Mitka checked her gear, one of the clips on her helmet didn’t want to work and after fiddling with it she cursed and threw it to the ground. Tears threatened, this was not the way to go into an operation. Aric knelt and picked up her helmet, calmly released the stubborn clip and handed it back to her.

“Breathe,” He told her, “She’s wrong about you. They always are.” Mitka took a deep breath, she still didn’t like it, a pregnant replacement medic and her arrogant Jedi mother. They were supposed to be investigating an Imperial presence on Tython, its location was supposed to be a secret, but there had been a handful of mysterious Jedi deaths, Jedi who had been on missions received on Tython, highly classified missions. Somehow transmissions had been intercepted, missions had failed, and Jedi had died. Mitka shook the doubt off, she was commander of Havoc Squad.

“Alright listen up, our objective today is to locate and destroy an imperial listening post on Tython.”

“That’s ridiculous, we would have sensed them if they had been here,” scoffed Meyali

“Shut up, Mom. Nobody cares about your dumb opinions."

Ayang still couldn’t believe her bad luck, she hadn’t been ready to reveal the pregnancy to her mother just yet, in fact she would have been content if her mother had never discovered it. She missed Corso, but she certainly wasn’t going to subject him to Meyali, so she had come alone. Her stomach flopped as she listened to the briefing, Imperials on Tython, it hardly seemed possible, but Mitka wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t truth to that claim.

“The secondary objective is to gather intel, anything that will help the Jedi council and the SIS narrow down the leak.”

“This is a waste of time," Meyali reiterated.

"The council and command have narrowed down the most likely location of the listening post to be here.” She pointed at the map. “Master Cardani, what can you tell us of this location?”

Meyali delicate lips frowned slightly when she glanced over at the map, never daring to imply that this woman, this force blind Sith pureblood could be right, however the location on the map made a great deal of sense.

“That location is densly forested with a cave system running underneath, it is a location that is attuned to the dark side of the force.”

Bingo.

“Let’s move out people, Ayang I want you behind us, 4X cover her flank, Master Cardani lead the way if you would, Sergeant Jorgan and me will be on your six.” The group mounted the speeders and headed out.

They dismounted a few kilometers away from the objective and headed in on foot, Mitka noticed Ayang flick on a stealth field generator and smiled. The small woman was resourceful, she hadn’t known what to expect but had been pleasantly surprised, she would have made a great soldier Mitka mused, if she could get past her distaste for the chain of command. Evidence of old ruins were everywhere, the forest having reclaimed them thousands of years ago.

The group stopped wordlessly, she indicated to wait, it was a maneuver Havoc had executed time and again. At the cave opening stood two Imperial guards, so confident at not being discovered they wore uniforms. Mitka pulled her vibroknife from her boot, and made a wide circle, steps away she grabbed the guard and slit his throat, the other guard spotted her but was gunned down before a word could leave his lips. Aric indicated the all clear and they pressed forward into the cave.

They cut through the defences, Mitka, and Aric blasting a path, 4X providing cover fire, Ayang performing hit and runs, whenever an imperial got too close, she was quick and efficient, stayed to the shadows quit adept with her stealth field generator and pistol. Master Cardani was a fluid dancer in the hail of blaster fire, her lightsaber catching stray shots and redirecting them, pushing other less fortunate Imperials into the bedrock of the cave.

They reached the objective and Mitka hurried over with incendiaries and stuck her spike into the main computer and started wiring the bombs together.

Ayang was catching her breath, eyes open scanning when her mother interrupted her thoughts.

“Do you even know who your child's father is?" she said delicately. "I assume he at least paid you."

"I don't do that anymore. I told you that." Ayang shook her head. "Don't start lecturing me about being a good parent."

“Do you know what you’re even doing to that whelp in your belly? Exposing it to the dark side, a force sensitive fetus has no defenses, and you waltz in here oblivious.” She hissed.

Ayang put a protective hand over her belly, the hiss of a second light saber interrupted the conversation. Mitka was thrown from her position with a burst of lightining, the quiet exploded with blaster fire and Meyali elegantly jumped to meet the Sith, who was preparing a second lightning attack. Ayang burst into action, racing to Mitka, don’t be dead she willed the soldier. She pulled off her helmet, eyes dazed, she administered the kolto, and snapped her fingers in front of Mitka’s face, trying to get her to refocus.

“Mitka” snap “Mitka, look at me!” The soldier blinked once then finally saw Ayang.

“Thanks, I’m good.” She tried to get up, but the small Mirialan held her down with surprising strength.

“Not yet you’re not.”

“Get me standing, that bomb is set to go off in ten minutes, we need to haul *** out of here.”Mitka suddenly felt what Ayang had alluded to, she noticed a drip land on her grey and white armor, bright red. She touched her head, her copper hands were stained a deeper red. Ayang injected her with another dose of Kolto and a Stim then helped her to her feet.

Meyali was losing the advantage, the Sith was young, his double saber flashed and twirled at impossible speeds, pulling from the dark side of this place, in a flourish he had forced her to a kneeling position. His face remained frozen in a triumphant smile as he fell over, a smoking hole in his back. Aric Jorgan hefted his assault cannon onto his back and offered the Jedi his hand.

“Don’t touch me” Was her thanks.

“You’re Welcome” Aric replied as they ran out of the cave, he pocketed the data spike.

***

“Heading out?” Mitka noticed Ayang circling her ship, getting ready for take off.

“Can’t be gone fast enough,” laughed Ayang. “How are you feeling?” Pointing to her head.

“Good! Never been healed by the Force before, tingly.” They stood not saying anything for a long while.

“I’m sorry about my mother. I wish I could have warned you that's she's a huge *****.” Ayang offered her a sad smile. "I mean, I've had to put up with her my whole life...at least I'm used to it."

“Don’t apologize for her, you are not responsible for who she is or what she does.”

Ayang was about to say something, then realized again, that Mitka was a force blind Sith Pureblood, she more then anyone else Ayang had met, understood where she was coming from.

“You ever need an assist, give me a call, and maybe after this kid is born we can go grab a drink together.”

“I like the sounds of that.” Mitka smiled, so this is what friendship felt like, “and congratulations, you’re going to be a great mom, you already have the mom voice down.” Mitka recalled the stern voice and look she got once they had escaped the cave.

“Thanks Mitka!” They two women shook hands and walked away, a successful mission and a new friendship, not a bad day after all.

It was a rare dry day on Drummond Kaas, a row of restaurants had all set up their patios, and they were packed, it was still cloudy and gloomy, but there was a warm breeze blowing, and the scent of flowers was in the air.

“Good day for hunting.” Torian Cadera remarked. He and Avacynne were at a popular Mandalorian spot, waiting for their mid day meal.

“That it is.” Ava sighed wistfully, she sipped her beer. Eventually two plates of some shelled creature was set in front of them, with a small army of tiny forks and picks with which to eat it. Avacynne also noticed the bibs, but mostly she noticed the piping hot melted butter flecked with hot pepper flakes. She had no idea how to start freeing the meat from the shells.

“Like this” Torian had already tied the bib to his neck, Ava bit her lip to keep from laughing at him, with a few cracks and crunches he had a long succulent piece of meat in hand and was dipping it into the hot butter. Ava’s mouth was watering. Not one to turn down a challenge she tied her own bib around her neck, and attempted to recreate the effortless way with which Torian had used to get a hold of his meal. This time it was Torian’s turn to suppress a laugh as one of Ava’s utensils went flying through the air.

The long slightly bent pick hit the table behind them, landing in the other patrons soup.

“Crap.” Ava heard the splash and the other patrons curse. She turned in her seat armed with an apology and noticed the elegant robe and the lightsaber. “Double crap”

“My Lord I’m sorry, it’s my first time eating this particular dish, I’ll buy you a new meal” She did her best to placate the Sith, who, she knew from experience were quick to anger, they loved anger.

“Ava? Avacynne?” The Sith, a slight Rattataki woman inquired.

Ava found herself staring into familiar grey eyes, a familiar tattooed face, though it now bore old scares from slave brandings. Rateah.

“Teah?” She barely whispered the word, afraid she was dreaming, afraid if she looked away she would be gone again.

Without another word the two women embraced each other, holding each other tightly, hardly believing the other was actually there.

“I thought…after they took you. How did you become a Sith?” Ava was fighting with her emotions.

“The man who bought me was a Sith Lord, he saw my potential and sent me to Korriban. You! I knew you’d survive, Little sister, I knew you would be ok!” Rateah hugged Ava again and turned her seat around, ordering another soup. She eyed the armor, and her companion, a handsome blonde Mandalorian with dreamy blue eyes and some rather attractive scarring. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Torian Cadera, he’s…my.” Ava and Torian had never defined what they were to each other, there was mutual attraction, but Ava had held him, and Mako and even Gault, at arm’s length, not wanting to lose yet another family.

“I’m on her crew.” Torian offered his hand to Rateah, “You’re sisters?”

“Unofficially, but we’ve been through enough, shed enough blood together that we might as well be.” Rateah explained, remembering their early years on Tython and then Coruscant.

“Sounds like family to me!” Torian smiled.

“Going to the enclave?” Teah inquired, she had heard rumours of the Miraluka hunter, never thought it could have been her sensitive little Ava, the years had changed her though, there was a strong shell surrounding her now, her emotions tethered down.

“No, actually, got hired by a Sith Lord, you might know her, a Lord Ardyth?”

Rateah knew her and her face darkened. She knew the whole blasted family. “Be careful with her.” She warned, “She’s ruthless, even by Sith standards.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

The trio finished their meal, the two women remembering old times, telling new tales, laughing at Ava’s continued ineptitude with eating her food. They exchanged holofrequencies and parted ways.

Rateah’s holo rang, and a familiar red face appeared, “What do you want?”

“I have need of your unique skills Rateah.”

“I don’t answer to you anymore, you are neither my owner nor my master.”

“My dear I don’t presume to be either of those things, it would be a service to my grandson.”

Teah’s heart skipped. “What of Marek?”

“Come to my estate and I will explain everything.”

Lord Kaervrek cut off the call and smiled a slow grin.

The cave network was vast and winding. If it were not for Master Ashari's perfected Force vision, the pair of them would have become lost hours ago. She knelt behind a rock, patient and ready. Master Istier crept from one rock to another, readying his sabre, moving ever closer to their quarry. A score of Imperial soldiers milled around in the cavern below unaware they were being watched. There were boxes acting as tables for analysis equipment and used mining equipment littered the floor, some of it broken. A Sith Lord was overseeing the proceedings, keeping a watchful eye on her two apprentices. Ashari knew Istier was smiling, even though she could not see him. Here was the woman who had cost him an eye. Here was Lord Vizloch. They maintained communications silence and waited.

They did not know the whole reasoning for Lord Vizloch overseeing this particular endeavour personally. Istier liked to think that their attacks on her previous outposts had stirred her ire, that her anger would make her clumsy. Ashari could not see that. All she saw in the woman below was confidence. Rather than the bustling, hurried activity they had expected, everything seemed calm and methodical. It was entirely possible that they had misunderstood their opponent or underestimated her resolve. At length, after what seemed like hours of waiting, the Imperials started to pack. A click came over their comm-link and Ashari knew it was time for action.

"Lord Vizloch, it's good to see you again." Istier's voice carried through the cavern, his tone commanding, with a hint of flirtation. It was unbecoming of a Jedi, but his charm was inescapable. He stood atop one of the rocks, some thirty feet from the cavern floor, lightsabre drawn. Lord Vizloch turned to him, before continuing to pack away her equipment. Ashari slipped down the rock face, staying in the shadows.

"Master Istier, I had almost hoped you would have given up this on this futile endeavour," She motioned for her apprentices to ignore the man. "I really cannot tell if it is righteousness or stupidity that drives you." She punctuated this remark with the sharp click of the case's clasps.

"Lord Vizloch, you wound me so," Istier dropped from one rock to another, slowly making his way to the floor. The Imperial troops maintained their guns on him the entire time. "You know I only came here to see you."

Jealousy flared for a moment in Ashari's chest.

Lord Vizloch turned and in one swift motion drew her smaller sabre and threw it at Istier. "Stupidity, then," Istier dropped into a crouch, easily avoiding the blade. Catching the weapon, Lord Vizloch holstered it on her thigh. The troops fired. Master Istier deflected the first few shots but the sheer weight of fire drove him back. Pinned between the cave wall and line of Imperial troops, he suddenly realised his position. "You really are an idiot."

"Am I at least a handsome idiot?" One bolt ricocheted and caught a trooper in the chest, felling him. Lord Vizloch chuckled.

"No." She drew both sabres and the troops halted their fire. Lord Vizloch leapt one blade forward, the other held slightly back and to the side. Istier blocked the downward sweep, her orange blade clashing against his blue in a flash. Her secondary blade ground against his shield, causing the generator to whine.

"You aren't enamoured by my charms?" He spoke through gritted teeth and threw Lord Vizloch off. From the back of the cave, there came a yelp.

"My Lord, your apprentices-"

"Thank you, Sergeant, I'm aware." Gunfire began anew, this time covering the area where once her youngest apprentice had been standing. She flipped backwards, landing in a crouch. She knew that Master Istier would not have travelled alone and she knew, with utter certainty, who aided him. Lord Vizloch blocked Istier's first strike, responding with a swipe to his knees with her secondary blade. He danced back from the blow and she followed, stabbing up. His shield held, but quivered.

Ashari watched as Lord Vizloch and Master Istier locked blades again before disappearing behind a rock. She felt another jab of jealousy. She wanted to fight the Sith; not for the danger that she posed to the galaxy, but because she was a rival. Istier liked the chase and Lord Vizloch's indifference was like a rabbit before a hound. He would follow the older woman into the depths of the Empire if he thought there was a chance.

A blaster shot caught Ashari in the shoulder. She whirled, picking up one of the larger crates, using it to block the oncoming fire. It would not hold for long and she launched it at the troopers. There was a faint noise behind her, more like the absence of sound. She brought her sabre down and stopped the blade before it pierced her robes. The apprentice swore and brought his double-blade round for another swipe. He was clumsy and she deflected his attacks easily, worrying him with stones.

The Imperials were beginning to stand again; only one had been killed by the box. They readied their weapons, but Ashari saw them hesitate. Would they not fire upon the apprentice? She used this, trying to push the young man between her and the Imperial line, to lure him into the small tunnel that was near. She cut through his guard. For a moment, she saw the fear on the man's face - he looked more like boy - and then her blade pierced his shoulder. He screamed and lost his grip on his lightsabre. She went to grab his robes, to pull him closer into the tunnels. Her fingers brushed the dark cloth...

A blow struck her in the chest. There was no wound, no blade, merely the blow of one. Ashari gasped and convulsed. Her arms jolted upwards, pulling her blade through the apprentice's collarbone and into his cheek. He dropped to the ground, a smoking mess where once his face had been. She fell with him, her lightsabre deactivated. She knelt before the rows of Imperial troops and was dumb.

Lord Vizloch pushed her way through the line. She was unhurt, with barely a scratch to her armour.

"So you have killed both of my apprentices. I suppose that's fair," She smiled at Master Ashari and sauntered toward her. There was no sign of Master Istier. Lord Vizloch held a lightsabre, but both of hers were holstered. Ashari shook when she saw this. Istier's imprint was still on the weapon, she could see them, the little traces of his life still winding around it. "Or perhaps not. It would seem I have taken something far more valuable from you," Lord Vizloch ignited the blade, delighting at Ashari's reaction. The tip hovered an inch from her neck; she could feel the heat of it. "How far have you fallen, my dear blind Jedi?" The blade moved down to point at Ashari's belly. "I will leave you the memories of him. Remember to hate me, my blind little Jedi. Hate me, have your child hate me. Tell her how great her father once was. Lie to her about the man who sired her. Accept my gift."

Lord Vizloch waved her troops away. The corpses of her apprentices were gathered and a third, shrouded in cloth, was removed. Master Ashari sat watching. As the last of the Imperials left, she realised how alone she now was.

She screamed.

Nic didn’t like the look of the docking bay the Blast Radius settled into. It was mostly okay, except the Chagrian contact who had paid for her shipment of reactive duraplex casings wasn’t there; instead there was a voluptuous Chiss woman in practical work clothes.

Reactive duraplex casings were a little too expensive to be playing loose business with.

She settled down and signaled Akaavi and Risha to come with her to meet the stranger. “Hiya,” she called. “Name’s Nic. Can I do something for you?”

“I had to take over the pickup,” explained the Chiss. She had a shameless Imperial accent. “I’ve got your credits.”

“I have some reservations about surprise pickup switcheroos,” said Nic.

“You could try to reach your original buyer, but he’s a little too dead to answer. I’ve got your asking price, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Um. Nic eyed the scar running down one side of the Chiss woman’s face. “…Great! I think we can do busin…hello, what have we here?”

The reason for the subject switch was a tall slim human male…probably human? His eyes were black, all black. He was strikingly handsome and possibly less crazy than the Chiss.

The Chiss smirked. “This is my associate Vector. I’m Crezelle, by the way. Vector here helps me with diplomatic relations.”

“Really? Facilitating diplomatic relations is a specialty of mine.” Nic was pretty sure she actually heard Risha rolling her eyes. “I’m Nic. We should trade tips.”

“Greetings. This could be a constructive exercise,” said Vector cautiously.

“I sure think so. Whaddya say? Drinks, stims, and other interesting activities over at the cantina tonight?”

“Ah…tonight is less than practical for us,” said Vector. He looked down at Crezelle. “If we are to make the Dance of Gathering, we will have to depart soon.”

Crezelle tilted her head and grinned. “Where are your manners, Vector? If our new friend wants interesting activities, we could invite her.” She looked to Nic. “You girls can come along, if you want to see how Killiks party.”

“I do not want to see how Killiks party,” said Akaavi levelly.

“What are Killiks?” said Nic.

Crezelle’s grin broadened. “Oh. Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

“Um. Imperials who ‘know what I’m going to like’ very rarely give me things I like.”

“You ‘Pubs are awfully uptight about that kind of thing. Come on, live a little.”

“I want to live a lot. Not trusting Imperials helps with that.”

“Your loss. Guess I’ll have to keep the membrosia for myself.” Crezelle giggled. “It’s a high like nothing you’ve ever had, I guarantee.”

Risha made a small alarmed noise. Nic perked up. “Is it, now?”

*

Nic and Risha reeled off Crezelle’s lovely ship with their arms wrapped around each other for support. Crezelle’s ship was really lovely. Her crew was lovely. The membrosia of the Killik hive was entirely lovely. The bugs, after the pheromones overcame her initial hysterical meltdown and gibbering fear of arthropods, were lovely.

“Thanks for the lift home,” said Nic, remembering her manners.

“We are traditionally the designated driver,” said Vector. “You’re welcome.”

Crezelle slipped her arm around his waist and hardly swayed at all. “Come back any time to enjoy the nest, sweetie. But next time, keep your hands off Vector.”

“I kept hands off,” said Nic. “There were no hands. Right? There weren’t any hands.”

“There were hands,” reported Risha.

“Oh. Uh, sorry?”

Crezelle chortled. “Well, honeybee, I do owe you one for Voss. So I'll be gracious this time." She winked at Nic. "As for you, I can’t fault your taste.”

"We need to talk, Jedi."

At the best of times, Mandalorians were not the sort of people to be trifled with, even by Jedi or Sith, but the Mandalorian woman standing before him looked like she would tear the Temple apart if he refused, not to mention she had somehow found her way on the Jedi homeworld of Tython unnoticed and was demanding member of the Jedi High Council's time, techstaff in hand. Nonetheless, Zantel sensed something. Anger, yes. Undoubtedly. But there was also worry, desperation, and fear. Not for herself, but for someone else.

"I did not know Mandalorians used stealth belts."

"It is a friend's. I needed to talk to you without killing a Jedi if he was foolish enough to get in my way."

"Who exactly are you? You must know who I am or you would not have gone to so much trouble finding you."

"I am Akaavi Spar and I did not come here for pleasantry. This concerns a matter of clan. Your clan."

"A Jedi has no clan. He detaches himself from familial entanglements in order to serve the Galaxy better," the Miraluka stated with a frown, "And my parents are dead and my brother...."

"Needs your help, Jedi," Akaavi interrupted impatiently, "Or I wouldn't be on this accursed planet!"

The Jedi Master frowned slightly, unconsciously biting his lip, a habit that he had not repeated since childhood. His brother brought back old memories. Good ones and, more recently, not so pleasant ones.

"Teague chose his own path long ago, Mandalorian. First when he turned to crime and again when he led a fleet of pirates against the Republic and Empire over Corellia."

"He refused to be the Republic's or anyone's dog after the Empire tried to use him."

"He killed innocent people!"

"There is no such thing."

Zantel frowned even more, releasing his irritation into the Force, "I'm not about to use my influence to make the Republic free him."

"Who says your Republic caught him?”

For a moment, there was silence from the Jedi, but, at last, he spoke quietly.

“If the Empire has him, he's dead already. They wouldn't take a chance with a prisoner like him.”

Zantel heard rather than felt the impact of her fist on his face.

“Hut'uun! You'd just let your own blood, your ori'vod, your own brother die without looking for him or avenging him?”

There was silence and for a moment, Zantel felt himself remember a familiar presence, one crackling with laughter and mischief even as Zantel warned that he would get them both in trouble. Despite himself, visions of that same person in the hands of the Empire arose, of long torture by machines and cruel soldiers, of a Sith Lord worming his way in his brother's mind.

“Family is paramount to Mandalorians. To ignore bonds of blood is the greatest sort of betrayal to us, and this is why we despise Jedi. You forget everything for the sake of a stagnant Republic, run by strangers. I will find him without your help, Jedi.”

With that, Akaavi turned her back on the Jedi, but just as she reached the doorway, he spoke.

“I will go... My brother always did need someone to rescue him.”