Blood and Honor

Malachor System – Malachor V – Serphants – Day 1 – Hour of the Viper (0435 Local Time)

The cool dawn air of Malachor V was slowly warmed by the dim orange glow of a powerful star, a star that had symbolized Mandalorian power in the Outer Rim for thousands of years. Long snaky tendrils of radiation lashed out into the system, giving it life…and strength.

On the rocky, mountainous planet of Malachor V, the City of Serphants, base of power of the Serphants Clan, the growing rays of the star was no longer a welcome sight. Once, the Mandalorians had treasured the light of the star when their power reached to the corners of the Galaxy. The weak Republic once trembled at the sight of their Basilisk Droids and the light of Mandalorian strength cast long shadows over their enemies…over those who could not fight.

In the city, squat buildings lined broad avenues as a sign of strength, a strength built upon the backs of slave laborers taken in Mandalorian conquests. This morning, however, all was quiet. A grim foreboding had settled over the city.

In the heart of the city, a meeting took place to plan the defense of the last bastion of Mandalorian power in the Galaxy – the homeworld. In the Serphants’ Clan hall, the most powerful Mandalorians had gathered in the dim, red lighting to discuss war and death.

“We will stand and fight to the last warrior,” proclaimed the Mandalore, shod in a harness of dull silver with a squat helmet of durasteel that reflected the fiendish glow of the lights.

“This is the way of Mandalore,” shouted the assembled clan chiefs as they pounded their vibrodaggers on their armored chests.

The most powerful warrior of the clans, known as the Mandalore, grasped the hilts of his two, massive vibroswords and drew them in one motion. Holding them high above his head, he cried, “We will stop the Republic here! Their graves will fill this planet as they did at Dxun…at Onderon. They will pay.”

Again, the warriors responded, the sound of shouts drowning the clan hall. Mandalore strode to a massive warrior in blue armor and held forth the tip of his weapon. “Ordo, are you with me?”

The warrior, a middle-aged man with dark hair, graying at the temples, nodded grimly. The man, Canderous of the Clan Ordo, slid his vibrodagger across the palm of his left hand. As the thick, red liquid pooled in his hand, he turned his palm down over Mandalore’s sword and let the blood coat the blade. This was tradition…this was the Way of Mandalore. Canderous’ fate was now bound to his leader by blood and honor.

Mandalore went down the line of men: Geratt, Sherruk, Kelborn, Bralor, Ergeron, and then, Serphants.

Mandalore stood before the tall, lean warrior in jade armor. “Serphants, are you with me?”

The warrior stepped past his bodyguards and nodded. With this same swift motion as Canderous had made, Serphants drew the dagger across his palm without so much as a wince. The blood dripped upon the blade of the Mandalore and the ritual was complete.

Mandalore nodded his satisfaction. “Come, my warriors, let us plan the destruction of our nemesis.”

The chiefs filed out of the hall into the war room, leaving the bodyguards and servants behind. One of Serphant’s men scowled; he did not trust the Ordo chief and neither should his liege. “Mira,” he barked at a slave. “Remain here and protect my wife, Callesto. I shall return.”

The young, red-haired woman, dressed in scanty clothing, but carrying a blaster pistol and vibrodagger, bowed submissively. As a slave, captured by the Mandalorians in times of glory, Mira had once been a servant. However, with the coming disaster, she had been pressed into service and taught how to fight.

As the bodyguard departed, Mira went to Callesto, a dignified and austere woman with long, brown hair. Mira bowed and presented the Mandalorian woman with a tray of refreshments.

“Milady, Vako has sent me to protect you.”

Callesto smirked. “I need no protection,” she retorted proudly. Then, however, her mood changed and worry crept into her sharp features. “What is happening, Mira? Why is the Mandalore so…concerned? Are we not winning the war?”

A smile nearly crept over Mira’s lips, but she banished it. “No, milady, far from it. The Mandalorians are beaten. She is coming.”

“Who? Who is coming?”

“Revan.”

Malachor System – Malachor V – Serphants – Day 1 – Hour of the Dragon (0845 Local Time)

The Mandalorian warrior and bodyguard of the Chief, Vako of the Clan Serphants, moved to a vantage point within the hall to observe the Ordo men who had come to the war council. His animosity toward the Ordo ran deep since the Battle of Althir in which his father had been sacrificed upon the altar of victory. Since then, Vako had seen the rise of the Clan Ordo in the esteem of the Mandalore and he hated the machinations of their leader, Canderous.

“How unbecoming of a warrior,” he muttered under his breath.

He watched the men of the other clan, looking for signs of untrustworthiness, sure that he would find evidence to present to his clan chief. His eyes bore holes of contempt into the other Mandalorians until the footfalls of a friend interrupted his loathing.

“Vako, the final conflict is coming. The battle will be glorious,” said a short, pale man dressed in blue armor.

The tall Vako nodded offhandedly and then looked down at his smaller friend. “Seja, it will be glorious indeed. As long as I live to see the Ordo destroyed, I shall die in peace at Revan’s hand.”

Seja brushed his dark hair away from his pristine, angelic face…a face so unlike those of the Mandalorians. “Ah yes, the Ordo. Do not worry, my friend. I may have something of interest to you. We shall meet later on this matter.”

Serphants let a smile escape from his lips. “I have always trusted you, Seja. What you lack in stature, you more than make up for in loyalty and bravery.”

“We will see the end of the Ordo…and Mandalore willing, Revan herself. Malachor will be her death trap.”

Seja patted his taller friend on the back and continued on his way. He left the warrior’s compound and strode into the city streets that were nearly deserted with the exception of anti air batteries and surface to air missile sites that were being constructed in key positions. The final battle would indeed be glorious.

The small man then turned a corner and flicked the switch on a low-power, scrambled frequency transmitter. An encrypted signal had been sent.

Hundreds of meters away, a man in a merchants robe sat on a park bench in plain sight. His commlink chimed, letting him know of an incoming message. His dark eyebrows rose over his thin, boyish face and he pressed the receive button to download the message into his datapad.

The man then threw breadcrumbs to the crowd of unsuspecting birds gathered at his feet…unsuspecting and unaware of the coming cataclysm to their world. He then glanced down at the message.

Jaq, here is the second installment of my information. Our leader should find this most enlightening. I am fully trusted in the inner circle so delivering the final installment should prove to be simple. Be at location 47 at the appropriate time. I will expect you to extract me at that time.

S

Atton “Jaq” Rand then perused the data to find Mandalorian defensive satellite positions, control codes, and Basilisk Droid sensor frequencies. The information would save thousands of Republic lives in the invasion. Now, it was only a matter of getting the information to Revan.

Atton stood and threw the rest of his breadcrumbs to the birds and walked away, unaware that a pair of eyes observed him as well.

The Council of War – The Hour of the Basilisk – 0900

“We must take the fight to the enemy!” called Canderous, striking his fist on the podium as he addressed the War Council of Mandalore. Always aggressive, the leader of the Ordo invariably advocated attack. Nearby, Ergeron and Kelborn cried out his approval of the offensive.

“Revan has matched us at every turn! Our last assault was annihilated. We must consolidate our defense,” retorted the Chief of the Serphants.

Canderous flared his nostrils and shook his fist at his rival. “Only cowards and old women hide behind their satellites and droids!” he yelled. “Do you not remember how the Republic trembled under our attacks?”

Serphants growled like a feral animal. “Do you not recall my being there…with you and the Mandalore at every battle…every campaign. I have fought and bled and slain with each and every one of you.” He then turned to the Mandalore.

“Sire, our ability to carry an offensive has been eroded. The quality of our pilots and warriors has diminished with every lost battle. Few of us now remain who cross the border of the Republic with you. In contrast, the quality and power of Revan’s forces grows by the day. She has shaken off the yoke of weak Senate and no one can contest her strategy. She has assembled a command team that none can compare with. Malak, Admiral Saul Karath, General Mai-Lyn T’sing…they are always five steps ahead of us.”

Again, Canderous, Ergeron, and Kelborn rose in fury. “Defeatist garbage! Take your seat, Serphants!” shouted Ordo, towering above his fellows.

“I will not be silenced,” answered Serphants. “The fate of our people is at stake. If I do not speak, the Mandalorians may be no more. Every day, more of Revan’s spies and assassins rob us of our strength and of our sight…and we do nothing to stop it.”

“We are warriors! What do we have need of spies for?” Kelborn added with contempt.

“Enough….” spoke the Mandalore. He looked shrunken…tired, despite the imposing armor encasing his form. His bravado failed to change the reality that the end of the Mandalorians was at hand. “Canderous…you are my right hand. Plan the offensive…this is the way of Mandalore.”

Canderous nodded with a smirk toward Serphants. “As I was saying, the Republic will come at us as follows: Admiral Karath will lead a screening force to pin down our Basilisks while Malak leads the invasion force. We can expect General T’sing to lead the ground assault. We must be careful with her, unlike other Republic generals, she is unconcerned with casualties when meeting her objectives.”

As Canderous continued to outline his plan of attack, Serphants lowered his head darkly. “We are doomed,” he whispered to himself. “Revan herself will stand on Malachor within a week.”

Malachor System – Malachor V – Serphants – Day 1 – Hour of the Dragon (1330 Local Time)

Canderous stood on the balcony of the Ordo stronghold, looking out upon rows of Basilisk Droids and starfighters, arranged neatly in preparation for Revan’s final offensive. His square jaw was set firmly against the coming storm, the scar on his cheek red and jagged like the rocky Malachor peaks against the setting sun.

Another large Mandalorian entered the area, drawing Canderous’ attention from the war machines gathered on the tarmac.
“What is it, Ergeron?” asked Canderous without moving.

The Mandalorian, a boyhood friend of the Ordo leader, approached. He looked down at the hundreds of droids and starfighters, ready for battle, but frowned. “Canderous, we must curtail the training mission today. Two ion fuel convoys were ambushed by Revan and our fuel supplies are critical.”

A barely perceptible twitch ran along Canderous’ jaw, the only sign of the growing doubt festering in his mind. “It is nothing to worry about, my friend. So, how are the warriors? Do they long for the song of battle as I do?”

“They do indeed, old friend. I fear, however, that they lack the experience and confidence that once made the Mandalorians the masters of the Galaxy only a year ago…and Revan continues to develop new machines and tactics that surpass our own.”
Canderous avoided eye contact. “She is a demon, that one. Ergeron, I would not say this to anyone but you as you are the closest thing that I have to a brother. The days of the Mandalorians are numbered. The two biggest Kath Hounds in the galaxy fought and we lost. Revan will destroy us…our people, our culture, our pride. All we can hope to do is take her with us so posterity will sing of our glory.”

Ergeron slapped a strong hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I am honored to be your brother and I shall avenge your true brother, slain by Revan and General T’Sing.”

Ordo did not move, but shook as his face shaded red with the last rays of the setting star. “Cantaris died a good death…a warrior’s death. Ergeron, I do not hate Revan…it is not the Way of Mandalore. Revan did what any of us would do, slay the enemy, crush his will to fight, deprive him of his resources to do battle.”

He then turned and grasped Ergeron’s hand and made steely eye contact with his comrade. “We must all die one day. Let us fight hard and chose the hour of our passing.”

Then, as dictated by tradition, they drew their daggers and held them, point down to their hearts.

“For Mandalore.”

The Fortress of Serphants

In the stronghold of the Serphants Clan, Vako paced nervously in front of the broad window that looked out on the training field, where warriors gathered in a dueling circle to test their skills. Clouds of worry furrowed his brows in the growing darkness. Even across the city, once the brightly lit home of conquerors, all was dark, a testament to the growing threat of Revan’s might.

For the most part, the Mandalorian did not refer to the enemy as The Republic. At the outset of the war, the Republic was a weak and disorganized creature, led by incompetent political sycophants who were interested only in their personal gain and pleasure.

Revan changed all of that.

Within half a year of her ascending to the Admiralty, the Mandalorians were retreating on all fronts. Vako spoke aloud as he watched the Serphants warriors train, “She understood us…knew our mind and our strategy. Although I chafe at the thought that the Mandalorians will be defeated by the Republic, there is no dishonor in being destroyed by Revan.”

A female voice interrupted his defeatist monolog. “My Lord, the Lady Callesto,” announced Mira submissively as she bowed and withdrew.

Callesto walked brusquely past the slave, Mira, and approached her husband. “What is happening, my husband?” she asked with deep concern written on her face. “Is it true that we are beaten? That Revan is coming?”

Vako brought his hand up dismissively. “You worry too much, woman. Revan will fall. Don’t believe everything you hear. We have a new ally in the war and it will turn the tide. The Sith Ambassador has assured the Mandalore that they will intervene,” he said with false bravado, shooting Mira an evil glare. “Go, tend to your gardens and leave the war to the warriors.”

Callesto turned away with rare anger, her teeth gritted. The tense lines on her face told the story of her emotion and she seized Mira by the arm to drag her from the room.

The bodyguard of the Serphants Chief watched them go. His hand was gripped tightly on the handle of his vibrodagger, turning his knuckles white. “It is better that she not know the truth. The Way of Mandalore has become a lie anyway…it has brought us nothing but destruction.”

Down the long hall, Callesto stormed into her chamber, leaving Mira at the door. In a fit of rage, she too drew her vibrodagger and slashed the sleeves of her robes, shrieking with every cut.

A voice interrupted her. “Enough. Save your anger for the Republic.” It was Seja.

The dagger clattered to the ground and she ran to his arms. “It is true…the Mandalorians will fall.”

Seja nodded, his dark hair covering one eye. “I have a way out. I won’t let you perish here.” His reassuring smile was so warm…so inviting. The woman inhaled his scent. Their hands met. As the two became one, Mira stood, listening…gaining an advantage. How useful this information would be to the right person.

Elsewhere on Malachor V

In the heat of the Mandalorian sun, Atton Rand took a long drink of Juma Juice to quench his thirst. Heat radiated off of the broad street in the Serphants city, distorting the air. Atton wiped the perspiration from his face with the sleeve of his ribbed jacket and looked at his chronometer.

He ran a quick hand through his brown hair and strode off to cantina on the corner. A somber mood permeated the place in contrast to the days of conquest when Mandalorian warriors, mercenaries, and merchants hailed the power of the Mandalore. Now, sullen faces and drunkards sat in dark places, awaiting destruction.

The despair of the Mandalorians brought a smile to Atton’s lips. He sat down at an empty table and made brief eye contact with the bartender, who brought a drink to him. Atton downed the glass in one gulp and then slapped a wad of credits on the table. Carefully, he folded up the napkin from the drink and slid it in his pocket.

The bartender came by and picked up the credits, letting a small data pad hidden in the pile drop into an apron pouch. The two then went their separate ways, never to meet again.

When the bartender had left, Atton stood and headed to the fresher. In a stall, he removed the napkin and sprayed a chemical on the paper. The image of Vako Serphants appeared. Atton nodded – he knew what had to be done. The Republic assassin tore up the paper and flushed it away. On the way out of the cantina, he spied a game of Pazaak.

“This is someone’s unlucky day,” he voiced as he took out his prized deck. “Pure Pazaak.”

Malachor System – Malachor V – Serphants – Day 2 – Hour of the Kath Hound (0500 Local Time)

In the darkness of the predawn hours, Atton Rand, agent of the Republic and veteran combat pilot, leaned casually against the wall of another cantina, another dive on the doomed world of the Mandalorians. His practiced insouciance stood in contrast to the turmoil in his gut – the fear of failure and death was real within his heart.

The Mandalorians killed spies slowly and painfully.

However, the tall, lean operative’s training held sway over his actions and he brushed his straight, brown hair back, knocking his hood aside. Nothing appeared to be wrong in the world for this man.

Atton’s dark eyes focused in on a lone figure strolling through the morning mist under the dim lamps of the city streets. He raised an eyebrow – a woman…slightly shorter…thin and angular of form.

She ambled over the Atton, whose eyes revealed a cautious suspicion and his cheek twitched in a barely perceptible quiver. Under his worn brown cloak, his hand grasped the firm black handle of a blaster pistol and he undid the retaining strap and safety, unseen to any eyes.

“Good morning, master,” spoke the woman in a drunken, lilting voice, full of alcohol and other Mandalorian spirits. “Would a gentleman care for early morning entertainment?”

Atton chuckled and his muscles relaxed just a hair – she was nothing more than a street woman, plying her trade in this dying city, scraping what little life she could before Revan came and obliterated her.

He sighed and blinked, somewhat embarrassed by his heightened sense of caution.

I’ve been in this intelligence business too long.

As his eyes reopened, the emitter of a lightsaber was pressed into his throat.

Serphants Compound

The red-haired slave, Mira paced the halls of the compound, her feet padding on the flagstone floors of the corridor beneath the glowing overhead lights. Her scant clothing hung over her well endowed frame, swishing with every turn. Strapped to her thigh was a silver pistol in a black holster along with extra power magazines.

Although she was a slave to the Mandalorians, she had been taught to fight and fight she would when Revan came – to the death if need be.

However, at this moment, Mira fretted over the knowledge she possessed – that a trusted friend of the family, Seja, cuckolded Vako, bodyguard to the Lord of Serphants.

Mira’s life had been hard and oppressive. Captured and enslaved as a youth by the Mandalorians, she was indoctrinated into the harsh and warlike culture of her masters, who were intolerant of defiance.

Mira learned to hide her emotions and her anger.

She placed a slender hand along her chin and furrowed her brows. Then, with a nod of her head, she stopped her pacing and walked purposefully down the hall – toward the quarters of Vako Serphants.

A secret needed to be told.

Dark Alleyways

Atton gasped as the emitter was pressed hard into the flesh of his neck. He looked into cold, steely blue eyes framed with golden hair beneath a hooded cloak. The woman’s thumb was pressed upon the activator of the lightsaber.

“I hope this isn’t what you meant by entertainment,” he quipped in his devil-may-care manner. “Are the Jedi here for my Pazaak winnings?”

The woman pulled him in closely so, to the rest of the world, she were servicing a client. “The fog shrouds the true nature of Malachor, don’t you think?”

Atton’s face twitched. A smirk…then a raised eyebrow. He recognized the secret parole that she had given – the woman was sent by Revan to help him assassinate Vako.

“The fog shall soon be lifted. Of that, I am sure,” he responded calmly and the woman withdrew the weapon from his neck.

“I had to be certain,” she said, looking around. “The Mandalorians have mercenaries for counterintelligence work. Although they are too proud to do it themselves, their lackeys are very proficient. What is your plan for this…assignment?”

“Meet me at the cantina near the compound at Nineteen Hundred. I have a friend who will allow us access.”

The sudden sound of a sentry droid made Atton’s blood run cold. Instinctively, the woman buried her face in his neck while pressing her pelvis against his. He inhaled deeply as the droid floated by, unconcerned.

When the machine had gone, Atton’s boyish charm returned. “Now that we’ve…you know…you could at least tell me your name.”

“Kayla. I am a servant of our master’s. She is relying on you,” the woman said with one last push of her hips. “Do not be late this evening.”

With that, Kayla pushed away from him and briefly displayed the bag of credits that she had pilfered from his pocket.

As she walked away, Atton rolled his eyes. “Hey, it took some serious skill to win that,” he protested weakly. Then, he shook his head and smirked. “Pure Pazaak, baby…pure Pazaak.”

Malachor System – Malachor V – Serphants – Day 2 – Hour of the Firaxa Shark (1900 Local Time)

The thick fog had returned to shroud the doomed city, coating the buildings in a cool, humid moisture. With the blackout in effect, the streets were dark and quiet with only occasional patrols of Mandalorian troops, who were clad in their thick body armor.

Republic Intelligence operative Atton Rand sat in the shadows of an alleyway, watching…waiting for his contact as a lump formed in his throat. Atton’s youthful angst belied his experience in the clandestine service: he had been to places throughout the known Galaxy, met exciting and interesting Mandalorians, and killed them.

Somehow, the blood on his hands had not diminished his boyish charm and wry sense of humor…not his love of the game, Pazaak. Someday, however, this would change and the young man would carry a scar with him that would shape the future of the Republic. Atton hunched low and read his encrypted data pad – the plan was so simple, it could not possible go wrong. Meet with Kayla to receive mission-essential gear, pass the mission on to Seja via secure commlink, clear the way for him to terminate his target, get the heck off of this rock.

At that moment, Atton’s attention was drawn to two Mandies and a droid, walking the deserted street, scanning for threats to the empire with their intricate optics, but oblivious to the markings that the operative had left on the wall. Atton smiled as he activated his stealth field generator, letting the complex electronics send deceptive photons of light around his body and he vanished in a haze of diffuse lights.

Our lord, Revan is depending on this mission. It will finally end this war.

The tracker droid, humming with electronics, stopped and turned in Atton’s direction before continuing down the street into the fog. Before the operative could breathe a sigh of relief, a dark figure landed in the alley way with a grunt, seemingly having fallen from a great height. Atton gulped quickly with surprise and instinctively drew his holdout blaster. His dark eyes focused ahead.

“The spires of Coruscant are much taller,” the figure spoke in a male voice.

Atton exhaled heavily, letting the air drain from his lungs. He wiped beads of moisture from his brow as his image rematerialized from nothingness. “But the streets of Malachor are cleaner…for now.”

Atton eyed the man, whom he had never met face to face. “Seja…we’re only suppose to communicate by secure commlink. This is too dangerous. Where is the Jedi?”

His breath streaming in the cool air, Seja removed his goggles and glanced around cautiously. “Time grows short. We must complete the mission quickly. The Mandies have increased their communications intercept capability. I had to come here personally.”

Atton bit his lip – they were both in grave danger by meeting like this. “Very well,” he said softly, handing Seja the image of Vako Serphants. “Here is your target. Revan wants him eliminated. It will sow the seeds of distrust between the clans before the final assault. We hope to start a conflict between the Fetts and the Ordos that will bleed Mandalorian strength.”

The short Jedi looked with horror at the image, but then quickly submerged his feelings. “Tell Revan it shall be done.”

At this point, Atton was becoming anxious. “You need to go now. I can’t risk being seen with you. Take an alternate route out of here…hurry, go.”

As Seja sprinted off, Atton sighed again, his heart pounding in his chest. “That was a damn, foolish thing…I’ll not risk my neck like that again,” he whispered to himself.

Suddenly, a movement above caught his attention. His eyes shot upward and just made out the image of a red-haired woman ducking away.

“Dammit,” he cursed, seething at his misfortune. With practiced hands, he produced a tube and fired a grappling hook onto the roof high above. Atton scaled the rope with ease, climbing onto the ledge of the building. He crouched down and quickly oriented himself, facing around with blaster at the ready.

Somewhere in the Outer Rim

A massive fleet of warships sat ‘at anchor’ near a star system recently liberated by the Republic. The detritus of recent conflict floated lazily in space, a testament to the ferocity of battle – an ion engine here, a chunk of hull there.

Several Republic frigates towed a captured Mandalorian vessel alongside a massive dreadnaught. Tractor beams seized the helpless ship with invisible hands and brought it alongside where boarding tubes slinked out from the dreadnaught to violate the smaller ship.

Within the tubes, Republic marines awaited droids as the machines seared the Mandalorians’ hull, slicing and carving the durasteel with white-hot torches. The men of the Republic crouched down behind cover, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to punish the criminals who had defiled the Galaxy. The armored troops watched as the light of the torch left a black circle on the hull…the droids were nearly done.

A major raised his hand and men moved the selectors on their weapons from safe. The low hum of blasters powering up filled the corridor.

As the major prepared to give the signal to begin the assault, his commlink chimed.

“Standby, major. You will be receiving a message.”

The major grunted with anxious frustration. “What is it now? We are about to commence the boarding action.”

From the rear, a female voice sounded, young and shrill. “Major, the message is that you are to await my arrival so that I might lead the boarding action personally.”

The soldier turned abruptly to face his commander, Admiral Revan. She was tall and lean with the build of an athlete. Her robes were gray and form fitting, accentuating her shape. The major inhaled sharply, trying to make eye contact with her, but Revan’s face was hidden by an angelic mask of porcelain white – a mask eerie in its deadly serenity.

“Admiral…forgive me, I am eager to do my duty for the Republic.”

The Admiral clasped the man’s shoulder in a sisterly way. “There is nothing to forgive, Major Ronto. It shows that I have trained you well; you are eager for battle and understand the greater good. I would be remiss as a leader if I did not show you the way forward. I shall be the first in and the last to leave.” She guided the major forward, striding past the crouching men, bolstering their morale. Behind her walked a woman with platinum blonde hair, equally lean with the lightsaber of a Jedi.

The major sighed with relief. “Aye, Admiral. I am pleased to tell you that our electronic attack has disabled their self-destruct and weapons tracking systems. We are free to board.” The man’s face then took on a curious look. “But Admiral, why not just dispose of them?”

“Major, I need prisoners. I need human intelligence on what awaits us at Malachor. Those are your orders…capture as many Mandalorians as possible. Treat them with respect.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

The major then knelt down beside his company commanders to relay the mission as Revan walked calmly to the hull of the Mandalorian ship. She turned to the blonde Jedi. “General, are you ready for glory?”

The blonde nodded with a wry smile. Revan’s ablest general was all about results, casualties notwithstanding.

With raven hair tied behind her ceramic mask, Revan pointed to the droids and the hatch was blown into the interior of the ship with a flash and smoke.

Immediately, yellow flashes appeared in the gaping hole – Mandalorian blasters. With a sharp hiss, a cerulean blade shot forth and met the bolts of plasma in mid air, sending them back from whence they came. The bolts shot back into the dense smoke, slamming into armored bodies, hurling them back.

Screams and chaotic shouts rang out from the hole and Revan advanced to the ragged edge of the hull…the void…and stepped through, her boot landing on the cold deck plates with a thud that symbolized the destruction of the Mandalorians.

As smoke billowed through the corridor, Revan stepped forward toward the sound of coughing and clove a warrior from shoulder to belly, her blade sizzling through metal and flesh. Another warrior stepped forward, blaster raised, but the general thrust her weapon through his neck, the rod of pure energy passing through his durasteel gorget like it was paper.

Revan pointed down the corridor with her blue lightsaber. “Now my brave boys, forward!”

A cry rose up from the throats of her troops and the marines surged forward into the ranks of confused Mandalorians.

Blasters and grenades tore through the ionized air as the once-feared Mandalorians fell back with Revan and her general hot on their heels. The two women sprinted toward the bridge in pursuit until several warriors turned.

One whirled around and aimed his blaster at Revan’s head. “For Mandal -” he began before her blade sliced away the top of his skull. Smoke coiled from his blackened gray matter as he stood for just a second more before collapsing.

A second warrior turned, drawing his vibroblade. He cut laterally at the blonde general, hoping to eviscerate her with a wide sweep of his weapon. The powerful, slashing style of the Mandalorians was disadvantageous in close quarters and the general knew it. She stepped inside his cutting arc and removed his arm with a short stroke.

The warrior howled as his arm and weapon fell to the deck. His agony was cut short by Revan’s foot impacting on his head with a reverse kick and he landed with a crunch.

“Leave him!” commanded Revan. “To the bridge!”

The two Jedi rushed ahead to where they knew the hatch to be. Two warriors stood there, vibroswords held aggressively, unafraid of death.

Revan stopped momentarily before extending her palm out. The warriors looked at the thin woman curiously before white and yellow lightning shot forth from her palm and into their bodies. They screamed and jiggled for several agonized seconds before they crashed to the deck like rocks, filling the corridor with the stench of ozone and cooked meat.

The two approached the hatch, Revan cold and detached, the general near battle frenzy. Revan waved the door open with her hand and led the final assault.

As the last defenders surged out in a desperate counterattack, Revan hurled one back into the masses, knocking many down.

Two came at the general with wide hacking cuts. She slid between the two blades as if she were a piece of bread sliding into a toaster and spun her body, letting her hips power her cut. The silver blade raked across the bellies of both warriors, spilling sizzling innards.

Revan advanced quickly past the general onto the stunned defenders. As one attempted to rise, the admiral removed his head and continued on into the command center. Another warrior thrust at her with the point of his blade, but Revan sidestepped and grasped his arm with her free hand. She suddenly reversed direction and sent the man spinning into a computer console, creating a shower of sparks.

However, her action had distracted her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the arc of a heavy blade. At the speed of thought, the Force rose to meet the weapon…to absorb some of its lethality. Still, the sword found her head, shattering the ceramic mask. Revan’s head was instantly filled with white-hot pain and her nostrils filled with the smell of blood. Ringing filled her ears along with the distant cry of her general, but there was nothing anyone could do.

As the mask fell away, the angelic face of a young woman was revealed. However, blood flowed from her temple and her visage was twisted in demonic pain and rage.

The Mandalorian hesitated.

“You’re Revan…a girl?”

In the fraction of a second the admiral had recovered her wits. With a torque of her hips, she sent her blade through both of the warrior’s legs. The man tottered and then fell to the ground with a wail.

Revan stood and put the tip of her lightsaber to the warrior’s throat. “You have been vanquished by the Republic.”

Bridge of the RNS Eagle, Flagship of the Republic

Revan stood, facing the hologram of a tall, muscular man with blond hair. In contrast to her earlier chill demeanor, her expression was warm…loving. “Malak, you have done well. Please deliver your report.”

Despite the hologram’s simplicity, Malak’s eyes showed the depths of his devotion and his intensity of his love for her. However, there was also a twinkle there…the twinkle of independent thought…of ambition. “The fleet is ready to depart. I am also pleased to report that I have…convinced the Mandalorians to cooperate. I have formulated a plan to further destabilize them before the invasion.”

“Excellent, please tell me.”

Malak’s face broke into that broad, toothy grin that she had grown to love and cherish. “It would appear that the rift in the Mandalorian clans is deeper than we first thought. I would recommend that we terminate a Canderous of the Clan Ordo as well. This would drive a wedge between Mandalore and his other supporters.”

“I shall make the arrangements. Thank you, Malak. I look forward to meeting with you this evening,” Revan said with rare anticipation.

As the hologram of Malak faded, it was replaced by the image of Saul Karath. Revan nodded in greeting. “Saul, send word to my agent, Atton Rand to eliminate Canderous Ordo.”

“Aye, Admiral…and your orders for the fleet?”

Revan’s lips curled into an evil smile. “Have Forn Dodonna bring her squadrons to full readiness and prepare for hyperspace jump – we are going to Malachor.”

Duty, Honor, Republic

The Republic Fleet – Day 3 – 0330L

In a luxurious cabin within the hull of the Republic Flagship, RNS Eagle, the platinum blonde Republic General, Mai-Lyn T’sing, knelt in meditation under diffuse lights. Cream colored robes, accentuated in rich mocha adorned her lean frame. In front of her lay a silver cylinder…the symbol of her power…of her betrayal of the Order.

Her crystal blue eyes were open and expressionless, a sign of her focus. Deep within those icy orbs burned a fire that raged in her heart. Always passionate, always aggressive, Mai-Lyn had been one of the first to declare for Revan that fateful day on Dantooine. With a deep breath, she could see it in her mind so well…so clearly.

A cold dawn burst into fiery battle as Master Vrook challenged Revan for the hearts and minds of the young Jedi – Revan could not refuse. In the crisp morning air, lightsabers sang the agony of the Order torn apart.

They circled warily until Revan took a defensive stance, weight on her back leg, blade angled over her shoulder. This was the most powerful form that Vrook had taught her; Niman, a style reserved for only the most talented masters.

Their eyes locked in mutual antagonism, neither able to gain a mental advantage. They were now oblivious to the scores of watchful eyes upon them.

Vrook launched a series of powerful strikes, which Revan deflected and dodged. As their weapons locked, Vrook extended his power outward, but to his amazement, Revan withstood his mental assault. A smile creased her lips as she seized the initiative.

Switching to the Shien Form, Revan launched two fierce uppercuts that forced Vrook backward and he spun to parry her attacks away. Blue and golden light arced and sizzled throughout the morning mist.

The duel raged for uncounted minutes between parry and riposte, reprise and remise. Despite his command of the Force, Vrook began to breathe heavily, fighting to keep up with Revan’s athleticism. She leapt and darted about, striking from all angles; she was a blur of power.

Feeling his waning strength, Vrook unleashed the last of his energy, hurling a massive wave of the Force at his opponent.

Translucent coils swept around Revan, and washed over Malak, Bandon, and many others, hurling them backward onto the ground. However, Revan stood, unfazed.

Seeing that his power had failed, Vrook rushed at her, their lightsabers meeting in mid air. Amid the crackling sounds, Revan shifted her weight ever so slightly to change her center of balance. Revan withdrew her blade and Vrook stumbled forward. With a torque of her hips, Revan swung her blade at Vrook’s neck, stopping her lightsaber a centimeter from his throat. The heat burned his skin.

Vrook froze and Revan blinked; a silence fell over the field. The young woman’s mouth fell open, surprised at her own victory. Revan almost wished that Vrook had won; that he had stopped her. A tear rolled down her cheek and she choked silently.

“Goodbye my Master. Please forgive me…I have to do this.”

She deactivated her lightsaber and turned her back on all that she had known and stood for.

Mai-Lyn gulped and her lip twitched. “What have we done?” she whispered as a winter chill swept through her being.

Bridge of the RNS Eagle

Warm lights illuminated the bridge of the Eagle, where the controlled frenzy of the crew made the area a beehive of activity and preparation for battle. At the center of the whirlwind sat Revan, dressed now in her naval uniform, golden epaulettes and braids adorning the gray coat with a black stripe down the trousers. Her ebony hair was braided and lay smartly upon her shoulders.

The admiral scanned datapads with After Action Reports of the battle and intelligence on Mandalorian strengths, her Force-fueled mind absorbing the reams of data and analyzing the intricate details held within. With a deep breath, Revan looked over to the woman who had followed her in battle after battle.

“Mai-Lyn, are your ground forces ready for the assault? The initial wave will be the most perilous.”

The other renegade Jedi brushed strands of platinum blonde hair from her face and returned a confident grin. “They are ready for your review and will die at your command, Admiral.” However, somehow, the words sounded hollow this time.

So much blood had been spilled.

General Mai-Lyn T’sing then perused the datapad on the Mandalorians. “Human intelligence suggests a deep rift growing in the clan ranks thanks to your destabilization efforts. I trust your operatives are continuing their efforts – It would be nice to soften the Mandies up before we arrive. Who, pray tell, are your operatives on the planet?”

Revan smiled, but shook her head. “Sorry, Mai-Lyn, need to know.”

The general shrugged, but a snippet of the Force brought the image of a lean young man with a devil-may-care grin under a mop of brown hair. She then offhandedly returned the datapad to a Zabrak technician standing nearby.

The muscular Zabrak bowed deeply and spoke in a comfortable drawl, “Thank you, General.”

Mai-Lyn gave him a matronly nod…the nod one gives a faithful underling. She then turned back to her leader. “No matter…shall we review the troops, Admiral?”

The two women stood and Mai-Lyn pursed her lips. Revan observed this and raised an eyebrow – she knew Mai-Lyn too well.

“General, you’re not losing heart, are you?”

Mai-Lyn parted her full lips for a moment as if in thought. “Admiral…Revan…we have been together since we were younglings. You are my leader and my friend. All of this destruction…all of this blood…for what?”

A shadow passed over Revan’s face for a moment before her awesome charisma returned – the familiar glow of confidence and infectious charm that had brought millions into her flock and many to their deaths. She placed her arm warmly around Mai-Lyn’s shoulders and pulled her tight. “Mai-Lyn…my friend…We must stay the course. Remember, it is for the greater good. Should we abandon the cause now, it will all be for naught.”

“Yes, yes of course, you’re right. Forgive me, Admiral.”

Revan moved her general out in front of her and smiled, her gray eyes boring into Mai-Lyn’s soul. “There is nothing to forgive. Let us speak no more about this and attend to our duty. For the Republic.”

As the two entered the landing bay of the great warship, they were joined by Malak and Saul Karath. The tall, muscular Jedi was clad in his red body armor with crimson cape, which brought out the richness of his blond hair. Nearby, Captain Saul Karath, magnificent in his gray dress uniform, looked out over the ordered ranks of armored troops with satisfaction.

Malak turned to greet the two women as they approached, a broad grin spreading across his face. “Mai-Lyn,” he said with a nod, “Revan…your troops are ready. I have completed preparations for the assault on the Malachor defense network. It should pose little problem.”

Saul saluted smartly, a gesture that was returned warmly. “Admiral, your operatives on Malachor have been briefed. All should be ready for the final assault.”

“Excellent. I have assigned this operation, codeword: CHECKMATE.”

Malak bowed and swept his hand toward the awaiting troops and Saul bellowed, “Admiral on deck!”

The columns of soldiers snapped to attention with a single mind.

Revan led the way, reviewing the ranks with an inquisitive eye. Occasionally, she would stop and chat with troops of all grades and occupations and adoring faces would beam as she passed.

At the head of one squadron, Revan stopped before a stern woman in a flightsuit and a cocky beret. “Commander Dodonna, you have the honor of leading the assault on the defense grid. Good luck.”

The squadron commander averted her eyes out of respect. “My squadron is ready, Admiral.”

“Always remember – duty, honor, Republic.”

As the Admiral moved away, a dark-haired young pilot in the back ranks craned his neck to get a better look at his commander. He whispered to another pilot, “Rast, you know, I’ve never gotten a good look at the Admiral. I have no idea what she looks like.”

Rast shrugged. “Shush Carth, you want to get us court martialed?”

Revan completed her review and marched out of the bay with Malak and the others. When they were out of view of the troops, she turned. “General, Captain, I thank you for your time and effort. I have no doubts that, with your loyalty and experience behind me, that I will emerge victorious. You are dismissed.”

Saul bowed low and withdrew, followed by Mai-Lyn. When they were alone, Revan seized Malak by the neck and pulled him into her, her professional calm melting into passion. Breathless, she cooed, “Malak, you are my rock. Without you, I would have never have come this far. You are my strength.”

The blond Jedi inhaled deeply, drinking of her essence. He brushed raven locks from her face and gazed into the longing gray eyes and saw for a moment the vulnerable young Padawan of years past and he recalled again how she had captured his heart on a snowy night on a far off planet that was now dead to them.

Somehow, in her arms, there was no doubt, no fear, no remorse…everything was simple, everything was as the Force willed it to be.

Pawn to Queen Four

Malachor V – A rooftop in the City of Serphants

Atton Rand scaled the wall like a cat, his finely honed muscles acting in concert with his mind to bring him into an Echani fighting stance as he scanned the area for the intruder. Someone had observed his meeting with Seja and needed to be eliminated.

With his advanced optics, he scanned the ground near the ledge and eerie red images of footprints appeared – an infrared signature of the intruder.

Small…fast…perhaps a child or a woman? Nevertheless, they cannot escape.

Atton then engaged his muscles and sprinted after his prey. This would be like a hundred other kills he had made for Revan. It would be pure Pazaak. He rounded thick pipes that were steaming with hot fluids until the sound of a droid stopped him cold. The hum of the sentry droid was most unwelcome and could end his pursuit before it he could eliminate the threat. He threw himself to the floor, holding his breath and glanced up in the direction of the sound. There, the spherical machine hovered, about five meters away, shrouded in steam. Before the automaton stood a short, red-haired woman, pointing back toward him.

“I am a servant of the Clan Serphants. I know the identity of a Republic spy,” she declared.

Atton bit his lip. The droid would take a moment to verify her identity before investigating her claim. He would only have a moment. He would only have one shot.

With practiced hands, he aimed his blaster pistol at the droid’s center while rolling out into the open. His eye focused in on the front sight and everything else blurred into oblivion. He pressed the trigger and plasma energy bolted into the droid, slamming into its processor core.

The bolt tore into sensitive electronics and power conduits, rupturing vital systems. The droid lurched, exploding into fragments and wires.

Atton closed his eyes with the flash of the dying droids explosive end. When he opened them again, he saw the woman’s legs protruding from behind a wall. No one could have survived that detonation. He wiped perspiration from his brow.

That was too close…well, I got two Mynocks with one stone on that one.

He then coldly blew away a coil of smoke from the barrel of his blaster and made his way back to the street. By the time the Mandalorians found the droid and the dead woman, Malachor would be ashes – they would be just more pawns in the massive sacrifice to come.

When Atton had departed, a painful groan came from behind the wall. The woman rolled about weakly, sharp pieces of metal protruding from her arms and hands. She shrieked in agony as her senses returned until she could control herself. Slowly, she rose, noticing the damaged length of pipe that had shielded her and saved her life.

“This is not over, Republic scum. I have yet another card to play,” she said with fierce determination, wiping her short red hair from her sooty face. The pawn was not quite dead.

The Republic Fleet – Day 3 – 0630L

General Mai-Lyn T’Sing brushed back her platinum blonde hair and tied it neatly into a bun at the top of her head. She drove a hair pin through its center like she was skewering an enemy. Unconsciously, the woman looked through her viewing port into the darkness of space, where hundreds of starfighters swarmed in pretty formations, training for the final assault on the Mandalorian homeworld.

Commander Dodonna’s squadron will lead the first wave. She must penetrate the outer defenses of the system if my landing is to succeed. I am unconcerned about losses…all that matters is victory.

Victory for my leader and mentor, Revan.

I have come so far in so short a time. It seems like only yesterday that we were but children, playing at being Jedi in the gardens of the Academy. How could the Force know where our destiny would take us?

Mai-Lyn blinked, refocusing her eyes on her own reflection in the transparisteel window. The face of an angel stared back at her, serene and calm on the surface, much like the reflection. However, deep and dark emotions roiled under the crust that had become her demeanor. With a disgusted smirk, she tossed her brush aside with a wave of her hand.

The Jedi sighed, regretting her momentary lapse of control and leaned over to recover the item when the door chimed.

“Come in.”

The hiss of the door heralded the entry of a vaguely familiar face. The nameless Iridonian technician entered and bowed. “General, sorry to disturb you, but Admiral Revan will join you soon. I am here to sweep the room to prepare for her arrival.”

Mai-Lyn nodded offhandedly – this was merely protocol for counterintelligence. The threat of spies was always omnipresent.

The general pursed her lips. “So, Iridonian, what is your name?” she asked, not really caring, but wanting to show concern for the troops.

In a soft drawl, the Zabrak replied, “It’s Bao-Dur, General. Thanks for asking.” His soft smile permeated his gray lips in contrast to everything else about him. The jagged lines on his face, the sharp head spikes on his scalp, the squareness of his jaw all implied a hardness of his being. One day, the general would come to know these things, but for today, only a superficial understanding of this unique man would reach her.

“Yes, of course,” she responded as one does to an inferior. Revan always had a knack for interacting with the rank and file that Mai-Lyn couldn’t understand. For some reason, Revan saw them as her brothers and sisters in a common fight. For the general, however, they were something different.

After all, what are soldiers except pawns to advance the cause? How else could I live with myself for sending so many to their doom?

“General? General, are you okay?”

Mai-Lyn blinked, letting the images of blood pass from her mind. “Yes, Bao…Bao….”

“Bao-Dur, General,” he reminded politely. “You seemed distracted. I know you have a lot on your mind with the final assault pending. I won’t bother you any further,” the technician said, his voice soothing and rich in timbre.

“Thank you, Bao-Dur. I appreciate your concern.”

He finished his electronic sweep, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “General, everything checks out. The Admiral has arrived.”

Revan strode in confidently, always in command of every situation and setting. Her tall, lean frame was clad in the uniform of a Republic admiral, golden epaulettes and cords ringing her shoulders. The admiral’s raven hair lay layered over her neck, framing her face like a picture.

She smiled warmly at Bao-Dur, putting her hand gently on his arm. With her Force-fueled mind, she could recall the names of every crewman, every pilot, every technician on her ship. She cared for every one of them and mourned every loss. This was the feast that fed the fanaticism of her fleet.

“Thank you, Bao-Dur. You may retire for the moment,” Revan said, addressing him like a personal friend.

The Zabrak bowed with a glow in his eyes. He loved the admiral and would give his right arm for her. As he departed, Revan pulled up a chair and sat next to Mai-Lyn.

Seated across from each other, the two women looked like mirror opposites, Mai-Lyn’s platinum hair and crème-colored robes in contrast to Revan’s ebony locks and gray uniform.

Here, two of the most powerful officers in the Republic made eye contact and a long forgotten mirth burst forth. They giggled like school girls for a moment before Revan got herself under control.

“Oh, how I miss this feeling, Mai-Lyn. Back when things were simple and carefree. Do you remember how we played on Dantooine?”

The blonde wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “How could I forget? Master Vrook thought we were always studying. Oh, and that Bastila Shan…stuffy Bastila Shan….”

The smile left Revan’s face. “Yes, how can I forget the one who refused my friendship? Do not worry, Mai-Lyn, she will be forgotten by history as will that Vrook,” she said. The smile returned. “I am honored that you stayed with me. It means a lot. Here we are, no rank, no titles, just two women chatting.”

“I’ve always admired that about you, Revan. Despite your royal upbringing, you can always relate to the common man. You know the troops worship you, don’t you?” The general took a deep breath and looked inward. When she spoke, her tone was softer, more introspective. “For me, I prefer to keep them at arms length…it helps me to issue orders…especially when I know men will die.”

Revan nodded sadly. “I feel every loss, but I know that it is all for the greater good. If we do not invade Malachor, the enemy will continue to attack…continue to kill us. You have a good heart, Mai-Lyn…you must learn to connect with it. One day, you will understand.”

A wry smile crossed the blonde Jedi’s lips. “And where does your heart lie, oh mighty Revan?”

The two thought immediately of Malak – it was becoming common knowledge that he and Revan were romantically involved. Once again, girlish giggles burst from the two officers.

The dark-haired woman wiped away tears. “I have such high hopes for us after this war ends. We will build a new galaxy with high ideals.”

Mai-Lyn nodded enthusiastically. “This was the reason I went to war…why I follow you…for a better future. I chafe at the thought of the fleet bureaucrats and the corrupt senators that dominated the Republic. That Minister Locarno…how I burn at the thought of his ridiculous regulations and stifling dogma. Under those ersatz admirals, the Republic could not fend off an attack of Ewoks, much less Mandalorians.”

Revan’s face flushed red at the reminder of her conflicts with the other admirals and with Minister of the Navy, Locarno. At the height of the Republic’s rout, Revan arrived on the scene at a critical time when the Republic command was shackled with incompetence and cronyism.

Revan stood and looked out into the stars. She changed the tone of the conversation, switching back to a more formal demeanor. “Come, General, let us put those fools out of our minds and show them how a battle is fought.”

Knight Takes Bishop

Malachor V – The City of Serphants – Late Afternoon

The Mandalorian star shined brightly in the sky as Jedi Knight Seja wandered back to the Serphants hold. Basilisk droids hummed overhead as the warriors prepared for Revan’s arrival. Squat buildings lined the avenue that the Jedi traversed with little street traffic flowing along the city’s arteries.

Seja grit his teeth against the knowledge that he would have to slay Serphants – Revan had commanded it and he would not fail her. His reputation as the Mandalorian Slayer had been solidified on unwavering dedication to duty in her name.

But what of Callista?

She was suppose to have been a mere dalliance, a means to an end, or, as his compatriot liked to say, a Tie Breaking Pazaak Card. Initially, she was just that – a conduit of intelligence for Revan. Desperate for attention from her warrior husband, Lord Vako, Callista proved to be easy prey for the trained operative.

If only it had remained so.

Nothing had prepared Seja for the quiet, intelligent strength that surrounded this woman. Surely, the Jedi training he had received on Dantooine from his master was woefully inadequate to meet the needs of the flesh…or the heart.

Revan’s formation of a professional intelligence service only created a false sense of security around his soul, giving him the ruthlessness to carry out his mission, but not the experience or wisdom to understand why. Now, his heart beat only for her and he had not the will to defy it. The cruel dominion of Revan’s ambition had shattered the strange equilibrium that Seja had achieved in the Serphants Clan. He knew it would have to end, but could he not prolong it another day?

He hissed out a long breath, lengthening his strides until he came to the fortress of his sponsor. There, the sentries allowed him entry amid the buzz of battle droids and the clang of steel in the courtyard. He walked purposefully toward the quarters of the bodyguards…toward Callista. Seja’s heart beat to a quicker pace as he approached. Something gnawed at his gut, but his mind doused all debate. Something was different today.

Where is the serving girl, Mira?

The undercover Jedi pushed the door open to find Callista gazing out into the courtyard. He breathed a sigh of relief.

She turned upon hearing his entry and her face spoke volumes. He knew he had to get her out of here – off of this doomed planet. Callista quickly glanced around to ensure all was safe and they rushed together.

The intensity of the embrace was maddening to the slayer and he gripped her tightly. Through clenched teeth, he whispered, “This war…we must get away. I know a way out…for both of us.”

She pushed him back to look into his eyes. “How is that possible? We cannot just leave. Your pledge to the clan? What of that?”

Seja hesitated for a moment and Callista knew there was more to him than met the eye. She had come to understand his moods, his thoughts.

“There is more to this tale of mine,” he began.

She put a hand to his mouth. “No…no, I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I only want what we have to never end. Why must Revan come? Why must she destroy what we have?”

The Jedi didn’t speak. Instead, he just inhaled the fragrance of her skin, letting her essence imprint itself in his mind. Finally, he spoke, “You know why she comes. It is for the greater good.”

The hard reality of impending Mandalorian defeat overcame Callista’s defiance and she nodded silently. Taking Seja’s hand, she led him to the door, but two armored Mandalorians stepped in, brandishing vibrodaggers, points downward.

Seja stopped, surprised. “What is the meaning of this? I am a friend to Serphants himself. Stand aside.”

Vako stepped in before the startled pair, armored to the neck, his face twisted in a scowl. Callista gasped. Vako too, held his vibrodagger to his chest, point downward, as dictated by warrior tradition. This time, blood and honor were at stake.

“Vako,” Seja said hopefully, “I’m glad you’re here.” Perhaps he could still bluff his way out. Fighting here would be folly – not with Callista so close.

Mira stepped in, her head and arms in bandages, and removed all doubt. Before Seja could react, Vako’s dagger came across the Jedi’s cheek, ripping through flesh. Blood spattered across a transparisteel window.

The Compound of the Ordo Clan – Early Evening

High walls surrounded the great fortress of the Ordo Clan in the capital city. Here, the mightiest of the clan prepared for the final defense of the homeworld. Deep within the keep, Canderous Ordo studied the holographic map of the system, looking for ways to beat Revan.

“That fool, Serphants, doesn’t understand that the way of Mandalore is in the offense,” he said in his gravelly voice to Ergeron. “I am satisfied that Cassus Fett has decided to stand with us and take the fight to Revan.”

Canderous struck an imposing image, tall and stocky of build, clad in a blue Mandalorian harness that was buffed to a mirror sheen. His helmet lay on the table nearby, polished and fit for a warrior. His hair was cropped short and dark, with graying temples, giving him a weathered, experienced demeanor. Canderous’ face bore many scars from endless battles with one in particular standing out. A long, pinkish scar ran across his cheek where he had received a deep cut during his manhood duel.

Unconsciously, he ran a finger along the scar, remembering his first kill and the thrill of the hunt. After that, the blood of the warrior ran in his veins and all who could not oppose him would fall. There was something though, that the man who perished fighting the young Canderous had said…something about fate. He prophesied that the Mandalorians would perish because they would awaken something or someone that they could not defeat – that they would become the vanquished.

“Bah, defeatist rubbish,” he muttered.

“What, Canderous? I did not catch that,” inquired Ergeron.

“Nothing…. Are the Basilisk Droids ready for battle?”

“Indeed. Though I miss Jagi’s steadying hand in keeping the younger warriors in line.”

Canderous nodded solemnly, believing that his childhood friend had perished during the Battle of Althir. “The list of our clan grows thin. We shall do Jagi honor and battle Revan to the last.”

Ergeron brought up a schematic of the Mandalorian defense network. “Thus is the way of Mandalore,” he acknowledged and then pointed to a cluster of droid satellites. “We already have a skirmish line set up at the edge of the system. Long-range sensors have detected movement and communications.”

“Be wary though,” chastised Canderous, raising his armored gauntlet. “We know how Revan has deceived us in the past with false signals and decoys. She is a demon, that one.”

“Then, this shall be a battle to be remembered.”

Meanwhile, on the roof of the command center, a lone figure, shrouded in a stealth field, lay in the gathering darkness, waiting for an opportunity.

Dressed in a neutral gray body suit, Atton Rand listened to the conversation below through earphones that received a data feed from a tiny insect-like droid in the room. Atton’s visor displayed the two Mandalorian warriors strutting around the holographic image of the system.

“Ah, so there is the location of the defensive satellites,” he whispered.

The operative had the surveillance droid zoom in on the face of the warrior in blue and he identified the man as the target he was to eliminate. “Nice to meet you, Canderous Ordo. Pity we won’t become better acquainted.”

Static crackled in his earpiece, catching his attention. “Lying down on the job, I see,” a female voice came through.

“Kayla? Spying on the spy, are we?” he whispered back. Initially, he was worried about the Mandalorians intercepting any communications, but he had been very careful to use frequency-hopping to elude Mandalorian intelligence. He smiled in spite of the danger, finding her familiar voice comforting in the dark.

“It could be some time before those bombastic Mandalorians give you the opportunity to strike, so I thought I’d kill some time. So, Jaq, what brings you here?”

The operative nearly laughed at the ridiculous question – surely, Kayla knew there was a righteous war to stop Mandalorian aggression and that Revan had sent them there to prosecute that war. “Why, I heard Malachor Five has the best Pazaak game in the Galaxy and I couldn’t resist.”

“No, silly boy, why did you join Republic Intelligence? All of this skulking around…I read that you were some hotshot pilot.”

“Checking up on me, are you?” he answered, enjoying the flirtatious game. “I didn’t realize that Jedi were so amiable. I always picture you as dried up, shriveled old husks, endlessly debating minutiae. Well, except Revan and Malak, of course.”

“Old husks you say? You seemed rather taken with this old husk earlier. You’re right though, except for Revan and Malak, the Order is full of shriveled old husks.”

Atton adjusted his posture to ease tingling in his legs. “You wish, old husk,” he retorted playfully. “You had me at a disadvantage and I was just making appearances for the Mandies.”

Her chuckle bolstered his spirits. “All for the greater good, huh?” she said, prodding him.

“You betcha, sister…wait…transmit the layout of the Mandalorian defense network to Revan ASAP. I’ll get back to you - our target is moving.”

Atton switched the commlink back to the droid audio and watched as Canderous departed the command center. The operative’s heart began beating quickly, pumping blood to his organs and muscles, preparing him for the kill. Under the stealth field, he crept along the roof, avoiding various sensors with his finely-honed skills.

The Ordo commander entered a computer room and began to access files. Atton had the insect droid follow and position itself overlooking Canderous.

“Downloading files on Revan, are we? Seeking clues as to her intentions…to bad it’s too late in the game.”

Atton slid like a spider down a vertical surface to peer into a small, transparisteel window. He could now see his prey with his own eyes. With one hand, he pulled his disruptor pistol from a holster and with the other hand, he activated a cutting laser to bore through the window.

Just as he was about to apply the laser to the window, his earpiece crackled again – it was Kayla.

“Jaq, abort abort abort. Repeat, abort…sanitize and prepare for extraction.”

“What? I’m ready for the kill.”

“Something’s gone wrong. You have your orders.”

Atton’s blood ran cold. What could have gone wrong?

With a sour grunt, he sheathed his weapon and the laser and fired a cable away from the Ordo hold.

Within the computer room, Canderous Ordo looked up. Something felt wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The small window above his head was clear, showing the dark night.

“Hrmph. This is not a time to get jittery.”

Ergeron rushed in. “Canderous, come quickly.”

He rushed back into the command center, where elements of the Republic Fleet were dropping out of hyperspace.

“That should be Admiral Karath’s screening force,” advised Ergeron.

“Indeed. Malak should not be too far behind. The two compliment each other – Karath finds and fixes us until Malak arrives with the hammer. Revan maneuvers them with the ease of a pistol.”

Canderous put his hand to his chin as tiny specks of light appeared on the holographic display. “Republic carriers launching starfighters. I suspect that Forn Dodonna is leading them,” he added, knowing as much about his enemy as they knew about him.

The Republic starfighters swept toward the defensive network and were soon met by the skirmish line, manned by the Fetts. The Republic attack turned away suddenly and the Fetts bolted after them. A second wave of Republic starfighters then slammed into the Mandalorians.

Canderous nodded. “And so it begins.”

Queen Takes Rook

The Outskirts of the Malachor System – 2200

In the darkness of space, neither night nor day mattered. Only the twinkling of distant stars could be seen with the yellow sun of the Malachor System dominating the view. Seven planets of varying size and composition orbited the massive ball of fusion, floating calmly through the void, oblivious to the needs and wants, fears and rages of the millions of sentients engaged in a life and death struggle within the system.

Simply, coldly put, the heavens were deaf to the cries of the doomed.

Suddenly, the darkness was lit by the flashes of thousands of turbolasers, reds, yellows, and greens, streaking across the vastness of empty space. Orange puffs of gas occasionally appeared to mark the end of a life or several lives. A wall of white starfighters bore down upon a waiting foe – the unstoppable force colliding with the immovable object.

Within one, tiny craft sat Republic pilot, Lieutenant Commander Carth Onasi, graduate of the touted Space Warfare School, loyal officer, fast friend, faithful husband, and doting father.

Leading a flight of four, Carth maneuvered obliquely to a squadron of Basilisk Droids and starfighters, backed by a defensive satellite. On his command, his flight launched concussion missiles, their rocket trails streaking behind them toward the Mandalorians.

On the right edge of Carth’s sensor display, he could see the Basilisk Droids begin evasive maneuvering, but he knew his probability of kill was high. A fireball in the distance brought a smile to his lips.

“Fox One kill, bandit, one-one-zero, twenty klicks. Gold Flight, snap toward the bandits.”

In well-coordinated unison, the flight turned left and accelerated toward the confused mass of mounted droids.

“Gold Leader, enemy starfighters are coming up fast,” advised the controller who was overseeing the mission. Carth would have to make this quick or he’d be facing overwhelming odds.

He jammed the throttle open, letting his astromech droid handle the stress on the craft. With his left hand, he uncaged the seeker head of his infrared missile, letting it scan for its own target. The nice, hot plume of a Basilisk Droid caught its attention and Carth was rewarded by a high-pitched growl.

“Gold Leader, Fox Two. Gold flight, wingover, my mark…now!”

The Mandalorians reacted to the launch of another wave of missiles while setting up an attack run on the Republic flight. Suddenly, Gold Flight pitched their noses upward like rearing cobras and reversed their direction of flight, leaving the Mandies to eat missiles.

Carth’s infrared missile homed in on a Basilisk Droid like a hound dog, keeping an image of the hot, infrared plume on its supercooled seeker head. The Mandalorian warrior astride the droid veered sharply away, dropping heated flares to decoy the missile, but it was too late.

Like a snake striking, the missile shot past the burning flares and slammed into the body of the droid, penetrating its durasteel hide. A meter into its metal flesh, the warhead of the missile detonated, sending hot gas and shards of flaming metal throughout the droid’s guts. The Mandalorian warrior atop the mechanical beast had no time to scream as gouts of fire and molten durasteel enveloped him.

The kill registered on Carth’s datalink. “Down ya go! Fox Two kill, bandit. That’s one Mandie closer to being with you, babe,” he said, kissing his fingertip and touching the picture of his wife, Morgana, that was on the instrument panel.

Carth was brought back to reality when his Sensor Warning Receiver blared, letting him know that Mandalorian starfighters had locked him up. A giant spike appeared at the 6 o’clock position of the display. “Spike, Six O’clock. Gold Flight is running cold,” he said, letting everyone know he was retiring from the fight. He keyed his mike again. “Forn, you better be ready to rumble.”

A woman’s voice came back over the commlink. “You doubt Revan’s plan?” she answered in jest. “Just keep running, Onasi.”

“Awww, I’m tired of running, Dodonna,” he said with a mock whine. “I much prefer advancing.”

“You just keep your sorry hide alive or I’ll never hear the end of it from Morgana.”

“Roger that, Commander. I wouldn’t want the likes of you or Saul raising my Dustil.”

A chime sounded in Carth’s helmet, he had reached the waypoint. Once again, he pitched the nose of his starfighter up, reversing directions in an instant. His datalink flooded with new symbols, showing Forn Dodonna’s starfighters tearing into the defensive satellite and coming up behind the Mandalorians.

Carth swung the nose of his craft downward, raking a Mandalorian with turbolaser fire. Streaks of light sizzled into its fuselage and a stubby wing separated with an explosion. The Mandalorian tumbled erratically, spewing plasma and sparks around Carth’s bird before erupting into hot gas.

“Whoa! Guns kill…that was close.”

Blinking twice, he shook his head and pushed the throttle forward, gathering velocity. One step closer, babe…one step closer. He glanced again at the picture of Morgana and young Dustil and winked. He would be coming home if he had to put a bolt in the Mandalore’s head himself to do it.

“Don’t be a hero, Carth. Dustil needs a father. This is the final battle…don’t get careless,” Forn chastised.

“Hey, careful is my middle name.”

Two Mandalorian starfighters whizzed past him, guns blazing and Carth’s shields flashed. In a flash, he saw that one was a clan leader and he yanked his stick in that direction. “Gold Leader, tally ho, two bandits, seven o’clock. I’m engaged neutral.”

Carth brought the muzzles of his cannon across the enemy flight and unleashed a snap shot of turbolaser fire. Energy laced into the leader’s wingman at the engine mount, spraying fire over the compressors. Ion fuel in the combustion chamber vaporized, blowing the compressor and turbine blades apart at high velocity. Sharp shards of durasteel shredded the thin skin of the Mandalorian starfighter and it flew apart like a burst balloon.

“Down ya go! Guns kill on the trailer. I’m on the leader.”

Carth powered back up and accelerated ahead. The Mandalorian wheeled over as Carth had done and now they stood, face to face, muzzle to muzzle.

Carth saw the plume of heat erupt from the Mandie’s engines, propelling him forward. This would be a joust in the depths of space. At maximum speed and high aspect angle, there would be time for only one shot and then, one would need to veer away to avoid collision.

“You want to play chicken? Here we go.”

In slow motion, the Mandalorian stafighter grew in Carth’s canopy until he could see the deadly smile of his enemy.

Malachor V – The Serphants Hold

Seja grimaced as he held his cheek where the vibrodagger had sliced his flesh and rivulets of blood leaked between his fingers.

Vako sneered. “You were like a brother to this clan! Now you come to assassinate me and take my wife. I should crush you to death right here. Where is your honor?”

Seja’s face twisted. “Honor? You Mandalorians speak of honor? Destroyers of helpless worlds and peoples. You are nothing but bloodthirsty pirates.”

A guard pulled Callista away from Seja and Vako looked at the diminutive Jedi more closely. “There is something different about you, Seja…or is that your real name?”

The Jedi pulled himself up straight. “Indeed, I am Seja, Jedi Knight in the service of Revan, known as the Mandalorian Slayer.”

Vako took a step back, his eyes widening. “You…the Slayer? In our midst the whole time.”

Seja nodded quietly as Vako mentally recounted the names of those who had fallen to the Slayer, and they were many. The bodyguard pondered for a moment, wanting to cut the Jedi’s throat, but Seja had added insult to injury. They would have to fight, man to man, to the death.

Such was the way of Mandalore.

Vako seized a vibrosword from a sheath and gestured to Seja that he should move to the courtyard. The Jedi walked slowly onto the grass near a fountain as Callista shrieked, tearing his heart in two.

The two guards dragged the woman outside to watch and Vako pointed his weapon at her. “She watches this. She watches her lover die by my hand.”

The bodyguard then donned his polished green helmet, letting it seal. He flourished his weapon with masterful hands, letting it settle with his stance – knees bent, feet shoulder width apart.

Across the field, Seja rubbed his wounded cheek and removed his lightsaber from his cloak. Taking a stance from Makashi, he leaned forward aggressively and thumbed his lightsaber on. There would be no defense for Seja – he was already dead.

As Callista cried out, Seja charged headlong at his opponent, cutting down at Vako’s shoulder. The Mandalorian towered over the Jedi and swatted the violet rod away with his vibroblade. Vako followed with a powerful strike with his fist into Seja’s jaw.

Metal met flesh and teeth, knocking the Jedi back, his head spinning. With white spots in his vision, he saw the vibrosword coming down upon his head and instinct forced him to move. He rolled away and swept Vako’s feet from under him. The big man fell with a resounding crash and Seja whipped his lightsaber down on the Mandalorian’s chest.

The violet beam of energy sizzled on Vako’s breastplate, burning skin beneath it. Vako howled, but his armor held.
Then, the two fighter’s eyes locked. Vako nodded. “Time to end this, Slayer,” he said through bloody, gritted teeth.
The two stood simultaneously, delivering blinding cuts at each other. Callista screamed and pulled against the guards, breaking their grasp. She charged onto the field, interposing herself between Seja and her husband.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seja saw this and realized what was happening. “No-” he began, but the tip of Vako’s vibrosword appeared on her chest, followed by the rest of the blade. Seja screamed, hesitating a split second as Vako rammed Callista’s body and the point of his sword, into the Jedi.

There they stood, face to face in an embrace held together by steel and blood.

Crimson rivulets dripped down Seja’s chin as he held Callista weakly. “I’m sorry…so very sorry.”

The Ordo Hold

In the darkness, Atton Rand shook with anger. “I had him in my sights, Kayla! Why did you call me off? You know Malak ordered this operation personally.”

Kayla put her palms out in apology. “I’m sorry, but we need to extract. Jaq, Revan’s fleet has just dropped out of hyperspace. The planet could come under bombardment at any time. Even worse, Seja has not transmitted any code to let us know if his mission was a success. We need to find him.”

Atton furrowed his brows, already being irritated at being denied a kill. “Why? I knew the risks, he knew the risks. We didn’t sign up for Republic Intelligence to sit at Rassekeli’s Bar and Grill. Our orders say extract, we extract. It’s Pure Pazaak, sister.”

Kayla curled her lip. “Jaq, I don’t expect you to understand, but I am a Jedi. Seja was part of our team and I, for one, am going after him. We never leave anyone behind.”

She stood and looked at her transponder. Seja’s signal was still active, but weak. Kayla turned to go, but Atton stopped her.

With a deep sigh, Atton stood. “Fine, fine…don’t be like that. Count me in.”

Together, they made their way to the Serphants hold and Atton activated his stealth field generator. As he faded from view, he turned to Kayla. “I go in…you keep watch like last time. You just make sure the shuttle waits for us.”

Kayla nodded enthusiastically until Atton vanished. She squinted her eyes, trying to find him, but suddenly, her lips were met by an invisible pair and she melted into unseen arms.

Bishop to Queen’s Rook Five, Check

The Outskirts of the Malachor System – Day 4 - 0010

Nose to nose with the Mandalorian Starfighter, Carth grit his teeth and curled back his lips. The enemy grew rapidly in his forward canopy as the distance closed. On his HUD, a bright green circle began spinning over the target, letting him know he was within firing distance.

Carth took a deep breath, now able to just see the leering face of his Mandalorian enemy. Suddenly, brilliant flashes of light erupted from the muzzles of the Mandalorian’s cannon and streaks of turbolaser fire bolted at Carth.

A single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, but no other sign of fear or stress appeared on his face. Training took over and he pressed the trigger, unleashing his own brand of destruction.

In this brief joust of death, both warriors were now at full velocity, their combat taking place in the blink of an eye. Turbolaser fire lashed along both fighters, shields lighting up the darkness of space.

Energy tore through the Mandalorian’s deflectors and scored the fuselage of the starfighter. Bolts splattered on the thin metal, sizzling through the skin into the interior of the ship, slicing though electronics and control actuators. In a millisecond, the Mandalorian’s thrusters locked in the climb position, pitching his nose upward.

Carth blinked as the enemy flashed by him, clipping his vertical stabilizer, sending a shower of sparks behind him. On pure instinct, he slammed down on his left thruster peddle, yawing his craft around. Despite the vacuum of space, considerable inertia washed over him and his vision grayed as blood rushed from his brain.

The pilot grunted hard, squeezing his abdomen through the pain and dizziness. As his vision returned, his attention was drawn to the blinking red lights on his Master Caution Panel.

He had been hit too.

“Warning…life support systems damaged…thruster control damaged…engine fire right….”

“Dammit,” he muttered as his practiced hands flew over the damage control systems. “Tee-Two, help me out here,” he called as the hiss of an oxygen leak became noticeable. The little droid on the dorsal surface desperately shut down the engine and doused the fire while trying to plug the leak.

Carth shook his head. I gotta get back in the fight.

He looked back out into space, scanning for his enemy and his blood ran cold. The Mandalorian starfighter, nearly shot to pieces, had come about and was lining up for a shot. Hot plasma poured from ragged holes in the skin of the craft and flames licked up into the cockpit of the Mandie. Any sane pilot would have ejected, but this was a clan leader. He would burn with his craft to take Carth with him.

In what seemed like an eternity, Carth watched the flame shrouded Mandalorian’s nose inch toward him, its cannon coming within firing parameters. Onasi pushed the throttle forward to evade, but his good engine screamed in protest.

“Thruster control, inop,” he called, hoping his wingmen could hear him. He keyed his mike, letting any friendly know where he was. “Gold Leader is Bullseye, two-five-zero, fifteen klicks…I need a hand.”

Malachor V – The Courtyard of the Clan Serphants

With only the dim overhead lights to illuminate the courtyard, shadows played about as two warriors dueled to the death for love and honor. Seja’s blue lightsaber flashed against his massive opponent, Vako Serphants, bodyguard to the Clan Chief.

In a terrible instant, Callista broke free from the guards and ran between the duelists as Vako thrust at his nemesis. The Mandalorian’s blade slid through her back, exposing itself again as it exited her chest. Seja’s face broke in an expression of horror, freezing him in place, letting Vako continue the thrust into the Jedi.

Callista writhed in agony in Seja’s arms as Vako whipped the blade back through their torn bodies.

The two stood for a second more before crumpling to the ground.

Seja retched blood as he flopped about weakly. His vision blurred with blood and tears as he tried to stroke Callista’s cheek. The dying woman’s breaths came in ragged gulps as she tried to focus on his face.

“Callista,” he said through clenched, crimson teeth. “Don’t die…I can save you.”

“You…already have…saved me….” Callista told him, her eyes closing shut, and a tear rolled down her cheek, “…I…love…you…please…live….”

Vako’s voice came as an ice storm in the chill night. “How touching. From one betrayer to another.”

The towering bodyguard kicked his wife’s body to the side and slammed his boot into Seja’s wounded chest. The Jedi grunted in pain, curling over. Vako then knelt, drawing his vibrodagger, changing his tone. Suddenly, he became soft, his demeanor becoming the friendly face he had shown to Seja before. "My friend…my friend,” he spoke as one does to a naughty child, shaking his head in mock sadness. “You screwed with the wrong Mandalorian. I will make you feel pain and you will beg me for death.” Vako dragged the razor tip of his dagger across Seja’s wounded face, creating an ‘X’ with the other cut.

The Jedi cried out, forsaken by destiny, but the Force was not finished with him. Energy flooded into his limbs and battered organs and a new strength infused his heart. With one hand, Seja flung the bodyguard back several meters, the big man crashing on the ground.

Vako stood, chuckling. “So, the Slayer still has life? This will be far more satisfying.”

The Mandalorian’s smug grin vanished as Seja’s form blurred toward him and a blue rod of energy tore across his chest. Already weakened by the duel, Vako’s armor caved around the lightsaber blade, leaving a charred, glowing surface of melted metal.

Vako choked as smoke coiled up from his ruined heart. All he could say was, “Slayer,” and he fell on his face with a crash.

The two other Mandalorian guards cried out and leveled their blasters at the wounded Jedi. Two flashes lit the darkness and Seja gasped.

Both Mandalorians fell dead.

“What are you waiting for? Move your ass!” came the call from Atton Rand.

Seja staggered and Atton rushed forward to put an arm around him. Atton pulled him away, but Seja resisted, looking back.

“Callista…we can’t leave her. We must-”

The tall, lean operative bit his lip. “She’s history. We have to go…NOW!”

The Outskirts of the Malachor System – Day 4 - 0010

Carth looked down at the holoimage of Morgana and Dustil. Gods, I’m not going to make it this time.

Desperate fingers punched buttons on the instrument panel, rerouting systems. Red lights turned to green.

“I’m back in business. Ready to rumble!” he uttered in near disbelief.

In an insane maneuver, he slammed the stick into his right thigh while firing the ventral thrusters. It popped him up and flipped him over like a beetle as turbolaser bolts tore through empty space where he had been.

Carth saw the burning Mandalorian’s evil grin vanish. He pressed the trigger, unleashing his cannon.

“Guns kill, off my nose,” he declared as pieces of flaming wreckage bounced off of his starfighter.

Carth released a long breath and pressed his back into the seat, closing his eyes.

“Glad to see you still around. That was some damn fine flying, Onasi,” came Forn Dodonna’s voice over the commlink.

“About time you got here, Dodonna…I’m pretty beat up, take me home.”

As the other starfighters escorted him back to the carrier for repairs, he looked down at beautiful Morgana. The hologram gazed back at him, seemingly telling him that she would be there when he returned. The force of her will could be felt, filling him with hope.

The Fortress of the Mandalore

Encased in his awesome silver armor, the Mandalore stood before the massive holographic display of the unfolding battle near the seventh planet of the system. Points of light of various colors darted about the display, representing the various clans and the despised Republic.

Canderous Ordo and Ergeron entered, bowing to the warrior chief with their daggers held over their chests. In a practiced move, they then sheathed the weapons and took their places at the war table. The two men of the Ordo clan nodded greeting to their brethren in arms: Kelborn, Bralor, and Sherruk.

Suddenly, on the display, Mandalorian symbols began to wink out. Forn Dodonna’s starfighters had crashed through the defensive satellite barrier and had trapped the Fett defenders.

Larger symbols soon appeared and ripped through the Fett line.

“Admiral Karath has broken the Fetts. They are in retreat,” voiced Lord Serphants. “I told you the offense would not work – Revan knows our very soul.”

“Calm yourself, Serphants,” retorted Canderous sarcastically. “We are not done yet.”

Serphants turned venomously back to Ordo. “I ask you how could Karath sweep though the line so easily…how did Dodonna know the layout of the grid? Spies…that’s how. I tell you, we do not know whom to trust. Only now have I learned of an attack on my compound by Revan’s agents.”

Canderous smirked, ever irritated by the whining of this lord. “An attack on your compound? How weak of you. I am sure that the perpetrators’ heads are on Force pikes outside your keep this very moment.”

“We are pursuing the operatives vigorously at this moment.”

Canderous clapped mockingly. “Good for you.”

The display showed the further disintegration of the Fett force and Canderous stood. “Mandalore, we are wasting time whining about spies like old women. Let me lead the counterattack. My Basilisks are ready.”

Mandalore turned hesitantly. “Yes…yes…the counterattack,” he said as if distracted. “You lead them, Canderous.”

Ergeron stood, but Canderous put his arm on the man’s chest. “No, Ergeron, I need you here…with the Mandalore. You need to be by his side. I trust no one else.”

Canderous’ lifelong friend nodded reluctantly but returned to his seat.

Ordo then pointed to Kelborn and Bralor. “Come my friends; let us sing the song of battle.”

As the three marched from the war room, a voice stopped them.

“Canderous…be wary. Malak has just arrived,” said the Mandalore.

On the display, more Republic ships dropped out of hyperspace, aiming like a dagger at Malachor VII, a stronghold of the defense.

Malak’s Fleet

Filled with youthful exuberance, Malak stood before his command seat, looking out at the Malachor System as his ship, the RNS Indefatigable settled back into normal space. A hunter’s smile formed on his lips and he swept his thick, blond hair from his blue eyes.

“By the Force, Admiral Karath has the Fetts on the run,” he declared to his friend and fellow Jedi, Bandon. “Bring us to a heading of Zero-Nine-Zero, Mark Six and flank the Mandalorians. We need to clear the way for General T’Sing’s landing on Malachor Seven. The stronghold must be neutralized before the assault on the homeworld can take place.”

Bandon nodded with a grin and issued the order to the fleet. The dark-haired Jedi had filled out his painfully thin frame since the days on Dantooine and now, his powerful body rippled with muscles beneath his black uniform.

As the many ships in Malak’s formation came about, he quickly reviewed his intelligence updates. He nodded with satisfaction as he read about the death of Vako Serphants by his team.

“Bandon, one of our prey has fallen. The death of Vako Serphants will weaken the resolve of their clan and cast the seeds of doubt in the Chief’s mind. He will not know who to trust and it will be easier now to get to him.”

“Most assuredly, Malak. However, tell me why you aborted the operation to kill Ordo?”

Malak mused for a moment, his blue eyes lost in thought. “I surmised that his death would actually help their cause. Any moment now, he will come barreling at us. Furthermore, he will be instrumental in the divisions that will wipe out the Serphants…and other clans.”

“Incoming message…Revan on line one,” voiced Carriaga Sin, one of Malak’s aces, who sat at communications. She, along with Nisotsa, were two of the Jedi who had followed Revan into exile and they had served she and Malak well.

The bluish hologram of Revan appeared, life sized, in the center of the bridge. Despite the simplicity of the image, Revan’s warmth toward Malak showed through.

The dark-haired woman parted her lips. “Malak, my strength…be warned, the Ordos have launched and are planning their counterattack. But, I am sure you are already aware of this.”

The blond Jedi brought his finger to his own lips. “Indeed, I am ready.”

“Then it is time for phase two. I shall deploy the appropriate platforms,” she informed and the hologram strode to Malak. With translucent hands, Revan stroked his cheek in a ghostly show of affection.

As her image faded into static, Malak turned back to Bandon. “Canderous Ordo is in for a rough ride.”

Rook takes Rook

Malachor V – Stronghold of the Serphants Clan – Just after Midnight

Chaos engulfed the hold as word of the death of Vako Serphants, at the hands of a Jedi assassin, spread. The dramatic escape of two of Revan’s operatives had stirred the hornets’ nest and Mandalorian guards scrambled about, drawing weapons and armor for the hunt.

In the courtyard, the red-haired serving girl, Mira looked down at the torn bodies of Vako and Callista and there was no emotion in her.

One master is as good as another and the best master is a dead one.

Sweeping her bobbed hair back, she knelt and her green eyes glanced over the fallen Mandalorians, looking for booty. She pocketed credits and jewelry from Callista and then moved to Vako. She smirked as she looked down at her fallen master, the source of her oppression for years.

Mira’s eyes blinked, almost unable to believe that a chapter of her life was ending.

This is all I have known since I could remember…The heavy hand of the Serphants Clan and endless servitude to these conquerors. This is not all my life was meant to be…a nameless house maid to wipe the nose of the lady and grovel to the lord. I…must make my break. I can be something more than this.

She removed a strange arm band from Vako’s wrist and looked it over.

“What’s this?” she murmured, turning the item over in her hands. “It looks like a rocket launcher,” she added and strapped the band to her own wrist. With a twitch of her hand, a poisoned dart streaked away into the sky.

“Damn!” Mira exclaimed and looked sheepishly around. “I think it’s time to leave and be my own master.”

With that, she scrambled off into the darkness toward the space port.

Malachor V – Space Port

Canderous Ordo stood and surveyed the neat rows of Basilisk Droids and starfighters lining the tarmac of the space port, while troop transports loaded warriors nearby. He looked back at Kelborn, known to be one of the best warriors in the service of Mandalore.

“Revan expects me to attack headlong and I have for many battles. We shall give her a surprise today,” he told the tall Kelborn, his breath coming out in steam.

The giant of a Mandalorian raised an eyebrow. “Canderous, I had wondered why you held back the capital ships. I was receiving impatient messages from Bendak Starkiller.”

Ordo grunted with a fierce smile. “Bendak…a good warrior. He’s the finest wielder of a vibrosword I have ever seen. It shall be an honor to die with him by my side.”

Bralor smiled grimly. “We have survived many battles thus far and, though the tide has turned against us, I cherish the memories of the song of battle,” he said as a red-haired woman snuck onto a troop transport behind him.

In a smooth movement, Canderous drew his vibrodagger and slid it across the back of his hand. He flicked his wrist, letting the droplets of crimson spatter across the cool duracrete. “Come, time is wasting. We are Mandalorians - Let us remember this day, which will be forged in blood.”

With that, he marched solemnly to his Basilisk droid and mounted the beastlike craft. Straddling it, his thick armor adhered to its surface, holding him in place. He looked down at an instrument panel and powered up the systems, watching them come to life at his touch.

He flipped on the repulsorlift control and the beast leapt off of the ground, hovering in place with a deep hum. A surge of power and pride filled the Mandalorian’s heart – win or lose, live or die, he would find honor in this fight.

Canderous manipulated the controls, moving the beast forward and the rest of the squadron moved in behind him. With a signal, he began his climb into the dark sky, slicing through clouds on his way to battle.

With other Basilisks and starfighters in tow, Ordo punched through the thick atmosphere of Malachor V, bursting out into space. He looked back to see the formations of craft that were gathered.

So few now. I remember how we would fill the stars with our fleets.

He snorted at his own feelings about the past, pushing them to the recesses of his mind and brought his ion engines to full power. In minutes, he would engage Saul Karath and Malak.

Though he often lacks subtlety, Malak has been the rock upon which Revan has broken us. Those two should have been born Mandalorian. It would be fitting. However, today I have something different for you.

Canderous’ droid accelerated toward the outer planet, his formation close behind. Soon, other Mandalorian droids and starfighters whizzed by in the opposite direction, fleeing the onslaught of Malak’s fleet – it was the Fetts.

Anger rose in Ordo’s gullet and he fired his turbolasers into one retreating Fett. “Weak! Shameful!” he cried over the commlink and tore through the shattered remnants of a Basilisk droid.

More Fetts blurred past him and suddenly, he was back in empty space. Far ahead, he could now see bright flashes of turbolaser fire.

Malak lay ahead.

Outside the Serphants Fortress

Atton Rand dragged Seja around a corner as a rocket flew by, slamming into a building ahead of them. It detonated, throwing debris into the night sky with fire lighting the area. “You got the target, but a fine mess you got me into, Jedi,” Atton muttered as he peeked back around the corner and unleashed a blaster bolt into the chest of an advancing warrior.

Seja wheezed, the wound in his chest still seeping despite the Force Healing he drew upon. He still could not believe Callista was gone, but it was not the time to mourn.

Atton lowered the muzzle of his weapon and ducked back around the corner as the wall exploded under return fire. He flung a grenade back toward their pursuers and grabbed Seja. “Keep moving!” he yelled and sprinted for another position of cover.

Several steps into their retreat, the corner disintegrated in a fireball as the Mandalorians found the range. A shockwave and chunks of duracrete hammered into the two operatives’ backs, throwing them forward.

Atton’s head swam and his ears rang. He quickly wiped soot and dust from his eyes and seized the wounded Seja by the collar, pulling him out of the debris. He staggered to his feet and turned to see a warrior leaping through the smoke.

Atton’s training took over. He crouched into an Echani fighting stance and unleashed a stream of bolts into the Mandalorian. The warrior’s armor blew apart and he fell at Atton’s feet. Two more warriors came at him, their blasters raised menacingly.

Jaq Rand was not a person to feel much fear, but things were getting out of hand. He lit up one of the warriors, firing a torrent of plasma into the man and the warrior fell back, shooting harmlessly into the air. The other warrior kept coming and Atton called out, “Seja, some of your Jedi shit would be useful about now.”

As more Mandalorians charged, Atton dove to the side, still firing as bolts burst around him. Though weakened, Seja ignited his blade and slapped away blaster fire. The Jedi struggled forward and hewed the arm off of the first warrior, the limb falling with his weapon.

Atton got to his knees and pressed the trigger, but nothing happened – his tibanna gas had gone dry. Instinctively, he pressed the release and a magazine fell away. He slapped a new gas pack in and raised the rifle to his eyes.

Suddenly, a great pain shot through his body as sparks burst upon his chest. The rifle flew out of his grasp and he tumbled over backward. The smell of his own smoking flesh reached up to his nostrils and he blinked hard, looking up into the night sky.

Vaguely…dimly, he could hear Seja’s lightsaber and the cries of the wounded. Then, all was quiet.

“I guess we’re not going to make that shuttle….” he whispered.

Not to Reason Why

Somewhere Near Malachor VII

Dozens of Mandalorian Basilisk Droids and starfighters streaked along toward the Republic fleets, closing the gap between mortal enemies. Malak watched from the bridge of the RNS Indefatigable, cupping his hand over his chin.

“The Ordo are deploying into attack formations, Malak,” announced Bandon from the tactical station. “They’re coming at us in the same old style.”

Malak turned and raised an eyebrow. “Then we’ll have to meet them in the same old style. Come about and bring our ships in a line abreast. Have Admiral Karath support our flank. I want to bring maximum firepower to bear.”

The blonde Jedi smiled inwardly – it would be glorious. With his ambitions fueled, he contemplated his future. I have lived in Revan’s shadow for years now. It is time for Malak to show his quality. Unlike Bastila or Master Vrook, I shall not be forgotten by the tides of history.

Bandon issued the order to the fleet and the ponderous capital ships swung about, arranging themselves in a position of strength. Turbolaser batteries and torpedo launchers aimed forward to meet the incoming onslaught. On the left, Saul Karath’s ships moved in, anchoring the defense alongside of a large moon and preparing the counteroffensive.

“Malak,” voiced Bandon, his black hair hanging over his eyes, “I’ve intercepted a message saying that the Serphants Clan has captured our operatives.”

The blond Jedi pursed his lips – it was unfortunate, but that was war. “They know what they need to do…in order to prevent any secrets from being lost. Revan, in her love for the men, will honor their memories when all is said and done.”

Bandon shrugged. He had learned that same lesson and his heart had become harder through the fires of conflict. The Mandalorians were not a people to show mercy and it was of no use bemoaning the loss of a few spies.

Malak narrowed his eyes, watching the wall of Mandalorians approach as an officer announced contact would occur in two minutes. He pointed back at Bandon. “Check on the status of the doomsday weapon. That Iridonian promised me it would be ready on schedule.”

Suddenly, Ordo’s force swung away, veering to the right. Hidden in the gravity well of the outer planet before the battle, Mandalorian capital ships now rounded one of the moons of Malachor VII and fell in behind the droids and starfighters.

Malak’s eyes grew. “What is he doing?” A cold spot developed in his stomach and knotted tight.

With that, the Mandalorian tidal wave hammered into Saul Karath.

The Surface of Malachor VII

The cold, icy surface of the outermost planet of the system was a desolate wasteland, comparable to Rhen Var or perhaps a balmier Hoth.

The roar of thrusters tore the still air as troop transports landed and disgorged warriors onto the snowy landscape near the outpost of the planet – reinforcements were arriving.

The Mandalore had surmised that Revan could not attack the homeworld without eliminating this vital, strategic fortress, which could threaten her lines of communication if left intact. With a long-range missile battery, a starfighter base, and an electronic warfare post, the facility would hamper any action against Malachor V if bypassed. Even now, it sent out powerful jamming signals to confuse and disrupt Malak’s fleet.

Thousands of Mandalorian warriors began deploying across the white plains and hills, shielded by their thick armor. One red-haired woman marched with another group heading to the fortress, a thick fur-lined coat now on her shoulders. With the death of the bodyguard, Vako Serphants, Mira’s loyalties were now only to herself, her ties to the clan being having been only out of fear and not love.

With the chaos of war and impending destruction, she could blend in with a Mandalorian unit and be forgotten by the Serphants. No one would care about one slave and the Mandalorians were throwing anyone and everyone who could fight on the line.

At the gate of the massive fortress, force fields came down and the contingent strode in as anti air batteries scanned the skies, hoping that Canderous could hold off the invasion.

The Mandalorian Fleet near Malachor VII

Astride the powerful Basilisk Droid, Canderous watched as Malak deployed his fleet in a wall in meet the attack while Admiral Karath anchored the flank next to a large moon. “Good, Malak will be unable to react to lateral movements across his front,” Ordo said, his eyes sharp as a blade. The wall was a great formation to attack and defend, but could not move easily left to right without ships banging into one another.

Canderous snapped his droid to starboard, followed by the rest of the group. He brought his ion engines to full power and accelerated at Saul Karath’s ships. Karath had engaged the Fetts and his force was now fatigued and depleted.

The Ordo Chief keyed his commlink again. “Bendak, bring your ships around the moon and attack in strength. I mean to bloody Malak’s nose.”

“For Mandalore!” answered Bendak Starkiller. “I shall be there in a minute.”

Although the two had never met, they knew each other by reputation and Canderous knew that Bendak had lost only a single duel.

Kelborn and Bralor flew alongside him and a swarm of Republic starfighters swept up to meet them.

“Attack through them and hit the capital ships! Bendak will clean up the small fry,” Ordo declared, wanting to take on the heart of the enemy fleet himself. Once Bendak had cleared the fighter screen, he could join the main attack.

Canderous tore into the forming enemy starfighters, unleashing bolts of superheated plasma. Two of the Republic craft erupted in hot gas and fire, then, winked out of existence. Kelborn and Bralor were right behind him, cannon blazing with turbolasers spewing a stream of bright yellow.

In a flash, they were past the starfighter screen and a Republic cruiser loomed in the distance. At maximum speed, the three Mandalorians rocketed ahead with the cruiser growing rapidly in their view.

In Canderous’ helmet, a targeting reticule appeared over the ship. “Kelborn, aim for the shield generators. Bralor, you have the power systems…break!”

The two wingmen split crisply away from Canderous as turbolaser batteries opened up along the forward face of the cruiser. One bolt sizzled on Bralor’s shields, lighting up the darkness of space.

Canderous looked over and was relieved to see his friend still there. Unlike the newer, less experienced warriors, these two had seen action from Cathar to Dxun to Ryloth and could take the initiative – they knew Ordo’s strategies and did not have to be told what to do.

A dense volume of fire tore through space and the three warriors dodged and veered to avoid the wall of turbolaser fire. Canderous jinked his droid left and right, straining against the inertia. It would be nearly impossible to continue.

Then, something caught his attention.

“Kelborn, Bralor, come left and follow me!”

He jumped ahead toward another Republic cruiser and the firing stopped. With the Mandalorians between them, the two ships would hit each other if they continued.

“Now! For Mandalore!”

Canderous snapped his droid back at the original target, free from the angry bolts and armed his torpedoes. The range clocked down as sweat trickled over his face and a smile plastered itself on his lips.

Long cylinders of death streaked away from Kelborn’s droid and slammed into the cruiser’s shield generators, throwing burning gas and chunks of metal into space.

Next, Bralor unleashed his weapons and torpedoes rocketed into the cruiser’s propulsion system, blowing one massive ion engine away. Like a crippled, dying Bantha, the cruiser wallowed, rocked from the hits and burning from jagged holes in its hull.

Canderous locked his aim onto the bridge of the cruiser and his thumb pressed down on the weapon release. Three long torpedoes burst from the ventral surface of the droid and shot away, trailing long, bright streams of exhaust.

First one…then another…then another torpedo ripped through the metal skin of the giant, adding to its agony. The armored-piercing torpedoes, designed to penetrate deep into the interior, tore through bulkheads and deck plates, through cabins and storerooms, finally coming to rest in a magazine. Along the great wounds, the vacuum of space sucked tables, chairs, and even hapless crewmen out into the void like a tornado.

Within the magazine, dazed crewmen got to their feet and saw the crushed torpedoes lying like burning cigarras on the deck near stacks of unused proton weapons. Horror shot through their faces just before the warheads of Canderous’ torpedoes detonated. Light filled the room, followed by shockwave, and the crewmen knew no more.

Canderous streaked by the cruiser and looked back to see gouts of flame from the ship stab into the blackness of space. In another instant, secondary explosions blanketed the ship and, in a flash, it was vaporized.

Ordo grit his teeth with satisfaction. “Die!” he shouted, but a shockwave from the dead ship came up from behind him and struck him like thunder along with molten ship parts. He spun about like a toy in a tidal wave, out of control as sparks flew from his droid.

Malachor V – The War Room

The Mandalorian leaders watched coldly as the empty troop transports departing Malachor VII came under attack by Commander Dodonna’s and Lieutenant Commander Onasi’s wing. There were not enough escorts for the convoy and the Republic starfighters ripped the transports apart. In twos, threes, and fours, transports faded from the massive hologram of the fight. The force on Malachor VII was now stranded there.

The Mandalore grunted – such was war. He turned his attention to Canderous’ attack and his mood lightened.

“Yes!” cried the Mandalore, shaking his fist at the hologram of the battle. “My faith in you was well founded, Canderous,” he added, looking back at Serphants coldly.

“Ordo was right, you trusted too much to the defense and to those Sith that you thought would intervene on our behalf. Such is not the way of Mandalore,” the armored leader of the clans announced.

Ergeron stood proudly, confident that Karath’s line would break. Bendak’s capital ships added to the Republic’s desperate straits and Karath’s ships began to wink out of existence.

Malak entered the fray, but Canderous carried the momentum and the battle was hotly contested.

Serphants slunk away, chastised by the Mandalore. He looked down at his data pad as it chimed and a new message told him that Revan’s spies had been apprehended.

“Mandalore…I have news that the spies have been captured. I shall go immediately to extract all of their information. I am sure that they have secrets to tell.” The tall warrior had been in secret negotiations with Sith as potential allies and he had learned much in the art of subterfuge and interrogation. It was very un-Mandalorian, but desperate times required desperate measures.

The armored leader nodded. Regardless of the success or failure of that mission, he had yet one more card up his sleeve. He had his own operatives. The Mandalore was no fool.

“It will destroy Revan’s entire fleet,” he whispered. “Then, we will use it on Coruscant.”

Bridge of the Flagship of the Republic – RNS Eagle

Revan stood up sharply from her command chair, her characteristic cool wavering under the new onslaught. In her string of brilliant victories, Revan had gotten use to routing the enemy and the sensation of possible defeat was alien and uncomfortable. She pointed to the hologram of the battle. “What are they doing?” she said to herself of Karath and Malak’s response to the Mandalorian attack. “Ordo will rip them to shreds. Get me Malak, now.”

Malak’s hologram appeared before her. “Revan? I am somewhat preoccupied with the Mandalorians. Could this wait?” he said with an uncharacteristic edge. His ghostly image wavered and static blurred the hologram for a second as Malak appeared to shake from an impact to his ship.

Revan flared her nostrils. “Malak, what are you doing? Your formation only allows you to feed ships into the battle piecemeal. Ordo will defeat you in detail.”

The blond Jedi’s image wavered again. “…brzzztt…I have it under control, Revan. There is no need for you to panic,” he answered with a hint of irritation.

She looked at the hologram again – Malak’s fleet was taking a pounding, but holding its own. That was not enough – her masterpiece was in jeopardy.

The Admiral inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Malak, I love you with all my heart…you have been my rock and my strength when I was filled with doubt, but I cannot let you taint my biggest victory.

She exhaled and focused back on her lover’s image. “Malak, I am enroute…I am taking personal command of the counterattack. Your orders are to hold until I arrive.”

She cut the line to Malak’s ship abruptly. I know you are upset, my love, and that I have hurt your pride, but we must show Coruscant our strength. Only then, will we have the power to reform the Republic…it is for the greater good.

A stunning, final victory at Malachor would allow the renegade Jedi to deal with the Senate from a position of strength when the war was over. Minister of the Navy Locarno and many of the Senators chafed when she was granted a commission and a fleet by the Supreme Chancellor over their fawning cronies and sycophants. It was a constant battle to keep them at bay as they downplayed her abilities and detracted from her victories to maintain their own power.

However, it was not just Malak’s pride at stake here and, was the greater good for the benefit of the Republic…or Revan?

The admiral turned and pointed to the helmsman. “Bring us about to two-eight-five, mark one, flank speed. We will arrive at Malak’s position in ten minutes. Have General T’Sing delay her landing on Malachor Seven – the zone is still too hot. I don’t want my men put in unnecessary danger.”

The message was relayed and shortly, the holographic image of General T’Sing appeared. “Revan, why must I delay my landing? My men are ready.”

Revan’s gray eyes shone through her dark hair. “Mai-Lyn, the way to Malachor Seven is not yet clear – your transports could fall under attack. We are also to bombard the surface to soften the Mandalorians up. Additionally, they received reinforcements and resistance will be heavy.”

A smile came to the platinum blonde’s lips. “So much the better. We’ll bag them all at once and cripple their manpower. Malachor Five will then be a snap.”

Revan pondered for a moment and Mai-Lyn kept the initiative. “Revan, I have Commander Dodonna’s wing as dedicated escort and air cover. We will punch through Ordo’s force and complete the landing on schedule. I’ll call you when the Republic’s flag is atop the Mandalorian fortress. Remember, a swift victory is for the greater good.”

Revan nodded with mixed feelings. “Take care of my men and may the Force be with you.”

The image of a grinning Mai-Lyn faded and the admiral turned back to the bridge crew. “It is time to implement my new tactic - Have the fleet deploy in battle line, nose to tail, and may every sentient be prepared to do his duty.”

Malachor V – the Serphants Stronghold

Ten Mandalorian warriors carried Atton and Seja like sacks of bad credits back to their fortress. Inside the hold, they threw the two roughly to the ground. Seja’s face and chest still seeped blood and he was in bad shape despite the Force.

Atton groaned, the blaster wound on his chest burning like fire. His hands were tied behind him along with his feet and a blindfold kept him from seeing just how bad things were for him.

Suddenly, a boot smashed into his stomach, doubling him over and he coughed spasmodically. White hot pain coursed through his being, reinforcing the knowledge that he and Seja were soon to be dead.

Kayla…why did you get me into this? We could have been gone by now. Just you and me…watching the Galaxy rip itself apart.

As clubs rained down upon him in an oak shower, Atton took his mind away, placing himself at a Pazaak table and the pain subsided.

Two to the ten makes twelve…draw a five…now seventeen.

A massive hand then hauled him up by the throat and his blindfold was ripped away. Atton’s eyes were blinded by sudden light and blood poured from his nose and mouth and from a dozen other wounds. Angry bruises coated his body from the beating he had taken. Dazed and nearly delirious, he tried to focus through the pain on who was lifting him up.

It was Serphants himself.

The Mandalorian stared into his eyes, twisting him back and forth as if studying him. “If you don’t tell me all you know, I won’t kill you.”

Atton quickly looked around and saw other Mandalorians waiting to pummel him again. One other man caught his attention – a masked man in gray, carrying a lightsaber. Atton tried to grin through swollen lips. “Okay, okay….”

Serphants stopped and listened intently.

The Republic operative sighed and then took a long, deep breath. “The minus three is one of the most powerful cards, but it’s not as versatile as the reversible two,” he said and prepared for an ocean of pain.

Not to Reason Why – Part II

Somewhere Near Malachor VII

Aboard the RNS Indefatigable, a spark of electricity arced from the overheads, connecting with several crewmen on the bridge. Screams and acrid smoke filled the room along with blaring klaxons and blinking lights. Ma