Seth glanced down at the little droid rolling alongside him toward the entrance to the Sith military base, his polished chassis gleaming in the neon glow of Taris' streets. T3-M4 let out a cheerful whistle, his domed head swiveling to take in his new surroundings. Mission fell back a few paces, letting Carth take the lead alongside Bastila.

"You're already a great addition to the team, T3," Mission grinned, reaching down to pat the droid on his plating. "You'll fit right in."

Seth smirked, but there was still an edge of uncertainty in his eyes. "Well, for two thousand credits, you better be worth it," he muttered.

T3 let out a sequence of beeps that sounded remarkably like an indignant defense of his price tag.

Mission rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Seth. If we're gonna break into the Sith base, we need the best. And he's the best."

"Yeah, yeah," Seth said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just hoping I didn't just buy a fancy trash can."

T3 gave an offended bleep, bumping against Seth's leg hard enough to nearly make him stumble. Mission barked out a laugh.

"Great, now he's got an attitude," Seth groaned. "I don't even have one of those."

Mission shot him a look. "Uh-huh."

A beat.

"You sure you're good with this?" she asked suddenly.

Seth glanced at her. "With what?"

"You know, following orders from someone who hasn't exactly proven she knows what she's doing."

Seth sighed. "You really don't like her, do you?"

Mission crossed her arms. "Look, I get it. You're a soldier. Orders are orders. But do you ever stop and wonder if that's a good thing?"

"Mission," Seth exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We don't get to pick and choose who we follow. The Jedi were put in command of this war. That's just how it is."

"And does that not bug you?" Mission pressed. "Think about it—Bastila is basically fresh out of Jedi school, or whatever they call it, and she's supposed to be in charge? Carth's got years of experience, but she gets to boss him around 'cause she's got magic powers?"

Seth hesitated, and she saw it. He didn't want to admit she was making sense.

Mission softened slightly. "I just don't get why you accept things without questioning them. The Seth I know? He doesn't do that."

He exhaled sharply. "Yeah? Well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think."

Mission stopped walking. For a moment, she just stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

Then she huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah," she muttered. "Sure, Seth."

She picked up the pace, pulling ahead to walk alongside Carth. T3 hesitated, swiveling its head between Seth and Mission before chirping in confusion.

Seth let out a breath and ruffled his hair. "Yeah, I know, buddy," he murmured. "I'm an idiot."

T3 gave an affirming beep.

"Alright, quiet from here on out," Carth ordered as they approached the Sith base entrance.

Mission rolled her eyes. "Yeah, 'cause we were totally yelling before now."

Ignoring her, Carth motioned to T3. "Think you can handle this, little guy?"

T3 chirped confidently and rolled up to the security panel, a retractable arm extending into the port. A moment later, the door lock beeped red, denying access.

"Uh, T3?" Seth muttered.

The droid whistled, working faster. Another red light.

Seth's stomach sank. Did we just spend two thousand credits for nothing? He could already hear Mission revving up a snarky comment—

Then, with a triumphant beep, T3's panel flashed green. The door slid open with a hiss.

"See?" Mission grinned. "Best two thousand credits you ever spent."

Seth let out a breath. "I take back every mean thing I said about you, buddy."

T3 let out a smug whistle.

Then, a Sith war droid immediately raised its blaster and fired.

Seth yelped and threw himself sideways as the bolt sizzled past his head, singing the wall behind him.

Carth whipped out both blasters and fired, Mission ducked under cover, and Bastila surged forward, lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss.

"Great job, T3," Seth muttered, scrambling for his own blaster. "Love the follow-up work."

T3 whirred sheepishly.

"Down!" Carth barked as he yanked Seth back by the collar, a red bolt sizzling past where his head had been seconds before. Bastila's lightsaber flared to life, deflecting a shot straight back at one of the advancing war droids. The blast struck its chassis, sending it stumbling backward in a shower of sparks.

Mission dove behind a terminal, pressing her back against it. "So much for the easy way in!" she hissed.

Seth hit the ground in a roll, blaster drawn, and fired off two quick shots at the closest droid. The first skittered off its reinforced plating, but the second punched through a weak point at the neck joint, sending it toppling forward in a heap of burning circuits.

T3 let out a sharp warble, its dome swiveling frantically as it dodged a blaster bolt. Then, with a high-pitched whirr, his side panel flipped open, revealing a hidden flamethrower attachment.

Seth barely had time to blink in surprise before the little astromech torched the nearest war droid at point-blank range.

The Sith droid screeched, flailing wildly before collapsing into a molten heap of metal.

"Did you just set that thing on fire?!" Seth gaped.

T3 beeped smugly.

Mission peeked over the terminal. "Yeah, okay, that's the coolest thing I've ever seen."

The moment the last droid hit the floor, Seth was already moving, scanning the room.

And then he heard it.

A weak voice, hoarse from days—maybe weeks—without water.

"…C-captain Onasi… Avery…?"

Seth froze.

His heart slammed against his ribs. That voice. It was impossible.

He turned slowly, eyes locking on the force cage in the far corner.

Draven.

Seth's throat tightened. The last time he'd seen Draven Melik, they were stumbling through the burning corridors of the Endar Spire together, dragging wounded crewmen behind them, desperately trying to reach an escape pod.

Seth's escape pod had made it.

Draven's hadn't.

For weeks, he had assumed his squadmate was dead—another name to add to the ever-growing list of losses.

And yet, here he was.

A wasted version of himself, gaunt and bruised, but alive.

"Draven?" Seth breathed. His legs carried him forward before he even realized he was moving.

Draven let out a weak, breathless chuckle. "Damn, Avery… you look better than I do."

Seth sucked in a sharp breath, forcing down the emotions threatening to rise to the surface. He didn't have time for this right now.

He spun toward Mission and T3. "Can you get this open?"

Mission was already pulling up the force field controls, brow furrowing. "Yeah, but these Sith security grids are nasty—if I screw this up, the execution protocol kicks in."

Draven winced. "Yeah, I would prefer not to get fried, if it's all the same to you."

"T3, help her!" Seth ordered. The little droid chirped in confirmation, rolling up to assist.

Mission cracked her knuckles. "Alright, little guy, let's see what you got."

T3 let out a determined beep, then extended his hacking probe. The force cage flickered. The safety override engaged.

And then—

With a final electronic chirp, the field dropped.

Draven nearly collapsed forward, and Seth caught him before he hit the floor.

Draven let out a shaky breath, leaning against Seth for support. "Thanks. I really thought I was done for."

"You almost were, Private," Carth muttered, running a hand through his hair. "You're damn lucky we found you."

Draven gave a weak, lopsided grin. "A little late, but I'll take it."

Seth swallowed hard, jaw clenching as he steadied Draven.

He should have been relieved.

He should have felt proud.

Instead, all he felt was guilt.

"How many?" he asked quietly.

Draven hesitated. "Seth—"

"How many made it?"

Draven's silence was enough of an answer.

Seth exhaled slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. He had known the answer before he even asked.

The crew of the Endar Spire was gone.

Except for them.

Him. Carth. And now, Draven.

And suddenly, rescuing one person didn't feel like a victory.

It felt like a reminder of all the ones they hadn't saved.

Mission must have noticed something in Seth's face, because she nudged his arm gently. "Hey," she murmured. "You did good, Seth."

His throat tightened, but he nodded. He wasn't ready to talk about it. Not yet.

Instead, he forced himself to focus on the mission.

Draven's wide eyes locked onto Bastila as she approached. Even weakened and battered from his captivity, he forced himself to stand at attention, hands twitching as if about to salute but hesitating at the last moment.

"Bastila Shan," he breathed, the recognition hitting him like a shockwave. His voice was hoarse, but beneath the exhaustion was something else—relief. "Commander Shan, ma'am!"

Bastila gave him a slow nod, her expression unreadable. "At ease, Private Melik. It is good to finally meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

Draven nodded, shoulders sagging slightly. "Likewise, ma'am."

"If I may," Bastila continued, kneeling beside him, "I can help heal some of your wounds." She glanced over his malnourished form, the bruises along his arms, the slow-healing gash above his brow. "I am no Master Healer, but it will be enough to get you back on your feet."

Draven hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Anything to get me fighting fit, ma'am. If you'll have me, I'd like to serve out the remainder of my mission."

Bastila allowed the smallest of smiles. "Your dedication does you credit, Private. Lay down and try to stay still."

As Draven complied, Bastila closed her eyes, placing both hands just above his chest. A soft blue glow radiated from her palms, and the air around them hummed with quiet energy. Draven tensed, then exhaled slowly as the warmth spread through his body, dulling the pain in his limbs and washing away the exhaustion from his features.

Carth crouched nearby, watching with a raised eyebrow. "Jedi magic never stops being unsettling," he muttered, though his tone lacked the usual skepticism. After a moment, he turned to grab one of the discarded Sith rifles and passed it to the recovering soldier. "Here. You'll need it."

Draven sat up slowly, flexing his fingers before taking the weapon with a firm nod. "Much appreciated, sir."

As Bastila continued her healing, Seth stepped away, quietly observing his friend. Draven was safe. That weight—one he hadn't realized he'd been carrying—finally eased.

But there was still another weight pressing against his mind.

He turned, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Mission. She was standing near the wreckage of one of the battle droids, idly adjusting the power cell on her blaster. She hadn't looked at him since they entered the base.

Seth hesitated, then stepped toward her, his voice low. "Hey."

Mission glanced up at him but didn't say anything.

He swallowed. "What you did back there? Helping Draven, risking yourself? That… that means a lot to me. More than I can say."

She exhaled, finally meeting his eyes. "I wasn't about to let some poor guy rot in a Sith cage, Seth."

"I know," he said. "But it still means a lot."

A pause. The tension from their earlier argument still lingered between them, unspoken but heavy.

Seth reached out, his fingers hesitating before lacing through hers. Too focused on their conflict to note just how well her hand fit in his. "We're okay, right?" His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain.

Mission blinked, her breath catching slightly. She squeezed his hand back. "Yeah. We're okay."

Seth exhaled, some of the weight lifting from his chest. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You were right—I just didn't want to admit it."

Mission smirked, tapping at his fingers playfully. "You? Stubborn? I never would've guessed."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't deserve a friend like you, Mish."

"You really don't," she teased, before softening. "But… you're stuck with me anyway."

A grin tugged at Seth's lips, and before he could second-guess himself, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a hug. It wasn't the first time they'd embraced, but something about this moment felt different.

Mission stiffened for only a second before melting into it, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "You're such a sap," she muttered, but there was no bite to her words.

"And you love it," Seth shot back.

Mission snorted. "Don't push it, Hotshot."

The tension thickened as they approached the next set of blast doors. The hallway leading to the command center was eerily silent, save for the soft hum of T3-M4's servos and the occasional flicker of a damaged ceiling light.

Seth flexed his fingers around his blaster grip, feeling the weight of the moment settling over him. "Alright," he murmured, voice low. "Anyone wanna place bets on what's behind door number one?"

Carth let out a quiet breath, raising his pistols. "I'm betting a whole squad of Sith who won't be happy to see us."

Mission smirked, her fingers already dancing over her vibroblade's hilt. "Oh, so a normal day, then?"

Bastila, standing just ahead of them, closed her eyes briefly before nodding. "I sense many inside. Be ready."

T3 gave a confirming beep before rolling up to the terminal beside the blast doors. With a series of chirps and a final, satisfied whistle, he triggered the controls.

The doors hissed open.

Seth barely had time to register the mass of black-armored soldiers waiting inside before the first blaster shot was fired.

"Get down!" Carth barked, diving into cover behind a supply crate as red bolts of plasma rained down on them.

Seth followed instinctively, grabbing Mission by the arm and pulling her behind a bulkhead as fire filled the corridor. The sound of Bastila's lightsaber igniting sent a reassuring hum through the air, the golden blades deflecting a barrage of blaster fire back at their attackers.

Carth, already firing, took down the nearest officer with a clean shot to the chest. Draven crouched beside him, newly armed and already proving he wasn't rusty, picking off a Sith trooper that had been lining up a shot on Seth.

"Nice shot!" Seth called over the chaos, popping up from cover to return fire.

"Yeah, well," Draven grunted as he squeezed off another blaster bolt, "not much else to do in a Sith prison but fantasize about shooting Sith."

Mission crouched beside Seth, gripping her vibroblade tightly as she peeked over their cover. "Come on, you could've at least let me toss a grenade first."

"Then where's the fun?" Seth smirked, but the grin fell as his sharp gaze caught movement at the far end of the command center. "Hold up—turrets!"

Two ceiling-mounted blasters whirred to life, swiveling in their direction.

"Oh, kriff—"

The first shots fired, sending sparks and shrapnel from the crates they were using for cover.

"T3! Slice the control panel, now!" Seth ordered.

The droid let out a quick series of beeps and sped toward the nearest console, dodging incoming fire as the turrets locked onto him.

Bastila surged forward, lightsaber spinning in a blur of golden arcs. With a precise slice, she cleaved through one of the turrets, the sparks showering around her in an eerie glow.

Seth took cover behind a control panel, pressing his back against the cold durasteel as blaster fire pounded the air around them. He peeked over the edge, sighting two Sith troopers advancing along the far wall.

"Draven, on me!" he barked, raising his blaster. "Two incoming—suppressing fire!"

Draven didn't hesitate. The younger private followed orders instinctively, popping up from behind their makeshift barricade and squeezing off a few controlled shots. The first Sith crumpled to the floor, a smoking hole in his chest plate. The second darted behind a supply crate, returning fire in rapid bursts.

Seth ducked as a bolt seared past his ear. "Damn it," he muttered, glancing to his left. "Mission, you got eyes on him?"

"Yeah, yeah," she called back from her crouch behind a fallen trooper. "Give me a sec."

Seth provided cover as Mission darted low across the floor, skidding behind another crate. The Sith trooper barely had time to react before she popped up and delivered a well-placed blaster shot to his side. He collapsed, his rifle clattering onto the floor.

She gave Seth a cocky smirk. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad," he admitted, reloading his blaster. "Keep moving."

A few meters away, Bastila cut down another Sith with a single, precise stroke of her double-bladed lightsaber. Her movements were measured, elegant, but not yet refined for war. She wasn't trained for this kind of battlefield. As she turned, another trooper raised his rifle to fire.

Carth was faster. A single shot from his pistol slammed into the trooper's chest, sending him sprawling. "Try not to get yourself shot, Commander," he called over the din of battle.

"I can handle myself, Captain," Bastila snapped back, spinning into another enemy.

"Yeah, well, I've seen too many soldiers say that before they—" Carth cut himself off mid-sentence, shaking his head. "Just don't get cocky."

Blaster fire rained from the second level of the security hub. Two Sith officers had taken position on a raised balcony, laying down suppressing fire. Seth pulled Draven back just as a bolt burned into the ground where he had been standing.

"They're pinning us down!" Draven gritted his teeth.

"I've got this," Mission said, pulling a small ion grenade from her belt. "T3, can you slice that control panel?"

The little droid whistled in confirmation, rolling up to a wall terminal. A moment later, the power flickered, and the lights above them dimmed as the upper-level shielding failed. Mission grinned. "Say goodnight."

She lobbed the grenade in a perfect arc. It landed at the feet of the Sith officers, sending a pulse of electricity crackling through the air. They convulsed as their weapons shorted out, dropping them to the ground unconscious.

Seth gave a short whistle. "Remind me never to piss you off."

"Damn right," she shot back.

One by one, their enemies dropped, leaving only the last turret, still locked onto T3.

Mission winced as a blaster bolt singed the droid's chassis. "Hurry up, buddy!"

T3 let out a sharp whistle and slammed his metal arm into the terminal.

The turret powered down with a loud clang, its barrel freezing mid-turn.

Silence fell over the command center.

Seth exhaled sharply, lowering his blaster. "Well… that was fun."

Carth shot him a look. "If your idea of fun involves getting shot at, we need to have a talk."

Mission leaned back against a console, catching her breath. "Honestly? I think I do need to start taking bets on these fights. Would've made a fortune on 'Seth nearly gets hit by a turret.'"

Seth placed a hand over his chest dramatically. "Mish, I'm wounded. Have a little faith."

Draven snorted. "She's got faith. Just in your ability to attract trouble."

Seth pointed a finger at him. "Okay, that's fair."

Bastila, ignoring the banter, strode to the center terminal. "We need those codes. If the information we received was correct, they should be stored here."

T3 beeped in confirmation, plugging into the system. The lights flickered as the droid accessed the base's encrypted files, scrolling through data at high speeds.

Carth stepped up beside them, crossing his arms. "How long's this gonna take?"

As if in response, the terminal chimed, and T3 let out a triumphant whistle.

Bastila nodded. "It appears we have what we came for."

"Finally," Carth muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's get the hell out of here before more reinforcements show up."

Seth glanced at the fallen Sith officers strewn across the room, then at the flickering screens displaying maps of the city. "Yeah… I don't think this place is gonna stay quiet for long."

Mission was already moving toward the exit. "So we just gotta sneak out of here the same way we came in, right?"

Seth flashed her a grin. "Oh yeah. Should be easy."

At that exact moment, alarms blared through the facility.

Carth turned to Seth with a deadpan stare. "You just had to say it, didn't you?"

Seth groaned. "Okay, that one's on me."

Bastila sighed, clipping her lightsaber to her belt. "Time to go."

Without another word, the team bolted for the exit as the sounds of incoming Sith reinforcements echoed through the halls.

Draven nudged Seth with his elbow as they walked a few paces behind the group, voices low enough to stay out of Bastila's earshot. "So, where'd you pick up the cute tagalong?"

Seth furrowed his brows. "You mean T3?"

Draven groaned. "Not the droid, you idiot. Mission."

Seth's jaw tightened before he could even think about it. "Oh," he said flatly. "She and Zaalbar have been helping us get off this rock."

Draven smirked. "Helping you, you mean?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "She's helping all of us."

"Yeah, sure," Draven drawled. "But I see the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her, for that matter."

"I don't look at her in any way," Seth shot back, maybe a little too fast.

Draven held up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, man. I'm just saying—if you're not calling dibs, I might have to."

Seth stopped so abruptly that Draven nearly walked into him. A strong hand shot out, clamping around the other private's forearm. "She's not a commodity," Seth said, his voice low but firm.

Draven's amusement flickered into something more serious. He studied Seth for a beat, then let out a slow whistle. "Damn. You are in trouble."

Seth huffed, shoving Draven's arm away. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh." Draven's smirk returned. "Listen, I'm just saying—it's obvious. To me, to her, probably to the entire galaxy except for you. So either admit it, or don't get mad when someone else does."

Seth clenched his jaw. "Like hell I'm gonna let someone else—" He cut himself off, inhaling sharply.

Draven grinned like a kath hound who'd just sniffed out prey. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Before Seth could retort, Bastila's voice cut through the conversation. "Avery. Melik. Is there a problem?"

Both soldiers straightened immediately. "No, ma'am," Seth said crisply.

"Good," Bastila said, narrowing her eyes at them. "Then let's keep moving."

Draven shot Seth one last knowing glance before jogging ahead to rejoin the group. Seth exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

No, he definitely wasn't in trouble.

Right?

The hallway was quiet—too quiet. The hum of the base's environmental systems filled the air, the only sound beyond the muffled footsteps of the group as they moved toward their destination.

Then Bastila stopped.

Seth almost walked into her before catching himself. "Commander?"

Her brow furrowed, her gaze locked onto the door ahead. She wasn't looking at it, not really. Her attention was somewhere else, distant.

Carth noticed, his hands instinctively going to his blasters. "You sensing something?"

Bastila closed her eyes, her breath steady. "Yes… Something dark."

Seth's pulse quickened, and something in his gut twisted. He could feel it—an unnatural weight in the air. He exchanged a glance with Mission, who had gone still beside him.

"Like a Sith?" Mission asked, voice low.

"Possibly," Bastila muttered.

Draven rolled his shoulders, shaking off a shiver. "Great. And here I was hoping for an easy in-and-out."

Carth huffed, checking the charge on his blasters. "Those hopes died when we decided to break into a Sith military base."

Bastila exhaled sharply. "This presence is strong. Whoever it is knows we're coming."

Seth arched a brow. "So, what, are we dealing with some kind of Sith Lord?"

Bastila shook her head. "Not quite. But this man wields the Force, that much is certain. And his power is… unnatural." She turned to Carth. "You said Admiral Karath had appointed a governor here."

Carth's face darkened at the mention of Saul Karath. "Yeah. Xayalith. From what I gathered, he's a sadistic bastard. Malak's personal choice to oversee Taris. If he's got a command post in this facility, I'd bet my ship he's the one holding the access codes."

"And if he's the one radiating this much darkness," Bastila added grimly, "then he's far more than just a governor."

The unease thickened. Seth tightened his grip on his blaster.

"Well, no sense in standing here waiting for him to roll out the red carpet," he said. "Let's get those codes."

Bastila nodded, gripping the hilt of her lightsaber. "Be on your guard."

"T3," Carth called, stepping forward. "Get the door."

The astromech beeped affirmatively, rolling up to the console. Sparks danced from its probe as it sliced into the system. The security panel flickered, the heavy blast door hissing as it unlocked.

Weapons were raised. Hearts pounded.

The door slid open—revealing a tall, gaunt figure standing alone in the center of the room, clad in dark robes, his fingers idly tracing the hilt of a double vibroblade. His sharp, pale features twisted into an expectant smirk.

"Welcome," he said smoothly, his deep voice curling around the word like a predator greeting prey.

Bastila's eyes narrowed. "Xayalith."

Draven moved first, and alarm bells buzzed in Seth's mind. "Wait—"

The moment Draven's boot crossed the threshold, the mine detonated.

The air itself seemed to split apart with an earsplitting shriek, a sonic wave slamming into them like a shockwave.

Draven hit the floor first, his scream lost in the deafening howl of the blast. He curled in on himself, his hands clamped around his ears as blood trickled between his fingers.

Seth's instincts fired before his mind could catch up—he threw himself at Mission, arms wrapping around her as they crashed to the floor. The force of the blast vibrated through his bones, his skull rattling with a white-hot ringing. Everything else vanished—the hallway, the fight, the mission—just pain.

T3 let out a distorted wail, circuits shorting as sparks exploded from his frame. The little droid rocketed backward, slamming into Carth with full force.

The captain staggered under the impact, his head snapping back against the durasteel floor with a sickening thud. He didn't get back up.

Bastila gritted her teeth, staggering to her feet against the sheer force of the residual hum. She reached out, her fingers trembling from the impact. "Seth—"

A figure stepped forward through the shimmering air of the mine's aftershock.

Seth, still blinking past the blinding pain, caught only pieces—a sleek black coat, a pale, imperious face, a glint of vibrosteel in his hand.

The man—Xayalith—tilted his head, observing them with something dangerously close to amusement. "It's about time."

Bastila barely had time to recover before Xayalith closed the distance.

Her lightsaber ignited with a sharp snap-hiss, a golden blur cutting through the haze of the mine's aftershock.

Xayalith moved like liquid shadow, his double vibroblade spinning into a deadly arc. The first clash of steel and plasma sent a violent spark shower cascading across the floor.

Seth rolled off Mission, still deafened by the blast, but his eyes locked onto Bastila's duel in a dazed kind of horror.

She was fast. Faster than anyone he'd ever seen.

Her saber twirled in a brilliant flourish, striking high, then low, then twisting mid-spin to catch Xayalith off guard. But he was just as quick, matching her blow for blow, his footwork precise, methodical—like he'd fought Jedi before.

Xayalith sneered as their blades locked. "Not bad, Commander Shan." His voice was smooth, confident—like this was more of a performance than a fight. "But I expected more."

Bastila's jaw tightened, and with a sharp twist of her wrist, she unlocked their blades and forced him back.

Seth scrambled to his feet, his mind still sluggish from the aftershock, but every instinct screamed at him to move, to help—

But Bastila didn't need his help.

She pressed the attack, her saber a whirling storm of golden light. Xayalith parried and countered, but for the first time, his composure cracked.

She was pushing him back.

Then, in a blink, his stance changed.

Seth saw it too late—Xayalith feinted high, but his real target wasn't her blade—it was her footing.

He swept low, his vibroblade catching the hem of her robes just enough to unbalance her.

Bastila stumbled.

Xayalith's free hand shot forward—a burst of invisible force slamming into her chest.

She flew backward, crashing against the durasteel wall with bone-jarring force.

Her saber clattered to the floor.

Seth's stomach dropped.

Bastila slumped against the wall, her body limp.

Seth didn't think.

His blaster was already up by pure instinct before Xayalith fully turned to face them.

He fired—twice—but the governor barely moved, a simple flick of his fingers sending the bolts slamming into the ceiling.

Seth had just enough time to register oh, that's bad, before Xayalith threw out his hand again.

A crushing wave of unseen force slammed into his chest.

The air vanished from Seth's lungs. His feet left the ground. He hit the floor hard, sliding across the smooth durasteel before coming to a painful stop against the wall. Stars burst behind his eyes.

Carth was already moving.

Unlike Seth, the veteran didn't hesitate—he dropped low, rolling as he fired, each shot aimed with pinpoint precision.

One bolt actually got through—Xayalith dodged just a second too late, and the blast scorched across his shoulder.

The governor snarled. His vibroblade whipped forward—a shockwave of energy rippling from its tip—

Carth barely had time to dive.

The table exploded where he'd been standing a second ago, metal shards flying in all directions.

Seth coughed, gasping as he pulled himself upright. His chest ached, but he pushed through it, vision locking onto Xayalith with pure determination.

They needed an opening. A distraction. Something.

His blaster wouldn't work—the Sith could just deflect his shots. He had to get closer.

Carth scrambled back to cover, gritting his teeth. "If you've got any bright ideas, kid, now would be a great time!"

"Yeah, working on it!" Seth shot back.

His mind raced, every combat lesson, every instinct screaming different orders at once. Xayalith turned to them slowly, his pale fingers flexing. "I was hoping for more of a challenge."

Carth growled, gripping his blasters tighter. "Sorry to disappoint."

Seth didn't wait. He lunged forward, ignoring the protests from his ribs, aiming low, fast.

Xayalith reacted exactly how he needed him to. The Sith swung high, expecting a standard attack—

Seth dropped last second, sliding underneath his guard. For one fraction of a second, Xayalith's back was open. And Carth took the shot.

The bolt hit Xayalith square between the shoulder blades. For the first time, the Sith staggered.

Seth didn't waste it—he threw his entire weight into a tackle, slamming into Xayalith's legs, forcing him to stumble further.

Carth moved in fast, lining up another shot.

But Xayalith recovered too quickly.

The Sith lashed out with the Force, sending a shockwave across the entire room. Carth was thrown off his feet, hitting the wall with a grunt. Seth rolled clear, barely avoiding the worst of it, but his entire body felt like it had been hit by a freighter.

He knew one thing for certain—they weren't winning this fight.

And then, from behind him—

"Seth—MOVE!"

Seth's head snapped toward Mission's voice just as she hurled a grenade across the room.

Flashbang.

The explosion erupted in a white-hot burst—not enough to kill, but enough to blind Xayalith and send him staggering with a furious snarl.

Mission was already moving. She slid beside Seth, gripping his wrist. "C'mon, Hotshot, up and at 'em!"

He gritted his teeth against the pain and forced himself to his feet. But as he turned to check on Carth—

He wasn't getting up.

The blast had knocked Carth cold, his body slumped against a ruined terminal. His blasters lay discarded just out of reach.

Seth felt his stomach drop. It was just him and Mission now.

Xayalith let out a low, guttural growl. Even half-blinded, he zeroed in on them, his vibroblade still gleaming.

"Enough of this."

His hand lashed out toward Seth—

Mission shoved him out of the way.

Seth hit the floor just in time to see Mission take the full brunt of Xayalith's attack.

The invisible force slammed into her chest, sending her crashing against the wall with enough force to shake the floors.

"Mission!" Seth scrambled toward her—but she was already forcing herself upright, panting, blood smeared across her lip. She wiped it away and turned to face Xayalith.

Just her.

Just Mission.

She raised her vibroblade with both hands, knuckles white against the grip.

Seth could see the tremor in her arms, the way she was shaking, but her stance was solid.

Xayalith tilted his head, an amused sneer curling across his lips. "You have spirit."

He lunged. Mission barely blocked in time. Sparks erupted as their blades clashed, the impact forcing her back on her heels.

Seth tried to push himself up—his ribs screamed in protest, his vision swam—but he couldn't get there in time.

Xayalith was too strong. His attacks came fast and relentless, a storm of sweeping strikes that kept Mission scrambling to block. She was fighting for her life—no openings, no counterattacks, just desperation.

Seth's heart pounded. He had to move. Now.

Xayalith twisted his blade, driving her toward the wall. She stumbled, barely catching herself—

And Xayalith struck low.

Mission didn't see it in time. The blunt side of his hilt slammed into her ribs, knocking the wind from her lungs.

She dropped to one knee, coughing, her vibroblade slipping from her fingers.

Seth's blood turned ice cold.

Xayalith loomed over her, blade raised for the final strike.

Seth opened his mouth to shout—

And Draven tackled Xayalith from behind.

The force of impact threw the Sith forward, making him stumble. Draven clung on, arms wrapped around Xayalith's neck in a death grip. The governor snarled, thrashing, trying to throw him off—

But Draven held fast.

"Move, Mission!" he gritted out.

She scrambled back just as Xayalith flipped Draven over his shoulder.

The private hit the floor hard, but reached for his blaster—

Too late.

Xayalith's vibroblade plunged through his chest.

Seth's vision blurred.

No—

Draven gasped sharply, body going still.

Xayalith ripped the blade free, letting Draven collapse to the floor.

He hit the ground, his body motionless, and for a moment—just a moment—Seth couldn't move. It was like everything in his body froze, every muscle locked in place, every breath trapped in his chest.

Then—

White-hot fury erupted inside him.

A scream ripped from his throat, raw and furious, as he launched himself forward.

Xayalith barely had time to turn before Seth collided with him. The impact sent them both crashing to the floor, Seth's momentum carrying them skidding across the durasteel.

Xayalith kicked out, trying to shake him off—

Seth didn't let go.

He grabbed a fistful of the Sith's tunic and slammed his fist into Xayalith's jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Xayalith snarled, dazed, and threw a pulse of Force energy outward.

Seth went flying—but this time, he rolled with it, landing hard on one knee. His head snapped up, emerald eyes burning as he locked on his enemy. Xayalith pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head, and sneered. "Pathetic."

Seth was already moving. He sprinted forward, grabbing Bastila's fallen lightsaber in one smooth motion.

Xayalith's sneer vanished.

Seth activated the blade, the golden light hissing to life in his grip.

The governor's eyes flashed with something dark—recognition, maybe even fear.

"No." Xayalith's voice was lower now, his grip tightening on his vibroblade. "You shouldn't have that."

Seth didn't answer.

Because he wasn't thinking anymore.

It was like something inside him clicked into place—something old, something instinctive. He could see everything. The way Xayalith shifted his weight, the tension in his arms, the exact second he was going to strike. Seth moved before he could think to.

Xayalith lunged—

Seth sidestepped, his body reacting faster than his mind.

His hands moved on their own, the lightsaber parrying the attack with a sharp crack of impact. Xayalith recoiled, surprise flashing across his face.

Seth pressed the advantage.

He swung—Xayalith barely dodged in time.

Another strike—faster.

Xayalith stumbled back, suddenly on the defensive, his arrogance gone.

Seth didn't hesitate. For the first time in his life, he wasn't holding back. His instincts took over.

The lightsaber felt like it belonged in his hands. Each movement was fluid, each strike precise, each block effortless.

Xayalith's movements were growing sloppy, his frustration mounting.

"You—" He growled, lunging with everything he had.

Seth ducked under the swing and—

He felt it before it happened.

The opening.

The exact moment to strike.

A second before Xayalith could recover, Seth twisted the hilt in his hands and slashed. The golden blade cut clean through Xayalith's midsection. For a moment, the Sith governor stood frozen, mouth parted in shock.

Then—

He collapsed to his knees.

His vibroblade clattered to the floor.

His fingers clutched at the wound, blood seeping through his armor.

Seth stood over him, chest heaving, lightsaber still humming in his grip. Xayalith's lips curled into something that might have been a smile—twisted, pained. "Powerful," he rasped, voice weak. "But undisciplined."

Seth's grip tightened. "You have no idea," he said, and with one final, decisive motion—

He drove the blade forward.

Xayalith let out a choked gasp—then went still.

The governor's body collapsed to the floor, and Seth spat. "That was for Draven."

As if saying the boy's name immediately recalled the situation to Seth's mind, the private turned to find his squadmate.

The governor's body collapsed to the floor, and Seth spat. "That was for Draven." As if saying the boy's name immediately recalled the situation to Seth's mind, the private turned to find his squadmate. Draven lay sprawled across the durasteel floor, his body still, his face eerily calm—like he was just asleep.

But Seth knew.

His knees hit the ground before he could think, before he could even breathe.

His hands shook as they hovered over Draven's chest, desperate to find something—anything—that could prove he was wrong.

That he was still breathing.

That he'd get up, smirk, crack a joke, say, "Damn, that was close."

That Seth hadn't just lost him.

But the moment his fingers brushed against Draven's blood-soaked tunic, reality crashed down like a durasteel wall.

His hand clenched into a fist, pressing against his friend's chest, as if sheer force of will could restart his heart.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

Seth's breath hitched. His vision blurred.

His whole body shook as the grief hit all at once, a tidal wave crashing through his chest.

A choked sound escaped him—a sob, raw and broken, that he couldn't contain.

And then—

Warmth.

Familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him close.

Mission.

Seth didn't think—he just collapsed into her.

His hands clenched into the fabric of her vest, his face burying into her shoulder as the tears came harder, faster, unstoppable. His body shook against hers, his grief pouring out in ragged sobs.

Mission said nothing.

She just held him.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, her forehead resting against his temple.

She didn't tell him to stop. Didn't tell him to be strong. Didn't tell him it was going to be okay.

Because it wasn't.

Because Seth had just lost someone—someone who mattered.

And Mission felt it too.

Draven had been her friend, too. Maybe not for long, but long enough. Long enough to save her life. Long enough to make her laugh.

Long enough to make her realize something.

That war wasn't like the swoop gangs. It wasn't about rivalries or turf or pride.

It was real.

People died.

People she cared about.

And for the first time, she truly understood that.

Her arms tightened around Seth as a lump rose in her throat, tears burning behind her eyes.

She pressed her lips against the crown of his head, whispering nothing—because there was nothing to say.

They just stayed there, in the silence, in the grief.

Her heart was breaking for him, and for this boy she'd only just met but had saved her life. Mission Vao was getting her first look at the reality of war, and she didn't like it one bit.