."

Asta began to cry. Lillee didn't think there was any need to cry because the magical prince had come to rescue them, but Asta was only four-standard and Mama had told Lillee many times that four-year-olds cry more than six-year-olds and she was to be patient with her little sister.

"It'll be okay, Asta," Lillee piped up.

Her father ignored her. He fixed the stranger with an iron look.

"You'll help us how?"

"I've made an agreement with a merchant operating out of Shoribus West. He'll get you out on his cargo freighter. He's leaving tonight."

"Leaving to go where?"

"Sharlissia. Along the Trade Corridor."

Lillee sat up straighter.

"Is that another planet?" she yelped.

Her mother hushed her, which Lillee took to mean she was correct.

"This is the safest way?" Mother asked.

The stranger nodded.

"It is the safest way I know."

Asta cried louder still. Her father took her in his arms and came to stand behind Lillee and her mother.

"I know it is a great deal to ask of you," the stranger went on. "The choice is yours. But I fear you cannot outrun them on this planet. I know them. They are fierce hunters and they kill whole families."

There was pain, beaming bright from his face. Lillee wanted to reach out and touch him but did not dare.

"You will not be alone on Sharlissia," the stranger went on. "I've already reached two other families this evening. You can support each other as you start anew."

"The hunters will come to Sharlissia, in time," Father countered.

"They will," the stranger agreed, mournfully. "But the young one can be taught to hide her powers. You will have a chance in a new community to escape their notice in a way you cannot hope to escape them here."

Lillee rose shakily to her feet and watched her parents embrace. She took a fistful of each of their sweaters.

"Are we going to another planet?" she asked, again.

Her mother and father held each other a few moments longer before her father turned to speak to the stranger once more.

"Your merchant leaves tonight, you said?"

The stranger checked his watch.

"In just over an hour."

Father sighed and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair.

"Alright then. We'll pack."

It was surreal and bizarre, the activity in the house that followed. Lillee had never gone on a holiday in her life. She knew nothing of packing her bags. All she could think to do was to perform her father's usual job and slice hunks from the ageing loaf of bread for everybody to dip into their soup. Surely there was time for dinner, before they left?

"Careful, young one."

The stranger's voice was soft behind her. He took the knife from Lillee's inexpert hands.

"It's a good idea. I'll cut a few slices and you and your sister can eat a little while your parents get the bags together."

He cut elegant slices despite the dullness of the knife against the rock-hard bread.

"Here. Eat some soup now. It will help not to be too hungry on your journey."

Lillee nodded eagerly, relishing their closeness as he deposited the bread into her hands.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Ben," he told her. "And yours?"

"I'm Lillee and that's Asta and she's crying because she's only four-standard. And Mama's real name is Saria and Dada's real name is Keeth."

There was a commotion then, for apparently Lillee's winter coat could not be found.

"Where is it, my love?"

Lillee looked to her mother as hot soup dribbled down her chin.

"I told Bara she could borrow it for tonight because her house is more colder than ours."

Her mother closed her eyes for a brief moment as she often did when she felt sad or cross but was trying to be happy.

"That was very kind of you, dear one. I'm afraid we won't be able to collect it tonight."

"Bara can keep it."

"Yes, my dear. But in the meantime, I can't have you freezing in deep space."

Lillee's brows jumped.

"Is it cold in space?"

"Very cold, dearest."

"Colder than here?"

"Yes."

"Uh oh."

"Not to worry, my love."

Her mother pulled her own sweater over her head and placed it on Lillee, upon whom it fit like a sumptuous dress.

"But you'll be cold, Mama!"

"I've got another, let me find it."

While her mother was searching for the other sweater, Ben watched her with his lips parted, his face pale.

"You're pregnant," he observed.

Mother turned and managed a brave smile.

"Still two moons to go. I won't cause any trouble en route to Sharlissia."

Ben did not look much consoled but managed a tight nod. He handed a piece of toast to the still sniffling Asta and coaxed her towards the soup.

"The soup and toast will keep us warm in deep space, Asta," Lillee informed her sister authoritatively. "So you have to eat it."

Asta complied reluctantly, leftover tears falling onto her food.

"Are you coming with us, Ben?" Lillee asked.

He gave an apologetic smile.

"Not all the way to Sharlissia, I'm afraid. But I'll come with you to the ship."

Lillee sighed her disappointment.

"I'll remember you," she told him solemnly.

Ben rubbed at his forehead and looked very tired. Lillee wondered how many families he had rescued already and how many more he was going to rescue. He managed a faint smile for her.

"I'll remember you too."

"If you've got cold feet you need to come out and say it to me, Rossan," Korkie snarled.

He deposited a sack of spice down into the ship's hidden hull and turned to fetch another.

"Not got cold feet," Rossan muttered. "Just don't see how it's fair to do all this without any credits going into my hand."

Korkie stifled the warranted but unhelpful torrent of profanity pressing at his lips.

"The only reason you're making all these credits smuggling spice is because I'm helping you," Korkie reminded him. "How much is all this worth? Fifteen thousand? Is that not fair compensation for you?"

"Don't forget I bought it all for five thousand."

Korkie raised a brow.

"That's still a rather generous profit margin, no?"

Rossan said nothing. Korkie threw his hands into the air.

"We made an agreement, Rossan, and you were perfectly happy with it to begin with."

"It's the risk of it," Rossan protested. "Without you, sure, I run the risk of getting caught smuggling spice. But the worst they can do to me is throw me in jail for a few years. If I get caught smuggling Force-sensitives past the Inquisitors-"

"You won't get caught, Rossan. I've made sure of it before, haven't I?"

"They'll kill me!" Rossan insisted, ignoring Korkie. "What's my life worth, Ben? Ten thousand in profit?"

Korkie would have liked to tell him that ten thousand was flattering himself. But fighting with Rossan only endangered the four families hiding beneath their feet, slipped into the dark space between the true and false hulls. Saria, with her pregnant belly, had barely made it.

"How about you tell me what it's worth," Korkie sighed levelly. "And let's see if I can compensate you the risk."

Rossan's eyes lit up.

"Nothing unreasonable, Ben. An extra five thousand."

Greedy bastard. Korkie should never have partnered with him to begin with. The problem with people-smuggling was that anyone who had a set-up as good as Rossan's was not likely to be the sort of sentient who had a love for charity.

"You know I don't have that right now," Korkie countered calmly. "Let's say I give you a thousand now and the rest comes as a bonus when these families are delivered safely to Sharlissia."

Rossan cocked a brow.

"You've got a way of getting that money in the next week? Or these are empty words?"

"You know my skillset, Rossan," Korkie reminded him. "I can do it if I put my mind to it. And for you, I will."

At this, Rossan's face cracked into a wide grin.

"If I had your skillset, young Ben, I'd be richer than the Emperor."

The weary troopers followed the two merchants – one short and tabac-reeking, the other gangly and golden-haired – through a routine inspection of the last departure from Shoribus West that evening.

"Here's the hull," the older one indicated, lifting a latch. "You're welcome to take a look, of course."

The troopers descended amongst the tidily packed rows of crates. As was their custom, they opened a few at random. The contents matched the labels.

"Got any other storage spaces?"

"Not big enough for any substantial freight," the younger told them, as they ascended back into the main hold. "But you're welcome to check these lockers."

The troopers had seen contraband items stored in these sorts of vertical compartments before, and checked each thoroughly. The incentive of a contraband goods bonus outweighed the ache in their weary feet. But still, they found nothing.

"Shall we call it a night?"

They began to make their way to the ship's exit, followed by the two merchants, when the more experienced of the troopers held up a hand to pause his comrade.

"Hold on. It's a small hull, don't you think? For the size of the ship?"

He crouched down and ran his hand over the seam in the floor the demarcated the storage hull. It was almost a foot inside of the wall.

"What's in this empty space?"

The troopers thought they saw a flicker of tell-tale nervousness in the older merchant's face. But the younger of them waved a hand, relaxed.

"Wasted storage space, I agree," he told them. "This ship transported livestock before we bought it. That whole space is full of insulation to keep the animals warm in long transit."

"Can you open it?" a crouching trooper asked.

The young man sighed.

"I wish. If we could we'd have enlarged the hull already. But no, it doesn't open. We're saving up for a big modification job. Next year, hopefully."

The trooper rose to his feet.

"It doesn't open," he repeated, somewhat bemused. "Well, safe travels, then."

And the troopers left the ship.

They were hidden in complete darkness. Asta had never seen black like this before. She could not see her fingers before her face, no matter how close she held them. Lillee was scared of the dark but Asta liked this.

The darkness was quiet, somehow. Not quiet completely – Asta could still hear her own breathing and the sound of Lillee scratching at an invisible bit of dried soup on the sweater Mama had given her. But quiet in a special way. In a way that let Asta feel all of the things she could not see. All of the things that vision distracted her from.

She felt Mama and Dada's love, as real and true as something she could touch. She saw Lillee's imaginings of deep space – icicles clinging to the enormous ship, the chattering of teeth, an endless sprawl of purple and black. And she felt the boy upstairs who had saved them finally relax. She felt him reaching for her, speaking to her in a language she did not yet know. She could not hear the words, as she would learn to hear them to one day, many distant years from now. But she understood what he meant. His words came to her in feelings.

Time to hide, Asta understood.

But there was something more to it than this cautious instruction. There was a reassurance, somewhere. A feeling of hope.

To hide until the time is right.

Asta saw a new dawn in the galaxy, felt the boy's dream warm and alive in her chest.

Take care, little one.

Asta whispered the boy's words to herself, over and over and over again, held that precious picture in her mind, as the ship began to rumble and then roar and they rose up into deep space and left him behind.

Beautiful babies. Beautiful Korkie. I'm proud of him.

Next week, sadly, he's up against tougher foes.

If you're out there, I'd love to hear from you!

xx - S.