Author's Note: Life happened, unfortunately, these last weeks were not the best irl, so apologies for the delays with posting. I just want to reassure you all that I will see this story through and I can't express my gratitude to you all enough for taking the time to read it and invest your time into what I've made, thank you all. Hope you enjoy, stay safe!

Following a tenuous reunion, Jedi Outcat Kyle Katarn and Jedi Grandmaster have banded together in search of Polina and to put an end to the Mandalorian threat once and for all, yet as the pair venture out into the wild corners of the galaxy in search of Maz Kanata's contact they may find themselves in greater peril than they expected…

The continuous blue aura of hyperspace surrounded the cockpit of the Barloz freighter. Kyle sat silently, his eyes fixed on the nav computer as it calculated their route. The hum of the ship's engines was a familiar comfort, yet his mind was far from at ease. His gaze drifted to the side of the cockpit, where a red scarf lay draped across the consoles. It once belonged to Polina.

Kyle reached out and touched the garment thoughtfully, memories flooding back. He still remembered her scared eyes, the look of betrayal as he turned away from her pleas for help. It was a moment he couldn't forgive himself for, then or now. This galaxy was broken, a shadow of what he had known even during the onslaught of the Vong. Polina had been the only thing that had truly kept him going. Yet, he had previously hoped to drop her off somewhere, leave her where she could not be a hassle to him. Now that she was gone, he couldn't help but feel her absence.

The door to the cockpit suddenly slid open, Rey's voice spoke out "How much longer until we reach Maz's contact?" she asked, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of urgency.

Kyle shook off his reverie and glanced at the nav computer, "We're still some hours out."

Rey nodded and took a seat next to him, "Well, that should give us time to go over the plan."

Kyle turned his eyes to Rey, his gaze somewhat surprised "Yes," he spoke with an awkward tone, "the plan…"

Rey raised an incredulous eyebrow, "You do have a plan, right?"

Kyle looked at her, momentarily silent, "Of course, we land and we find the contact, simple."

Rey crossed her arms, a look of perplexed annoyance on her face "So, we're just heading into the wilds with nothing but a 'we'll find them when we get there' mentality?" She sighed, her frustration evident, "Did you even ask Maz for details when she gave you the coordinates?"

Kyle met her gaze, his expression unchanged, "There wasn't exactly time for tea and chatter with bounty hunters, the Republic, and the Jedi all hunting me down," he replied plainly, "But relax, it's not like we're flying in blind. I've been in worse situations before, and given the circumstances, we're doing pretty well."

Rey's annoyance deepened, but she ultimately decided to let it go. She sat down and sighed, running a hand through her hair, "Fine, let's just hope your instincts are as good as you think they are."

Kyle chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes, "Trust me, I've got this."

AD-10 suddenly appeared in the cockpit, his mechanical voice breaking catching Rey's attention, "I must agree with Grandmaster Rey," he stated, "Without real leads beyond the coordinates, the chances of finding the contact are slim."

Rey smiled at the droid's support. Kyle simply scoffed, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, AD."

The droid approached one of the seats and, as he settled down, added, "I simply state the facts as seen."

Rey chuckled, "It's good to see there's at least one voice of reason on this ship."

AD-10 began to man a terminal, his movements precise and efficient. "Master Kyle hardly listens to me, but he is nonetheless a kind owner. Certainly more social than my previous one."

Curious, Rey inquired, "Who was your previous owner?"

Kyle answered, "His name was Senth."

"That's precise," AD-10 confirmed. "Master Senth was rather not fond of people."

Kyle chuckled, "Our first interaction was him aiming a scatterblaster at me."

Rey showed surprise, "You really seem to have a knack for making friends."

Kyle smiled, "You have no idea."

The ship exited hyperspace, revealing a large, mostly orange-colored planet with some patches of green visible. Kyle cast only a casual glance at the planet, while Rey immediately looked curious.

"This is Jabiim," Rey stated with intrigue.

"Indeed it is," Kyle replied as he and AD-10 continued manning the controls.

Rey mentioned, "The First Order used this planet as a mineral hub back in the war. Chewie was almost sent here as a slave."

"The more I learn about the First Order, the less I like them," Kyle remarked, to which Rey simply nodded.

As Kyle and AD-10 began guiding the ship toward the planet's atmosphere Rey asked, "Where are we heading?"

Kyle responded, "The coordinates are directing us to a small settlement on the eastern region of the planet."

AD-10 added, "According to the star chart, the settlement's name is Jabiim-Selim."

Kyle began to steer the ship towards the designated location, while Rey seemed deep in thought.

As the ship moved into the atmosphere, it momentarily shook before quickly stabilizing. AD-10 remarked, "The stabilizers seem to be working optimally. Odd, I hadn't calibrated them."

Rey smiled, "I was down in the hangar earlier and recalibrated some of the systems. They seemed a bit past due."

AD-10 was silent for a moment before expressing appreciation, "Your skills are impressive, Grandmaster Rey."

Rey smiled and turned to Kyle, who was focused on manning the controls, "This ship is Corellian, right?"

Kyle nodded, "Yep, a Barloz-Class."

Rey raised her eyebrows with a reminiscing expression, "I tore apart several like these back on Jakku. They often had the most reusable parts."

Kyle's gaze shifted slightly to Rey, curiosity in his eyes, "You're from Jakku?"

Rey shook her head, "I was stranded there when I was a child. I don't actually know where I was born."

Kyle seemed surprised at this revelation, "Just like Polina..." he whispered.

As his glance drifted away a myriad of thoughts began to pour over Kyle's mind. He began to realize he didn't know much about the little girl he had saved, other than her being stranded on Jakku and somehow knowing her way with ships, much like Rey. Part of him wanted to say it was merely the nature of the galaxy, but another part felt it was not quite so.

Kyle's pondering was interrupted by Rey calling to him and shaking his arm. His eyes refocused on her as she asked, "Kyle, you okay?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Rey looked at him, unconvinced, "What was it that you said?"

Kyle shrugged, "It's nothing. I just didn't like that planet very much."

Rey studied him for a moment before sitting back in her seat. "I hated it too."

AD-10 then chimed in, "We're coming up on Jabiim-Selim."

Jabiim-Selim came into view through the cockpit window, revealing a settlement made up of rounded, habitable buildings clustered around a large industrial center. Smoke and fumes billowed from several chimneys and pipes, stretching high above the canopy. The outskirts were a mix of dense forests and red rocky formations.

Kyle eyed the scene, his expression thoughtful. "Looks like a mining town," he commented, then added with a smirk, "At least there's no dam this time."

AD-10's voice cut in, "Maz's coordinates direct us to land on bay 98."

"Take control and get us there," Kyle instructed the droid as he stood up and left the cockpit. Rey followed behind him, uncertainty still lingering in her mind.

She caught up to him as they walked through the ship's hallways, "How will you know who the contact is? And how can you be sure their intel will be any good?" she asked.

Kyle continued walking, "This is the best lead we've got," he replied.

Rey frowned, "We don't have to take these risks. We could go back to the Republic. They would have the best intel on Polina's location."

Kyle scoffed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Sure, let's go to the same Republic that wants me to stand trial and has put a bounty on my head. Great idea."

They reached his chamber, and Kyle began gathering equipment from a tabletop into a bag: thermal detonators, rations, charge packs. Rey watched him, a mix of concern and frustration on her face.

"You really think this is the only way?" she pressed.

Kyle paused for a moment, then turned to look at her. "I know the Republic has resources, but they also have politics, red tape, and agendas. Here, it's just us and our wits. We can trust that."

Rey sighed, her worry evident, "Kyle, we c-"

The ship's emergency lights suddenly began to blare, cutting Rey off. Kyle snapped into action, "That can wait." They both quickly headed back to the cockpit, where AD-10 was still manning the controls. The droid's head turned toward them as they entered.

"It seems we have starfighters on our trail," AD-10 reported.

Kyle slid into one of the pilot seats, Rey taking the seat beside him. "Have they sent any instructions?" he asked.

"They have not," AD-10 replied.

Suddenly, a voice crackled over the ship's comms, "Unidentified vessel, provide identification codes or you will be fired upon." The voice was firm and authoritative, typical of a military officer.

Kyle glanced at Rey before activating the comms, "This is Barloz freighter identification code 347-A5. What seems to be the issue?"

The voice on the other end responded, "Barloz-class freighter you have entered restricted airspace. State your business at once."

Rey exchanged a concerned look with Kyle. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice steady but tense.

Kyle's mind raced, "Let's try to play it cool. AD, keep the ship steady. Rey, be ready for anything."

Rey nodded, her hand resting near her lightsaber.

Kyle replied calmly into the comms, "We're a loading vessel, got sidetracked from our hyperspace lane during a pirate attack. Just seeking to refuel and refit, we won't be too long."

A brief silence ensued before the voice on the comms responded, "Acknowledged. Head to bay 76 and prepare for inspection."

Kyle sighed with some relief, then asked, "Is it possible to land in bay 98 instead? I know a good mechanic in that section."

The officer's voice was firm, "That won't be possible. Bay 98 is under strict First Order military jurisdiction. Head to bay 76 as instructed."

Both Kyle and Rey's eyes widened at the reveal.

Rey's hand gripped her lightsaber tighter, and she whispered, "First Order..."

Kyle nodded to her before he replied, "Understood sir, we'll head to bay 76 right away."

The voice quickly answered back before cutting off, "Acknowledged. We'll await your arrival at bay 76."

Kyle switched off the comms and looked at AD-10, "Take us to bay 76. Be ready for anything."

AD-10 nodded, adjusting the ship's trajectory, "Understood, Master Kyle."

One of the starfighters trailing behind advanced forward, its distinctive roar revealing it to be a TIE Fighter. It flew directly in front of the Barloz, its presence intimidating.

"I thought you guys had gotten rid of the First Order," Kyle muttered.

Rey shifted uneasily in her seat, "Most of it collapsed, but I had heard of scattered groups. I just didn't expect them here."

AD-10 chimed in, "Given the time that has passed since the war and how overextended the First Order was, it isn't unexpected that some pockets still remain active Master Kyle."

Kyle scoffed, his annoyance clear, "Great, new friends..."

The freighter eventually made its way to bay 76, the TIE fighter escort veering off as the ship began its landing procedure withiin a rounded structure, the landing pad at the center. Below, several figures awaited on the platform, most were clearly stormtroopers with their white armor and their postures stern and attentive.

As the ship descended, Kyle tucked his lightsaber into a hidden compartment within his vest. "Alright, we need to keep calm," he said, his tone trying to remain steady, "These Imperial types always love a good inspection to look busy but very rarely are they thorough."

AD-10 turned its head slightly, "Master Kyle, do you wish for me to go into resting mode to avoid any possible exposure of our true intentions?"

Kyle shook his head, "No, that would just cause suspicion. Just stay in the hangar bay, if they ask anything you're just a repair droid."

"Understood master Kyle," AD replied as it began making its way out of the cockpit.

Kyle glanced at Rey. "What are you doing?"

Rey sighed, "I can't be seen, Kyle. I was one of the people who brought down the First Order. I'm pretty sure they'll recognize me."

Kyle's frustration was evident as he tried to think, rubbing his hair and trying to come up with an idea fast. This was not lost to Rey as she rose from her seat with a similarly irritated expression.

"This is exactly what I meant, Kyle," Rey's eyes flashed with anger, "It was a bad idea coming here without a proper plan beyond just gut feelings and instincts!"

Kyle shot back, his voice rising "At least I actually do things! Your Jedi Order can't seem to solve anything, can't even take down an Imperial remnant, and believe me I single-handedly took down dozens of those! "

Rey's face tightened with frustration, "You think it's that simple? You think we haven't been trying? The galaxy is a mess, Kyle. It takes more than a handful of Jedi to fix everything!"

Kyle took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, "All I'm saying is that we wouldn't be in this mess if you and your council hadn't decided to throw me away to the Mandalorians…"

Rey crossed her arms, her tone icy "And why did we do that again? Because you decided unilaterally to be a vigilante!"

"Exactly! Because sometimes that's what a Jedi has to be, Rey!" Kyle shouted, the tension in the cockpit palpable.

AD-10 tried to interrupt, "Excuse me, Masters—"

"WHAT?" Kyle and Rey turned on the droid simultaneously, their anger directed at him.

AD-10 paused for a moment, then spoke calmly. "I might have a solution."

Intake Lieutenant Dion stood with an air of authority as he watched the Barloz freighter descend onto the platform. His posture was rigid, his demeanor stern, reflecting a man who didn't tolerate nonsense or disorder. Despite this, his uniform bore visible tears and imperfections, a telltale sign to the harsh realities of his situation. Behind him, the stormtrooper squadron mirrored his state. Each trooper's armor was in varying levels of upkeep: some troopers were missing armor pieces, others had cracked or broken visors, and many of their blasters showed signs of having undergone multiple repairs. The First Order's glory days were long past, and Dion was painfully aware of this.

Yet for Dion, this spaceport represented the last vestige of order in his life. The once-mighty First Order was now reduced to scattered remnants clinging to survival in the Outer Rim. Despite the decay, the sense of duty and structure it provided was something Dion held onto fiercely. It was his anchor in a galaxy that had long since moved on.

The freighter's landing gears touched down with a soft thud, and the ship settled on the platform. Dion took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inspection ahead. He knew the drill well: assert authority, maintain control, and never let anyone see the cracks in the façade.

"Advance," he commanded, his voice firm. The squad of stormtroopers moved in unison, their boots clanking against the platform as they approached the side door of the freighter. The state of their armor was a stark contrast to their disciplined movements: some had mismatched pieces from different suits, a few helmets had scorch marks from past battles, and more than one trooper had visible makeshift repairs holding their gear together.

As they neared the ship, Dion's sharp eyes took in every detail. He noted the state of the freighter: it was old, worn, yet functional. He saw movement inside the cockpit, and his hand instinctively tightened on the blaster at his side.

"Prepare your documents!" Dion called out, his voice echoing through the platform. The troopers fanned out, forming a tight perimeter around the ship. This was his domain, his last stronghold of order in a chaotic galaxy, and he would ensure it remained that way.

As the side door to the freighter slowly lowered, the stormtroopers didn't immediately raise their blasters, but they were visibly ready to do so at a moment's notice. Their fingers hovered near triggers, visors scanning every inch of the ship's opening for any sign of threat.

Lieutenant Dion maintained his composure, his expression a mask of authority and control. He stood at the forefront, waiting for the pilot to emerge. His eyes, though old, were sharp as he took in every detail, the door finally touched down with a soft thud.

A man with a beard, swept dark brown hair, and wearing a white vest with blue trousers and brown utility belts both across his shoulder and waist appeared at the top of the ramp, his posture relaxed.

"Woah, now this is quite the welcoming committee…" the man said as he had his hand slightly raised, holding onto a datapad.

A typical scoundrel by the looks of it, Dion thought. The man stepped forward with casual confidence, eyeing the stormtroopers. He descended the ramp with ease, stopping a few paces from Dion.

"Identification and purpose," Dion demanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

The man gave a small smile as he produced a data pad with the credentials.

Dion took the data pad, his eyes flicking over the information displayed, "Does this ship belong to you… mister Aren…" he struggled to read the name.

"Aresenthanel, you can call me Senth… yes it does, we're just needing some refueling and we'll be on our way, sir."

Dion nodded as he kept overviewing the pad, everything seemed in order, but he wasn't one to take things at face value. He handed the pad back to Senth, his gaze unwavering.

"We'll need to inspect your ship," Dion stated firmly.

Senth nodded, his expression unchanged, "Of course. We have nothing to hide."

With a simple gesture of his hand, Dion's stormtroopers moved with efficiency, scanning every corner of the ship's exterior before they advanced inside. Despite their worn and mismatched armor, their movements were disciplined, their training still etched into them practically since childhood.

As the inspection began, Dion held the man's gaze, searching for any hint of deception. The man surprisingly met his stare with calm assurance, maintaining his casual demeanor.

Senth finally broke the silence, "Any chance we could get a recommendation on a mechanic while we're here? Always nice to know the locals, I haven't been here for a while so the one I know probably isn't around anymore."

Dion's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps a hint of amusement at this man's nonchalance, how unaffected he seemed by the ordeal. Most people who Dion inspected would break under such simple tactics of subtle duress, the fear of being caught. But this man didn't, not even a flinch.

"We'll see about that after the inspection."

The man nodded, leaning back slightly as he watched the stormtroopers comb through the freighter, "Take your time, Lieutenant."

The stormtroopers moved through the Barloz freighter's side doors, their footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent bay. The inspection began with usual routine, with troopers scanning the cargo bay, peering into nooks and crannies, and checking for any hidden compartments. The ship, however, yielded nothing of interest—no contraband at first glance, no cargo, nothing that the First Order would find unacceptable.

Lieutenant Dion stood in the cargo bay, his sharp eyes scrutinizing the space as the stormtroopers continued their sweep. The bay was mostly empty, with a few scattered crates secured to the floor. Dion's gaze flickered with curiosity as he turned back to the man who called himself Senth.

"And what exactly were you hauling before you arrived here?" Dion asked, his voice carrying a tone of subtle authority.

Senth, standing with a relaxed posture, gave a small shrug, "Just some standard supplies—medpacs, rations, nothing too exciting. We had just finished a drop-off before we were attacked by pirates. Lucky for us, we managed to punch in hyperspace coordinates to the nearest system, which happened to be yours."

Dion's expression remained unreadable as he processed the information, his eyes narrowing slightly, "You said 'we.' Who else is aboard this ship, Mr. Senth?"

Before there was a response, a clanking sound echoed from the corridor behind the lieutenant. Dion's eyes shifted to the source, and his hand instinctively moved toward the blaster at his side.

From the shadows of the corridor emerged what initially seemed to be a protocol droid in gleaming blue plating, appearing under the dim cargo bay lights. The protocol droid moved with a deliberate and precise gait unlike most other droids of its class, its servos whirring softly with each step. The modifications on the droid were apparent—additional plating, reinforced joints, and a slightly bulkier frame, giving it a more robust appearance than a typical protocol droid.

The droid stopped before the lieutenant, its glowing photoreceptors toward him, "Greetings, Lieutenant," the droid said in a smooth, polished tone.

"I am AD-10, a repair and maintenance droid, assisting Master Senth with the upkeep of this vessel. May I offer you some refreshments from our mess hall? I assure you, our ration packs are of the highest quality."

Dion's eyes lingered on the droid, a hint of curiosity flickering in his otherwise stony gaze. The droid was certainly more advanced than most he had encountered, and the modifications suggested a certain level of resourcefulness—something that didn't escape his notice.

"No refreshments needed," Dion replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on AD-10.

Just then, one of the stormtroopers approached the lieutenant. This trooper stood out from the others, with the least battle-worn armor, most of it intact as he bore an orange shoulder pauldron marking him as a squad leader. He stopped a few paces from Dion and gave a sharp nod.

"Ship's clear, sir," the stormtrooper reported, his voice filtered through the helmet's modulator, "No contraband or unauthorized modifications. Everything checks out."

Dion nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to Senth, who stood with an air of calm confidence, as if he had expected this outcome all along. Despite the ship's unassuming exterior, something about the man, the droid, and even the circumstances of their arrival gnawed at Dion's sense of order.

"Very well," Dion finally said, his tone firm.

"You're cleared for refueling and refit. Keep in mind that this system remains under First Order jurisdiction. Any deviation from your stated purpose will not be tolerated."

Senth gave a nod of acknowledgment, "Understood, Lieutenant. We'll be on our way as soon as we refuel and get a once-over."

Dion cast one last, lingering look at the freighter and its occupants before turning sharply on his heel. The stormtroopers, still in formation, followed him as they exited the cargo bay, their armored boots clanking against the deck.

As the side door of the freighter slowly closed behind the last stormtrooper, the tension that had filled the air seemed to dissipate slightly. AD-10 then turned to "Senth," the droid's photoreceptors dimming slightly in what could only be interpreted as a sigh of relief.

"It seems your deception was effective, Master Kyle."

Kyle gave a small, wry smile as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, "Let's hope it stays that way."

Kyle's smile hadn't fully faded when a rustling sound drew his attention. From within a narrow passage between one of the side engines, Rey emerged, her once-pristine tunics now smeared with black dust and streaks of oil. She wrinkled her nose, clearly irritated.

"Really, AD?" Rey snapped, brushing off the grime from her sleeves as best she could, "Was this seriously the only spot to hide?"

AD-10 turned his photoreceptors towards Rey, tilting its head slightly, "That compartment was specifically designed to accommodate a repairman in case of emergencies, Master Rey. Comfort was not a primary concern in its design, however it seemed to have served well as an overlooked hiding spot as I anticipated."

Kyle chuckled under his breath, earning a glare from Rey, "Hey, it worked, didn't it?" he said, still grinning. But the humor faded quickly as he turned back to AD-10, "Get the ship refueled, AD. I'll head on out and see if I can link up with the contact."

The droid nodded, moving to carry out the order, but Rey's voice halted Kyle in his tracks, "Wait, you're not seriously going out there to find the contact, are you?"

Kyle turned back to face her, his expression serious "I am. We don't have time to wait around. We need to find them, get what we came for, and get out."

Rey frowned, her arms crossing defensively, "You heard that First Order officer, Kyle. If they come back and don't find you here, there's going to be trouble. You can't just go wandering off."

Kyle shook his head, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "And I made sure to mention we need a once-over, remember? We can't exactly get one without a mechanic. Besides, I'm not wandering off—I'm getting the job done."

Rey's frown deepened, but part of her saw the sense in Kyle's actions, it would be wasteful to come all the way here and not at least try to find the contact. Besides, arguing further would be pointless, and she knew it. Still, she couldn't shake the unease gnawing at her.

"Fine," she relented, though her tone was far from enthusiastic "But stay on your commlink." She pulled out her own, holding it up as a reminder.

Kyle nodded, his expression softening slightly, "I will." With that, he turned and headed toward the boarding ramp.

As the ramp lowered and Kyle disappeared into the spaceport beyond, Rey sighed, crossing her arms again. She watched until the ramp closed behind him, sealing the ship from the outside world.

"So," she muttered, turning to AD-10, "does he do this often?"

The droid paused in its tasks, its photoreceptors glowing faintly as it considered her question. "More often than not, ever since we met," AD-10 replied, a hint of dry humor in its otherwise mechanical voice.

Rey shook her head, though there was a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sounds about right."

The streets were packed with workers, most clad in faded orange jumpsuits, their faces marked with the grime of endless toil within the mines. They moved in tight formations, carrying heavy mining equipment over their shoulders, their expressions blank, eyes focused on the ground as they trudged toward the next task.

As Kyle walked through the streets, the oppressive atmosphere was apparent to him. He passed towering refineries, their stacks belching smoke into the sky, and machinery that ground away ceaselessly, processing a bronze-colored. The air was thick with the scent of metal and sweat, a clear indication of just how crushing to the spirit this town was.

Stormtroopers were scattered throughout the area, standing at regular intervals or patrolling in small groups. Kyle only now noticed their helmets, they were an odd design from the troopers he knew—their visors were a continuous wavelength along the periphery of the helmet, something about it made him uneasy, perhaps that was their intention.

The troopers' presence was more than just a show of force. As Kyle watched, a pair of stormtroopers shoved a worker who had slowed down, his body bent with fatigue. The man stumbled, nearly dropping the heavy tool he carried. No words were exchanged; one of the troopers simply pushed him harder, driving him forward with the blunt end of a blaster. The man obeyed, quickening his pace, his face drained of any emotion.

Kyle felt a knot of disgust tighten in his stomach. The First Order's stranglehold on this world, the exploitation of its people—it was all too familiar. He knew this was the way of the galaxy's dark corners, where the strong preyed on the weak, and justice was a distant dream. Yet, seeing it up close, feeling the injustice in it all, it made it all the more intolerable.

As he continued walking, the stormtroopers ignored him, their attention focused on the workers. Kyle kept his head down, blending into the passing crowd, just another face in the sea of worn-out souls. But inside, anger simmered. How could this be allowed to happen? How could the galaxy turn a blind eye to such suffering? He couldn't exactly be surprised, so far from what he had seen of this galaxy it had become typical.

He passed by a particularly large refinery, the roar of the machines almost deafening. Workers fed the bronze ore into processing units, their movements were mechanical and devoid of any energy. The stormtroopers overseeing them looked on with cold indifference, ensuring that the relentless pace never slowed.

Kyle kept moving, resisting the urge to do something reckless. He knew he had to keep his focus, to remember why he was here.

Lieutenant Dion stood in the long, dimly lit hallway overlooking the hangar. His eyes were locked on the Barloz freighter below, his eyes set on its worn exterior. Troopers passed by him in silence, their footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. Dion barely acknowledged them, his focus entirely on the ship and the man who had so confidently claimed to be its pilot.

From his vantage point, Dion could see every detail of the ship's exterior. The hull bore several deep scrapes and scorches, evidence of recent conflict. Small dents and patches were scattered across its surface, tellings of hasty repairs and desperate escapes. These signs lent credence to Senth's story of a pirate attack, yet something about the man's demeanor gnawed at Dion.

Senth had exited the ship moments ago, striding out of the hangar with an air of calm that Dion found unsettling. There had been no hesitation in his steps, no furtive glances or nervous ticks. He had simply walked out, as if he owned the place. Dion had dealt with smugglers and scoundrels before; they all had a certain edge, a tell that gave them away. But Senth... there was something different about him. His confidence was almost too perfect, his casual demeanor too practiced.

Dion's gaze shifted back to the ship as the droid, AD-10, emerged from the freighter. Dion watched as the droid worked, seemingly running diagnostics on the ship and preparing it for refuel. It was a protocol droid, and yet far more advanced than any he had seen in recent years.

Something still didn't sit right. The scrapes on the hull, the patched-up exterior—these were details that supported the story of an attack, but it was the way Senth had presented himself that lingered in Dion's mind. Most who came through this hangar, even those with legitimate business, showed some measure of fear or at least a wariness in the presence of the First Order. But Senth had shown neither.

Dion leaned slightly forward, his eyes narrowing as he silently mouthed the name, "Arensenthanel…" It was an odd name, unfamiliar and cumbersome. The kind of name that might be fabricated.

Before Dion could ponder further, a voice from behind interrupted his thoughts.

"Lieutenant Dion," the voice was cold, authoritative.

Dion snapped to attention, spinning on his heel to face the man approaching. Commander Tempest strode down the corridor, his imposing presence unmistakable. The captain's armor was unlike the standard issue—an intimidating shade of gray, with a jetpack attached to his back and heavily protected gauntlets that formed a scale-like pattern. The visor of his helmet was a single, unbroken line running straight across, ending just short of the helmet's full length, giving him a sharp, almost predatory appearance.

Dion immediately saluted, his posture rigid.

"Commander," Dion said, his voice steady.

As Tempest approached his sleek gaze briefly swept over the hangar below before settling back on Dion. "At ease, Lieutenant," Tempest ordered, his filtered tone clipped but calm.

Dion lowered his salute, relaxing his stance slightly as Tempest came to a stop.

"We will need to take over an additional five hangar bays," Tempest began, his voice carrying the weight of expectation, "The shipment we're expecting requires more space than anticipated."

"Sir, most hangars are occupied at the moment—" Dion began, but the words barely left his mouth before Tempest raised a hand, silencing him.

"I want results, Lieutenant," Tempest's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, "Not setbacks."

Dion swallowed, nodding in acknowledgment. "Understood, Commander."

"Governor Rylik will be arriving soon with the material," Tempest continued, his tone never wavering, "And he expects the shipping operation to be running smoothly, we do not wish for another insurgent attack to hamper operations. Ensure that no security concerns are overlooked."

With that, Tempest turned sharply and walked away, his boots clanking heavily against the floor.

Once Tempest was out of sight, Dion exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing slightly. But the unease surrounding the freighter and its pilot lingered.

Reaching into his pocket, Dion retrieved his communicator. He brought it to his lips, his voice commanding as he issued the order.

"Sergeant FN-0572, this is Lieutenant Dion. I need you to examine any records on the Barloz freighter in bay 76, ID code 347-A5. Also, conduct an Identity Assessment on the pilot, 'Arensenthanel.' Report back with your findings."

Dion ended the transmission, his eyes drifting back to the freighter below. There was more to this ship and its crew than met the eye. And he intended to find out exactly what that was.

Kyle moved cautiously along the narrowing venues of Jabiim-Selim, his eyes darting between the transponder in his hand and the dimly lit streets ahead. The town was a growing set of twisting alleys and crowded thoroughfares, every corner teeming with weary workers in their orange jumpsuits, accompanied by groups of patrolling stormtroopers. The transponder beeped rhythmically, signaling that his contact was close—somewhere around Bay 98.

As he traversed the town, the air was still thick with the scent of smelting ore, it seemed that no matter how far he was the smell never went away. He passed by a building with a long pipe chugging smelted metal into ingot-shaped castings held by several workers on a hovering table, the structure belching smoke and steam into the air, the glow of molten bronze-colored ore casting an eerie light on the faces of the workers who labored tirelessly, sweat pouring profusely from their brow. Kyle could sense the heat from where he stood, he looked at the scene with a pensive face. This was a living nightmare, a city that existed solely to feed the First Order's insatiable appetite for resources by all means. And the people were mere cogs in a vast, grinding machine.

Kyle kept his head down, pulling the hood of his jacket tighter as he noticed a patrol of stormtroopers approaching.

As the patrol neared, Kyle slipped into a nearby alleyway, his back pressed against the cold, damp wall. He held his breath as the stormtroopers passed, their voices muffled by the helmet's comms. Once the patrol was out of sight, Kyle continued deeper into the alley, the narrow space closing in around him.

As he moved through the shadowed passage, his gaze caught something peculiar—a large, bold tag on the wall, depicting the Mythosaur skull. The symbol, so out of place in a world dominated by the First Order, gave him pause for a brief moment, but there was no time to dwell on it. He pushed the thought aside and pressed on toward Bay 98.

The path led him through a maze of backstreets and service lanes, the industrious sounds of the city fading into a distant hum as he approached his destination. Finally, he arrived just a few blocks away from Bay 98. He could see the entrance up ahead, but what he saw made his heart sink.

The bay was heavily guarded, with stormtroopers stationed at every corner, their blasters at the ready. Two towering AT-ST walkers stood vigil, their squared heads swiveling back and forth, scanning the perimeter. Large perimeter turrets were mounted at strategic points, it was virtually a fortress.

"Sithspit!"

Kyle cursed under his breath, quickly assessing his options. There was no way he could walk in unnoticed; the place was locked down tight. He needed a distraction—something big enough to draw their attention away, if only for a moment.

He took a deep breath, then reached into his backpack, carefully opening a concealed compartment. Inside were a few thermal detonators, each one small and inconspicuous but packing enough punch to level a building if placed correctly. He began to formulate a plan when suddenly, his commlink beeped urgently.

Kyle brought the device up to his lips, speaking lowly into it, "Rey, what's going on?"

Static crackled through the commlink, and Rey's voice came through, distorted and broken. "Kyle, we have a—" The signal cut out, her words garbled beyond recognition.

"Blasted thing," Kyle muttered, glancing at the transponder. The blinking coordinates had suddenly stopped, replaced by a static display. He looked up in confusion, just as a shadow passed over him. A ship appeared above the street, its elongated form sleek and unfamiliar. Flap-shaped gliders extended from its sides, and a large round device was attached to its hull.

Before Kyle could react, a booming voice echoed through the town, amplified by speakers mounted on the ship. "Attention, all citizens. The curfew has been moved up, effective immediately. All non-working personnel must clear the streets. Violators will be dealt with accordingly."

Panic set in as Kyle realized the implications. He was out of time, and the First Order was about to lock down the entire area.

"Sithspit," he cursed again, shoving the commlink back into his pocket. He turned on his heel and sprinted back the way he had come, his mind racing.

He had to get back to Bay 76. And fast.

Kyle's boots pounded against the muddy and then metallic streets as he retraced his steps, the winding paths of Jabiim-Selim now taking on a more ominous character, the dim light of the already descending sun now covered by clouds and darkness began enveloping the entire town. The once-bustling town, already oppressive in its industrial gloom, was now a rigid and prison-like setting. The ever-present orange jumpsuits of the laborers were conspicuously absent, replaced by the stark white armor of stormtroopers, their blasters held at the ready. As Kyle darted through the narrow alleys and wide plazas, he couldn't help but notice how the troopers were corralling the citizens like cattle, herding them back to their homes at blaster point. The sight continued to spur a bitter sense within Kyle, but he pressed on.

As he rounded a corner, a commotion drew his attention. Down a narrow side street, a pair of stormtroopers stood over a woman and a young girl, their blasters trained on them. The woman was on her knees, clutching her daughter close, a sack of bread lying spilled on the ground beside them.

"Please, let us go!" the woman pleaded, her voice breaking as she shielded her daughter with her body. The little girl sobbed in fear, her small frame trembling as she buried her face in her mother's side.

One of the stormtroopers barked out, "This is more than your authorized rations! Where did you get it?"

"Please, I just need it for my kids, please have mercy!"

The woman continued to plead, her voice growing more desperate with each word, but the trooper wasn't interested in listening. Instead, he reached for a weapon strapped to his belt—a sleek, menacing staff that crackled with deadly energy as he activated it. The tip buzzed ominously, the sound of impending pain.

"Thieves will learn their lesson," the trooper said threateningly as he raised the staff, the woman and girl recoiled, the woman covering her daughter's head ready to take the blow for her.

Before the trooper could strike, a defiant voice came from behind, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

The troopers turned in unison, their blasters snapping up to aim at the source of the voice—only to be thrown back with sudden, violent force. Their bodies slammed into the durasteel wall behind them, crumpling to the ground in a heap, unconscious.

The woman clutched her daughter tighter, her wide eyes filled with terror as she looked up at their unexpected savior. Kyle stood there, his hand still outstretched from the Force push, a determined expression on his face. He lowered his arms and stepped forward, offering the woman a hand, but she shrank back, fear still gripping her.

Understanding her hesitation, Kyle knelt down, picking up the bag of bread and holding it out to her, "Here," he said gently, "Take it. Get out of here, find somewhere safe to hide."

The woman hesitated for a moment before snatching the bag, clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline, "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with gratitude as she quickly pulled her daughter to her feet. The girl glanced up at Kyle, her tears subsiding as curiosity briefly overcame her fear, but her mother tugged her away, urging her to move quickly.

Kyle watched them go, a pensive expression crossing his face as they disappeared into the shadows of the alley. He couldn't dwell on it, though. With a quick glance around to ensure no one else had seen the confrontation, he took off again, his pace quickening as he raced toward Bay 76. The clock was ticking, and he couldn't afford any more delays.

Kyle slipped into Bay 76, his heart racing as he took in the scene before him. Stormtroopers had swarmed the area, harsh lights above illuminated the hanger as they tore through the freighter. Crates were overturned and thrown outside the ship, tools scattered on the landing pad, and it seemed that they were turning the ship's interior into disarray. AD-10 laid motionless on the ground, its normally bright photoreceptors darkened and inert.

Kyle felt a pang of urgency. He knew Rey was somewhere on the ship, and the First Order was increasingly close to uncovering her hiding place. Part of him had the urge to retreat, to live to fight another day, but he couldn't abandon the droid who had helped him or leave Rey to her fate.

He drew a deep breath, pushing aside his fear and doubt. Stepping out of the shadows, he cleared his throat and announced, "Can I help you fellas?"

Immediately, every blaster in the bay was aimed at him, the stormtroopers' movements aggressive and deadly in intent.

Kyle raised his hands slightly, signaling that he meant no immediate threat. The blaster fire however felt imminent; he could feel every fiber of the troopers surrounding him itching to pull their triggers. He kept his eyes focused on the nearest stormtrooper, meeting the gaze hidden behind the helmet. Inside, Kyle was calculating his next move. He could attempt a bargain and avoid a confrontation, but something deep within him told him that was unlikely to happen, still he had to try.

He scanned the bay for any potential escape routes, noting the stormtroopers' positions. They were too well positioned for a sudden attack, and AD-10's deactivation only added to his concern as the droid could not provide any help. Kyle knew that if he ran, Rey might be left vulnerable, and he couldn't let that happen and yet he felt that perhaps he had overplayed his cards.

He straightened his posture, preparing himself for whatever might come next. The stormtroopers, still aiming their blasters at him, waited for his next move. It was then that a smooth, calm voice cut through the silence.

"Well, well, Mr. Arensenthanel, glad you could return before the curfew…" Lieutenant Dion's voice rang through the bay with a cold amusement as he approached, the Stormtroopers sergeant with the orange pauldron beside him, and a datapad in his hand.

Kyle, still holding his hands slightly raised, forced a grin as he turned toward Dion, "Lieutenant Dion, just the person I wanted to see," he said, his tone casual.

"I was just hoping to find a mechanic—just want to get this old bird back in the sky and be on our way."

Dion's expression hardened, his icy glare cutting through Kyle's attempt at nonchalance. "Save the theatrics for someone who'll buy them," he snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. He held up the datapad, its screen showing Kyle's face alongside that of a Gotal, the real Senth to be precise.

Kyle's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible.

"We did some digging," Dion continued, his voice dripping with disdain, "Turns out, Arensenthanel went off the grid years ago. And this ship? It hasn't been registered at any official port in the last six years. So if you're really Arensenthanel, then I'm the Emperor of the Galaxy."

Dion's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile as he lowered the datapad. In one fluid motion, he drew his blaster pistol and aimed it squarely at Kyle. The Sergeant beside him followed suit, as the other trooper's fingers tightened on their triggers.

"You almost fooled me," Dion said, his voice low and deadly serious, "But not quite. You're nothing more than a Republic spy, trying to slip through our fingers. And now, you'll pay for it."

The bay went into a deadly silence, Kyle remained still as he stared into the barrel of Dion's blaster. His mind raced, searching for a way out, but he knew that this time, he might have pushed his luck too far.

Hidden within an unseen part of the hangar, Rey's breathing was shallow as she listened to the scene unfolding. The muffled voices echoed in her ears, and she felt the danger that surrounded her and now Kyle. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat growing louder as she tried to calm her mind, to find the strength within herself to act.

But doubt clung to her thoughts, a heavy cloud that seemed impossible to shake. She had faced danger before—survived the harshness of Jakku, the shock of discovering her true lineage, the losses she endured during the Mandalorian War—but this felt different. Here, in the heart of enemy territory, with no clear escape and Kyle now surrounded by armed soldiers, Rey felt lost, unsure of how to proceed.

She struggled to find clarity, to understand why this situation felt so different from the battles she had fought before. Was it the weight of responsibility pressing down on her, the fear of making the wrong choice again? The doubt gnawed at her, eroding her confidence. Kyle's voice reached her, calm and defiant as he confronted the stormtroopers, and her fear only deepened. She wanted to help him, to do the right thing, but the right thing seemed elusive, a distant and unclear objective just as before.

Should she let Kyle take the fall so she could escape? Should she stay hidden, hoping he could somehow manage to survive on his own? Or should she reveal herself, risking everything to save him? The choices twisted in her mind, none of them feeling like the clear, true path she desperately sought.

But then, she remembered Kyle's words—how he had told her that all that mattered was what she could do in the moment to make things right. Luke and Leia had taught her the importance of confronting fear, not letting it paralyze her. Rey closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the presence of the Force around her, trying to center herself. She knew the answers were not always clear, but she also knew she couldn't let fear dictate her actions.

As Dion's blaster aimed at Kyle, Rey then knew she couldn't remain in hiding any longer.

In one fluid motion, Rey sprang from her hiding place beneath the floor panels, her yellow lightsaber igniting with a sharp hiss. She spun through the air, the blade a blur of light as it arced toward the First Order sergeant. The sergeant had only a fraction of a second to react before Rey's saber sliced through him, cutting his arm before he could even raise his blaster at her.

The sudden attack threw the hangar into chaos. The stormtroopers scrambled, caught off guard by the appearance of a Jedi in their midst, more shock came to them as they realized who this Jedi was, none other than the one that had slayed the Resurrected Emperor Palpatine. Taking advantage of the confusion, Kyle drew his own blue lightsaber, its hum filling the air as he also moved to the attack. Dion's eyes widened in shock, his composure shattered as he realized what he was facing.

"Jedi!" Dion shouted, his voice panicked, "Open fire!"

Blaster bolts began to fly across the hanger as the stormtroopers followed Dion's orders, but Rey and Kyle were already moving, their lightsabers humming and cackling as they deflected incoming fire.

The clash of red blaster bolts against blue and yellow lightsabers filled the air with a constant clash of beams and zaps as the two Jedi attacked.

Rey's movements were fluid, graceful to an extend, her yellow blade sweeping through the air in wide, controlled arcs. She moved with a precision as her strikes were calculated to disarm rather than kill. Blasters were sliced in half, stormtroopers thrown back with powerful Force pushes, and when necessary, she delivered swift, lethal blows to those who posed an immediate threat. Her focus was on incapacitation, on ending the fight with as little bloodshed as possible.

Kyle however, was a steamroller, his blue lightsaber flashing in rapid succession as he tore through the ranks of stormtroopers with ease. There was no hesitation in his strikes, no holding back. He vaulted over crates, spun in midair, and used the walls as platforms to launch himself into the fray, troopers barely able to fire their blasters as he landed his strikes. He was relentless with each move designed to end a life in a single stroke. The stormtroopers stood no chance against him; one after another, they fell to his blade, their armor offering no protection against his powerful strikes.

The two Jedi were a devastating force, their different fighting styles reflecting on each end of the hanger bay. Some stormtroopers began to fall back in disarray, unable to withstand the combined assault. The hangar became a chaotic scene, the once orderly ranks of troopers now a scattering of confusion and desperation.

Lieutenant Dion, his earlier confidence shattered, scrambled for cover behind a stack of crates. His hand shook as he activated his communicator, the panic in his voice unmistakable, "Code Zero! We have Jedi! I repeat, Code Zero!"

As Rey and Kyle fought their way through the stormtroopers the two eventually met in the middle of the hangar, driving back the few remains of the First Order's minions. Most of the stormtroopers were in full retreat, while a few still attempted to fire back, their shots easily parried by the Jedi. As the Jedi neared the main door to seal it off, Rey cast a glance at Kyle.

"What took you so long?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Kyle simply shrugged, offering a brief smile, "Should ask you the same thing, had to make an entrance?"

Rey rolled her eyes but couldn't help a small smile from forming as she locked up the doors and they moved back toward the landing pads. Their lightsabers remained ignited, their senses attuned to any potential threats as they approached their docked ship. The hangar was eerily quiet now, the sounds of battle had ceased as they focused on their immediate goal: getting out.

As they reached the ship, Rey's gaze fell on AD-10, the droid's motionless form lying beside the ramp. Concern flashed in Kyle's eyes as he hurried over, his lightsaber deactivating with a soft hiss as he sheathed it. He crouched beside the droid, struggling slightly as he lifted AD-10's heavy frame and propped it against the hull of the ship.

"AD," Kyle called out, his voice filled with worry as he tried to reactivate the droid. He tapped its photoreceptors, but they only flickered weakly, offering little response, "Come on, buddy, wake up."

Rey, still alert for any signs of an incoming attack, noticed Kyle's concern and approached him. She glanced down at AD-10, observing the faint flickering of its photoreceptors.

"He's rebooting," Rey explained, her tone softening, "Looks like they might have short-circuited him. Give him a moment."

Kyle nodded, though his concern didn't fully fade. He carefully began to drag the droid up the ramp, "We're leaving. Now."

Rey agreed, following Kyle up the ramp as she kept an eye on the surrounding area. Just as they began to enter the ship, the sound of engines roared above them. Two gunships descended into the bay, their bright lights shinning into the landing pad. The ships bore a distinct white and black pattern, their added plating making them look like heavily armored versions of the old Imperial LAATs.

The gunships hovered above, their weapons trained on the two Jedi. As they landed, a voice echoed through the hangar, amplified by the ships' speakers, "You are surrounded! Lower your weapons and surrender!"

Rey and Kyle exchanged a glance, both instinctively gripping their lightsabers tighter.

Above, stormtroopers began to appear on the walkways and gantries overlooking the hangar. Dozens, then hundreds of them. Some carried heavy repeating blasters, which they set up and aimed down at the Jedi. The odds were overwhelmingly against them, but neither Rey nor Kyle showed any sign of backing down.

Before they could formulate a plan, a familiar voice called out from behind them, dripping with smug satisfaction, "It's pointless to resist!"

Kyle turned slowly to find Lieutenant Dion standing there, a blaster pistol aimed directly at him. The officer's face was split into a triumphant grin as he taunted them, "I thought I only had a Republic spy on my hands, but now I have the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order as well. This is going to be a very good day for the First Order, perhaps the true beginning of our return, the return of Order to this ruined galaxy!"

Rey's grip tightened on her lightsaber as she and Kyle stood side to side, surrounded by enemy forces.

Kyle's expression darkened as he stared down Lieutenant Dion, "You really think the First Order brings peace? By massacring entire planets, terrorizing innocent people?!"

Dion's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a steely, defensive glare, "A strong galaxy requires strong measures. Sacrifices must be made to ensure order and peace and those who stand in our way—who resist—are necessary casualties. You can't build a better world without that! The galaxy was in chaos before us. We're the only ones with the will to bring stability."

Kyle shook his head, disbelief etched across his face, "I've heard it all before. The same twisted logic that justifies the murder of billions. You're nothing but warlords hiding behind a banner!"

Dion's eyes narrowed, his blaster lowering slightly for a moment as his eyes drifted down in what seemed to be a momentary reflection, he then raised the blaster again and with a raised voice proclaimed, "Those lives were necessary sacrifices! A strong galaxy is one where the strong rule so the weak can survive. Look at your precious Jedi Order—under the watch, of your Grandmaster Skywalker," he sneered, emphasizing the title with disdain, "the Mandalorians returned. You let them slaughter and pillage, let the galaxy fall back into war!"

Rey's grip on her lightsaber tightened, her anger rising with each word. The stormtroopers above shifted uneasily, sensing the tension.

Dion continued, his tone increasingly unhinged, "You failed, Skywalker. The galaxy is in chaos because of your weakness. You, and your pathetic Jedi, are the reason the First Order will rise again—stronger and more unified than ever."

Kyle's eyes darted to Rey, noticing the fury building in her expression. He could sense the storm within her, the conflict between restraint and action.

Dion, oblivious to the growing danger, leveled his blaster at Kyle's chest, "Enough talking. Surrender, or die."

Before Dion could react, Rey spun with a speed and precision that took even Kyle by surprise. In an instant, she was upon Dion, her yellow lightsaber igniting in a blinding flash as she brought it to his throat. The suddenness of her movement left Dion frozen, his blaster dropping to the ground as he felt the heat of the blade inches from his skin.

The stormtroopers above hesitated, unsure whether to open fire or hold their positions. The gunships' weapons hummed to life, preparing to unleash their deadly payload.

Kyle stood his ground, his lightsaber still held at the ready, but his focus remained on Rey. The intensity in her eyes, the raw power she exuded, was undeniable.

Rey's voice was calm, but cold as ice, "You underestimate me, Dion. You underestimate the Jedi. Surrender, or you'll see just how strong I am."

Dion's voice faltered as he felt the edge of Rey's lightsaber press closer to his throat, "W-We surrender!" he shouted, raising his hands in a shaky attempt to placate her.

Rey's eyes narrowed, but she eased the blade away slightly, "Good work," she said, her tone firm.

"Now call off the gunships."

With a quick, desperate nod, Dion activated his communicator, "Gunships, stand down! Begin immediate ascent!"

The gunships, hovering ominously above, began to lift away, their weapons powering down as they ascended. The stormtroopers around the hangar hesitated, their blasters slowly lowering as they observed the scene. Rey kept her grip tight on Dion, steering him back toward the landing pad.

"Kyle, get the ship ready," Rey ordered.

Kyle, his face lined with concern, "Rey..." he began, his tone worried.

"Get the ship ready, Kyle," Rey repeated, her gaze fixed on the stormtroopers above and her voice tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Kyle nodded and turned toward the ship, but just as he started moving, a large figure appeared from the skies above. The sound of roaring jet engines filled the hangar as the figure descended, landing heavily on the catwalk with a resounding thud.

The armored figure, towering over the stormtroopers, wore armor unlike anything Kyle or Rey had ever seen. The figure's menacing visor glowed from within the helmet, and a heavy jetpack was strapped to its back. The stormtroopers nearby stood straighter as the figure landed among them, their fear and respect evident.

Dion looked up, his eyes wide with both recognition and fear, "Commander Tempest," he stammered, trying to regain his composure. "I have everything under control—"

Rey's grip on Dion tightened, cutting off his words with a choking gasp. Her lightsaber's hum grew louder as she held him firmly.

Commander Tempest stood silently for a moment, observing the scene. Then, without a word, he pressed a button on his gauntlet. Something mechanical and heavy unfolded from his back, and with a fluid motion, Tempest grabbed it—a massive, energy-charged cannon.

Without hesitation, Tempest aimed the weapon directly at the landing pad and fired. A large rod of energy shot from the cannon, arcing through the air before slamming into the side of the Barloz freighter. The explosion was deafening, the force of it causing the freighter to roll violently to the side. The shockwave threw Rey, Kyle, and Dion several feet back, sending them sprawling across the hangar floor.

Tempest's voice was cold and commanding as he gave the order, "Open fire."

The stormtroopers, now fully rallied under Tempest's command, raised their blasters and unleashed a hail of blaster fire toward the Jedi.

Kyle staggered, momentarily dazed by the force of the explosion, but quickly regained his footing. His clothing was singed, and a few cuts and scrapes marred his face and arms. Flames quickly began to engulf the hangar, and blaster fire crisscrossed the air in every direction. Through the chaos, Kyle spotted Rey lying unconscious beneath a pile of debris.

"Rey!" Kyle shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames and the relentless blaster fire. Igniting his blue lightsaber, he deflected several incoming shots, sending them back to their origin and taking out a few stormtroopers in the process.

With no time to waste, Kyle pulled out the remaining thermal detonators he had. He activated them, feeling the surge of adrenaline and fear mix in his veins. Using the Force, he hurled the detonators toward the catwalks above, where more stormtroopers had taken position. The detonators exploded with a powerful unison blast, sending the structures crashing down in a fiery inferno. Commander Tempest barely managed to jetpack away, but many stormtroopers were not so lucky, falling to their deaths in the flames below.

Kyle dodged the fallen catwalk and rolled through some crates, narrowly avoiding the expanding flames, until he reached Rey. The sight of her lying unconscious beneath the debris sent a surge of fear through him. He dropped to his knees and began pulling away the wreckage piece by piece, desperate to free her.

As Kyle worked to clear the debris, a deep, ominous sound echoed behind him. He paused, dread creeping into his heart, and slowly turned to see the two gunships descending into the bay once more. Their weapons activating, the fire cast an eerie, hellish glow on them as they hovered above the flames.

Kyle's breath caught in his throat as the gunships moved into position, their cannons ready to unleash destruction on him and Rey. He looked back to Rey, determined to protect her no matter what. With the strength left within him he turned around, lightsaber in hand and ready for a fight he knew he could not win.

But just as the gunships prepared to fire, an unexpected explosion rocked one of them. The gunship lost control, veering wildly before crashing into the second one, sending both plummeting into the inferno below. Kyle recoiled from the explosion, shielding Rey with his body.

When he looked up, he saw something that shocked him even more than the destruction of the gunships. A man clad in unmistakable Mandalorian armor stood before him. His helmet was a vibrant but worn blue, the armor of rough design, with a cape dangling from his side. The man's jetpack still smoked from what had clearly been the rocket that took down the gunships.

Kyle, exhausted and hurt, braced himself for another fight. But instead of attacking, the Mandalorian walked toward him, "We need to get her out of here, fast," the man said, his voice firm and urgent.

Still dazed, Kyle hesitated. The Mandalorian, seeing his confusion, moved to help him.

"Together!" he said as he positioned himself to remove the last heavier piece of debris from Rey.

Kyle set his saber back on his belt and then moved to position as well, together they pulled away the last of the debris, freeing Rey completely. Kyle carefully lifted her into his arms, still wary of the Mandalorian, who simply nodded for him to follow.

As they moved back to the center of the hanger, more Mandalorians appeared, each with armor of varying designs but all bearing the same distinct symbol on their shoulders: a blue Mythosaur, not the skeleton however, but rather the visage of the live creature it seemed. A female Mandalorian, her helmet violet with oval-shaped visors, approached the one who had helped Kyle.

"Ragnar," she called, her voice urgent, "more First Order gunships are on their way, along with a Gozanti cruiser."

Ragnar nodded, "Secure our exit, Hexa!" he ordered.

Hexa jettisoned away, her jetpack flaring to life. Another Mandalorian handed Ragnar a jetpack, which he then brought to Kyle. "Strap this on," Ragnar said, quickly securing the jetpack to Kyle's back and fastening a belt around Rey, binding her tightly to Kyle's chest.

Kyle, still struggling to process what was happening, looked at Ragnar with uncertainty, "I've never used one of these before," he admitted.

Ragnar smirked beneath his helmet. "Today's as good a day as any to learn." He connected a cable from the jetpack to Kyle's wrist pad and gave him a very brief rundown, "Press this to go up, this one to land, and this is your propulsion level, I have it set for manual follow so don't toy with it," Ragnar stood back, "Just stay close and don't go higher than we do."

Kyle nodded, though nerves gripped him. He watched as the Mandalorians began to ascend, one by one. Before following, Kyle glanced back at the damaged Barloz freighter, a pang of melancholy tugging at his heart.

Ragnar's voice cut through his thoughts, "We need to go unless you want to die here with your ship."

Kyle took a deep breath, then pressed the button on his wrist pad. The jetpack roared to life, and with Rey secured to his chest, he ascended into the air, following the Mandalorians into the skies above.