The Talons of an Empire

by Sol PJOFan

The Clone War has ended. Admiral Perseus Jackson, former Hero of the Republic, relaxes with his beloved on his homeworld, and hopes for some respite from the rigors of war. The Galaxy, however, stops for nobody. A man balances duty and morality in the face of a new world order; one that has emerged from the ashes of the bloodiest conflict in living memory. PJO x SW AU

7. The Artist

Ch6 - The Artist

Imperial Academy, Sundari, Mandalore, Outer Rim, 9 BBY
"Grand Admiral, someone here to see you," a trooper informed him, "Says he's from Clan Saxon."
"Show him in," Percy answered, placing his helmet on his head and standing to greet the newcomer.
When they walked in, however, he was surprised to see just who Gar Saxon had sent to do his bidding.

"Tiber Saxon," he observed, "It is a surprise that your brother would send you of all people to welcome me, late as you are."
"My brother does not send me to send his well wishes, Tritonis," Saxon spat, "he merely wished for me to confirm that the Emperor's Attack Dog had truly been sent out to the Mandalore System."
"Well, Saxon," Percy replied dryly, "You've seen me now. Now tell the Emperor's bitch that the Emperor's Attack Dog says hello."
Saxon stormed out, the little nod that he gave Percy no more than the barest of forms of custom, as opposed to the bow that the Admiral's status, both Imperial and Mandalorian, demanded. Percy cared little, admittedly, but the faux-pas, rage-induced as it had been, was noted.

If Gar Saxon was anything like his younger brother, then Percy's desired dominance over Mandalorian politics would likely be very simple should he want it to be.
Other thoughts, however, had been taking precedence in his mind.

For example, the way in which he would finally stage his escape from the Empire, which left not only himself but his family and clan in a position to both exist freely within, and resist against the Empire.
It was a demanding set of requirements, he knew, but having discussed it with the senior members of Clan Tritonis, they knew that it would be an inevitability; the way that the Empire's influence had gripped Sundari could only ever be an indicator of the Emperor's intentions with the sector at large. Already, a compliant government had been instated, with a tribute of fresh troops and munitions expected to fill a certain quota.
For as much as Percy had wrangled for the Mandalorian Clans the ability to bear their own arms and colours, the Emperor had been cleverer still.

The academy that he now spearheaded, alongside his duties at Skystrike, was one that not only developed some of the most lethal troops in the galaxy, but also the most feared weapons.
The forefront of these projects was the ultimate weapon for the Empire to utilise against the growing voice of dissent; or, at least, in the only way that Tarkin desired to do so. After all, in the man's own words, 'Pandering to the populace would be a sign of weakness, Perseus. We are not weak, nor are we about to become so. If the people wish to dissent, we shall show them the price.'
That weapon was, of course, Project Interdictor.

Percy's superweapon had begun, slowly, to come to life, from the gravity wells to the carefully modulated Hyperdrive modules which would prevent the gargantuan wells from collapsing the vessel as it entered lightspeed.
A prototype had been sent to the facility at The Maw already, and it was no less than Thrawn himself who was experimenting with the tactics that Percy had developed, adding his own finesse and artistry to the brutally effective Mandalorian tactics that Percy had developed.
Already, Plans Mudhorn and Krayt Dragon had come into existence, with the now legendary Sarlacc and Wampa gaining a slew of different variations, each incorporating the new superweapon into tried and tested formulae.

Another surprisingly interesting project was being led by the young Sabine Wren, the girl having been sent in to join the Academy at the tender age of eleven, and already the young artist was making waves.
With a few lower level projects behind her, she had taken on a task that had stumped a great many of the Empire's Engineers, and her solution was frightening, if genius.
The tasking had been to develop a company-level weapons system capable of neutralising armour, both defensive body armour, and the protective outer layers of walkers and tanks.

Her solution had been a weapons system mounted on top of an AT-DP walker. It would send out rays of energy capable of superheating specific materials.
It had yet to receive battlefield testing; that would occur in the near future, however; but the young girl was already making a name for herself, and indeed her clan, around high military circles across the galaxy.
For the moment, however, the focus was to be the continued, albeit shaky, stability of the Mandalorian Clans.

There would be those who disliked his placement in a station on Mandalore, purely by virtue of his Death Watch affiliation, but there would likely come a time when Mandalore was united against the Empire.
When that time came, it was Percy's motivation for them to stand together, without the looming threats of their comrades deserting them for a monetary bribe and the chance to see their rivals pegged back.

The last time that the Clans of Mandalore had stood united in such a way was long, long ago, when the focus of their combined might was the Jedi Order.
Perhaps, this time, those two factions would be able to set aside their arms and unite against the overarching power that threatened them all.
Only time would tell.

Tritonis Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 9 BBY
It wasn't often that Percy was this close to home, let alone on work. As such, he had taken the opportunity to go back and visit his family on Krownest.
Of course, the planet, and indeed the system, was classed as an Imperial one, but there had been no independent installations put in place to provide the image of keeping the twin clans in line.
Percy could understand why; the sheer manpower that it would take to shackle two clans of Mandalorians, let alone convince them that coexistence was possible, would constitute a gross error as far as resources were concerned.

After all, in an army billed as one made up of volunteers, there was no way to justify to a soldier that they were about to man a station on Krownest. To a squaddie fresh out of training, those words spelt death.
Instead, the Mandalorian Sector Fleet, under the command of Gar Saxon, had deployed a Cruiser Battlegroup; a single Arquitens-Class Cruiser and a complement of Gozanti Transports deployed as a forward presence, to provide the image of control over the system.
Of course, it was but a token gesture, but in the eyes of anyone who mattered, it was enough.

"Countess, it is good to see you again," he bowed as he greeted Amphitrite as the ramp lowered. Poseidon was away on a diplomatic mission, and as such the Count's wife had taken charge of the day-to-day running of the Clan. As such, Percy found it a surprise that his adoptive mother had made her way here to greet him.
"Always, Perseus," she returned warmly. "Your brother left only yesterday, but the young ones are certainly excited to have you home once more."

Percy shook his head in amusement. Triton was now the proud father of three, the most recent having been little Calliste, born a short three years ago, or seven years since the ascension of the Empire.
Pallas, his second, was now six years of age, and perhaps the most effervescent of Triton's three children. Already, the girl had been tasked by her mother with forging her own armour, purely in order to prevent the girl from blowing up anything of importance.
Percy wasn't entirely sure to what extent he could agree with Libya's methods of parenting, but the girl certainly wasn't lacking for either of attention or love in her time outside the forges.

"Uncle Percy!"
He sighed.
Ignoring Amphitrite's smirk directed his way, he dropped to his knees, spreading his arms out wide and gathering the pair of girls up in his arms.
"Hello little ones," he greeted the pair, who looked up at him with shining eyes. "I suppose you want to fly?"

It was a recurring theme of sorts for the Admiral, largely as a result of his brother's stubborn desire not to see his children doing anything remotely more dangerous than walking around the Stronghold. Ironic, of course, considering how the man himself was a feared warrior and a seasoned campaigner.
Percy could never envisage himself complaining, however; there was precious little time to spend with the young ones, and so if he could at least make it memorable for them then that was something gained.

Of course, there was the happy consequence of the pair of them becoming accustomed to the spacecraft that they would likely find themselves flying at some point in their lives as well; it was dark, yes, but in times of war, every able-bodied warrior of the clan would find themselves on the battlefield, ready to win a fight.

Imperial Weapons Facility, Mandalore, Outer Rim, 9 BBY
"Message for Grand Admiral Tritonis," a runner declared, passing Percy a holodisk.
"Where from, Trooper?" the Admiral replied. The Mandalorian Supercommando tapped his helmet's visor twice, evidently bringing up the details of the message.
"Your family's space, Sir," the man answered. "Scramblers make it impossible to say exactly who."
Percy thanked the man, accepting the disk and exiting the part of the factory that he had been observing.
"Are the Gravity Wells as expected, Perseus?" Poseidon's voice crackled over the holodisk as he accepted the long-range communication. He smiled behind his helmet.
"Better than your calculations suggested," he admitted. "Current estimates suggest that we can push it to intercepting a large vessel at half an hour's range."
"And small vessels?" the Count urged.
"Less. Perhaps a few minutes, at best? There's exponentially less of a gravitational field around them; makes it harder to get an accurate lock."
"Excellent in any case," Poseidon praised. "I suspect that you will have some free time, then?"
"What needs doing?" Percy asked, sensing a request coming.
"Triton's going on a mission," Poseidon informed him, "He'll need some help with this one in particular. Perhaps you can bring Reyna along as well."
"I'll be back in Clan Space by tomorrow," he promised, "but the next set of tests with the students is in two weeks' time; I'll need to be back by then."
"Oh, believe me, you won't be away for longer than a day or two," Poseidon assured him, "You're going out on diplomatic duties."

Percy sighed. Diplomatic duties were the worst kind of duties.
"Am I allowed to know where?" Percy asked, a grimace on his face.
"Clan Kryze," Poseidon replied.
Percy smiled.
Now this would be interesting.

Light Freighter Mist, Hyperspace, 10 BBY
"By the Light of Lothal's Moons," the central computer of the Mist's Bridge crackled to life with the utterance of the password, and Nico turned to face it.
"Agent Syndulla," he greeted, smiling at the Twi'lek's face. "What news have you found?"
"Intelligence from the Mandalore System," she replied. "It appears that the first prototype of the new Superweapon is coming into being. Workers on the Kuati supply lines have been sworn to silence. Means there's something big going through the shipyards."
"Thank you, Hera," Nico said, nodding thoughtfully. "Safe travels, and may the Force be with you."
He ended the call, turning to Achilles beside him.

"You know, Mandalorian space isn't the best place for Jedi to be, right?" the Onderonian remarked nervously. Nico laughed in response.
"You have such little faith in me. We aren't going anywhere near that thing," he reassured his one-time student. "I'm just trying to figure out how to get a Mandalorian on our side."
"Rather you than me, Master, rather you than me."
Nico nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

Kryze Stronghold, Kalevala, Mandalore System, 9 BBY
"Good to see that we didn't shoot you down as you entered our space," a voice remarked as Percy and Triton disembarked their Kom'rk Class Shuttle.
"Like your guns would get close," Triton guffawed, clasping the offered forearm, "Tritonis Engineering can't be rivalled by the swill the Empire peddles to their allies."
"Interesting words," Bo-Katan Kryze noted, eyeing Percy's form beside his brother cautiously.
"Pretend I'm not here, My Lady," Percy replied with a smirk, "your words certainly won't find Gar Saxon's ear."

Kryze gasped in mock surprise. "So it's true, then, what my spies say. The prodigal son of Clan Tritonis wishes to defect."
"That's rubbish and you know it, Kryze," Percy shot back. "You'd never get spies onto Krownest, and whatever di'kut tries to turncoat as a double agent wouldn't just be facing Tritonis justice, they'd be facing the Wrens too."
"You're no fun, Tritonis," Kryze said, turning towards the palatial stronghold. "No sense of humour in good warriors these days anymore. Follow me. There is much to discuss."

The group made their way from the landing pads to the main fortress that formed the citadel of the Kryze Stronghold, a towering structure atop a cliff face, the strong sea breeze catching on the blue and silver banners of the clan's heraldry.
"You came to talk," Kryze observed without preamble, gesturing with a hand for them to take a seat, "Let us talk."
"We were sent as envoys of the clans of Krownest," Triton reminded her, "Both of us know that you're the one who instigated this communication. What did you call us here to discuss?"

"I was expecting some lower level negotiator," Kryze admitted to Triton, "Possibly your wife, or some General. Having you, Triton," she turned to Percy, "And more importantly, you, Perseus, makes this far easier."
"It's an Imperial matter, then," Percy observed, and Bo-Katan nodded.

"The Wren Girl's weapon," she said. "It is a threat."
"It's an incredible anti-armour weapon," Triton defended, sitting forward in his seat and clasping his hands together. "In our hands, the weapon could wreak havoc among enemy forces. Imagine, a single 'Duchess' system, mounted on a Kom'rk, capable of superheating an entire Star Destroyer!"
Bo-Katan blinked, surprised at the Tritonis Heir's vehement defence of the system.

"And if it's programmed to target Beskar?"
The air left the room.
"Shab," Percy muttered, the others in the room nodding grimly at his utterance. "It needs to be destroyed."
"Will they not just rebuild it?" Triton asked.
"It's a prototype," Percy informed him, "No concrete plans, no scope for reproduction. A great many of the parts that young Sabine has used to create the weapons system are custom-made in Wren forges."

"Is there a target that can be struck with any immediacy?" Triton asked. "It would expose any progress that Saxon and his forces have made in attempting to recreate the weapon."
"I like the way you think," Kryze praised. "If they've placed any significance on sourcing materials, then they'll rush to an alternate source and guard it well. Once they play their hand, it becomes fair game."
"And if they make no move to defend it, then we have our assurances that no huge step has been taken as of yet," Percy concluded. "We just need a target and a scapegoat."
"Don't forget, we need clearance too," Triton cut in. "There's nothing worse than going in and having no backup."
"Risk sending the Death Watch Clans to war with the Empire?" Kryze mused, "As fun as that would be, I doubt your House is ready for that. Clan Kryze can handle it, so long as we have clearance that the Nite Owls will be welcomed to Krownest in support of our efforts."
"I think I can wrangle that," Triton answered. "Does this mean that we're on a Combat Mission?"

"I do forget that you've been a politician for so long," Percy mused aloud, "Welcome back to the fight, little brother."
"Though that does bring into question," Kryze mused. "When Death Watch enters the fight openly, you're either going to be assassinated or declared war upon openly."
"Or Triton gets his wish after all," Percy retorted, drawing a pair of confused looks rom his companions. He smiled.

"A show of force. The Duchess, mounted on a Kom'rk, used upon the Fist. The vessel goes down with all hands, including her captain."
"And your Beskar, in theory, protects you," Triton replied, "you'd blend right into any search party in your regular Tritonis armour."
"I was hoping that I wouldn't be aboard," Percy admitted sheepishly. "We can iron out the details at a later date. In the meantime, I believe that we have a raid to conduct."

Outermost Moon of Umbara, Umbara System, Expansion Region, 9 BBY
"Master, news from the Mandalore Sector," Atalanta informed him, "Theseus sends his regards."
"What's the news?" Nico asked, smiling at his former student's acknowledgement of her older comrade.
"Missile strike on an Imperial mine by Partisan forces," came the reply. "The military governor has responded, but the Navy has not diverted any resources."
"Has any clan claimed this attack?" Nico asked, raising an eyebrow from his position knelt upon the cold stone floor of the cave in which he had been meditating.
"Nobody, Master," the Twi'lek, girl by the name of Iyneda Nemuh replied.
"No clan heraldry? No colours?" Nico pressed, confused. "This is rare."
"They disguised themselves as Imperial Supercommandos, but used Beskar instead of the Plastoid that the Imperial Troops favour."
"Thank you, Iyneda," Nico replied, "I will gather the others tonight, and we can decide on the most appropriate course of action."

Tritonis Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 9 BBY
"Welcome home, boys," Reyna greeted the pair as they disembarked from their Kom'rk Transport. The Tritonis men both broke out in large grins, first Triton embracing his Sister-in-Law, and Percy doing much the same with his wife, who he had not seen in some time by now.
"And how was the journey, cyara?" Percy asked her softly, the smile not leaving his face.
"Quiet," Reyna replied. "Far less to do now than there was before the reorganisation."
"Quiet is good," Percy replied. "I like quiet."
Reyna hummed in agreement. "So you must have hated that mine, then, mustn't you?"
Percy groaned. "News has spread fast, then?"

"You did well," she reassured him, "Not even the first responders could trace back a source. The ISB gave up before they started."
"But there's something else on your mind," Percy noted.
Reyna sighed.
"The Fifth have obliterated Lasan."
"Yes, they were due to intervene about now," Percy replied. "I take it the Lasats surrendered quickly?"
"No, Percy, I'm talking about worse than Mon Cala."
Percy paled.
"Survivors?"
"If they're alive, they're either fugitives, slaves, or about to be."

"Castellan. Why that Tarkin ass-kissing besom is allowed to command a warship, let alone a fleet as important as the Fifth is beyond me," Percy muttered. "Tell my father I need to go to Coruscant tomorrow. I'll get the Kom'rk prepared. You up to help?"
Reyna sighed and nodded. It had nearly been a year since they had last seen each other, and the chances were that they wouldn't meet for a similar amount of time if their duties had anything to do with it. Time together, even if it was spent hurtling through hyperspace at Light Speed, was time together all the same.

Imperial Naval Admiralty, Coruscant, Galactic Core, 9 BBY
"Ahh, Jackson," Apollo greeted, looking up from his desk, "Here about the Interdictor Program? I see Reyna's here too."
"Apollo, who ordered the change to the Lasan Operation?" Percy demanded, not bothering to humour his long-time colleague's small talk. "It was meant to be simple; a single Destroyer going into theatre, demanding surrender, and if not, destroying their military capacity. What the kriff happened?"
"Look, Percy, I can't say much," Apollo admitted. "Officially, the report from ISD Backbiter states that they were fired upon first, and Castellan went to Tarkin instead of me, seeking approval for his operation."

"Well, the fleet's nickname is sticking, then," Percy sighed. Since his own operation on the planet of Mon Cala, officially renamed under the Empire as Dac, wary civilians had taken to calling the fleet 'the Bloody Fifth'.
Apollo hummed in agreement, a grimace setting across his own face.
"We've served under this administration for ten years now, Apollo, and we were told that it would be a force for balance. The Fifth alone, my 'Bloody' Fifth, is guilty of two counts of Genocide, now."

"And if you say much more," a clipped voice cut in, "I may have to raise a case of Treasonous leanings, Grand Admiral."
"Ah, Moff Tarkin," Percy greeted, "How goes Stardust?"
"Excellently," Tarkin replied, his face unchanged, "And I see that you continue to see the Fifth as your own, despite my placing of young Commodore Castellan in your place. Indeed, I see much of you in his style."
"That's shab and you know it," Percy retorted, "That kid is practically raised on Imperial doctrine, and we all know that the moment he faces a competent commander, his fleet will be blown to smithereens."
Tarkin glowered over at Percy, struggling to find a retort.

"If you will, Gentlemen," Reyna cut in, "There is to be a testing of the new Interdictor Program in few months' time, conducted by Admiral Jackson's Mandalorian Allies, and observed by Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh."
Percy fought back a wicked grin. Reyna had Tarkin right where she wanted him, and he was savouring every moment of it.

"Perhaps we could volunteer the Fifth as a potential peer-to-peer adversary for the Grand Admiral's testing?"
Percy looked expectantly at the Grand Moff, an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.
"He will be there, Governor," he replied, sending Reyna a nod. "Grand Admiral, I bid you a good day."

Tritonis Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 9 BBY
"What news, Perseus?" Poseidon asked of his adoptive son as Percy and Reyna walked into his throne room, each of them offering him a bow of the head in deference to his position as head of the clan.
"Tarkin, Father," Percy replied grimly. "Far too powerful, and reaching his tentacles into business that is outside of his remit."
Poseidon nodded thoughtfully, stroking his bearded chin. "His time shall come, just as Saxon's will."
"Yes, there is that too," Percy admitted with a grimace. "It would be difficult to deal with him at the Duchess trials without triggering all-out war. Not when he has the weapon to hand."

"Who would have thought that a child of less than ten years would cause the biggest political crisis that our people have seen in the past decade?" Poseidon huffed. When Triton looked up as though to disagree, the Count raised a hand to stop him. "Perhaps it isn't as openly discussed, Triton, but it is certainly a crisis. It isn't a coup, but every Count, Countess, Duke and Duchess knows that he who controls the weapon controls Mandalore.

"A new Darksaber," Reyna mused aloud, and Poseidon raised an eyebrow.
"Now that would be something, would it not? The Darksaber and the Duchess. The ability to bring Mandalore to its knees, by symbolism, and if that should fail, by force."
"And we have neither," Percy reminded the man. "However good a notion it may be, we can't dream of something we can't even conceive accomplishing."

Poseidon hummed in agreement, still stroking his chin.
"We shall see, my son, we shall see. Now go and ensure that this weapon does not fall into the hands of our enemies."
"Your wish is my command, Alor."
Placing his helmet back on his head, he left the room, the sound of his boots against the floor echoing through the silence.

Imperial Academy, Sundari, Mandalore, Outer Rim, 9 BBY
Applause rang out across the main parade square of the Mandalorian Military Academy as the latest exhibit to be displayed was removed from the area, the Staff Officer on the PA system thanking the engineer for their showing and welcoming on the next display.
Indeed, there was some shock when the designer was revealed to be a young girl, barely at the edge of adulthood.

The name of the Cadet did nothing to halt the murmurs; after all, every Mandalorian knew the name Wren.
Everyone recognised it as belonging to the feared House Vizsla.
Everyone understood that they were faced with a descendant of the dreaded Death Watch.

Percy, however, smiled.
He hadn't seen Sabine's weapon in action yet, only heard of its potential and moved to ensure that Saxon and his Imperial Sympathetic allies couldn't move to replicate it.
He was curious to see how the trial would progress.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Sabine announced nervously, flicking her hair from her face and brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her Imperial-Issue armour, "Esteemed guests, I present to you, the Arc Pulse Generator; The Duchess."
What emerged, as Percy very well knew by now, was a modified AT-DP walker. Its primary weapon, a Maad-38 Heavy Laser Cannon, had been replaced by what appeared to be a reactor of some sort. It spun about a central axis, emitting a menacing whine that filled the room over the clanking of the Walker's movement.
"It is an anti-armour weapon," Sabine continued, "and it works by superheating armour to the point that either it disintegrates, or those within are killed."

"And this works on any armour?" Gar Saxon asked her, leaning forwards.
"Any armour," Sabine confirmed with a proud nod. "Even Beskar, with some tinkering."
And there it was.
"And what is the range of this prototype?" Saxon asked, a gleam entering his eyes that Percy found to be decidedly dangerous.
"A hundred metres or so," Sabine shrugged, "It isn't meant to be an Artillery piece or anything - just a close support weapon at Company level. You can move it around in a Gozanti, defend it with organic weapons and TIEs."

"I presume you have a display of some sort prepared," Bo-Katan Kryze asked, her tone grim, much as Percy suspected that his own would be if he spoke any time soon.
"I do," Sabine confirmed. "I've got a pretty standard old Republic Gunship with dummies in Clone Mark 1 Armour inside. The weapon will ignore the gunship, and target the dummies' armour."
"Will that not kill our own Troopers?" an Imperial Officer asked nervously. "The plastoid that they wear isn't so far from outdated Clone equipment."
"It can be precision-programmed to target exact materials," the young Wren girl boasted. "Your Stormtroopers are safe, Lieutenant."
When he nodded, Sabine gestured for her 'victims' to be brought onto the Parade Square.

"Initiating test," she announced as she entered a set of commands into a console on the weapon's side. "Target is Clone Trooper Mark 1 Armour."
The high whine of the weapon grew in intensity, and the generator began to spin at increasingly frightening speed. Sparks began to fly from the central axis, forming into an electric blue band around it.
"Weapon at operational speed," Sabine reported, and the whine stabilised. "Firing."

On cue, a forked tongue of electricity arced out of the weapon, passing straight through the Gunship's fuselage and visibly striking the Dummies' armour.
The audience watched with sick fascination as the armour first blackened, then fell apart, wisps of ash and smoke emerging from what was once a squad of Clones.
The whine abated, the weapon slowing to its idling pace, and the audience broke into stunned applause.

"Father, it works," Percy muttered into the communicator within his helmet. "It kriffing works."
"I'll speak with Ursa," came the reply. "Get it out of there. Get Sabine out of there. Bring her here - there is no telling what kind of danger that girl is in."

Wren Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 9 BBY
"Sabine created what?" Ursa demanded, standing up from her seat and walking towards Percy, arms folded. "Because I refuse to believe what you have just told me, Perseus."
"I said what I said, Ursa," Percy reiterated calmly. "She has created a superweapon capable of bringing the galaxy to its knees, capable of breaching Beskar."
"Then she is Dar'manda," Ursa declared, Alrich's protest silenced by a steely glare from the enraged woman.

"Think for a moment, Ursa," Percy placated, reaching out to place a hand on his cousin's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down.
"No, Perseus," she dismissed, slapping the hand away. "She has put our people, our very way of life, at risk, for an enemy who considers themself to be our overlord."
"She's your daughter, woman!" Percy retorted hotly, raising his voice.

Within an instant, there were twenty weapons pointed at him, loaded and ready, and the first of them being his cousin's own.
"You dare raise your voice against me in my own home?" Ursa demanded, and Percy sighed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and backing off.
"Your daughter, Ursa," Percy whispered. "Sabine, just the same as she was before she went to the Academy."
"No longer, Perseus," Ursa replied. "No longer."

"Saxon will declare you an enemy of our people unless you send Tristan to the Academy," Percy reminded her, "He'll be forced into the Supercommandos. Saxon's own dog, a puppet to be used as he desires."
"Then that is the price I must pay," Ursa shot back. "The price I must pay for Mandalore."
"I'll adopt her as my own," Percy snarled back at her. "I won't let her go off on her own. Clan Tritonis won't let her."
"Then it will be war," Ursa told him, raising her chin and maintaining the aim of her blaster directly at Percy's forehead, "And you will be the first of your clan to fall."
"You wouldn't," Percy said, though he himself knew that his cousin's mind was made up.
"That is the law, Perseus," she told him. "If you decide to take on a Dar'manda, you too surrender yourself to being Dar'manda."
"Fine," he relented. "Have it your way."
The blasters were lowered.

"But you will not be the one to break it to her, nor Tristan. They will see each other once before she is banished from this planet."
"You-"
"-Yes, Perseus," Alrich nodded. "That, you may have."
Percy nodded, leaving the room with a bow directed to his cousin. "Until next we meet, My Lady."

Tritonis Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 9 BBY
"Organa," Percy addressed his long-time ally over the encrypted holographic transmission. "Listen, and listen well."
"Perseus?" the Senator asked, confused at the directness of his friend's greeting.
"If you have communication with Kenobi, then you have communication with the rest of the Jedi, yes?"
"Yes, but-"
"Speak to them," Percy demanded. "I have information for them, and an ally."
"Yes, but-"
"A Mandalorian. A weapons expert, working at the forefront of Imperial technology, a prodigy in the art of battle, and a warrior the likes of whom your own troops would learn greatly from."
"Yes, Perseus, but-"
"No, Bail," Percy countered. "No ifs, no buts, no Bantha-arsed excuses. My niece has been banished from her clan, and there is nothing that I can do myself to ensure her safety. Do whatever the kriff you want, just promise me that she'll be safe, not caught up in the criminal underworld as some kind of bounty hunter."

Bail sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Transmit across this same frequency," he relented. "Encrypted via the key 'by the Light of Lothal's Moons'. An agent will get into contact with you. Do not reveal your identity, and they will not reveal theirs."
"Your word, Organa," Percy demanded. "She will be safe."
"She will, Perseus," came the reply, "She will."
"Thank you, Bail." The transmission flickered out there.

The door opened, the room flooding with light, and Percy turned around to face his wife.
"It's a good thing you've done, Perce," Reyna told him, sitting beside him and leaning against him. "She'll be safe."
"There's going to be a moment when Ursa realises what she's done," Percy muttered.
"She's stubborn, Percy," Reyna reminded him. "There will come a time when she does, but you need to remember that she is your family, and your ally too, no matter what she's done."
Percy nodded, breathing out lowly to calm his nerves.

"That's all you can do. All any of us can do."
"The Manda give me strength," Percy muttered, and Reyna nodded.
"If they don't I will," she reassured him, and Percy nodded.
"Right," he announced, rising from his seat and nodding to himself. "I have a transmission to send, and we have a child to get to safety."
"That we do, cyara," Reyna replied, "That we do."

Outermost Moon of Umbara, Umbara System, Expansion Region, 9 BBY
"Master, a Fulcrum transmission," Menelaus announced, drawing Nico from his meditation. "New source, rerouted several times."
"Rough location?" the Umbaran Master asked, looking up to meet the gaze of his Pau'an apprentice.
"Appears to be from Mandalorian space, of all places," the young man replied, "though it might be one of the channels it made its way across."
"I'll take it," Nico nodded, rising to his feet and walking across to the hut in which the long-range transmitter was kept.

"This is Fulcrum Agent Defcon," he introduced, staring into the symbol that he recognised from all his prior Fulcrum interactions as being Ahsoka's own. It was a standard for all Fulcrum-encoded Holograms, masking the true transmitter's face, and distorting their voice.
The codename was a test - far from standard protocol on transmissions of this nature.
It was an affirmation of a tentative hypothesis.

"This is Fulcrum Agent…" there was a hesitation behind the transmitter's voice, and through the force, Nico could sense indecision. "...Agent Negotiator. I am informed that you are in need of a Mandalorian insider. I have one."
"What is your price?" Nico asked, a small smile spreading across his face.
"No price," the supposed Agent Negotiator replied. "Just ensure the informant's safety."
"It shall be done. A drop-off will be staged at the following coordinates. Come alone, and unarmed."
"Done," came the caller's response. "Your debt is repaid." The transmission was cut off.
Clever, clever, Nico mused to himself, a grin spreading across his face. He had an ally, and an informant. Both were invaluable to him, and yet neither of them was the greatest value gained from this short exchange.
He had a friend.

---

A/N
Been a while, eh?
I can tell you the exact part of this chapter that had me stumped - the conversation between Percy, Bo-Katan and Triton.
Then writer's block hit in all its glory.
I shook it off through a couple of chats - one with someone I'd never met before in 17Falcon15's Emerald Library Channel (incidentally, have a look at C-709-PoA on FFN)
Another was, of course, with Dudududhehe, who's also back in business, by the sounds of it.
And then the Acolyte trailer came out, and you can see what followed.
Hopefully the words continue to flow as they have - fun stuff to come. Thanks to all of you who've waited for this, hopefully I meet the expectations that we've all set on my writing.
Until next time, then,
Sol
(I do not own PJO, Star Wars or any related media)