Kyle Katarn: Through Worlds Unknown

by InfamousWrite123

Finding himself in a wild and unknown place of the galaxy, through means unknown to him, Jedi Battlemaster Kyle Katarn must venture into a far more volatile galaxy in search of answers to where he is and how can he return to his own time. On the way, he'll encounter familiar faces, some new ones, and a blend in between, through worlds, worlds unknown.

24. Into the Fire

Authors Note: I want to first wish a happy belated new year to all my dear readers and followers of this story. 2024 was definetly a good year for TWU and I hope 2025 will be an even better one. With that said, I apologize for missing the January deadline for Ch 24 but I hope this chapter will be to your liking, and we may even get two additional chapters this month of February though I won't make any promises. One final note, TWU has achieved 30 favorites! I can't thank you all enough for your support and for your faith in this story, I assure you it will all be worth it in the end. As always, I appreciate any and all reviews! Anyways, enjoy, and as always may the force be with you.

Closer than ever!

With the aid of two courageous First Order defectors, Jedi Grandmaster Rey Skywalker and Mandalorian Reclaimer Ragnar Vizsla have infiltrated the heavily guarded First Order stronghold. Their mission: to rescue the captive Kyle Katarn before it's too late.

Meanwhile, deep within the base, Katarn endures relentless torment at the hands of the sinister Governor Rylik, who seeks to uncover the secrets of the ancient and mysterious World Between Worlds…

---

Kyle Katarn sat cross-legged in the vast, ethereal expanse of the World Between Worlds. Around him stretched the infinite void speckled with glowing stars, intersected by luminous pathways that stretched into nothingness. The air—or whatever passed for it in this realm—felt still and quiet, yet alive. The Force flowed here like a steady current, serene and endless.

Eyes closed, he breathed deeply, feeling the energy of the Force surround him, immerse him. It was calm, clearer than he'd felt in a long time. Here, there were no walls, no restraints, just the connection to something far greater. He reached out, not with his hands, but with his presence. The Force whispered in subtle currents, carrying fragments of life and possibility across the eternal space.

Then, a sudden sharp spike in his head, like a dagger, unexpected and violent. Kyle flinched, gasping as his calm shattered. His hands shot to his temples as pain radiated through his skull, searing and relentless.

"Dammit…" he muttered through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. The Force wavered, fraying around him like mist before a gale.

"Has that been happening a lot?"

Kyle blinked, the pain ebbing to a dull throb as the voice pulled him back. His hands lowered, though he winced, still feeling echoes of the disturbance. Looking to his side, he saw the figure of Luke standing a few feet away, his hands folded behind him.

But this wasn't the Luke that Kyle had seen before, the older bearded man with weary lines carved into his face. This Luke looked younger, nearly as he had during the final days of the Empire. Dressed in his dark grey Jedi robes, his face was calm and sharp and his hair a lighter, windswept blond.

Kyle huffed, forcing a breath as he shook the lingering discomfort away. "Only occasionally now," he admitted, his voice still gravelly, "It used to be constant. Almost every time I reached out…" He paused, his brow furrowing, "It's always a voice, too. I don't know whose, or what it wants."

Luke's blue eyes studied him, "The Force has ways of speaking to us," he said gently, "Sometimes in whispers, sometimes in shouts."

"I suppose so…"

Kyle pushed himself up to his feet, eyeing Luke curiously, "You look…different," he remarked, gesturing vaguely at him, "Last time I saw you, you looked… well, older."

Luke smiled faintly, "This place has a funny way of representing people," he replied, his tone light and thoughtful, "It's less about how we appear and more about what we mean to others, to ourselves. Honestly, I don't think I've ever been able to fully explain it."

Kyle exhaled a short breath, glancing around at the surreal pathways and endless void, "The Force doesn't exactly come with a manual," he muttered, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Luke chuckled softly, "No, it doesn't."

Kyle let his shoulders relax, though the pain's lingering presence still haunted the back of his mind. He looked around the void, his voice more serious now, "Whatever it is," he said quietly, "it doesn't feel like just a whisper. It feels like something's trying to get through, or break free."

Luke's expression darkened slightly, as if a small breeze of realization had passed through him, though he said nothing right away.

Kyle noticed the faint shift in Luke's expression, he narrowed his eyes, his voice cutting through the silence of the void, "What is it, Luke? What aren't you telling me?"

Luke's lips parted, as if he were about to answer, but before he could speak, the entire ethereal realm shuddered. The luminous pathways rippled, and Kyle's vision blurred violently as if the void itself were collapsing inward. He felt his chest tighten, the sharp pull of something dragging him backward like a tether yanking him to reality.

"No!" Kyle gasped, his arms instinctively flailing as the World Between Worlds dissolved into darkness.

A sharp, suffocating gasp forced its way out of him as his eyes flew open. Blinding lights flooded his vision, the sterile smell of metal and antiseptic invading his senses. He was back, strapped to the cold bed in Dr. Layna's laboratory. His limbs felt heavy, his wrists and ankles restrained against the medical frame. His head pounded, his muscles aching as he strained to focus.

Dr. Layna's voice broke the cold silence, "Subject Beta is awake," she murmured, making a note. "Nanite integrity has dropped to nine percent. A new dose will be required."

Kyle groaned, tilting his head to the side to see her clearly. Her light skin face was illuminated by the glow of the datapad as she typed, her expression impassive. Yet, even through his exhaustion, Kyle caught a glimpse of hesitation in her eyes.

"Layna…" Kyle's voice was hoarse, but there was strength in it. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus, "You don't… have to do this."

Layna paused momentarily, the faintest flicker of hesitation breaking through her impersonal demeanor. Her fingers stilled against the datapad.

"This—this is wrong," Kyle continued, his voice steadier despite his pain. "Whatever you think this is leading to… you don't have to be a part of it. You know that."

For the briefest moment, Dr. Layna's gaze met his. In those seconds, something raw and conflicted passed behind her eyes. She turned away, setting the datapad down on a nearby tray. Grabbing a small vial filled with a glowing blue serum and an injector, she approached Kyle.

"It's easy to tell people what they shouldn't do when you don't know their reasons," she said softly, her voice more vulnerable than before.

Kyle's jaw tightened, his breathing labored as the needle pressed against the skin of his neck. He grimaced as the serum flooded into his veins, icy and unnatural, sending a dull ache through his body.

Layna stepped back quickly, returning to her professional veneer as she typed another note into her datapad. But the hesitation lingered on her face.

Before Kyle could say anything else, a cruel, familiar voice cut through the room.

"Awake again, I see."

Kyle's gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where Governor Rylik emerged from the shadows, his dark uniform pristine as ever. His sharp smile seemed to gleam as he approached, the crimson glow of his gauntlet casting faint light across his pale features.

Rylik's eyes were locked on Kyle, "I must say," he began with mock pleasantry, "you're proving to be far more resilient than I anticipated."

Kyle didn't respond, his chest heaving as he glared defiantly at the man. Rylik smirked and raised his gauntleted hand, his thumb hovering over a small control panel embedded into the wrist.

"Let's see how long that lasts today."

Without warning, Rylik pressed the button.

A surge of energy tore through Kyle's body. His back arched violently against the restraints as the electric current coursed through him, white-hot and agonizing. He grit his teeth, refusing to scream, though the pain was unbearable. Every nerve in his body screamed for relief, but he clung to the sliver of control he still had, glaring at Rylik through the haze.

Rylik finally released the button, and Kyle collapsed against the bed, his breathing ragged. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to regain control of his senses, his muscles twitching involuntarily.

Rylik leaned closer, "Now, where were we? Ah yes. Today we'll resume our little game of questions."

Kyle's eyes, bloodshot and tired, still burned with defiance as they met Rylik's. He didn't say a word.

Rylik's smirk faded into a hard, irritated glare, "Still so stubborn. Let's see if that changes."

He pressed the button again.

Pain erupted through Kyle once more. His muffled groan echoed faintly while Layna turned her back, her face unreadable as she continued typing on her datapad.

---

Rey, Elle, and Jabs marched in formation, their stormtrooper armor blending them seamlessly into the oppressive uniformity of the base. Ragnar, still cuffed, walked ahead of Elle and Rey, his dark blue Mandalorian armor conspicuous among the sea of white and grey of the base.

Under her helmet, Rey's heart raced. She had faced countless battles, stared down Sith, and rebuilt the Jedi Order from the ashes. Yet something about walking straight into the heart of enemy territory sent a chill down her spine. This was unlike anything she'd done before. It felt reckless and un-Jedi. But she reminded herself why she was here: to save Kyle and, hopefully, strike a decisive blow against the First Order's grip on this planet.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ragnar's voice crackling through the communicator built into their helmets.

"How many troopers are stationed here?" he asked, his voice low and calm.

"A few hundred, maybe more," Jabs replied curtly, his eyes looking forward.

Ragnar gave a low whistle, his tone carrying a hint of mockery, "And you're sure you don't have any ideas, trooper?" His meaning was clear, he didn't fully trust Jabs.

Elle fired back immediately, "We brought you this far," her tone was defensive. "Why would we turn on you now?"

"Enough," Rey interjected, "Focus. We're all in this together. Now, how do we get to the cells?"

Jabs didn't glance back but kept his pace steady as he responded. "Elevator. But they'll probably redirect us to the upper floors first. Standard protocol to take high-value prisoners for initial questioning. Just follow my lead."

Rey nodded, though she felt a pang of unease. Every step they took deeper into the base felt like walking on a razor's edge. Her grip tightened on the blaster she carried, and she forced herself to breathe evenly.

After a few more turns through identical corridors, the group approached a glassed-up desk where an officer sat, calmly sorting through data on a terminal. His dark uniform was pristine, his face icy and detached. He barely glanced up as they approached.

"Designation," the officer said flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth or interest.

Jabs stepped forward, his tone gruff and authoritative, "NT-9425. Crimson Convoy."

At that, the officer's gaze flicked up briefly, "Ah, survivors." He studied Jabs for a moment, his expression betraying a faint hint of admiration before returning to neutrality, "Impressive, considering what I've heard. But don't expect commendations. Orders are orders."

Jabs gave a stiff nod, and the officer returned his focus to his terminal. "Take the prisoner to the holding area. Standard protocol dictates he'd be prepped for Governor Rylik, but…" The officer paused, pursing his lips, "The Governor seems… occupied with other matters at the moment."

Rey's pulse quickened, and before she could stop herself, she spoke up, her voice slightly muffled by the helmet, "What matters?"

The officer's head snapped up sharply, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto her. "Do not speak out of rank, trooper," he said coldly, his tone reprimanding,

Rey recoiled slightly, her fingers twitching on her blaster. The heat under the helmet became suffocating, and she could feel sweat pooling at her temple. She cast a quick glance toward Jabs, who kept a silent glare.

The officer tapped a button on his desk. "Proceed," he ordered, his tone dismissive.

The group marched silently toward the elevator. Jabs maintained his grip on Ragnar's cuffs, nudging him forward with calculated roughness to maintain appearances. The officer at the desk watched them briefly before returning to his terminal, and as the group walked on another group of patrolling stormtroopers passed nearby.

The elevator doors slid open ahead. Jabs maneuvered Ragnar to the front, his posture tense as the doors lay open in front of them.

Through their separate communicators, Ragnar's voice cut through the silence. "If we head down, we'll never make it to the control center."

Jabs glanced around cautiously, his gaze lingering on the small surveillance camera in the corner of the room looking right at the elevators. "I know," he muttered. "Just follow my lead. Elle, Rey, you two go down and get Katarn. Ragnar and I will handle the rest."

Rey's voice came through, concerned, "What are you planning, Jabs?"

He didn't answer immediately. His gaze focused on Ragnar's back and his tone turned sharp. "Hit me."

Ragnar tilted his helmeted head slightly, then nodded without hesitation. "Don't need to tell me twice."

Before anyone could react, Ragnar spun around and his leg shot out in a powerful kick, catching Jabs square in the chest and sending him sprawling back to the wall. The impact echoed through the lobby, and Jabs groaned as he hit the ground.

The noise immediately drew the attention of the patrolling troopers and the officer from his cubicle. Jabs clambered to his feet, holding his side in mock pain.

The officer stormed out of his chamber, his expression a mix of irritation and authority, "What in the Emperor's name is going on here?" His eyes shifted from the staggered Jabs to the belligerent Mandalorian, "Seize that brute!" he barked, his hand edging towards his holstered blaster.

Ragnar didn't give him time to say or do anything else. He surged forward, the cuffs on his wrists doing little to impede him as he drove his knee into the officer's groin. The man let out a strangled gasp, doubling over in pain, his hands clutching his midsection as he staggered back.

The nearby stormtroopers rushed forward, blasters drawn.

A pair of troopers tackled Ragnar, forcing him to the ground. His helmet hit the floor with a dull thud as they pinned him down, their blasters cracking against his sides as they subdued him. Ragnar grunted in pain but remained defiant, his voice muffled under his helmet, "Is that all you've got?"

The officer straightened up slowly, his face pale and his jaw clenched. "Take him upstairs for questioning!" he shouted, his voice shaking with anger and lingering pain, "I'll handle him personally!"

Jabs gave a stiff salute, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Yes, sir." He grabbed Ragnar roughly by the arm, dragging him upright with the help of the troopers.

As the stormtroopers hauled Ragnar to a different elevator, Jabs gave Rey and Elle a quick glance before subtly stepping out of the way.

Rey and Elle seized the opportunity, slipping into the first elevator unnoticed. The doors closed just as the officer began barking more orders, his voice muffled as the elevator descended.

Inside the elevator, Rey let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening on the blaster she carried. "We've got one shot at this. Let's make it count."

Elle gave her a small nod.

---

Kyle lay motionless on the cold, metallic bed, his body barely responsive. The sharp restraints that bound him to the surface seemed less of a physical hindrance now than the crushing weight of his own helplessness. His vision swam with blurry shapes, the white brightness of the lab cutting through his daze. He felt like he was floating, suspended in the haze of pain and exhaustion.

Faint voices filtered through the door, a muffled exchange between Dr. Layna and Governor Rylik. He couldn't make out the words, but the tones were unmistakable: one clinical and the other commanding. For now, they were preoccupied, leaving him alone.

Kyle turned his head slightly, his gaze landing on the burnt remains of AD-10 sprawled across a nearby table. The droid's shattered components seemed almost mocking, as if left like a taunt by Rylik. Scattered tools and strange equipment littered the room, all with potential usefulness if only he could move them.

He closed his eyes, drawing a shaky breath. His chest rose and fell unevenly, every inhale a struggle against the weight pressing down on him. He thought of the Force, the lifeline that had always been there, always answered his call. Slowly, he reached out, not with his hands but with his mind, trying to feel the energy that bound all things.

The moment his awareness brushed against it, agony erupted in his body. The shock was instantaneous like all others, searing through his muscles like molten fire. His back arched violently against the restraints as he let out a strangled cry. His body spasmed uncontrollably, and the world became a haze of blinding pain before it finally subsided, leaving him trembling and gasping for air.

"How…" Kyle whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "I have to… I can't…" His words trailed off as he sank back into himself, the question gnawing at the edges of his mind. He had no answers, only questions. Why could he access the World Between Worlds, yet was powerless in the material realm, through those nanites? How could they not stop him from accessing that realm?

Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the burning in his body and focused instead on the void within. He concentrated on the strange, serene energy he had felt before, the faint whisper of something beyond. Slowly, the lab began to fade from his awareness, the pain ebbing away as he drifted deeper.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the lab table. He was sitting cross-legged once more in the vast, glowing expanse of the World Between Worlds. The infinite pathways stretched before him, illuminated by the dim light of countless stars. Here, his body was whole, unbroken. He felt none of the pain or exhaustion that plagued him in the material world.

Across from him, sitting in the same meditative posture, was Luke. This Luke was older than the version Kyle had spoken to before, his beard fuller though he was not as old as the first time they had spoken. He wore a simple tunic, calm yet weighted with thought. Despite the differences, Kyle didn't question it. The shifting nature of this place was something he had grown accustomed to.

Kyle rose to his feet, his boots silent against the ethereal surface. "What's going on, Luke?" he asked with a noticeably frustrated voice. "Why can I come here so easily, but I can't even lift a bolt in the real world?"

Luke opened his eyes slowly, his blue gaze thoughtful and somber. He sighed, his shoulders rising and falling as if burdened by an unseen weight. "You are… an anomaly," he said finally, the word landing heavily in the space between them, "A divergence in the Force, if you will."

Kyle frowned, "Divergence?"

Luke nodded, "Your presence in one universe doesn't align with the natural flow of the Force in the other. It's as if you're out of sync with the energy of the dimension. That's why your connection to the Force in the material realm is unpredictable. But here," he gestured to the glowing pathways, "in the World Between Worlds, those boundaries don't exist. The Force doesn't discriminate between dimensions here."

Kyle's mind raced as he processed Luke's words. "So, it's because I don't belong in your universe," he said slowly, "But then why can I see this place, but not explore it fully?"

Luke tilted his head, considering, "I suspect it also has to do with how you came here in the first place. You said something about a temple on Ord Sedra?"

Kyle nodded, his brow furrowing. "Yeah. There were statues… one of a woman, an old man, and a younger man with this… dark aura. I remember being drawn to them, hearing a voice. It said something about me being 'perfect.' Then, it felt like I was thrown, like I shattered through glass. When I woke up, I was on Jakku."

Luke's eyes darkened, his expression growing more serious. "You were forced through the gateways of the Force," he said slowly, "An unnatural cross-over and that kind of disruption leaves a mark. It's like shattering a window and stepping through the shards—you make it to the other side, but not without consequences."

Kyle exhaled sharply, the pieces beginning to fit together. "So that's why I can access this place but can't explore it fully, I left a mark behind."

Luke nodded again, "I believe so. Your forceful leap through the dimensions left a tear, and you can access that tear."

Kyle frowned, frustration creeping into his voice, "That's all well and good, but it doesn't help me escape. I'm still trapped."

Luke's gaze softened slightly. "Perhaps not directly," he said, "But just because you're limited doesn't mean you're powerless. The Force is not confined to one realm or another. You may still be able to use this place to affect the material world."

Kyle's mind raced at Luke's words, his brow furrowing. "Actually, I think I've done it before," he said, the memory surfacing unbidden. "Back on Takodana, when I escaped Rey's Order. I managed to affect… things. Subtle things. The wind, the sound around me—but nothing more than that."

Luke's expression didn't change, though a flicker of intrigue crossed his eyes. "Sometimes, the smallest things can make the biggest difference," he said simply, his tone as steady as the liminal space they stood within. "It's not always about grand gestures, Kyle. The Force works in whispers as much as it does in roars."

Kyle turned his gaze away, looking past Luke toward the void stretching beyond the glowing bridge they stood upon. He focused, the lines of the World Between Worlds bending and twisting in his perception. Slowly, the faint visage of the lab began to take shape before him, flickering like a mirage.

He reached out, feeling the threads of the Force between the two realities. Suddenly, the shift was seamless, and he found himself standing in the lab—not physically, but as an ethereal presence. He glanced down and saw his body still bound to the table, his breaths shallow and labored. The restraints still tightly set around his limbs and neck. He instinctively moved closer but knew that even in this state, he couldn't undo the binds.

His eyes then fell on the charred remains of AD-10, still sprawled across the nearby table. His thoughts churned. Could the droid still hold some usefulness? He reached out, focusing on it, but Suddenly, the door to the lab hissed open.

Kyle recoiled instinctively, though he reminded himself that he couldn't be seen. Dr. Layna entered, followed closely by Governor Rylik, his stride filling the room with an oppressive weight. Their voices were clear now, echoing through the lab as they spoke.

"Progress," Rylik demanded, his tone curt, "I need progress, Doctor. The project cannot wait. Katarn has held out long enough, and we're running out of time."

Layna shifted uncomfortably, her datapad clutched tightly in her hands, "Unless we proceed with complete brain resequencing, Governor," she said, her voice strained but professional, "and completely reshape his mind like we did with Subject Alpha, I can't guarantee we'll extract the information you're looking for."

Rylik approached her, his eyes locked onto hers as he leaned in slightly. "Doctor," he said, his voice dropping to a menacingly soft tone, "this information is something we both need. Don't forget that."

His hand reached up, lightly grazing her cheek. Layna flinched visibly, her composure cracking for the first time. Rylik's demeanor shifted, his voice turning mockingly tender, "We both want the same thing, don't we?"

Layna's voice was almost a whisper, her fear palpable. "Perhaps… perhaps if we used a low-intensity mind flare in conjunction with the nanites suppressing his Force connection, we might be able to force him to reveal something."

Rylik stepped back, his eyes cold as ever. He nodded, "Get to it, then," he said, turning sharply and exiting the lab without another word. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving Layna standing alone, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Kyle watched all of this unfold, his ethereal presence hovering nearby. For the first time, he saw the cracks in Layna's cold scientific font, the fear that lingered beneath her clinical facade. She took a shaky breath, her hand trembling slightly as she activated her datapad. She scrolled through several files before pausing on a photograph.

Kyle leaned closer, the image showed Layna, visibly younger, cradling an infant. The baby was swaddled tightly, sleeping soundly in her arms. Layna's expression in the photograph was a far cry from the unemotional professionalism she displayed now; she looked… human. Tender. Kyle stared at the image, wondering about the story behind it.

Before he could think further, a voice called out from the hallway. "Doctor Layna! There's a problem!"

Layna's head snapped up, her expression shifting immediately back to its professional mask. She turned off the datapad and slipped it into her coat pocket before rushing toward the door.

As the door hissed shut behind her, Kyle remained in the lab, his thoughts racing. It was now that he knew that there was more to Layna than met the eye. But there was no time to dwell on it now. His focus returned to AD-10's remains.

---

The hum of the elevator filled the enclosed space as it descended deeper into the First Order base. Rey stood rigid, her grip tightening on the blaster she held. Every breath she took felt shallow, constricted by the confines of the armor and helmet. The stakes and risk of the mission began to press down on her like a suffocating shroud. Her heart pounded, and the tension in her chest grew unbearable.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. With a sharp motion, she unclasped the helmet and lifted it off, gasping for air as the coolness of the elevator washed over her face. Her expression was strained, her usually calm demeanor cracked.

Elle, still wearing her helmet, turned her head slightly to glance at Rey. She didn't say anything at first, letting the silence linger. Then, with a slight tilt to her voice, she said, "I get it."

Rey looked at her, her breathing still uneven, "What do you mean?"

"The piling up of everything," Elle replied. "The pressure, the weight of it all. You're supposed to be this unstoppable Jedi Master, right? But you're still human." She gave a small shrug, though her tone was anything but dismissive, "I'm no famous Jedi, but I know what it's like to feel like the whole galaxy's against you. Like it's all too much…"

Rey's gaze softened as she listened, her chest rising and falling more steadily now. She hadn't expected empathy from someone like Elle, a stormtrooper or rather former stormtrooper, but here it was.

Elle continued, her voice soft as she lowered her blaster to the side, "But here's the thing. Life's a fight, and you've got two choices: join the fight, or let it kill you." She gestured to the helmet still in Rey's hands, "So, what's it gonna be?"

Rey stared at the helmet for a moment, the stormtrooper mask reflecting her own face back at her. She inhaled deeply, centering herself, and nodded. With a determined motion, she placed the helmet back on, the hiss of the seal clicking into place.

"Good," Elle said simply, and without missing a beat, she tapped her communicator, "Jabs, report. What's your status?"

The comm crackled to life, Jabs' voice cutting through. [B]"We're in the control center. Ragnar's… about to get questioned."[b]

As he spoke, the signal began to distort, the static growing louder and making his words harder to discern. [B]"I'll try to-"[b]The transmission cut off completely, leaving only dead air.

Elle cursed under her breath, hitting the side of her helmet in frustration, "Damn it. Of course the comms would cut out now."

Rey, however, seemed calmer. "I trust him," she said firmly.

Elle turned to her, her disbelief evident even through her tone. "You really do trust him? You trust [I]us[I]?"

Rey gave a small nod, though it wasn't visible beneath the helmet, "I've learned to."

"From Finn?" Elle asked, the disbelief softening into curiosity.

"Yes," Rey said simply. "He taught me that people can make their own choices, that they aren't bound by their origin. He showed me that trust is something you give, even when it's hard… I forgot that lesson, and Kyle brought it back."

Elle was quiet for a moment and before either could say more, the elevator slowed to a stop, the hum of the machinery fading.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the holding area.

Both women stepped out into a corridor stretched out before them, lined with glass chambers. Inside, dozens, perhaps hundreds of people were held captive. The chambers were stark, the prisoners inside wearing plain uniforms, their faces etched with exhaustion, fear, and despair.

Rey froze, her eyes widening beneath her helmet. The sheer number of captives struck her like a physical blow. These weren't prisoners of war—they were civilians, innocents, people taken from across the galaxy. Her breath caught, and though her face was hidden the shock in her face would not dissipate.

As Rey and Elle stood motionless near the elevator, the sound of hurried footsteps broke their trance. A woman in a pristine lab coat strode past them, flanked by two stormtroopers. Her expression was tight, her pace brisk, as though urgency drove her every step.

As the woman passed by the two, a sharp voice called out behind them, "You two!"

Rey turned slightly, her heart lurching as a stormtrooper officer approached. A red pauldron marking his rank. His tone was clipped, suspicious "What are you doing here?"

The officer's attention zeroed in on Rey, who froze under his scrutiny. The seconds stretched painfully long as her mind raced for an answer, but none came. Her silence only deepened the officer's suspicion, "You," he repeated, his voice stern, "I asked you a question, trooper."

Just as the silence threatened to stretch too long, Elle stepped forward, her tone confident and back raised, "We've been sent down by Governor Rylik to assist with security."

The officer tilted his head, skepticism evident. "Security? Governor Rylik sent you? Why wasn't I informed?"

Elle kept her posture, maintaining an air of calm confidence, "It was a last-minute directive, sir. He didn't want to waste time with formalities. You know how the Governor can be."

The officer's skepticism lingered, his gaze flicking between the two of them. Before he could press further, the woman in the lab coat spoke from behind the two as an elevator arrived.

"Put them at Subject Beta's chamber," she ordered without so much as a glance back, "I'll be sending for him shortly."

The officer stiffened, clearly recognizing her authority, "Yes, Doctor," he said with a respectful nod.

As the elevator doors began to close behind her, the officer turned back to Rey and Elle. His skepticism remained, but he now had his orders. "You heard her. Get to the lab chambers. Subject Beta's holding area is at the end of this corridor. Move."

"Yes, sir," Elle responded immediately, her tone crisp.

The officer gave them one last searching look before turning away, barking orders at another group of troopers.

Rey and Elle exchanged a glance through their helmets before falling into step, heading down the corridor as directed.

---

Kyle's aethereal form hovered over the charred remains of AD-10, his brow furrowed in frustration. The droid lay sprawled on the table, its once-pristine frame now mangled and scorched. As Kyle hovered above him he moved his incorporeal hand hesitantly through the droid's interiors. His touch didn't feel quite solid, it was as though he were manipulating sand slipping through his fingers.

"Come on," Kyle muttered to himself, his voice echoing faintly in the void. He worked feverishly, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of wires and circuits. Though his form wasn't physical, he focused every ounce of willpower into interacting with the droid. The thought of failure gnawed at him. If he couldn't revive AD-10, what chance did he have of saving himself—or anyone else?

After what felt like hours of trial and error, Kyle slumped back, his aethereal form flickering faintly. His jaw clenched as a wave of doubt threatened to overwhelm him. He looked at the scattered components on the table, the lifeless shell of AD-10 mocking him. "Damn it," he hissed through gritted teeth, "You were supposed to be more than this. I'm supposed to be more than this…"

He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, trying to remember why this mattered. Polina, rescuing her at all costs, and doing things right for this torn Galaxy. He couldn't give up now. Summoning what remained of his resolve, Kyle reached out again, focusing his willpower into the droid's broken systems.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, with a faint whir, a single yellow optical light flickered weakly on AD-10's face. It dimmed, then brightened again, accompanied by a strained mechanical sound that resembled a cough.

Kyle felt a surge of relief as his aethereal form began to fade, pulling him back to his physical body. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself once more strapped to the cold, metallic table. His breathing was shallow, but his focus was sharp as he turned his head to see AD-10's charred form twitching faintly.

"AD?" Kyle croaked, his voice hoarse, "Can you hear me?"

The droid's head shifted slightly, its yellow optical sensor flickered, "M-master… S-Senth… Initiating reboot… r-reboot…" Its voice was garbled, almost incoherent, as if its systems were barely holding together.

Kyle grimaced, straining against his restraints. "Come on, buddy, stay with me."

AD-10's head jerked to the side, its remaining sensor dimming briefly before reigniting. The droid muttered a string of nonsensical phrases, its tone fluctuating wildly, "Ord Mantell… mission briefing… Corellian ale… the Order… Yuuzhan Vong!"

Kyle cursed under his breath, frustration mounting, "Focus, AD! I need you to help me, not ramble about my greatest hits."

For a moment, it seemed pointless. AD-10's ramblings continued, a disjointed mess of memories and random observations. But then, the droid's head tilted toward Kyle, its optical sensor focusing with surprising clarity. "Master Senth," it said, its voice steadier now, though still strained, "It's… grand to see you… again."

Kyle blinked, confused, "Senth? What are you on about?"

AD-10 didn't answer the question directly, instead glancing around the room with slow, jerky movements "You're… restrained. Most troubling. I should… assist." It tried to move, its limbs creaking and sparking as it struggled to gain traction "Perhaps… if I crawl through… the tables…"

Kyle's eyes widened slightly, "You think you can make it?"

AD-10 nodded—or at least attempted to "My… condition is suboptimal, Master Senth. But… I will try."

The droid began dragging itself across the scattered tables and equipment, its movements clumsy and awkward. Its broken limbs knocked over tools and components, creating a trail of mess and spill behind it, "I… regret that I'm not… of greater aid," AD-10 said, its tone tinged with genuine sorrow. "My… apologies."

Kyle gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he strained against his restraints. "You're doing fine, AD. Just keep moving. We're almost there."

The droid let out a weak hum of acknowledgment as it neared the edge of the table. Sparks flew from its joints, and its frame shuddered with every movement. Finally, AD-10 reached the side of Kyle's bed, its one functional arm extending shakily toward his wrist brace.

"Hold… still…" the droid muttered. Its clawed fingers grasped at the metal restraint, its grip weak but determined.

Kyle watched, his heart pounding as his eyes rushed back and forth from the droid to the door leading out of the lab, "You've got this, AD. Just a little more…"

As AD-10 worked, its voice grew fainter, its energy clearly draining, "I… regret… I couldn't… provide you with more vital… information…"

Kyle's brow furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

AD-10's optical sensor flickered as it turned slightly toward Kyle. "The… temple…" it muttered.

Kyle's eyes widened, "Temple? What temple?"

AD-10's arm jerked violently, a spark erupting from its joint. Its optical sensor dimmed again before reigniting. "The… one from… Takodana… Coordinates…" Its voice trailed off into static.

Kyle's mind raced "AD, stay with me! What about the temple? What coordinates did you give!?"

AD-10 didn't answer. Its head tilted slightly, the yellow optical sensor flickering as if struggling to stay awake. The droid then redirected all its remaining power into its trembling arm. The clawed fingers tightened around the restraint on Kyle's wrist, sparks cascading from its joints as its systems groaned in protest.

Kyle's breath hitched as he felt the faint pressure of the droid's grip pulling at the restraint.

The droid let out a strained mechanical whir, its frame shaking violently. With a sudden, sharp snap, the wrist restraint gave way, the broken pieces clattering onto the table below. Kyle's arm fell free, his skin red and bruised where the brace had held him tightly. Relief washed over him as he flexed his arm for the first time in what felt like an eternity

AD-10 slumped forward, its arm going limp as it collapsed against the table. Its optical sensor dimmed one final time, fading into complete darkness. A faint, static-filled whir escaped its frame before silence overtook it entirely.

Meanwhile Kyle quickly sat up, his arm still trembling as he reached for a surgical scalpel lying on the nearby tray. The metal handle felt alien in his grip, but it was sharp enough for what he needed. With precision born of urgency, he carefully cut through the restraint on his other wrist, then repeated the process for his ankles. His legs dropped from the table, feet meeting the cold floor beneath him.

He turned to AD-10, its charred frame slumped lifeless against the edge of the table nearby. Placing a hand on the droid's remains, he whispered, "Thank you…"

It was then that the faint sound of movement from beyond the door leading out of the lab jolted him back to the present. Straightening, Kyle gripped the scalpel tightly, scanning the room for his next move.

---

Rey and Elle moved swiftly through the corridors until they reached a heavy durasteel doors marking Kyle's holding chamber and assumed their positions, standing guard as if they belonged. After a brief pause Elle wasted no time, stepping toward the panel beside the door and inputting the clearance codes she had memorized.

A red light flashed. Access denied.

Elle cursed under her breath and tried again. The same response.

"Great," she muttered with frustration, "They must have updated the access levels. My clearance isn't cutting it."

Rey exhaled sharply and turned her attention toward the reinforced glass panel beside the door. The helmet was limiting her vision, so she lifted it slightly, squinting through the semi-opaque surface. The interior was a blur of indistinct shapes and dim lighting. She could make out a medical table, scattered equipment, and— movement.

"He's in there," Rey confirmed, lowering her helmet back into place. "But I can't see his condition."

Elle kept working at the panel, growing more frustrated with each failed attempt, "I thought you were a Jedi, can't you just…" she waved her hand vaguely.

Rey shot her a sharp look, "That's not how it works."

Elle scoffed, "Could've fooled me."

Before Rey could retort, a voice cut through the corridor behind them.

"You two," the voice barked, "Step away from the door. Now."

Both women turned slowly. The stormtrooper officer from before stood at the far end of the hallway. His blaster was already raised, his stance firm.

"Weapons down. Hands where I can see them."

Elle stiffened, her grip tightening around her blaster. Rey, however, kept her posture relaxed, lowering her blaster, she took a slow step forward, hands slightly raised.

"Officer," Rey said, her voice gentle, "We were placed here under orders from Governor Rylik. There must be a-"

"Save it," the officer snapped, adjusting his aim slightly. "If that were true, I'd have been informed. Now drop your weapons, or I'll—"

Rey didn't let him finish.

With a sharp flick of her wrist, she reached out with the Force. The officer's blaster wrenched from his grip, flipping through the air as if snatched by an invisible hand. Before he could react, Rey pulled again, this time with more force. The trooper was yanked forward, his body lurching violently off balance. He barely had time to grunt in surprise before crashing hard against the metal floor.

He slumped, unconscious.

Elle let out a low whistle. "Damn," she muttered, "That was impressive."

Rey didn't acknowledge the compliment. Instead, she stepped forward and knelt beside the officer, swiftly unclipping his security badge from his belt. She tossed it to Elle.

"Get the door open."

Elle caught it and immediately swiped the card against the panel. A green light flashed.

The doors slid open with a hiss.

Without another word, both women stepped inside.

---

The moment the doors slid open, Kyle was already moving.

With a guttural growl, he lunged forward, his body still battered but fueled by sheer instinct and rage. He slammed into the first stormtrooper through the door knocking them back with a forceful shoulder slam that sent them crashing into the metal wall. Before the second trooper could react, Kyle snatched at their blaster, holding tightly around its barrel.

The trooper barely had time to curse before they felt the cold press of a scalpel against the neck, right between their chest plate and helmet.

"Drop it," Kyle ordered, his grip on the blaster tight as he pressed the blade just enough to make his point. His breathing was ragged, his gaze wild with a mix of exhaustion, fury, and desperation. His muscles ached, but his adrenaline-fueled grip didn't waver, his eyes switched to the bettered trooper as they rose from the ground, "You, back up! Drop your weapon. Now!"

The trooper, still reeling from the hit, raised their hands slowly, the blaster hanging loosely in their grip. They hesitated for only a moment before letting it clatter to the floor.

"Kyle, stop," a female voice said, pleading under the modulated tone of the helmet

He didn't flinch, his eyes darting between her and the trooper on his hold, "Who the hell are you?"

The trooper exhaled, reaching up. Slowly, deliberately, she unlatched the helmet and lifted it off, revealing her face.

Kyle's grip faltered.

"Rey?" His voice was barely above a whisper, confusion flickering through his expression. The tension in his stance lessened just a fraction, though the scalpel remained poised at Elle's throat. His eyes scanned her face as if ensuring she wasn't some trick of the light, "How did you-"

Rey allowed herself a small smirk, "It wasn't easy."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something like relief flickered in Kyle's eyes. He let out a tired huff of laughter, shaking his head, "Yeah, I bet…"

Elle, however, cleared her throat pointedly, "So, uh… can I move now, or are we still pretending you're going to slice me up here?"

Kyle blinked, glancing at her as if remembering the scalpel he still held at her throat. He looked to Rey, who gave him a nod. With a sigh, he stepped back and let Elle go. She rubbed at her neck, rolling her shoulders as she muttered, "If I knew you could break out on your own, I would've just ditched this mission and joined Rider."

Kyle frowned, his exhaustion making it hard to piece together what she meant, "Wait, what?"

With a short laugh, Elle pulled off her helmet, shaking out her short, blonde hair, "Guess it's never too late to make the right choice, right?"

Kyle stared at her, recognition dawning. He had said those words once, back at the convoy, when he let the troopers go.

"Sorry about the…" Kyle lightly waved the scalpel.

"Don't sweat it, at least you say sorry!" Elle smiled, "Elle, by the way!"

Before the trio could say another word, a blaster bolt seared past Kyle's head, close enough for him to feel the heat.

Kyle barely managed to duck as another shot rang out, sparking against the wall.

The stormtrooper officer was still on the floor, his body half-propped up, sidearm clutched in his shaking hand. His helmet had been knocked loose, revealing a bloodied face twisted in pain and fury as he fired wildly.

Before Kyle or Rey could react, Elle was faster.

She raised her blaster and squeezed the trigger.

Three shots.

The first hit the officer's chest, sending him fully onto his back. The second and third ensured he wouldn't be getting back up.

Silence ensued, Elle exhaled slowly, lowering her blaster. For a moment, something flickered across her face, as if shaken up by what she had done, but brief. She brushed it off, rolling her shoulders as if shaking away dust.

"Well," she muttered, turning to Rey and Kyle. "Reunions are nice… But maybe we should get moving, others probably heard those shots..."

Rey nodded, already tapping her comms, "Jabs, Ragnar, do you read?" Static. She tried again. Nothing but dead air, "Still jammed."

Kyle, meanwhile, moved swiftly to a nearby table, grabbing his boots. He slid them on quickly and as he headed back to the lab's exit he glanced one last time at the remains of AD-10. He lingered for only a second, then turned away.

"Hey, catch," Elle called.

Kyle barely had time to react before she tossed the stormtrooper officer's blaster rifle toward him. He caught it one-handed, flipping it into a ready grip.

Elle raised an eyebrow, "Think you can still shoot?"

Kyle gave her a wry smirk as he checked the power pack, "Let's find out."

---

The control center was a mess.

Bodies of stormtroopers lay strewn across the floor, their armor scorched with blaster fire. Consoles flickered with warning lights, an alarm flashing intermittently though no sirens blared, having been cut off before it could alert the entire base. Several technicians sat bound in a corner, their hands secured behind their backs with restraints torn straight from their own security cabinets. Among them, a particularly agitated officer—the same one Ragnar had kicked earlier—struggled against his bindings, a makeshift muzzle strapped over his mouth to keep him from barking orders or insults.

Jabs stood near the doorway, blaster in hand, watching their captives with a sharp eye. He tapped his fingers against his rifle, shifting his weight as he glanced toward Ragnar, "You know, I think Captain Barlo's here got a real future in quiet reflection."

Ragnar didn't look up from the console, his fingers moving across the controls as he tried to override the security locks, "You talk too much."

Jabs smirked, "Funny, I usually don't…"

The Mandalorian frowned as he scanned the data before him. The controls were dense, layered with security protocols he wasn't familiar with. He had managed to shut down the local alarms and redirect some patrols, but every other access point was locked down tight.

A chime rang from the console. Ragnar stiffened as he glanced at the incoming transmission.

"Jabs, Ragnar, do you read?"

The transmission dissolved into static.

Ragnar's expression darkened. He adjusted the frequency, trying again, "Rey? Come in."

More static.

Jabs exhaled through his helmet, "Yeah, that's probably not gonna work. The comms we're using aren't on the base network. Whatever frequency she's on, it's getting jammed. Either a failsafe security measure or Rylik's just paranoid."

Ragnar turned sharply toward him. "And you didn't think to mention this before?"

Jabs shrugged, unfazed, "Figured you'd have guessed."

Ragnar muttered something under his breath in Mando'a before switching the frequency again. If he couldn't reach Rey, then they'd try another route. He opened the encrypted line meant for his warriors outside the base.

The same issue.

Nothing but static.

His grip on the console tightened, "It's jamming external comms too."

Jabs sighed, rubbing the back of his helmet. "Yeah… that's not great."

Ragnar turned to face him, his patience wearing thin "Then how do we get a signal out?"

Jabs glanced toward the console, thinking, "Rider had the know-how with all the technical stuff but If we had access to one of the main transmission relays, we could maybe override the jamming, but we're not likely to get to it without raising the alarm again, and we're already cutting it close here."

Ragnar remained silent for a moment, his fingers tapping against the edge of the console as he thought. Then, with a sharp exhale, he said, "We don't need to override the jamming ourselves. We just need to send a coded signal outside so my warriors can hit the relay directly."

Jabs tilted his head, "Right. Because fighting a bunch of stormtroopers outside sounds way easier than hacking a console."

Ragnar ignored the sarcasm, "If they take down the source of the jamming, we get open comms. That means we can coordinate an attack from the inside while they strike from the outside."

Jabs nodded, "Sure. One problem though—we need the clearance code to send the signal."

Both men fell silent as they turned their heads toward the bound officer, Barlo, who continued to struggle against his restraints.

Both men nodded at each other as Ragnar grabbed Barlo by the collar of his uniform and yanked him up, dragging him toward the console. He slammed him against the controls, pinning him there with one arm while his free hand pressed a blaster pistol to the officer's side.

"Input the clearance code," Ragnar ordered coldly.

Barlo glared at him, jaw tight, "Do you think I'm just going to—"

Ragnar clicked off the safety, "Now."

Barlo's lip curled, "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Terrorist?" Ragnar sneered, "You keep innocents in cages, conduct experiments on people, and you think I'm the monster?"

The officer scoffed, "You Mandalorians are all the same. You pretend you're warriors, but you're just rabid dogs without masters."

Ragnar pressed the blaster harder against his ribs, "Last chance."

Before Barlo could spit out another insult, one of the bound technicians spoke up, his voice strained and sweat dripping down his young face. "Captain, please… just do it."

Barlo clenched his teeth, his pride battling with self-preservation. Ragnar could see it in his eyes, he was a hardliner but not a zealot, he wouldn't die for this cause despite platitudes. Finally, with a deep breath, the officer's shoulders dropped in reluctant surrender.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice filled with scorn.

Ragnar released his grip slightly but kept the blaster trained on him, "Slowly."

Barlo's still bound hands moved over the console, inputting the clearance code. A moment later, a confirmation beep sounded.

"There," he spat, "You can send your little message now."

Ragnar didn't waste time. He leaned over the console and spoke clearly into the relay.

"Veyron, this is Ragnar. We're inside the control center, but comms are jammed. The signal is coming from a primary relay station, take it out. That'll force their hand. Commence attack immediately."

He hit send.

The confirmation light flashed green.

Before Ragnar could turn back to Barlo, the officer snarled and shoved him away, using the momentary distraction to lunge toward the intercom panel. His hand slapped against the controls, and his voice rang out through the base.

"Security! Intruders have taken the control center! Lock down—"

Ragnar fired.

The blaster bolts struck Barlo square in the chest, sending him crashing into the console. He slumped forward, his body twitching once before hitting the ground, dead.

"Well, they know we're here now!" Jabs said while tightening the hold on his blaster, still aimed at the subdued technicians.

Ragnar leveled his blaster at the group of bound technicians, his tone flat and direct, "How do we open the doors into the base?"

The young technician who had pleaded with Barlo earlier swallowed hard, eyes darting between his bound hands and the Mandalorian's weapon, "I-I can't—"

Ragnar stepped closer, pressing the blaster barrel against the technician's head, "Try again."

The technician's breath hitched, his resistance crumbling instantly. "It's a double confirmation system!" he blurted out. "One release switch is here in the control center, but the other has to be activated from the main hold!"

Ragnar glanced at Jabs, then back to the technician, satisfied with the answer he nodded to himself before turning back to the console, tapping into the base's intercom system. His voice crackled over the speakers.

"To all personnel, this is your intruder speaking. We're in your control center. Didn't take much effort, either. If you think you're taking it back, you're welcome to try." He let the taunt settle before cutting the transmission.

Jabs let out a low whistle, "You've got guts I'll give you that Mandalorian…"

Ragnar drew his second blaster, checking its charge "It should buy the others time."

Jabs took a deep breath, then reached up and unlatched his helmet, pulling it off. His short buzzed hair was damp with sweat, his bronze skin lined with faint scars and stubble framing his jaw, despite the situation, a wry smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Let's give them a real welcome," he muttered, gripping his blaster tight

Ragnar nodded once, standing firm beside him, both men ready as the sound of boots and distant alarms filled the corridors.

---

The hallways of the lab were a blur as Rey, Kyle, and Elle sprinted through them, boots pounding against the durasteel floors. The three moved quickly, blasters in hand, their breaths controlled despite the urgency of their situation when suddenly, the intercom crackled to life.

"Security! Intruders have taken the control center! Lock down—"

The transmission cut off abruptly.

The trio skidded to a halt, exchanging brief glances of confusion.

"Well, that didn't sound great," Elle muttered, gripping her blaster tightly.

Kyle, still weakened but moving steadily, adjusted his grip on his stolen rifle, "At least we know they made it."

"Yeah, and that guy didn't finish his sentence, so… that's something," Elle added, tilting her head, "I'll take a win where I can get it."

Rey exhaled, focusing ahead, "We need to move before the troopers regroup."

As they rounded a corner, Elle pressed her back against the wall, signaling the others to stop. She peaked out and caught sight of a squad of stormtroopers rushing past an adjacent hallway, their focus directed elsewhere.

She frowned, "They're moving toward the control center."

Rey nodded in realization. "Jabs and Ragnar really stirred up the hornet's nest."

Kyle took a steadying breath, lifting his blaster, "Might still need to shoot our way out, but at least there won't be as many in our way."

Rey smirked slightly "For once, I like those odds."

Then, as if on cue, the intercom crackled again. This time, the voice that rang out was unmistakable.

"To all personnel, this is your intruder speaking. We're in your control center. Didn't take much effort, either. If you think you're taking it back, you're welcome to try."

The three of them exchanged looks.

Elle let out a breathy laugh, "Mandalorian's got a sense of humor."

Kyle shook his head but allowed a smirk to creep in, "That should keep them busy."

Rey's grip on her blaster tightened as she stepped forward, "Let's not waste the opportunity."

With renewed confidence, the trio pressed on, moving swiftly through the corridors, now with the odds slightly tipped in their favor.

---

The jaggsd cliffs surrounding the First Order base stretched into the horizon, a maze of rocky outcroppings and uneven terrain bathed in the dim glow of the Jabiim's sun. Nestled within these formations, hidden in the natural crevices and folds of stone, a group of Mandalorians lay in wait.

Veyron lay atop a rock formation, rangefinder scanning the base's perimeter. Anticipation nagging at him and everyone else. They had been here for hours, waiting, watching, holding their position, but even the most patient warriors among them were beginning to grow restless.

A low voice broke the silence, "Something feels off."

Veyron didn't turn. He knew the sentiment was shared. Several Mandalorians shifted slightly in their cover.. Some gripped their weapons tighter, others flexed their fingers, anxious to move, to strike. They were warriors raised for battle, and waiting for this long, without a sign of engagement, was grating on them.

"They should have signaled us by now," another muttered.

Veyron remained still, his gaze locked on the base's hidden entrance in the mesa below. His gut told him to wait. Ragnar wouldn't leave them in the dark.

And then, as if answering his silent command, his wrist communicator lit up, pulsing red.

Ragnar's voice cut through the static, firm and clear:

"Veyron, this is Ragnar. We're inside the control center, but comms are jammed. The signal is coming from a primary relay station, take it out. That'll force their hand. Commence attack immediately."

Veyron grinned beneath his helmet.

"Time to move!"

Without hesitation, he rose from his cover and activated his jetpack, the sharp whoosh of ignition cutting through the air. The sound was soon joined by dozens more as his warriors followed suit, their forms rising from their concealed positions like spectral wraiths of war.

As they ascended, Veyron traced the transmission's origin, his helmet display locking onto a structure behind the mesa. At first, it appeared to be a natural pillar of rock, blending seamlessly into the environment. But as they neared, details became clearer, reinforced plating, communication arrays, and defensive turrets hidden within the rock face.

A relay tower.

Veyron didn't need to issue a second order. His warriors saw what he saw, and they knew exactly what to do.

"Hit it hard," he commanded.

Missiles streaked through the air as the Mandalorians descended in a coordinated assault. Blaster fire erupted from their ranks, peppering the structure with red and blue streaks. Explosions rocked the tower as the first wave of ordinance struck its armored exterior.

The stormtroopers stationed at the tower scrambled into position. Mounted turrets swiveled upward, and in an instant, a barrage of laser fire filled the sky, cutting through the dust and smoke.

Veyron twisted midair, evading a hail of blaster bolts as he zeroed in on a turret position. A Mandalorian beside him let loose a micro-missile, striking true—the turret exploded in a fireball, sending debris scattering.

The battle had begun.

---

The sharp wail of alarms filled the hallways, red emergency lights flashing in warning as the base's intercom crackled again.

"All personnel—this is Command! We are under attack! Multiple hostiles engaging the relay station—repeat, we are under attack!"

The blaring sirens vibrated through the durasteel walls, masking the hurried footsteps of stormtroopers scrambling to reinforce key positions.

Rey, Kyle, and Elle moved with careful urgency through the corridors until they reached a wide chamber, the main holding area where Rey and Elle had first arrived.

Cells lined the walls, heavy durasteel doors reinforced with energy barriers sealing their occupants inside. Through the small viewports, they could see the prisoners, all of them worn, battered, but standing and curious at the situation. The elevator system at the end of the chamber was their way topside.

Rey pressed herself against the wall, "We need to reach the elevators before reinforcements block us in."

Elle glanced around the chamber warily, blaster raised, dozens of stormtroopers were posted around different sections of the chamber. "Too many troopers moving around. We get pinned here, it's over."

Before Rey could reply, her comms suddenly cleared, Ragnar's voice breaking through the static, breathless and urgent.

"Rey, do you read?! Do you read?! We're pinned down—" Blaster fire ripped through the transmission.

Rey's heart leapt as she replied to her wrist, "Ragnar! We've got Kyle—what's your situation?"

More shots fired in the background, and then Ragnar's voice over then, "Great, finally! Took your time, huh? Meanwhile, we're pinned down at the control center and could use some help here!"

Elle and Kyle exchanged glances, listening as Ragnar pressed on.

"Listen, there's no time. You need to get to the main hold topside and deactivate the locking switch so my warriors can breach the base. We're out of options here!"

Elle exhaled sharply, shaking her head, "That's great and all, but if we get trapped down here, it won't matter. We don't have the firepower to break through."

Kyle's grip tightened around his blaster as his eyes swept over the cells. His expression hardened with realization.

"We don't," he muttered, turning to Rey, "but we've got the numbers."

Rey followed his gaze, her brow furrowing. "Kyle…"

Kyle cut her off, "You think these people are just going to sit here while the First Order deals with the attack? Give them a chance to fight, and they will."

Elle shifted uncomfortably, still gripping her weapon, "That's a gamble."

Kyle met her gaze, " These people were taken for a reason and I guarantee every single one of them wants a shot at payback."

Rey hesitated for only a moment before nodding, tapping her comm again. "Ragnar, override the security locks in the lower holding area… all of them."

A pause.

Then Ragnar's voice, confused but steady, "Wait, what?

"Unlock every cell down here," Rey repeated, "We need the prisoners loose."

There was another blaster burst in the background before Ragnar replied, "Alright, give me a second!" His voice was slightly distracted, but he didn't question it further.

Elle sighed, "Hope this works…"

The distant clank of armored boots echoed down the hallway.

A stormtrooper patrol.

Rey and Elle pressed against cover as Kyle crouched behind them, his grip steadying on his blaster.

"Search the area," one of the troopers ordered, "If the intruders took the control center there could be more of them!"

Kyle exhaled, raising his weapon, "Just a little longer…"

The troopers' boots pounded against the floor.

Closer.

Elle adjusted her stance.

The blasters hummed, fingers hovering over triggers.

Then.

Beep.

A small, mechanical chime sounded across the chamber.

All at once, the cell doors flashed from green to red and with a hiss, every single one of them slid open.

For a second, eerie silence.

Then the sound of movement as dozens of prisoners stepped out from their cells, eyes flickering between the red emergency lights and the confused stormtroopers.

The stormtroopers hesitated, just for a moment.

Then a roar of fury erupted through the chamber.

The prisoners surged forward from their cells. Some tackled troopers, slamming them against the walls. Others grabbed weapons, wrenching blasters from their captors' hands. Red bolts streaked across the room as chaos ignited.

Kyle stepped forward from cover, lifting his blaster and firing at the stormtroopers who were just about to uncover them, "Now we've got a chance!"

---

The battle at the relay tower raged as Mandalorians descended from the skies like war-born wraiths. The tower's defenders, stormtroopers stationed at the turrets and barricades, fought back with everything they had, red and green bolts scorching through the air.

Veyron landed hard against the outer walkway, his boots scraping against the metal as he pivoted and fired his blaster. A trooper barely had time to turn before a bolt slammed into his chest, sending him staggering backward and over the railing.

Around him, Mandalorians engaged in hand-to-hand combat, their gauntlets smashing into stormtrooper helmets, blades slipping through gaps in armor, and reinforced fists breaking ribs. A warrior to Veyron's left tackled a trooper into the tower wall, slamming their helmeted head into durasteel until the body went limp.

Blaster fire still rained from the tower's defensive emplacements. A Mandalorian beside Veyron took a shot to the shoulder and fell back, his jetpack sputtering before he crashed onto the rocky ground below. Veyron barely had time to register it before another trooper lunged at him with an electrostaff.

Veyron turned just in time, catching the staff against his forearm bracer. With a twist, he yanked the trooper forward and drove his knee into their gut, making them double over. Before they could recover, he grabbed them by the collar and hurled them off the tower, their scream cutting off as they disappeared below.

Another explosion rocked the tower as a Mandalorian lobbed a thermal detonator through a small viewport, the blast blowing out part of the interior and sending stormtroopers flying through shattered durasteel panels. Veyron saw his opening.

"Bring it down!" he roared.

More thermal detonators were thrown into the tower, clanking against walls and rolling into openings. A moment later, boom. The explosion rippled through the entire structure, shattering reinforced supports.

The tower groaned, its foundations cracking under the concussive force.

With a final, earsplitting snap, the structure tilted, flames licking through its core before it crumbled completely, collapsing into a heap of smoldering wreckage.

"Move!" Veyron shouted, signaling his warriors to clear the area.

As the Mandalorians jet-packed away from the destruction, Veyron's comm unit flickered to life. Ragnar's voice, now clearer, cut through the static.

"Veyron! We're pinned down at the control center! Trying to get the doors open—"

Before Ragnar could finish, a new sound filled the air.

The screech of approaching TIE Fighters.

Veyron's head snapped up just as a squadron of First Order starfighters screamed through the sky, their panels reflecting the distant sun.

Then, green bolts rained down.

Explosions erupted across the rocky terrain as Mandalorians scrambled, some managing to jet away while others were caught in the fiery blasts. One warrior barely had time to evade before a missile struck, the shockwave sending him spiraling before his jetpack failed and he plummeted.

Veyron cursed.

Blaster bolts filled the sky as some of the warriors fired back, but the TIEs were too fast, maneuvering and raining death from above. A pair of Mandalorians managed to fire off micro-missiles, and two of the fighters exploded in flames, but more were coming.

Another missile screamed toward the ground, vaporizing two Mandalorians in its impact. Veyron gritted his teeth, snapping into his comms, "Ragnar! We need that door open now or we're finished out here!"

He didn't wait for a reply, there was no time. A TIE was closing in fast, locked onto him.

Its laser cannons flashed.

Veyron raised his blaster, knowing it wouldn't be enough. Yet the Mandalorian faced the incoming enemy without fear or hesitation.

Then, a sudden explosion.

The TIE Fighter was obliterated mid-flight, flaming debris scattering across the sky.

Veyron's head whipped up just in time to see a YT-1300 freighter soaring through the cloudy air, its quad-laser turrets swiveling as it unleashed another burst of deadly fire, tearing through another TIE.

The Mandalorians, momentarily stunned, watched as the ship dipped into a sharp turn, maneuvering through the clouds with impossible speed.

Veyron's rangefinder zoomed in on the hull.

His voice was a mix of shock and amusement as he muttered, "You've got to be kidding me…"

The Millennium Falcon had arrived.

---

Blaster fire tore through the chamber as Rey, Kyle, and Elle pushed forward, moving through the chaos of prisoners and stormtroopers clashing in every direction. Laser fire flashed across the space, striking bodies, scorching walls, and igniting control panels. The once-contained energy of the labs had erupted into full-blown carnage

Kyle fired two quick shots, dropping a trooper who had taken cover behind a console. He barely had time to register the kill before another trooper raised a blaster his way—only to be tackled from the side by a freed prisoner wielding nothing but a broken pipe.

Elle sprinted and fired rapidly, panting as she yanked a spare power pack from her belt and jammed it into her blaster.

Kyle fired another burst as he moved, keeping his stance steady.

Rey cut down a trooper with blaster fire of her own, covering Elle before pressing ahead. The trio covered each other as they fought their way through the chamber amidst the chaos.

There was no time to dwell. They had reached the elevator.

Once they did, Rey smacked the controls, calling the lift as the last of the troopers in their immediate path were overwhelmed by the prisoners. The turbolift doors slid open, and the trio hurried inside. Kyle turned to the freed captives behind them, most of them armed with stolen weapons, some with nothing more than the will to fight.

"We'll send it back down!" he called.

The closest prisoner, a grizzled-looking man still wearing a ragged lab uniform, gave a sharp nod. "We'll hold here as long as we can. Go!"

The doors shut, and in an instant, the elevator shot upward, carrying them away from the battle and toward the ground level.

The rush of movement jolted them slightly, and for the first time in hours they had a second to catch their breath.

Elle leaned against the wall, exhaling sharply. "I swear, I thought that was going to turn into a total disaster."

Kyle smirked, wiping sweat from his brow, "Never underestimate people when you give them a reason to fight."

Elle shook her head with a small chuckle, but Rey remained silent. She inhaled deeply, centering herself.

Then her wrist comm crackled.

A familiar voice broke through.

"Rey! Come in, do you copy?"

She immediately pressed the receiver. "Ronan?"

"Yeah, it's us! We're engaging TIEs now! Just like old times, huh?"

In the background, a deep, unmistakable WRAAAGH! rumbled through the comms.

Rey had a smile on her face, "Chewie!"

"Yeah, he's still pretty mad you left him behind, by the way." Ronan's voice carried amusement.

Rey smiled despite herself, shaking her head. "Tell him he can yell at me later. Right now, we need to focus. We're heading topside to open the doors into the base. Keep at it in the skies and give us some cover."

"Copy that. We'll keep 'em busy."

The transmission ended.

Kyle turned to her, one eyebrow raised. "Chewie I know. That other guy, though?"

Rey glanced at him, then exhaled. "Ronan. One of my best students. Bit eccentric, but dependable."

Kyle let that sit for a moment before smirking, "Think he's gonna try to arrest me when we meet?"

Rey tilted her head in mock thought. "Mmm… no. Not unless I tell him to." She smiled slightly.

Kyle gave an exaggerated sigh, "Great. Another overzealous Jedi to worry about."

Elle smirked, "Feels like I'm missing some vital context here…"

Kyle chuckled, "You don't know the half of it…"

The elevator slowed.

They readied their weapons.

They had arrived.

---

Blaster fire screamed through the control center as Ragnar and Jabs fought with every ounce of resolve left in them. It felt like the entire First Order was descending upon them, wave after wave of stormtroopers flooding the corridors and forcing them into a desperate stand.

Jabs crouched against a console, gritting his teeth as he blindly fired over it. His shots weren't precise, but they didn't need to be; one of them struck a trooper square in the chest, sending them sprawling backward.

Ragnar, standing in cover near the doorway, moved like a battle-hardened predator. He ducked from side to side in cover, raised his twin blasters, and fired in rapid succession—one, two, three, four—dropping multiple troopers before sliding back into position as more poured in.

The bodies were piling up outside the control center, but the enemy just kept coming.

Ragnar let out a harsh breath, "Doesn't matter how many we drop, there's always more."

"They're afraid," Jabs muttered, swapping to a fresh power pack, "That's why they haven't rushed us yet."

Ragnar scoffed, "Yeah? Doesn't feel like they're afraid."

The moment the words left his mouth, a stormtrooper on the far side of the corridor adjusted their position, getting an angle on Ragnar.

The shot rang out before he could react.

CRACK!

The blaster bolt struck Ragnar square in the lower torso, hitting the thin side of his beskar plating. The force of it staggered him, a sharp grunt escaping him as pain flared through his side.

Jabs immediately dropped the trooper who fired, sending a bolt straight between their visor.

"Hey—" Jabs turned to Ragnar, eyes narrowing. "You good?"

Ragnar exhaled, rolling his shoulder as he steadied himself, his armor now scorched where the bolt had hit. "I'm still standing."

Jabs let out a dry chuckle, firing off a volley of blaster fire at the troopers.

Ragnar shook his head, smirking under his helmet despite the pain, "I never thought I'd die alongside a stormtrooper..."

Jabs snorted, checking the charge on his blaster, "Yeah, well… this wasn't exactly how I imagined going out either."

He took a breath, something more serious in his expression now, "But at least, for once, I'm doing something by choice. Can't ask for more than that."

The two men exchanged a long look.

There was no need for words, just mutual respect.

Outside, the stormtroopers were repositioning again, their fire intensifying. The two men steadied themselves, preparing for what would likely be their last stand.

Then, Ragnar's comm crackled.

"Ragnar! We're at the switch now!"

Rey's voice.

Ragnar's eyes snapped toward the console, a rush of adrenaline kicking in. "We need to activate them at the same time!"

He made a move for the console but the sheer volume of blaster fire directed at his position forced him back in cover.

Jabs swore under his breath, ducking low, "We're never getting to that switch like this."

Ragnar's mind raced, trying to calculate another approach. There was no way he could clear a path fast enough.

Then, without hesitation, Jabs exhaled sharply and said, "Cover me."

Ragnar barely had time to process the words before Jabs moved.

The defector vaulted out of cover, blaster raised as he sprinted toward the console.

Blaster bolts streaked past him, some grazing his armor, some striking dangerously close. But he didn't stop.

Ragnar gritted his teeth and did what Jabs asked, he stepped out of cover and opened fire, unleashing an enraged barrage at the stormtroopers, forcing them back.

Jabs reached the console.

His hand slammed against the switch.

Ragnar glanced back for a moment before another set of blaster fire hit him in the chest plate and caused him to fall down and get back into cover. Before either men could even call out in victory, another shot cracked through the air.

Then another.

And another.

Jabs staggered forward, his back arching as multiple bolts struck him from behind.

Ragnar's breath hitched.

"No…"

Jabs collapsed onto the floor, his body landing with a sickening thud.

Ragnar saw red.

With a guttural roar, he charged from cover, blasters blazing in relentless fury. He didn't care about tactics, didn't care about conserving ammo, he just fired and kept firing, stormtroopers dropping one after the other under the sheer force of his assault.

The stormtroopers quickly recognized his rage for what it was: desperation. He was exposed, alone in the open.

"Cut him down!" one officer barked.

Multiple troopers raised their weapons, sights locked onto the now exposed Mandalorian, ready to reduce him to nothing but charred armor.

Then the stormtroopers heard it, the thunder of jetpacks.

And then came a torrent of blaster bolts that ripped through the First Order forces like a storm. The stormtroopers barely had time to turn before a wave of Mandalorians descended upon them, firing with deadly precision.

Explosions erupted throughout the corridor as thermal detonators and wrist-rockets were unleashed, obliterating stormtrooper barricades and sending bodies flying.

Ragnar was still firing, his rage blinding him, chaos all around him.

Meanwhile, in the main hold, Rey, Kyle, and Elle barely had time to breathe before the next wave of stormtroopers poured in as reinforcement.

The trio immediately opened fire, ducking behind crates and parked vehicles as red bolts scorched through the air. Kyle took cover behind a supply container, firing controlled bursts and dropping stormtroopers one by one. Rey fried from cover shots, covering Elle as she reloaded.

"More coming from the left!" Elle shouted.

Kyle swiveled, eyes narrowing as another squad pushed in. They had reinforcements coming but so did they as dozens of Mandalorian warriors stormed in through the wide opened doors of the base blasters raised, cutting down the First Order soldiers.

One jetpacked up and landed on top of a stormtrooper, slamming him into the durasteel floor before finishing him with a wrist-mounted flamethrower. Another Mandalorian fired a grappling line, yanking a trooper into the air before gunning him down mid-flight.

But they weren't alone.

Emerging from the depths of the lab levels came dozens of freed prisoners. Armed and ready to fight for freedom.

"Push forward!" the grizzled leading prisoner roared, and the tide shifted completely.

Rey, Kyle, and Elle didn't hesitate. They surged forward with the rest, blasters firing in sync with their new allies.

The First Order, caught between Mandalorians and the furious prisoners, faltered.

A stormtrooper officer attempted to rally them. "Hold the line! Do not let them brea—"

His words were cut off by a blaster bolt to the chest. He crumpled, and the troopers wavered.

The First Order line had collapsed.

---

Dr. Layna's hands trembled as she frantically packed the last of her personal effects into a small case. The base was falling apart. Blaster fire echoed from the distant corridors, and outside the durasteel walls, the unmistakable roar of starfighter combat filled the air. The alarms blared relentlessly, an agonizing siren wailing over and over.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

She shoved several datapads and files into the case before stopping. Her mind raced. Was there anything else she needed? Something that she couldn't afford to leave behind?

Yes.

Moving swiftly, Layna crossed her quarters and opened a storage cabinet. Inside, neatly secured in a padded compartment, sat an RK-model blaster pistol. Her fingers hovered over it for just a moment before she grabbed it and hesitantly tucked it under her coat.

She had never needed to use a weapon before.

But desperate times…

She exhaled, steeling herself, and exited her quarters—only to nearly collide with a massive, armored figure.

Tempest.

The stormtrooper commander loomed over her, clad in his hulking, reinforced armor. His thin visor, as always, gave nothing away.

"Base security has been compromised," Tempest stated flatly, his voice deep and filtered through his helmet, "I am to escort you to Jabiim-Selim immediately."

Layna pursed her lips, "I gathered as much," she muttered, brushing past him.

Tempest turned and followed without another word, his heavy steps falling into pace behind her.

The corridors were in chaos. Stormtroopers rushed past, shouting orders at one another while science personnel scrambled, clutching whatever equipment they could carry. Others weren't as lucky—some simply stood there, frozen in terror as the distant blaster fire crept closer and closer.

Layna ignored them.

Her focus was on reaching the hangar.

When they arrived, it was worse than she expected.

The entire hangar was in disarray. Transport shuttles were already lifting off, their engines roaring as they fled the collapsing facility. Stormtroopers barked orders at the remaining personnel, keeping them in line, but panic was setting in.

At the center of the hangar, one ship stood distinct from the others—a sleek, black Xi-Class shuttle, its ramp lowered, waiting. A pair of red-armored Praetorian Guards stood at its entrance, flanking the top of the ramp with their weapons held in quiet readiness. Close by, a formation of stormtroopers held back a crowd of desperate science staff who were pleading for evacuation.

Layna and Tempest entered through a side doorway, surveying the scene.

Layna's heart clenched at the sheer number of staff left behind.

She turned to Tempest. "Are more transports coming for the rest of them?"

"No."

Layna stopped in her tracks, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Tempest didn't falter. "All remaining priority personnel have been evacuated. You are the last."

Layna's jaw tightened, "I cannot abandon my team!"

"You do not have a choice."

Layna stood her ground, "I—"

Tempest moved.

His electrified gauntlet struck her side with a sudden jolt. Layna barely had time to gasp before her vision blurred, her body stiffening as the shock coursed through her.

Then, everything went black.

Tempest caught Layna before she collapsed completely, lifting her unconscious form effortlessly into his arms. Without hesitation, he marched toward the waiting Xi-Class shuttle.

The Praetorians stepped aside as he approached, their silent helmets turning only slightly to watch as he boarded with his cargo. The ramp sealed behind them.

The moment Tempest was aboard, the ship's engines ignited.

Below, the remaining scientists watched in horror as their supposed superior was carried away while they were left behind.

Then the shuttle lifted off, soaring out of the hangar.

The stormtroopers on the ground stood firm.

They knew what was coming.

The moment the Xi-Class was gone, the remaining stormtroopers began their own retreat, marching toward their own waiting transports.

The scientists started pushing against the thin stormtrooper line.

"You can't leave us here!"

"Take us with you!"

"Please!"

Their voices cracked with desperation.

The stormtroopers did not waver.

But then, everyone heard it.

A distant boom, followed by the deep, grinding sound of metal doors being breached.

Silence fell over the hangar.

Slowly, dozens of terrified eyes turned toward the massive blast doors.

Then…

A detonator went off.

The doors exploded into the hangar, sending molten chunks of durasteel flying.

Through the smoke and debris, they emerged.

Mandalorians.

A few of them, at first and then more, pouring in like armored specters of death.

They advanced quickly, blasters raised, taking immediate control of the space.

At the head of them, Ragnar.

His blue armor was scorched from battle, his twin blasters gripped tightly in his hands. His visor swept across the hangar, scanning the cowering scientists and the frozen stormtroopers.

Then, his voice rang out.

"Nobody move."

The scientists shrank back in terror.

The stormtroopers hesitated.

Then, before any of them could make a move, more Mandalorians stormed in from behind, cutting off any hope of escape.

"This base and its contents now belongs to the Mandalorian Reclaimers!" Ragnar declared loudly.

The moment Ragnar's voice echoed through the hangar, the scientists raised their hands in surrender. Fear was evident in their expressions, the realization that they were now at the mercy of Mandalorians was enough to keep them frozen in place.

The stormtroopers, seeing the sheer number of warriors against them, hesitated. One of them, a sergeant with a dented pauldron, glanced at his men. He exhaled sharply, then let his blaster drop to the floor with a clatter. The others followed suit, lowering their weapons, their hands slowly rising.

"We surrender," the sergeant stated, his voice even, "There's no point in fighting."

Ragnar watched them closely, his fingers still wrapped around his blasters, waiting. The Mandalorians around him moved quickly, collecting weapons and securing the hangar. Some of his warriors yanked blaster pistols from the troopers' belts, while others shoved the stormtroopers down onto their knees, binding their hands with reinforced restraints.

The scientists, still frozen in place, watched as their supposed protectors were effortlessly taken apart.

Ragnar exhaled sharply, "Wise choice."

His gaze then shifted toward the huddled science personnel. He stalked forward slowly, looking over each one, taking note of their faces, their reactions. Some of them flinched as he passed by, others simply stared, faces pale with uncertainty. These were not soldiers. These were the men and women responsible for the horrors of the facility—whether willing participants or not, he didn't care.

His warriors continued their sweep, pushing the scientists toward the center of the hangar as more Mandalorians filed in, solidifying their control.

Then, a pair of light footsteps distinct from the rest.

Ragnar turned.

Rey and Kyle entered the hangar, Rey still wore her stormtrooper disguise.

Their weapons were still in their hands, but lowered. The moment Rey stepped into the open space, multiple eyes fell on her, both of amazement and fear as she scanned the staff. She exhaled softly before turning to Kyle.

"Is she here?" she asked.

Kyle's gaze swept over the gathered scientists. His eyes lingered, searching, but after a few seconds, he shook his head.

"No," he answered.

Ragnar's jaw clenched slightly, but before he could comment, one of his warriors approached, helmet tilting toward him.

"According to the control console a shuttle just departed before we breached the hangar." the Mandalorian reported

Kyle exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his head, "Then she's gone."

Rey's expression tightened.

Kyle shook his head, "Figures. She must've been priority extraction."

Ragnar said nothing for a moment, but then he signaled to his warriors.

"Take them outside."

The Mandalorians obeyed immediately.

The scientists and captured stormtroopers were swiftly marched toward the exit of the hangar, their fate now left in the hands of their captors. Some of the scientists murmured in panic, but they dared not resist.

Within moments, the space cleared.

Now, it was just Ragnar, Rey, Kyle, and a handful of Mandalorians.

Kyle exhaled, glancing toward the doors. "So, now what?"

Rey looked at Ragnar, waiting for an answer.

The Mandalorian remained still for a moment, holstering his blasters, then finally turned toward them.

"With the base under our control," Ragnar said firmly, "we finally have the means to commence the direct assault on Jabiim-Selim."

Kyle straightened, crossing his arms, "You're planning to hit the city itself?"

Ragnar gave a short nod. "I'll relay the order to Hexa soon. Once we take down the city's main defense network from here, we strike."

Rey frowned slightly. "If we do that, Rylik will run."

Kyle exhaled, shaking his head, "Exactly why we need to move fast. Preferably with more backup. The Falcon's great, but it's not exactly a full assault fleet."

As if on cue, the sound of approaching engines rumbled through the hangar.

The trio turned just in time to see the Millennium Falcon descending through the open blast doors, maneuvering skillfully despite the tight space. The old YT-1300 barely fit, its repulsors kicking up dust and debris as it gently settled on the durasteel floor.

Kyle smirked, "Well… speak of the devil."

The ship's ramp lowered with a hiss of pressurized air.

Before anyone could say a word, a figure jumped down the ramp, landing with effortless energy.

Ronan.

A grin stretched across his face the moment he spotted Rey.

"There you are!" He strode toward her without hesitation.

Before Rey could react, Ronan pulled her into a firm hug, his energy unrestrained. She tensed for just a second before letting out a small chuckle, patting his back.

When he pulled away, he gave her a once-over, his brow furrowing in amusement. "Huh. You actually look good in that armor. Not a bad look for you."

Rey smirked, "Don't get used to it."

Before Ronan could respond, a deep, unmistakable growl came from the ramp.

Chewbacca.

The Wookiee stepped down, his massive form looming over them, his blue eyes locked onto Rey. His expression wasn't aggressive, but there was something in the low rumbling growl he let out—disappointment, irritation, and something closer to concern.

Rey sighed, shaking her head with a sheepish smile. "I know. I should've..."

Chewbacca crossed his arms, his growl shifting into something softer.

Rey chuckled, stepping forward and resting a hand on his massive arm, "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

Chewie gave a low huff, then pulled her into a brief—but strong—hug before stepping aside.

Kyle, meanwhile, cleared his throat, arms still crossed.

Ronan turned toward him.

His eyes widened slightly.

His grin dropped.

Then, with growing disbelief, he turned to Rey. "No way."

He pointed, "That's him? The actual, real Kyle Katarn?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look, "I take it I've got a reputation by now."

Ronan scoffed, "Understatement. You're a legend. A rogue Jedi, went off the grid, became the Galaxy's most wanted fugitive—are you kidding me?"

Kyle gave Rey a side glance, "Is he always this excitable?"

Rey still had a smirk, "He has his moments."

Ronan shook his head, still eyeing Kyle with something between awe and curiosity. "Man, I never thought I'd actually meet you. Let alone on a battlefield."

Kyle shrugged, "Well, here we are."

Ronan grinned again, stepping closer, "Okay, I have to ask, how'd you even survive this long without the Order tracking you down? Did you really meet Luke Skywalker? Are you like Master Yoda, age differences and all that?"

Kyle's expression turned wry, "You'd be surprised what you can get away with when people think you don't exist."

Ronan let out a short laugh, "Oh, I like you."

Rey rolled her eyes, "Don't encourage him."

Kyle smirked but turned serious again, "As much as I'd love to keep talking about my past, we need to focus. We've got a fight ahead of us."

Ragnar folded his arms. "Agreed. We don't have much time."

Ronan nodded, his grin fading slightly. "Right. Let's talk strategy, then!"

"We have the initiative," Ragnar continued, his voice firm, "but we need air support. There's only so much our jetpacks can do, and if they scramble enough TIEs, we'll be grounded before we breach the city."

Rey turned to Ronan, "Did you notify Master Jan?"

Ronan gave a short nod. "Sent the message as soon as I arrived in orbit."

Kyle noted the slight shift in Rey's expression. "And?"

Ronan's tone turned dry, "Let's just say she and the Council weren't exactly pleased about your sudden 'leave of absence.' Especially since they had to relocate the temple."

Rey exhaled, looking away for a moment. She knew this would happen. She just hadn't been ready to hear it. Still, she kept her voice steady, "I understand."

Ronan frowned slightly but didn't interrupt.

Rey inhaled deeply and refocused, "Then we'll have to count on Jan and the Council to reach out to the Republic."

Ragnar let out a scoff. "Is that a joke? The Republic can't even be bothered to take down pirates nowadays. You really think they'll waste resources on a First Order remnant?"

Rey's eyes narrowed slightly, "Poe Dameron has worked hard to take down as many of these groups as he can, even after the war with the Dominion." She shook her head, "They'll send a task force. Tensions with the Dominion be damned."

Kyle watched the exchange quietly, noting the sharp contrast between Ragnar's pragmatism and Rey's faith.

Ragnar exhaled sharply. "Hope you're right."

Rey met his gaze, confident, "I am."

Silence stretched for a moment before Ronan clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. "Alright, so while we wait for our Republic friends to decide if we're worth the effort, what's our next step?"

Ragnar glanced at the Falcon, then at the gathered Mandalorians, "We'll take down the city's defenses first. Once that's done, we hit Jabiim-Selim."

Kyle crossed his arms. "And what if Rylik runs before we can reach him?"

Ragnar's gaze turned to Kyle, "This planet held an operation of great importance to him, I can't imagine he'll fleet without a fight… and if he does, we'll hunt him down."

Kyle simply nodded at Ragnar's words, his expression unreadable. He had no argument against it—whether Rylik stayed or ran, they would see this through.

Ragnar clapped Kyle on the shoulder, the impact firm, "I'll gather my people and get everything ready. We'll start dismantling their defense systems, prep for the attack."

Kyle gave a small nod, and Ragnar turned, striding off to rally his warriors. Now, it was just Kyle, Rey, Ronan, and Chewbacca standing in the quiet that followed.

Kyle glanced at Rey, "I never got the chance to thank you. For coming to save me and all…"

Rey shook her head, offering him a small smile, "Don't mention it."

Ronan suddenly cleared his throat, shifting attention to himself. "Master Rey" he started, reaching into the rucksack slung over his shoulder, "I found what you wanted."

Rey's brows furrowed as Ronan pulled out an object wrapped in a simple cloth and held it out to her.

"Wasn't easy tracking this down," Ronan admitted, handing it over.

Rey took it carefully, running her fingers along the fabric as if she already knew what was inside. Her expression softened, and she looked up at Ronan with genuine gratitude. "Thank you."

Then, without hesitation, she turned and extended it toward Kyle.

Kyle blinked, confused "What's this?"

Rey's voice was firm, yet carrying a weight of trust. "There's no one else in the galaxy I'd rather have this."

Kyle hesitated but took the wrapped object from her hands. He carefully pulled away the cloth, revealing what was inside.

The green lightsaber of Luke Skywalker, it's chrome and bronze color scheme gleamed under the hangar lights.

Kyle's expression froze.

He looked at the weapon in his hands, then back at Rey, "This is—"

"The weapon of a Jedi," Rey finished for him, "Luke's lightsaber. I've kept it stored for a long time, but… it shouldn't just sit in a depository." Her gaze met his, steady. "It should be used."

Kyle's fingers brushed over the hilt, his mind running through emotions he couldn't quite place.

Slowly, he nodded. "Thank you," he said, fastening the hilt to his belt. He still looked visibly uncertain, as if the weight of the saber wasn't just physical.

Before anything else could be said, a strong shove hit Kyle's shoulder.

He barely had time to react before he was met with a deep, familiar snarl.

Kyle turned to find Chewbacca towering over him, his large blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Kyle let out a half-chuckle, shrugging, "What, you also don't remember me, Chewie?"

Chewbacca let out a gruff growl.

Kyle smirked, knowing the irony of the joke. Of course Chewie didn't remember him, how could he? This wasn't his galaxy. Not truly. But still, there was something funny in the moment.

Without warning, the Wookiee let out a deep, pleased rumble and pulled Kyle into a crushing hug, nearly lifting him off the ground.

Kyle let out a surprised grunt. "Alright, alright, easy, big guy!"

Chewbacca set him down with a huff, patting him firmly on the back before stepping aside.

Kyle exhaled, shaking his head, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his expression.

Then, movement came from the ramp of the Millennium Falcon.

Someone else was stepping out.

Kyle, Rey, and Ronan turned toward the approaching figure as they emerged from the ship's interior.

Pale skin.

Silver hair cascading past her shoulders.

Piercing yellow eyes that seemed to gleam under the hangar's dim lights.

Sela.

She stepped forward with a slow, deliberate grace, her gaze locking onto Kyle with an unreadable expression.

Then, a smile.

Kyle's own lips curled into a smirk, his stance shifting ever so slightly.

The two regarded each other in silence, neither spoke.

But they didn't need to.

---

Elle sat on a crate near the main entrance of the base, her hands resting limply on her knees, fingers curling slightly as though she could still hold onto something, anything, to ground herself.

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

Beside her, Jabs' motionless body lay on the cold durasteel floor. His helmet had been removed, his face still, expressionless, like he had simply fallen asleep.

She hadn't expected him to die.

He wasn't like her—he wasn't reckless, wasn't some hotheaded rookie who thought himself invincible. Jabs was a veteran, a shock trooper through and through, and had lived through it all. Rugged, no-nonsense, always prepared for the worst. If anyone could've made it out of this mess alive, it should have been him.

But here she was. Alive.

And he wasn't.

She sniffed, wiping at her face with her sleeve, her mind replaying their last moment together. She hadn't even said goodbye, she hadn't felt the need to and and now… he was gone.

A voice broke the silence behind her.

"I'm sorry."

Elle stiffened slightly but didn't turn around right away. She wiped at her eyes again, exhaling shakily. She then looked behind her and Ragnar, standing firmly behind her.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than she intended, flat and cold.

"To you, we're just stormtroopers," she said, still staring at Jabs, "Disposable cannon fodder. No different than how our own superiors saw us."

She held onto her voice, trying to stop herself from breaking down, "So why do you care?"

Ragnar didn't flinch at the accusation, nor did he react with anger. He exhaled through his nose before stepping forward, lowering himself onto the crate beside her.

"I grew up seeing stormtroopers as nothing but monsters," he admitted, his voice even. "Faces hidden behind helmets. Soldiers who did nothing but follow orders." His gaze shifted to Jabs' lifeless form, "But now I realize… they're victims too."

Elle swallowed but said nothing.

"Jabs made a choice." He let the words settle before turning his head toward her.

"He chose to fight for something he wanted to fight for," Ragnar said. "And that… that's a good death for any Mandalorian." He hesitated before adding, "In a way… he was more Mandalorian than a stormtrooper."

Elle sat there for a long moment, her breath uneven, her gaze locked onto the floor.

Then, slowly, she let out a quiet chuckle.

It wasn't amusement. Not really. But there was something in the sentiment—something in the idea that Jabs, the hardened old soldier who had followed orders his whole life, had died not as a stormtrooper, but as a man.

She glanced at Ragnar, strands of blonde hair falling over her tired eyes.

"Maybe," she murmured.

Neither of them spoke after that.

They simply sat there, side by side, in silence.

---

Kyle wandered through the dimly lit quarters that the science team had once called home, his boots echoing softly as he entered one in particular. Dr. Layna's room was abandoned, but unlike other rooms this one was almost entirely empty, with no obvious signs of a hurried departure.

His eyes drifted over the room, scanning the remnants of whatever life she had maintained here. It was sparse, minimal, fitting for a scientist. But something about it still felt… human.

His gaze landed on a small tabletop near the corner. Something caught his attention, a hologram disc, untouched, left behind.

Kyle picked it up, turning it over in his palm. There was nothing remarkable about it, but the fact that it had been left behind struck him as odd.

He thumbed the activation switch.

A blue-tinged image flickered to life, and a man's frantic face appeared before him—a middle-aged human with no hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and wearing a lab coat that bore an insignia that Kyle didn't recognize. His eyes were wide, his breathing hurried, and in the background, the faint but unmistakable sounds of distant explosions and alarms filled the space.

He was in danger.

"Layna," the man's voice came through, raw and desperate. "I don't have much time. The station… it's under attack. First Order." His head jerked toward something off-screen, as if checking his surroundings, voice lower but still frantic, "I… I should've never brought you into this. I was arrogant… I thought we'd be safe."

Kyle remained still, watching intently.

The man's face appeared once more, swallowing hard, his expression twisting with something deeper than fear. Guilt? Regret?

"I had to do something, Layna. Something terrible." His voice faltered for a second, then steadied, "But I did it to make sure the galaxy… our soul… had a future."

Kyle's brows furrowed.

Our soul?

The man's throat bobbed. "I know you'll hate me for it. I just—" A sharp explosion rang out behind him, the sound shaking the screen. Someone shouted in the background.

A distant voice called his name.

"Dr. Raen, we need to go!"

The man—Dr. Raen—flinched, closing his eyes briefly. Then, as if summoning all his remaining strength, he looked back into the holorecorder one last time.

"I love you." His voice was barely above a whisper, "I'm sorry."

And with that, the message cut off.

Kyle stared at the empty space where the projection had been, his grip on the disc tightening.

Whatever had happened on that station—whatever Dr. Raen had done—it was something that had haunted Layna ever since.

Kyle exhaled, slipping the disc into his pocket.

It seemed there was more to Dr. Layna than he had initially thought.