A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars

  70

  Commissioned by Eifer.

  Hyperspace, in transit to Dantooine. 36 BBY/964 GSC.

  I watched from the training room’s observation level as my Padawans chased through an obstacle course of my own making, rushing after Catya as she led them in circles. Of course, since they were moving through different parts of the maze, only one of the cats was real—the other was an illusion I was creating with a formula. However, neither student knew that. They both thought they were the only one running the course and neither had caught on to the fact that I was spreading illusions throughout the entire course.

  They’re about to learn, I grinned as I watched them grow closer to each other.

  At my side, Aylin—out of uniform and prepared for her own workout—watched on with a raised eyebrow. Cindy would have been here, but I was sure she was entirely enthralled and elbow deep in her first love. The blonde ship enthusiast enjoyed her work to the point that we practically had to drag her away at times. And for some reason, she had an almost unhealthy obsession with poking around in my ship any time I took the Rusted Silver anywhere. It’s almost like she expected me to damage what she called ‘her baby.’

  Seeing what was about to happen, Aylin sighed and shook her head. “That’s just mean.”

  “They have to learn the danger, and how to recognize it, at some point. Better that it’s now, in a controlled environment,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, I agree,” she nodded, crossing her arms under her breasts. I glanced to the side briefly, drawn to the movement, before pulling my gaze away and back to my students. She noticed, given the way she radiated satisfaction and amusement. “Doesn’t mean it’s not a dick move.”

  “Of course it is,” I chuckled. “Treachery is best taught young, after all.” Seeing the pair nearly where I wanted, I nodded down below. “The show’s about to start.”

  Reaching out, I cast another illusion formula—directly on the two girls. Allaya’s appearance and voice shifted to match Asajj from the outside, while Asajj’s shifted to match Allaya. From inside the illusion, if they were to look down at themselves, they would only see their normal appearance.

  Aylin winced. “Oh, that’s going to go over well.” After a moment, a wicked grin spread across her face. “Hey so, can I get you to fuck around with my troops with that when we run training drills. It’d be great training.”

  “The chaos that would cause in a unit…” I mused, before chuckling. “Well, it does get boring on a ship in space. We should make our own entertainment where we can.”

  “Right?” the woman laughed, shifting and bumping my hip with her own, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Speaking of. Sabaac again tonight? You’ve got to give us a chance to earn back what we lost.”

  I sent her a raised eyebrow. “You said that the last three times.”

  “We’ll win this time,” she grumbled. “Or we’ll figure out how you’re cheating.”

  “Not likely,” I murmured, earning an annoyed look.

  Down below, Asajj and Allaya barreled into an intersection at just the right speed and smacked into each other, as Catya disappeared into a twist in space and reappeared midair to land on my shoulder. I dismissed the Catya illusion below and watched the fireworks start as the girls picked themselves up.

  “Ugh. What the frack? Watch where you’re going!” Allaya yelled.

  “You watch where you’re going!” Asajj shot back.

  A thrill of alarm shot through both of them as they looked up, meeting each other’s gazes. Fear filled the room as they both jerked back, pointing at each other.

  “Why are you wearing my face?!”

  “No, you’re wearing my face!”

  “It’s my face!”

  “It’s mine!”

  Fear shifted to anger as they pushed past the initial reaction. Wooden training swords were drawn and the girls threw themselves at each other and began wailing on each other. This wasn’t the usual sparring match, this was full on intent to kill. The swords cracked hard and fast against each other, the clacking of wood on wood echoing up to us where we stood.

  “I’m not questioning your methods, but…”

  “But?” I asked, as I began manipulating the terrain using the Force. The floor rose and fell beneath both of them, setting them off balance as I simulated an earthquake, before poles set in the walls and floor extended outwards—some of them separating the girls, others positioned to trip them, and some even hitting them directly as they were too focused on each other to mind their surroundings. They adapted quickly however, maneuvering around and through the obstacles in their quest to kill what they each felt was a doppelganger.

  “Isn’t there some Jedi thing about emotions? That’s pretty common knowledge. Wouldn’t riling them up mess with that?”

  “Absolutely,” I confirmed.

  “Let me guess. That’s the point?” the dark haired woman asked, and I nodded.

  “Exactly. Better to set the example now. That they can have emotions. That they are human, or close enough. Self-control is a must, absolutely. However, that doesn’t mean they have to pretend to be droids. You can be angry, sad, happy, and the entire gamut of human emotion without ever putting yourself or those around you in danger. You just need to learn control.”

  Aylin turned her head enough for those sharp blue eyes to study me. “Is that what you do?”

  I frowned, but nodded. “Yes.” Taking a breath, I quietly explained, “On Felucia. Just before you rode in and pulled us out of the fire. I was going to do something… foolish.”

  “Oh?” Aylin asked, not looking away from the fight below as the girls ran through the maze, shifting under my direction—hunting each other.

  “Mm. A Force technique I learned on Tython.” Holding out my hand, I let a few sparks of lightning dance between my fingers, earning a raised eyebrow. “This, but on a much, much larger scale. After everything, I was willing to throw the entire planet into it—set everything on fire and burn it all to ash. Angry or not, I made that choice consciously, knowing what could happen given Felucia’s nature.”

  “But you didn’t,” she pointed out, and I nodded.

  “I did not,” I agreed. “The Force doesn’t make you do anything, it just amplifies what’s already there. It’s,” I paused, remembering back to when Qui-Gon had explained it to me, “it’s starship fuel. And emotions are fire. But fire requires oxygen. And in this analogy, self-control is you deciding whether to let it burn or not, and where to direct it. You control how much oxygen that fire gets. So that’s the goal. Teaching them how to control themselves. Because from everything described to me… Jedi, Sith, it doesn’t matter. When they lash out with the Force when they get angry, or sad, it really just boils down to a Force empowered tantrum. If you’re an adult, you’re better than that. And how do we ensure adults don’t throw tantrums?”

  Aylin snorted quietly. “Beat it out of them as children.”

  “Pretty much. And speaking of beating it out of them, if you’ll excuse me.”

  The girls had finally cornered each other. Asajj had Allaya on the ground, knees in the redhead’s back and wooden sword over her throat as she wrenched back—trying to either strangle the somewhat larger girl or break her neck.

  The maze around them abruptly snapped back into the walls and ceiling, leaving an open room. I dropped down and carefully pulled them apart. “What are you two doing?”

  “Ma—kuh!” Allaya tried to speak, but her throat wasn’t cooperating.

  “Master, something is impersonating me!” Asajj pointed at Allaya.

  I set them both on their feet, then smacked both in the head hard enough to nearly send them to the ground, earning startled yelps from both. “Will you both shut up, stand still, and look at each other?! Use your eyes! Use the Force! Is the space between your heads completely empty?!” I roared, and the pair flinched. “Look!”

  They looked up, eyeing each other warily. After a moment, I felt both reach out with the Force. The realization came over both about the same time and, a moment later, Allaya was the first to reach out and break the illusion over herself. Asajj did the same a moment later. Both of them radiated anger and annoyance, but also a big helping of shame.

  “Do you have something to say for yourselves? Perhaps to each other?” I prompted.

  Both girls looked down, studying the floor. After a moment, Allaya mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Sorry,” Asajj echoed.

  “For?”

  “Ugh! I’m sorry for trying to kill you!”

  “Me too.”

  “But I really thought—!”

  I cut Allaya off with a look. “You thought.” They flinched at my tone. “That during a training exercise, during which your Master was observing, that an enemy had somehow slipped onto a ship traveling through hyperspace, past all of the Mandalorians in the ship, and for some reason decided to impersonate you? Is that what you want to say?”

  The redhead blushed beet red, and a glance at Asajj showed she had turned a nearly identical shade as both girls nodded. I sighed. “That’s the problem. You didn’t think, you reacted. Use. Your. Brains. Use your senses. Use the advantages you have to separate reality from illusion. But you weren’t using those senses at all, or you would have sensed the illusions I placed over you both before things devolved into a fight.”

  Seeing them nodding, I softened my tone a bit. “I did set you up intentionally and yes, this was the outcome I was expecting, even if I was hoping that at least one of you would see through it. I’m disappointed at your failure to detect and see through the illusion, and your failure to consider the entire situation and do something as simple as look to me for guidance. I was right there the entire time. You both could have looked up and seen me. However,” I paused a moment and they eyed me warily, “I will say that I’m satisfied that upon seeing an unknown threat, you committed to confronting and eliminating it. You didn’t freeze or run away. You committed to a course of action. Not necessarily the right course of action, but you did act.”

  Reaching out, I laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “There’s also the matter of how you reacted. You were afraid, which led you to be angry.” It wasn’t a question, but both girls nodded. “That’s a normal reaction. Fear keeps you sharp. It lets you know you’re in danger. Anger is also normal, because the things that scare us tend to need to die. You’re not machines. Regardless of what the Jedi code says, you are permitted to feel. But we’re not animals. We control our emotions and our responses to them, we don’t let them control us. Do you understand?”

  “Maybe?” Allaya murmured.

  “I think?” Asajj frowned.

  I nodded. “Go meditate on that and on keeping your Force senses running full time. From now on, we’ll incorporate illusions into all of your training, so you can practice spotting and seeing through them. If you fail, I’ll have to think up interesting punishments. Now, get going.”

  The girls hurried out of the room and I sighed, reaching up to rub my head. A quiet thump on the padded floor drew my attention to where Aylin had jumped down and rolled, then hopped to her feet. “You’re good with them.”

  “Some days, I just want to open a window and let some fresh vacuum in,” I grumbled.

  The woman grinned as she started stretching and warming up. “Yeah, but that’s just dealing with all kids. So, you ready?”

  Taking a moment to close off my empathic sense and sense of the Force and mentally reset myself to moving at normal human speed with normal human strength, I nodded. The dark haired woman settled into a fighting stance. I didn’t bother as I circled, forcing her to move and break her stance. Watching her footing, I waited for the opportune moment, before stepping in with a fast kick that forced her back, followed by a lunge and a series of punches that, while she blocked, were enough to knock her off balance and send her to the ground. Then, I dove on top of her as things devolved into a ground battle.

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  Getting my thighs locked around her head, I forced her leg to bend in at the knee and torqued her ankle, pulling it towards hyperextension. The captain tapped out and I let go, rolling off and bouncing to my feet. For a moment, she lay there and caught her breath--

  [Edit 1.]

  I rolled my eyes and she moved, attacking with a kick that I stepped into in order to push aside, as she came in with a series of punches aimed at my ribs that I blocked or parried aside as I returned my own, before we broke up and started circling again. “Are the crew recovering?”

  “Things are settling down, now that you’ve got it under control and we’ve mostly got things scrubbed down,” Aylin confirmed, throwing a kick as a feint before backing off again before I could do anything to counter.

  “I meant,” I paused, considering how to as what I wanted to. I took a moment to skip a step in towards her, forcing her to back up and abort whatever attack she was about to launch. “They haven’t done something they’ll regret and blame me for?”

  “Nah,” Aylin waved off my concern. “Like I said, everyone volunteered, knowing what would likely happen.”

  “And you?” I asked, before rushing in with a series of kicks that forced her to circle around and reposition. In response, I flicked a hand and caused one of the square floor panels to jut into the air, creating an obstacle between us. More rose around us in a circle, locking us in, as poles jutted from them and from the ground.

  “What about me?” Aylin asked, as she jumped and grabbed a bar, climbing up into the ‘branches’ overhead and swinging through them quickly, repositioning and waiting for a moment to strike as I climbed up after her.

  For a moment, I considered not asking, but decided it would be best to just be blunt and straightforward here.

  [Edit 2.]

  “Ah,” I murmured, nodding as I considered it.

  Aylin chose that moment to swing around the bar she was holding onto and launch herself at me feet first. I grabbed onto her thigh and made to throw her to the mat below, but she was quick enough to grab onto my robes and pull me down with her. We rolled on the ground and this time, the older woman came out on top, her body pressing mine into the mat as she locked her legs around my waist pinning both arms to my sides and her arm around my throat.

  I spent a few moments trying to work my way out of the grapple, before I realized there was just no way to get out without cheating. Aylin chuckled behind me. “So, you gonna tap out, or…”

  [Edit 3.]

  I tapped the floor with my foot and she laughed, unwrapping and letting go before rolling to her feet. “For a Zeltron, you are way too easy to tease.”

  I accepted the hand up she offered. “Yes, well, I’ve spent most of my life away from Zeltros. The entire planet is just…” I made a face. “I hated being around it.”

  “Right, because you could sense it. Sounds rough,” she nodded as we began circling again.

  “Well, unless you’re offering to swap childhood traumas, I think we should drop this line of conversation.”

  The older woman chuckled. “Maybe later, over something to drink. Now, let’s go again. I think you’re getting sloppy and coming to rely on the Force too much.”

  I frowned at the jab, but it was a legitimate worry. So, I focused in and settled into doing something about it before it could become a problem.

  Mandalore. 36 BBY/964 GSC.

  Satine raised an eyebrow as a knock sounded at the door to the office she shared with Jaster. She glanced at him a moment to make sure it was okay, before calling, “Enter.”

  A woman neither of them had seen before walked in, sending both an easy smile as she made her way over and sat down in front of their desks like she owned the place. Her body was curvaceous and the way she moved drew the eye in a way that had Satine’s pulse racing, and a glance over at Jaster showed the older man seemed to have perked up and the newcomer had his attention as well.

  She was pretty—almost absurdly so, really. Her clothes were practically painted on, outlining every muscle on the woman’s athletic body—or at least those that weren’t hidden by the long, brown coat she wore over them. Plum colored hair, pale skin, and eyes a shade of blue that just popped.

  “Your security is awful,” she said by way of introduction, and Satine blinked.

  Something… something’s wrong, she frowned, only for the woman to fix her with that lovely smile. A lovely scent filled the room and Satine rubbed her thighs together. I know this…

  “Just a little smile and they let me right through,” the woman chuckled. “It really is not fair at all, is it?”

  The whine of a blaster sounded from beneath Jaster’s desk. “You’ve got three seconds to explain who you are.”

  “Agent Xana Ceres, Confederate Intelligence Service. Formerly Serenno Intelligence. We don’t have ranks, but we don’t exactly need them,” she answered, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m your new Head of Counter Intelligence. Countess Jenza sent me, along with a few others, to probe your security, find the holes, and plug them and then stick around and start making sure there aren’t any rats in the upper echelons before the big reveal.”

  Satine blinked as what she was experiencing clicked. “You’re a Zeltron.”

  “Got it in one,” the counter-intelligence officer nodded.

  “You’re not red,” Jaster grunted, even as he reached out and dialed the countess’s number from memory. “And I’ll be verifying that.”

  “Good. Please don’t just take me at my word. Call my boss and confirm it,” Xana nodded. “As for the coloration,” she held up a hand and turned it over, examining it front and back. “Well, the people who went to the trouble of disguising what we are did an amazing job. Sorry about the pheromones. The worst of it should clear out in a few minutes. Though,” she sent Satine an amused grin, “I imagine it’s not as bad as what you’ve been dealing with.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

  The spy chuckled. “Mereel’s a Zeltron teenager. She literally can’t help but spew horny juice all over the place. Check your inbox, by the way. You should have received a copy of a blueprint for an improvised device to remove the leftovers. The people on the Redoubt figured out a way to deal with it. You’ll want to have a cleaning team go over your home with it.”

  “You got into my email?!” Satine hissed, glaring at the spy.

  “Got into more than that. Email, recorded holocom logs, surveillance records from your apartment. You know, you make the cutest sounds—”

  “Nn!” Satine let out a frustrated sound, but before she could yell at the over-sexed trollop, Jaster interrupted.

  “She checks out,” the man grunted, and the blaster whined again as he shut it off.

  “Told you,” Xana shrugged, before fixing Satine with a serious look.

  [Edit 4.]

  “And the actual reason for your visit,” Jaster pressed.

  “Right. Moving on.” She reached into one of her coat’s pockets and produced a holocom. “In our digging, we’ve discovered some rather severe leaks already, but I thought you’d want to see this one personally.”

  She tapped a button on the holocom and it began to play as she set it above the table. It was audio only, but one of the voices was somewhat familiar.

  “Speak.”

  “Senator. The person of interest you sent out an alert about? The Jedi, Tanya Mereel? I’ve just learned that she arrived here on Mandalore yesterday and is preparing to leave again.”

  Satine shared a look with Jaster as the recording continued to play out. They held their thoughts for now, and eventually the recording ended.

  “Who was that?” Jaster demanded.

  “I thought you’d want to know,” Xana smiled, tapping a few more buttons, before two images popped up. The first, not someone either of them recognized. The second, however…

  “Isn’t that,” Satine frowned as she studied his face. “He’s on the Republic Senate. Which one is he again?”

  “The senator from Naboo. Palpatine,” the Zeltron supplied. “The other is an immigrant to Mandalore from Coruscant. He arrived approximately four years ago. The interview forms from his immigration say he came looking for work, searching for upwards mobility and somewhere to stretch his legs outside of the city-planet. He works at the spaceport as an information technology specialist, and his documents from Coruscant show he graduated very high in his class with an aptitude for technology, networks, and computer systems.”

  “Fake, then?” Satine asked, and Xana shook her head.

  “Not at all. He really did go through the university. It just doesn’t mention his expunged police record, after he got caught slicing the university’s systems to help a friend. Or how, entirely by chance, he was bailed out by someone working for Senator Palpatine.”

  Jaster nodded. “Fine. So we kill him—”

  “Bad idea,” Xana interrupted. “I suggest we leave him right where he is. Let him continue sending false reports. We can purge nearly the entire spy network the Republic has set up here on Mandalore, and if we leave this one and a few others reporting to key people, they’ll eat the loss. They won’t try to replace who they’ve lost immediately because they’ll believe we missed them. Then, we control what they get access to. Feed them false information when it’s advantageous—not outright nerf shit, but just wrong enough, or delayed just enough that it makes them more useful to us for feeding the enemy bad information than it does the enemy for having a spy in our midst. Then, we just tighten border security to keep out the riffraff and eventually they’ll get the message and stop trying to send more spies.”

  Satine glanced at Jaster, who frowned but nodded. Satine turned back to the spy. “Very well. We’ll leave handling the matter to you.”

  “I’ll send out a message letting the leadership know you’ve got full authority to use whatever troops and manpower you need. Just make sure you document everything,” Jaster agreed, and began typing away at his computer. Quietly, he grumbled, “Getting tired of this desk job crap.”

  “Well, then you’re in luck. I imagine you’ll have a chance to go into the field very soon, if you’d like,” Xana smiled, before standing up. “Before I go, I need a fast transport and to arrange a meetup with the covert unit.”

  “What covert unit?” Satine asked, frowning.

  The spy sent them both an amused look. “You know which one. Hers. You’ve done a good job of hiding it, of divorcing it from Mandalore and the CIS when that becomes official, but there’s still enough of a paper trail and there are enough reports to put things together. She has a stealth ship she’s been using for anti-piracy and covert ops. I need to embed some of my people on it. An intelligence gathering unit.”

  “It’s her ship, her unit, and her company. You’ll have to ask Tanya,” Jaster denied.“Why do you want it?”

  Satine forced herself to focus on the lingering arousal and not on her thoughts as Jaster said that. Because it wasn’t that they had no way to contact the ship, so much as they were refusing. As Jaster said, it was Tanya’s. The crew, on the other hand, while they may be employed by Tanya on paper they were all Mandalorian soldiers—the argument could be made that either of them could order the crew to move the ship somewhere, and she didn’t want to bring that up.

  “Because I was asked to, by Count Dooku. Their mission is to gather intel on certain key targets and make it available, and a stealth ship would be very useful for that mission. If I have to ask her myself, then I need you to put me in contact with her.”

  “We can’t,” Satine shook her head. “She ordered the Redoubt to go dark before they left Mandalore for wherever it is the Jedi have moved their new Temple to. They won’t reestablish communications until they’re well away from it.”

  Xana clicked her tongue. “Fine. I need to know as soon as we can get in touch with her.”

  With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Satine turned an annoyed look on Jaster. “Who the hell does she think she is to talk to us like that?”

  Jaster, however, crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Someone who knows she can can get away with it.”

  “I don’t like it,” the blonde grumbled.

  The old man chuckled, shaking his head. “You think I do, Satine? Problem is, while secret police get a bad reputation, every government in recorded history has used them. The Republic has them. And they use ‘em cause they’re useful. Especially going into the early days of a war. So I don’t like it, but I’ll take the advantage they give us.”

  She sighed, resting her elbows on the table and dropping her head into her palms. “What next? Training up our own Confederate sect of Jedi?”

  When Jaster said nothing, she looked up, sending him an incredulous look. “Jaster…”

  “You can’t deny she’s effective,” he pointed out.

  Satine allowed herself a groan. “And what was that business about field work? I can’t do this job without you! You’re the only person giving me legitimacy with the clans! If you do something stupid and get yourself killed, we’ll be right back to another succession crisis and the Death Watch will likely rear their ugly heads again.”

  The former mercenary chuckled. “You know how you fix that?”

  “How?” Satine sent him an exasperated look.

  “Tell Tanya to go collect her sword.”

  Satine blinked, then winced. “She doesn’t want…” She hesitated, then corrected herself. “She has too much on her plate to let me chain her to a desk.”

  Jaster snorted. “If you think you’re chaining that girl to a desk, your head is too far up your ass to be saved.”

  “Hey,” Satine protested.

  “Honestly, it’s what we need. Someone to unite the clans. Jango’s a good choice, if Tanya doesn’t want it. But either of them would work with you to keep this whole thing spinning so the Confederacy doesn’t collapse in on itself.”

  Resting her chin in her hand, she studied Jaster for a few moments before asking, “Is that what you want? For one of them to take over for you?”

  “Force yes,” Jaster groaned. “I’m not meant for all of this… polite crap. It would solve a whole lot of problems if we just went back to the old solution of challenging anyone who causes problems to a fight. Simplify things.”

  “Barbaric,” Satine rolled her eyes.

  Jaster sent her an amused look. “Didn’t hear you complaining when it was being used in your favor.”

  The blonde hummed, before nodding once. “I’m just not cut out for it, personally. That’s why I need you!”

  “Uh huh. And remind me why I need you again?”

  “My people build the ships, the guns, the armor, and the ammunition,” she pointed out.

  “Right. That stuff.” Shaking his head, he stood and stretched. “Alright, that’s about enough for me for today.”

  Satine glared. “It’s not even noon! You can’t just abandon me to this hell of paperwork!”

  “Call me if somebody starts shooting. But if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to wind up shooting someone myself.”

  The man was gone before Satine could protest further, the door swinging shut behind him. Letting out an annoyed huff, Satine turned her attention to her holocom. Tapping in Jenza’s number, she waited for it to pick up. The countess on the other end smiled.

  “I’ve been expecting a call from you.”

  “Your agent was very rude,” Satine pouted.

  Jenza nodded. “Sorry about Xana. I promise, she’s one of our best. One of our most enthusiastic, too. Trust me when I say that her usefulness outweighs any inconvenience.”

  “She’d better. Now, what can you tell me about them?” the blonde asked. And as Jenza laid out what she knew, and what she could say over the secure line, Satine took notes. If they were going to use this new asset, then they needed to know how to do so effectively.

  I wonder if I can task some of them to tracking down my wayward sister. I miss Bo and this whole disagreement is stupid. It’s over. I won. She should come home. If they can find her, I’ll send Tanya to drag her back kicking and screaming if I have to.

  Carlac. 36 BBY/964 GSC.

  Lifting a mouthful of rice, fish, and pickles to her mouth, Bo-Katan felt a brief shiver run down her spine, terminating in a shake in her hand that send the clump of food to the floor of her tent. A thrill of fear ran through her and the scar on her cheek itched.

  She abruptly stood, grabbing her blaster and pulling her helmet on before stepping out into the cold air. Mud squished under her boots as she looked around the small camp of fellow Death Watch Mandalorians, her eyes scanning the skies and tree line for threats. For a flash of white hair and silver-blue eyes. Bright white teeth in the dark, pulled into a grin that promised death…

  She heard laughter nearby as someone pointed at her and muttered something. She ignored them, heading for the edge of the camp and running a quick patrol around the perimeter, looking for tracks or any sign that someone had found them. They didn’t understand. Couldn’t. They hadn’t faced her.

  The other members of her cell thought that they were waiting for The Call. That one day soon, the Mandalorian people would tire of being slaves and be ready to throw off the yoke of oppression her sister and that traitor Jaster Mereel had forced on them. That they would soon go back to the glory days of the Crusades.

  No, the fact was that those days were dead and gone.

  If they were being oppressed, then the Mandalorian people had grown so weak that they thanked her sister and Mereel for it. They weren’t ever going to rise up and take back the stars, and they would actively fight the Death Watch for trying to bring those days back—because it would mean the end of their comfortable lives.

  War was coming and Mandalore was preparing to fight it, under her peace-loving sister of all people. Because they had chosen Satine and Mereel, because they chose peace, they had been able to build up their forces into what whispers said was an impressively strong fleet—not as massive as the Republic or what the Trade Federation was rumored to have, but more heavily armed and armored.

  And if she had just stayed put and kept her mouth shut, if she hadn’t let herself be swayed by Tor, Bo-Katan would be there—likely at the helm of one of those capital ships. Instead, here she was—tromping through the forest in the cold, the mud, and this pissing down mist that wasn’t even thick enough to call a proper rain that just soaked into everything and left a chill in her bones even in the warmth of her tent.

  She was cold, tired, hungry, and miserable. She missed her home. She missed her sister.

  In the end, the wariness—some would say paranoia—faded and she returned to her tent to finish her meal. For another day, Bo-Katan forced herself to endure the hell of waiting for an opportunity that wouldn’t come. For a chance to redeem her honor for her cowardice in the face of an enemy—a chance that seemed more and more like a pipe dream, the longer time passed.

  It had been years since that day, but they would never let her forget it. She would always be a joke in the eyes of the Death Watch, for as long as that damned Jedi, her sister, and Jaster Mereel lived.

  Outcast and hunted by Mandalore. Unwanted and reviled as a coward by the Death Watch.

  I should just leave. Take my ship and go. Find somewhere quiet, some out of the way place in the middle of nowhere, and lay low. Find work and keep my head down.

  And then what? Just keep doing that? Moving from place to place. Working and making just enough money to keep my ship flying? That’s no way to live.

  …I want to go home.

  Edits: Dialogue/lines removed to comply with RR ToS.