"Look at this beauty," a Rodian dressed in a pressurized suit called out, holding up a golden chalice. He was looting from what the Alderaanians grimly referred to as The Graveyard.

"I don't get why people toss perfectly good things away," replied the looter partner's from the safety of their small freighter. "Not like the dead could use it."

"What dead?" the Rodian chuckled, his voice dripping with indifference as he tucked the piece into his sack and hopped further into the rocks ahead. "There's nobody here but rocks, dust, and more treasure."

"Hey! Have a little respect. We're not completely apathetic."

"Speak for yourself," the Rodian muttered, eyes scanning for more loot.

"Hey, speed it up," his partner cautioned, "I'm picking up something."

"What?" asked the Rodian as he clung to the side of a different rock stretching for a jewelry box.

"Movement."

"The whole damn place moves," the rodian retorted, extending his reach, nearly losing his grip. "Gotcha!"

"I'm serious," his partner pressed. "Hurry up. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Keep your pants on," the rodian repositioned himself and shook the jewelry box. Amused, he tucked it away with the chalice, muttering to himself, "I need to find a better partner."

BOOM!

A streak of white plasma tore past the looter's starship, blasting the rock the Rodian was holding onto into pieces.

"Ah!"The rodian screamed as he spun backwards deeper into the graveyard. His sack of stolen goods floated away in the opposite direction.

"Vog!"cried his partner moving the ship to retrieve him.

"Not on my watch,"Civa said, standing from a modified navigator platform. His stance at the ready, as the repulsors beneath him hummed. With ease, he lined up to take another shot.

"Knov!" the rodian cried out for his partner. "Get me and let's scram!"

"I'm trying!" Knov jerked to the left avoiding a swirling piece of debris. "He's got a kriffing cannon!"

Civa smirked, catching the tail end of the conversation as he closed in on them. He had to admit, as much as he loathed the thieves that came to the graveyard, nothing brought more joy to him than blasting them into oblivion.

"Civa," Besa called over his commlink. "Did you find them?"

"Sure did honey," Civa replied as he charged the cannon up for the second shot.

"Don't call me honey," Besa snapped. "Are they gone?"

"Not quite," Civa aimed at the starship.

"What's taking so long?" she asked. "Do you need backup?"

"No, just taking my time, " Civa assured her. "I have you now."

BOOM—the blast forced the ship off course.

"Ah!" Knov cried. "I've lost all shields. I told you we should have left. But no, you wanted to get a bigger haul."

"Forget the haul?!" The rodian shouted. "Get me!"

Knov checked his cameras and saw Civa waving at him. This guy was not only shooting at them, he was enjoying it.

"Knov!"

"Sorry Vog," Knov adjusted his controls and sped away through the swirling debris, disappearing into the stars.

"Knov!? Wait! You can't leave me here!" Vog cried out.

"You sure know how to pick them," Civa flew the platform just below the rodian. Vog took a swing at Civa who laughed at the gesture and in one smooth motion fastened a set of binders to the looter's wrist and then the railing of the platform.

"Kriffing gutless sleemo! Real tough, huh? Bet you wouldn't last a day without your fancy cannon!" Vlog shot back.

"Probably not," Civa agreed. "Which is why I'm always packing."

"Civa!" Besa called urgently. Civa stopped messing around and answered with an alert in his voice.

"What's up?"

"Get back to the main hub," she said.

"What's wrong," Civa asked, noting the seriousness in her tone.

"The news," Besa replied. "Wyb's face is plastered all over it."

"I'm on my way," Civa replied, turning the platform around.

"Hey! What about me?" Vog asked.

"You're the haul today," Civa laughed and sped away through the graveyard with the rodian in tow.

—"Breaking news from the New Republic Senate—former New Republic Ranger Wyb Tersu has been declared a fugitive after escaping the Coruscant Naval Base Jail before his court-martial hearing. Authorities within the Senate have confirmed Tersu is wanted for crimes against the New Republic, including treason and conspiracy to aid Imperial remnants.

Senator Corwin Noya, head of the investigation, stated that Tersu has been a key player in recent classified intelligence breaches:

'This betrayal is a threat to the stability of the Republic. We will not tolerate acts of espionage within its ranks,' —the senator declared in a press conference earlier today."

The broadcast flickered for a moment before continuing, and the news anchor's voice took on a more somber tone.

"Further investigations have uncovered a shocking revelation—Wyb Tersu is the biological son of the late Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin and Admiral Natasi Daala. This connection to the Empire's elite has significantly intensified the Republic's efforts to locate Tersu.

With an active bounty placed on his head, Republic security forces are urging all citizens to report any sightings immediately. Authorities warn that Tersu is highly skilled and may be traveling with a known associate, Kyla Vancil. Though it is unclear if Vancil is accompanying the known fugitive willingly or against her will. The New Republic Defense Council has refused to comment further.

Stay with HoloNet News as we continue to track this developing story."—

"Turn that off," Din said, his tone firm as he turned his head toward Lenore, who had the volume cranked to the max in the cockpit. "It'll only upset you."

"Upset? You think I'm upset?" Lenore mocked, her voice tight, as she snapped off the broadcast. "I'm livid."

"How's that going to help us?" Din swiveled in his seat to face her.

"Clearly, you don't know what a livid mother can do," she snapped, the words laced with a dangerous edge. "I've got a blaster and a dozen cases of detonators in the hold, and I'd love to send that over-puffed Senator Noya to the other edge of the galaxy for what he's doing."

Din sighed, the weight of the situation sinking in. He hadn't counted on an unstable mother as his partner when he'd promised Prisa he'd help. He had assumed he'd be working with a level-headed veteran trooper. "Again… how does that help?"

"It doesn't," Lenore admitted with a sharp exhale, the brittle edge to her voice cutting through the air. "But it sure would make me feel better." She paused, her hands gripping the console tightly.

"Look, we need to stay focused. I'm still working for the Republic on a case-by-case basis, and I'd like to avoid any additional Imperial entanglements that might change the terms."

Lenore's expression darkened as she shot him a pointed look. "Whose side are you on?"

Din leaned in slightly, trying to get through the storm of emotion swirling within her. "Wyb's."

Lenore's fingers twitched, her jaw clenched tightly as though her teeth might crack. Her breath was shallow for a moment, before she forced herself to inhale deeply.

"Thanks, by the way," she said, her voice calmer. "I appreciate what you're doing. It means a lot."

"I'm not doing this for you." His tone shifted, reminding her of the duty he carried. "In Mandalorian culture, when you have a debt—"

"Please spare me the culture lesson on beskar heads," she interrupted, turning her back to him and looking toward the navicomputer. "I just need to find my son."

Din hesitated, before speaking again, his voice quieter now. "Can I ask you a question?"

Lenore crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You're more curious than I remember."

He ignored her sass. "Did you know?"

The air seemed to thicken. Lenore's body stiffened

"Know what?" Her voice was strained, the words tight with the weight of the question. The silence between them was suffocating. The question lingered, and Lenore's thoughts seemed to race as she tried to push past the raw hurt that threatened to pull her under.

Din studied her before speaking again. "Would you have told him if you did?"

"Too many ifs in that sentence," she replied, her voice short and clipped, a defensive wall rising higher with each word. "Right now, I'm only focusing on the facts. Not the could-haves."

Din nodded and continued,"What about Jord?"

Her chest tightened. The name felt like a physical blow, cutting through everything. Jord should be here. He should be the one standing beside her. Not Din. And yet, here she was traveling along side her Mandalorian. The guilt bubbled up, an ache in her chest. But what was more worrisome? Traveling with Din? Or the idea that she had lied and left Jord behind?

"Sorry. That's none of my business," Din exhaled, his voice lighter now, but still filled with the undercurrent of concern.

He turned back to the console, as she now watched him. He was worried. He could see she wasn't herself. The steady facade she'd kept for so long was slipping, and it was not good for the mission. Maybe if she could channel that anger into focus, things would settle. She could be what Wyb needed—The Deliverer.

"Din," Lenore's voice was quieter now, softer. He turned toward her slightly. She exhaled, her breath shaky but deliberate. "You're right. I'm here. I'm focused. Thanks."

Din gave a small nod. "This is the way."

Lenore rolled her eyes as she settled into the pilot's seat, trying to mask the vulnerability that had crept in.

Beep, Beep, Beep!

R3 nudged Wyb impatiently, his domed head shuffling side to side as if to say, Just give me the data stick already.

Wyb flipped the stick between his fingers, over and over, unable to stop. He already knew. Kyla hadn't been quick enough to shut off the radio when the news broadcast aired. The truth was out. And in some odd way, he had always known—at least about his mother, Admiral Natasi Daala.

The picture of her had shot through him like lightning. That stern expression and brown hair neatly pulled back in a low ponytail. He knew that face, that determined look. But seeing her in her Admiral uniform was shocking. He had only seen her in civilian clothes from what he remembered.

A knock at the door. Soft. Hesitant.

"Wyb?" Kyla's voice carried through. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah," he answered automatically.

Beep beep!, R3 let out a sharp correction, a blatant callout of his lie.

Wyb shot the droid a glare. "Loth-rat," he muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. He exhaled and jumped to his feet, looking down at the little astromech. "Well… let's get on with it, shall we?"

R3 straightened, bracing for something bigger than either of them were ready for. Wyb hesitated only a second before sliding the data stick into the slot.

A soft whirr, a click, and then—

The room flickered with blue light as the droid projected the gathered information: military files, schematics, photographs, journal entries—all of them connected to one man.

Wyb's throat tightened. His breath stilled.

Governor Wilhuff Tarkin.

His father.

His fingers twitched at his sides, but he made himself look. Finally, fully. He had spent so long chasing pieces of himself, fragments of a story told in scattered names and whispers. And now, here it was, laid out before him in cold, undeniable clarity. The full picture. Thanks to Soni.

His eyes caught on a faded portrait embedded in one of the files. A label scrawled beneath it: Tarkin Initiative—Maw Installation.

"R3… enhance that."

R3 did one better. A second later, a full-length, to-scale hologram of Grand Moff Tarkin materialized before Wyb, as though the man himself had stepped into the control room.

Wyb took an instinctive step back, pulse hammering. The likeness was eerily lifelike, the sharp angles of his father's face illuminated in ghostly blue.

He swallowed hard, then inched forward, hesitantly—warily. As if getting too close might somehow make it real.

From behind the door, Kyla's voice broke the silence. "Wyb… should I come in?"

Beep beep! R3 called for Kyla to come in.

When she entered the room, she gasped at the sight of the hologram, her eyes immediately darting to Wyb. His face was unreadable, but his fists were clenched.

Kyla stepped closer, her voice soft. "Wyb…?"

She didn't ask what he was thinking. She didn't press. She just stayed there, watching him, letting him breathe. Kyla just stood silently, watching Wyb as he stared at the projection of Tarkin, her expression softening with the weight of the moment. She knew what he was feeling—the shock, the confusion, the overwhelming pressure of facing something that had been kept in the dark for so long.

At that moment, Wyb wasn't sure if he wanted to keep looking at the man who may or may not have known he existed—or destroy the projection entirely.

Finally, Kyla spoke, her voice calm but purposeful. "We need to make our way to Bespin," she said, stepping closer. "I have connections there—people who can help."

Wyb's eyes flickered to her, but he didn't immediately respond. Instead, he slowly pulled his gaze away from the hologram of his father, trying to shake off the suffocating weight of the moment. His fingers flexed, his whole body tense.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice rough. "That sounds like a plan. But we need to make a stop in the Ring first."

Kyla raised an eyebrow, the concern still visible on her face. "The Ring?"

"The ship's not in good shape," Wyb explained, his gaze drifting to the corner where R3 had already begun fussing over the damaged components. "We're going to need parts. The sooner, the better."

Kyla nodded, her tone pragmatic. "Understood."

A long silence settled between them, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Wyb fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, his mind racing. There was something he wanted to tell her. Something that had been gnawing at him ever since they had left the capital.

The kiss.

The damn kiss. Soni's lips on his, the way it had all unfolded so quickly, without warning. It had meant something—something important. But how could he explain it now, with everything else that was happening? What if it changed things? What if it ruined everything?

He swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside. Instead, he looked at Kyla. He could see the concern in her eyes, but more than that, he saw something else—something steady, something that reminded him of the people he used to trust.

"Kyla," he said softly, taking a step toward her. "I'm glad you're here."

Her eyes softened, her lips curling into a small but genuine smile. "So am I." She paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on him before she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "We'll get through this. Together."

Wyb nodded, a faint but sincere smile tugging at his lips. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now.