Chapter 22
20 BBY | Mandalore
Twenty-One Months After the Battle of Geonosis
Ahsoka Tano
Standing directly behind the three Senators representing the Republic delegation in the Royal Palace on Mandalore, Ahsoka Tano attempted to distract herself from her own wandering thoughts, only to quickly realise it would not be so easy. After the mission to Kiros, and the subsequent cruelties on Zygerria and Kadavo, the young Jedi Padawan was beginning to truly grasp the sheer wastefulness of the conflict. As much as there were undeniably evil individuals within the Confederacy, there was far more evil thriving across the wider galaxy where the light of the Republic failed to reach. Every battle the Jedi were forced to fight against droids was one where they could not actively combat atrocities like slavery or the rampant exploitation of innocent people in the Outer Rim.
Now, for the very first time, a sanctioned meeting between the Republic and the Separatists was being held. Organised on the neutral world of Mandalore, it was technically not Ahsoka's first visit to the planet. In fact, the entire process behind these peace negotiations had only come about because she and Senator Amidala had utilised her Jedi clearance codes to travel covertly to Raxus, using neutral Mandalore as a stopping point to avoid a direct crossing from Republic to Separatist-controlled territory.
Ahsoka tried once more to occupy her mind, but that brief visit to the Separatist capital had has shown many things to her—chief among them that there were good, well-intentioned people on both sides, and that the war was far from the black-and-white conflict she had once believed it to be. For those very reasons, she now looked on unhappily from behind Senator Amidala's high-backed chair towards the gathered Separatist delegates.
Mina Bonteri, the sponsor of the peace talks on the Separatist side, had been murdered shortly after proposing the negotiations, with Count Dooku conveniently blaming Republic assassins for the crime. Ahsoka, however, knew better. What other motive could there possibly be for such an act than to deliberately sabotage the peace talks before they could even get moving? The real answer was sitting right in front of her. The three Separatist Senators present—Voe Atell, Amita Fonti, and Bec Lawise—were the very same individuals who had vehemently spoken out against the peace initiatives in the first place. What other reason was there for the assassination of Onderon's senator than to ensure peace never stood a chance?
On the Republic's side, the representation appeared considerably better, with Padmé, Bail Organa, and Mon Mothma standing as the face of the Republic. At least, that was what Ahsoka had initially thought; Senator Amidala had gently explained to her that while this might look positive on the surface, the fact that the Republic delegation consisted solely of senators who already supported peace, was a signal that the broader Senate was unwilling to truly commit to the talks and lend their support, weakening the political weight of their delegation.
Ahsoka shook her head slightly. All of this political manoeuvring was simply not for her; she would be far better served out on the front lines alongside Master Skywalker, cutting down droids and liberating suffering worlds. To drive the point home, she cast a wary glance towards the four BX-series Commando droids stationed behind the Separatist delegation. Just like Captain Taggart's men standing behind her in their blue armour, each side was permitted only a strictly limited number of guards. The Separatist Commando droids and the Republic Senate Guard were intended to act merely as an honour guard, whilst the actual security and order during the conference were to be provided by the neutral Mandalorian forces.
Glancing slightly to her left, Ahsoka spied the Duchess herself seated upon her throne, looking almost as thoroughly bored with the proceedings as Ahsoka felt. So far, the negotiations had moved nowhere at all, with little more than thinly veiled insults and bureaucratic posturing being exchanged.
To the Duchess's right stood the Captain of her Royal Guard, who, unlike the other Mandalorian guardsmen deployed throughout the throne room, was completely without his helmet. Ahsoka found herself wondering with sudden, mischievous curiosity if all the other Royal Guardsmen had similarly funny haircuts beneath their helmets. She had never quite understood the obsession hair or fur bearing species had with how their odd strands of hair were arranged, but perhaps she was finally beginning to see the humour in it.
Perhaps Senator Amidala is right to constantly change her hairstyle if the alternative is looking like that,Ahsoka thought with a private, amused smirk. The shaved sides of his head were certainly doing the captain no favours—or so Ahsoka thought. Clearly, montrals and lekku were vastly superior in every conceivable way.
Before her trailing thoughts could derail any further measured voice of Senator Amidala rang out across the hall, forcing Ahsoka to snap her attention back to the exchange taking place before her.
"The Republic recognizes the tragedy of war," Padmé said calmly, her tone filled with understanding. "But there is nothing we can change that has already occurred."
Senator Amidala's compassionate words, however, failed to achieve the desired effect on the Separatist delegation.
"Say it aloud before this gathering, as representative for Chancellor Palpatine," said Voe Atell, leaning forward expectingly, "that you declare without reservation the Separatist State legitimate."
Ahsoka remembered the green-skinned woman from the Separatist senate session on Raxus Secundus. Just as she was doing now, Atell had opposed Mina Bonteri's original motion for peace. At the same time, Ahsoka was well aware that what she was asking of Padmé and the other Republic delegates was a practical impossibility. The Republic Senate had put various legal provisions in place to ensure the Separatist Alliance would forever be classified as an illegal, illegitimate regime; as much as Ahsoka knew Padmé might privately wish to compromise for peace, she could not directly defy the explicit mandate of the Senate on such an issue.
Before Padmé could formulate a reply, an familiar voice abruptly cut across the throne room.
"I have something to say about the legitimacy of the Separatists."
From the grand archway of the throne room, Ahsoka immediately recognised the young man stepping forward: Lux Bonteri, the son of the late Separatist Senator from Onderon.
Surprised, the Togruta Padawan leaned down to whisper to Padmé, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the Separatist senators were already muttering amongst themselves in hushed, agitated tones, demanding to know why Lux Bonteri was present at a closed session he had not been invited to attend.
"You didn't mention that Lux Bonteri would be here," Ahsoka whispered quietly to the former Queen of Naboo.
"I didn't know," Padmé murmured back, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Straightening, Ahsoka watched with a mixture of curiosity and caution as Lux walked directly before the Duchess and offered a polite, formal bow. The ruler of Mandalore regarded the young man silently for a long moment before granting him leave to speak with a subtle wave of her hand.
Turning to face the assembled Republic and Separatist delegations, Lux Bonteri gave a quick glance toward Ahsoka before launching into his speech.
"I stand before you, son of Mina Bonteri, loyal Separatist, a patriot, a friend," Lux declared, casting another small look at Ahsoka as he uttered the final word. "It has come to my attention that my mother was murdered by Count Dooku in cold blood!"
At his proclamation, the Separatist delegation erupted in chaos, rising from their seats in outrage.
"That is a lie! Remove this traitor immediately!" bellowed Bec Lawise. The Siniteen male pointed a trembling, angry finger directly at the son of the Onderonian senator.
At his command, the four BX-series Commando droids stationed behind the Separatist table stepped forward to obey. Ahsoka's muscles instinctively coiled, her body tensing to spring into action at the sight of the deadly commando droids moving.
However, before the droids could lay their hands on Lux, a pair of crossed electrostaffs snapped down in front of them, blocking their path.
"No arrests shall be made on Mandalorian territory by outsiders," the Mandalorian guard said, stepping forward from his place at Duchess' side.
"Duchess, I must protest!" Lawise snapped, rounding on the throne. "Lux Bonteri is a disruptive, dangerous influence!"
"We must insist that you allow us to handle our own internal matters," Voe Atell added with a frown.
Ahsoka watched as the Mandalorian Guard Captain shifted his gaze to the Duchess. They held each other's eyes for a brief moment before Duchess Satine offered an almost imperceptible nod.
"You are all honoured guests on sovereign Mandalorian territory," Satine announced calmly, her voice echoing off the high stone walls. "Mandalore shall continue to exercise our strict neutrality, and I cannot permit the Separatist Alliance to enforce its domestic laws upon our world."
"Duchess, I must protest in the strongest possible terms!" shouted Bec Lawise again.
"I have spoken," Satine Kryze cut in with finality, gesturing to her guards.
The Royal Guards immediately seized Lux by the arms and began escorting him out of the grand chamber, with the helmetless Guard Captain following closely in their wake after exchanging a few brief, hushed words with the Duchess.
The senators were still arguing and trying to appeal to the Mandalorian ruler, but Ahsoka was no longer paying them any mind. Bending down quickly, she whispered directly into Padmé's ear. "We have to do something."
"The matter is in the hands of the Duchess now," Padmé whispered back, her eyes tracking the departing guards. "That Guard Captain... he is her son. Go and speak with him; perhaps you can arrange something to help Mina's son."
Nodding in agreement, Ahsoka turned to slip quietly out of the room, only to be briefly halted as Padmé placed a gentle hand on her wrist.
"Ahsoka, please be careful," Padmé cautioned in a low whisper.
Giving a nod, Ahsoka slipped past the doors and followed the Guard Captain into the hallway adjected to the throne room.
20 BBY | Mandalore
Twenty-One Months After the Battle of Geonosis
Adaar Kryze
Dragging Lux Bonteri through the corridors of the Palace, I suppressed my growing annoyance. Perhaps I had only myself to blame; after providing the boy with only vague instructions, I really should have anticipated he would pull a foolish stunt like this.
When the young Onderonian had first contacted Death Watch some time ago, I was not particularly surprised. What did get my curiosity, however, was how he had obtained the secure codes to establish contact with Death Watch in the first place. Those security frequencies were obsolete, having been replaced immediately after I took over leadership from Pre Vizsla. That implied someone—most likely a Separatist—was aware of Vizsla's former connection to Count Dooku, possessed our classified contact codes, and had passed them directly to Lux Bonteri. It presented a slew of concerning possibilities and unanswered questions, and I fully intended to extract answers to every single one of them.
Instructing Lux Bonteri to travel to Mandalore, particularly at such a delicate time, was perhaps short-sighted on my part, but I had assumed he would simply arrive quietly and make discreet contact—not stage a public spectacle in the throne room.
Escorting the young man into a spare room within the palace, I silently gestured to the two guards accompanying us to remain stationed outside and not let anyone inside.
Seating the Onderonian behind a large table, I took a chair directly opposite him, observing him in silence for a few long moments as he stewed in his own frustration.
"Mr Bonteri, do you fully appreciate the severity of your current situation?" I asked, finally breaking the quiet.
Turning his head away, the young man remained stubbornly silent.
"My name is Adaar Kryze. I am a Captain in the Royal Guard—mymother's Royal Guard," I said, hoping it might make him somewhat more cooperative.
Frowning at me for a second, he finally retorted, "I merely spoke my mind. The fact that my words were not well received by the delegation is hardly my problem."
Was he being deliberately obtuse? I doubted he even realised he was sitting across from his actual contact. Revealing myself carried risks—there was a reason I had originally intended to handle this via intermediaries—but circumstances demanded I adapt, and he was already here. Besides, I still held some leverage over him.
"When you were instructed to come to Mandalore, what gave the impression that this was what was intended?"
Suddenly, his posture straightened, and he paid much closer attention. I could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes.
"What? I... I don't understand."
Clearly, those gears were not turning fast enough.
"Then think harder; it is hardly that complex," I said with a frown.
The boy was genuinely testing my patience. I took a slow breath, centering my emotions within the Force and restoring my inner balance. "Now, I have a few specific questions for you, and you are going to answer them."
"And why, exactly, would I do that?" he challenged, attempting to sound bold.
Placing my hands flat on the table, I locked my gaze directly onto his. "Because it is in your best interest—as well as your personal well-being."
Holding his gaze until he looked away, I leaned back slightly in my chair. "Let us establish an understanding so we do not waste time talking in circles. Ten standard rotations ago, you contacted Death Watch command utilising outdated frequencies—frequencies that are no longer in active use, but are nevertheless monitored. You requested an audience with the leader, claiming to possess an offer... an offer to assassinate Count Dooku."
"I—"
"Not just yet, Mr Bonteri. I am establishing the ground rules," I interrupted, raising a hand to cut him off. "You contacted Death Watch full well knowing they were enemies of Count Dooku. Driven by what I assume is a desire to avenge the murder of your mother, you sought out Death Watch to execute that vengeance."
I paused, allowing my words to settle before continuing.
"Now, this brings us to the very crux of the matter. You were explicitly told to come to Mandalore—nothing more, nothing less. Please, explain to me how we ended up in these circumstances?"
As he remained silent, a conflicted expression filling his eyes, I forced myself to relax once more.
I hate teenagers.
"This is the part where you speak, Mr Bonteri," I prompted dryly.
Finally offering me a frown, he muttered, "I don't know what you want me to say."
"How about you explain that stunt in the throne room? The only reason you are currently speaking with me rather than staring down the barrel of a commando droid's blaster is because I personally escorted you out of that room."
"You should have left me to my own devices," he countered sullenly. "If the Separatists want to take me, let them."
"And I assume that reckless surrender is somehow part of your plan?"
He fell silent again, clamping down. Perhaps I was being too harsh with him. If I was in his position, how would I have reacted?
I needed to alter my approach.
"I see you are not in a particularly forthcoming mood. Allow me to tell you a few facts, Mr Bonteri. You were instructed to come to Mandalore because I wished to speak with you privately—not so you could cause a diplomatic incident involving Mandalore."
I looked him in the eyes, seeing the defiance that was utterly misplaces, though perhaps a result of how I lead this conversation so far.
"I understand the grief of losing a mother; I truly do. Count Dooku and the Separatist Alliance have directed their schemes against Mandalore as well, and my mother was actively targeted. Fortunately, that plot was foiled and she remains safe, but it is very well possible I might have been standing in your shoes had events transpired differently," I said, speaking with genuine sincerity, hoping he would recognise it.
"The reason you were told to come here is simple: I believe we can be of mutual assistance to one another."
"You mean regarding Count Dooku?" he asked, his voice hesitant as his defensive expression softened slightly.
I shook my head. "No. Unfortunately, the good Count is beyond either of our grasps at the moment. However, you possess something I require, and I have something you need in return."
He frowned once more. "If it doesn't involve Dooku's death, I have no idea what you could possibly offer that I would want."
I paused for a moment, weighing how best to broach the topic.
"Prior to your mother's tragic passing, she served as a Senator for Onderon—first within the Galactic Senate, and later within the Separatist Parliament. I did not know Mina Bonteri personally, but from everything I have heard, she was an honourable woman striving to do what was best for her people."
"…Yes," he replied quietly, uncertain where I was leading.
"As I mentioned, I can empathise with your situation. Therefore, I am prepared to assist you. As of this very moment, your homeworld of Onderon is under Separatist occupation. A collaborationist puppet regime under Sanjay Rashdragged Onderon into the war following a palace coup against the former ruler, King Ramsis Dendup."
"I am already well aware of that," he noted, a faint scowl reappearing on his face.
"What you do not know is that the populace of Onderon resents their current monarch. An active, organized insurgency is currently taking root across Onderon as we speak. Your people are rising up against this Separatist puppet. Soon, the new king will be forced to crack down on the rebellion, and when he does, it will only drive more citizens to take up arms alongside the insurgents. What do you think happens then?"
As a credit to what surely must have been his diplomatic focused education, he caught on quickly. "The Separatists will be forced to intervene directly. They will deploy forces to uphold Rash's regime."
"And battle droids will march the streets of Iziz and Onderon will suffer," I added with a grim nod.
"Why are you telling me all of this?" he asked, puzzled.
"Because while I believe going after Dooku is folly, there is a chance to help your people— something I am sure your mother would have wanted as well."
"And how, exactly, would you propose helping them?"
"That is where your come in. I will arrange for your release from Mandalore. A secure, shuttle will be prepared for you, allowing you to depart this system without the Separatists or Count Dooku suspecting a thing."
I leaned forward. "Once you land on Onderon, seek out Steela and Saw Gerrera; they are currently leading the local resistance movement. Join their cause and fight for your world. Your mother once represented the citizens of Onderon in the halls of democracy; since you are currently unable to serve them there, you must support them on the battlefield."
"I am only one person," he protested softly.
"And acting alone, you could admittedly accomplish very little. However, your presence will be important; you bring political legitimacy to the insurgency. Without you, they are merely armed rebels; with you at their side, they become a legitimate resistance movement."
I paused before continuing. "That said, as you noted, enthusiasm alone will not win a war. For that reason, I am prepared to supply you with substantial armaments: thousands of blaster rifles, ammunition, spare components, thermal detonators, droid poppers, and rocket launchers. All of it will be given as a gift to the free people of Onderon."
Lux looked confused. "I don't understand. Your mother is a pacifist, and Mandalore is neutral."
"You can get much further with a kind word and a blaster than you can with just a kind word, Mr Bonteri."
"And what do you want in exchange?" he asked wearily.
"Two things, both are very simple and cost you nothing."
I held up a finger. "First, I require you to identify the contact who supplied you with those Death Watch frequencies. Those codes do not circulate freely on the HoloNet; someone provided them to you, and I require that name."
At my demand, Lux offered me a cautious, guarded look.
"…And the second condition?" he inquired warily.
"Once you successfully liberate Onderon for your people, there are a few historic artefacts of Mandalorian origin currently housed in the Iziz Royal Museum that I require you to return to us."
"Museum pieces?" he echoed, looking baffled.
I gave a nod. "Mandalore and Onderon share a long history. Your museum houses a few keepsakes from our previous wars that hold great cultural value to my people."
He stared at me in disbelief.
"And that is all? A single name and a few dusty relics from a museum, in exchange for weapons and safe passage out of here?"
"That's it. No more, no less."
For a moment, he hesitated, a wave of conflicted emotion washing over him.
"I… the contact who gave me the codes. Will they be harmed?"
"No harm will come to them, Mr Bonteri; you have my word on that," I assured him.
Through the door, I sensed a faint presence pacing nervously in the corridor. Fortunately, the guards stationed outside had denied her entry, preserving our privacy. Still, I could afford no oversights. Silently withdrawing a small listening device from my belt, I affixed it beneath the underside of the table without Bonteri ever suspecting a thing.
Standing up, I extended my hand across the table toward the Onderonian. After a brief second of hesitation, he reached out and shook it.
"Oh, one final detail. I would strongly advise you to reach out to the Republic for assistance once you arrive on Onderon. While Onderon possesses a proud martial tradition and your people are undoubtedly capable fighters, the Clone Army and the Jedi have been battling droid armies for nearly two years. You will find no greater experts on dismantling Confederate troops when they are inevitably deployed on Onderon."
I smiled faintly. "Just something worth considering."
As I made to exit, I paused by the door.
"I trust it goes without saying that this discussion never occurred. You will not mention a single word of this arrangement to anyone. Can I have your word on that, Mr Bonteri?"
"Yes. I understand completely."
"Excellent. Then we are done here."
As the doors slid shut behind me, I stepped out directly into the path of an irritated Togruta, currently held at bay by the crossed electrostaffs of the guards I had posted outside.
"I need to speak with Lux immediately," Ahsoka demanded, turning to me. "He hasn't committed any crime; he shouldn't be held under arrest!"
"Master Jedi, I assure you, Mr Bonteri is not under arrest," I replied slowly. "As you can see, this is not a detention cell, and he has already been guaranteed safe passage off the planet."
"Oh. I… ah, thank you?" she stammered, caught off guard.
I raised an eyebrow at her. "I hardly see why you need to thank me. As you pointed out, he broke no laws, and Mandalore is not in the habit of granting either the Separatists or the Republic free rein to arrest individuals on our own world."
I gestured toward the entrance. "You are free to visit him if you wish."
"Yes, thank you. I shall do that," she murmured.
Shuffling somewhat awkwardly past me, she stepped inside the room. I could immediately hear her berating the Bonteri boy. As the doors sealed shut and their spoken words faded, I activated the receiver, slipping the small audio bead into my ear.
Issuing a quick set of quiet instructions to the guardsmen posted at the doorway, I began making my way through the sweeping corridors of the palace to rejoin the diplomatic conference. As I walked, I listened to the conversation between Ahsoka Tano and Lux Bonteri. Normally, I would have no interest in the two teenagers, but I needed to know for certain that he would not betray our arrangement to the first friend who wandered along.
Fortunately, Bonteri proved true to his word. Satisfied, I plucked the earpiece out as I stepped back into the throne room. All around the chamber, delegates were already and departing, with various few figures engaged in hushed conversations.
Approaching my mother, she offered a warm smile as I drew near, gesturing toward the elegant woman standing alongside her. "Adaar, come over. I would like you to meet my dear friend, Padmé Amidala, Senator from Naboo."
She turned to her companion. "Padmé, this is my son, Adaar."
"Your mother has spoken of you," Senator Amidala said with a polite bow of her head. "I believe we narrowly missed one another during my previous visit to Mandalore."
"Yes, I was away traveling at the time. It is a pleasure to meet you, Senator," I replied, offering a respectful nod before turning back to my mother. "Where is everyone going?"
"The session has been adjourned for the time being," Satine explained softly. "We require cooler heads to prevail, so we are taking a brief recess. I expect the negotiations will resume shortly."
Not that they will accomplish a single thing, I thought privately. This entire thing was doomed from the start.
"In the meantime, why don't I leave the two of you to chat?" Satine suggested, a small smile touching her lips. "I am sure you young people have a lot of things to talk about."
With a light nod, she made a swift, graceful exit.
It took my brain a few extra seconds to fully process what had just transpired. Padmé Amidala apparently arrived at the exact same conclusion bit faster than I did, as she offered a soft, amused sigh at my mother's transparent matchmaking antics.
The only more obvious thing she could have done was say that I was single, I thought, suppressing an internal groan. On second thought, she almost certainly mentioned that to her beforehand.
Looking at the undeniably beautiful woman standing before me, I offered Padmé a polite, measured smile.
"Please forgive my mother, Senator. She is usually far more restrained than this."
"To be perfectly honest, I rarely get to witness this side of her either," Padmé replied with a warm chuckle.
Two choices stood before me: I could either engage in polite small talk with Anakin Skywalker's secret wife, or I could execute an immediate tactical retreat.
Prudence is the better part of valour, I decided swiftly. Offering the Naboo delegate another polite smile as I bowed my head slightly. "If you will excuse me, Senator, I have pressing security matters to attend to with the Guard."
As I bravely fled from the throne room, I silently prayed to the Force that I would never end up as a topic of casual pillow talk for the Chosen One.
20 BBY | Mandalore
Twenty-One Months After the Battle of Geonosis
Bardan Skirata
Standing in the briefing room of Kyrimorut, Bardan observed his fellow Mandalorians gathered within the Skirata stronghold. As he surveyed the assembled warriors, Bardan once more felt a deep surge of pride to be part of something far greater than himself. Having officially taken the surname of his adoptive clan, Bardan Skirata was now truly one of the Mando'ade.
Glancing toward the clan's patriarch, Bardan wondered if the old Mandalorian veteran was currently in one of his sourer moods. Their ongoing search for the traitorous Death Watch had proven largely unsuccessful; the renegade band of warriors remained frustratingly elusive to those who called Kyrimorut their home.
As more people filed into the room, Bardan adjusted his armour, the weight of the plates still feeling slightly unfamiliar. His newly painted green beskar'gam had once belonged to Kal's own adoptive father, and he was honoured to wear such a cherished relic. To Bardan's mind, this gesture served as further proof of the noble, welcoming nature of Mandalorian culture—that an outsider such as he could be accepted into a clan with mere spoken words, treated as though he had been born to it. Provided those words were spoken with sincerity, it highlighted a unique nature of Mandalorian society that Bardan believed was unique across the galaxy.
As the room continued to fill, the former Jedi observed the gathering warriors. Many, much like Kal Skirata and himself, had not been born into the Mando'ade, but had chosen at some moment in their lives to adopt the culture.
There was Walon Vau, once the heir to an aristocratic family on Irmenu; Mij Gilamar, a man who had fallen in love with a Mandalorian woman and adopted her way of life; and Kal Skirata himself, who had been originally born on Kuat. Together, these men stood as an example to how welcoming Mandalorian culture was to outsiders. Family was more than blood, and Bardan was finally beginning to understand it fully.
Bardan's gaze then shifted to the two women in their midst: Rav and Parja were both naturally born Mandalorians. The aunt and niece were important individuals for the day-to-day operation and survival of Kyrimorut.
The last person to enter the room was Wad'e Tay'haai—another born Mandalorian—whose arrival completed their assembly.
With the sole exceptions of young Parja, himself, and Etain, every single warrior in the room had once been part of the Cuy'val Dar—an elite group composed mostly of Mandalorian sergeants who had trained the Clone Army on Kamino prior to their deployment.
Now, however, they shared a very different goal: hunting down and bringing the renegade Death Watch to justice. Like most in the room, Bardan had never personally fought against Death Watch, but he knew with certainty that if peace was to be maintained on Mandalore, those extremists needed to be cleared off the board. Their barbaric methods would inevitably draw the unwanted attention of the CIS or Count Dooku, dragging neutral Mandalore directly into the war.
Looking around the room at the assembled faces, the weathered features of Kal Skirata softened slightly, losing a fraction of their stern lines. "What news do you bring? Have we uncovered anything new?" the clan's patriarch asked, breaking the silence.
Rav Bralor shook her head grimly. "The results are mixed. I've spoken directly with my own clan, but they proved annoyingly tight-lipped."
"They refused to speak to you?" Kal asked, raising a grey eyebrow in surprise.
If the short but formidable man was a fatherly figure to the clones, then Rav Bralor was a motherly one—albeit in a distinctly Mandalorian way. Capable soldiers both, their gruff demeanour and complete lack of patience for foolishness made them deeply endearing figures to the clones, to whom the concept of brotherhood and family was so important. To men raised for war, Kal Skirata and Rav Bralor were like stern parents who demanded perfection in their craft and tolerated no dithering. To a martially raised brotherhood like the clones, they were the perfect role models.
"Oh, they spoke to me alright—just not about what I wanted to hear," Rav clarified to the Skirata patriarch. "They could hardly deny me as a fellow warrior, so I was granted an audience with the clan, but I wasn't offered any trust."
Tapping his fingers against the table before him, Kal frowned. "It is as I feared. Much the same happened to me and a few others. We've been away far too long, and some of us never maintained deep ties to the heartworlds in the first place. The local clans simply do not trust us."
Beside Bardan, Etain stirred slightly, clearing her throat to speak. "Is it truly impossible to build a connection with the clans? I realise I am an outsider here, but surely the threat represented by Death Watch must be obvious to them as well. I've taken the time to read up on the local history; Death Watch was responsible for a major bombing over a year ago. Surely the people recognise the danger they pose?"
Rav Bralor scoffed lightly. "I only wish it were that simple, girl. The clans have always been a rowdy, uncooperative bunch, but the current situation is far more perilous than we perhaps realised."
"In what way?" asked Walon Vau, his stern face barely registering an emotion.
"Tight-lipped though they were, I managed to get a few details." Rav Bralor looked around the table at the expectant faces of the former Cuy'val Dar sergeants. "We know there has been a major shift in their leadership."
"Yes, we are aware of that; Vizsla's death had been broadcasted across the local HoloNet, and several of my own contacts confirmed it," Kal interrupted rudely, his outburst punctuated by quiet smirks from the other Mandalorians around the room.
Kal and Rav were exceptionally close friends, and during his short stay at Kyrimorut, Bardan had quickly learned that whatever sharpness those two displayed toward one another was merely sibling ribbing rather than genuine hostility.
Taking the opportunity to interject before a staring contest could escalate between Rav and Kal, Wad'e Tay'haai—clad in his distinctive purple Mandalorian armour—chipped in. "The idea that the little twerp Pre Vizsla somehow managed to escape the Duchess's notice would be downright comical under any other circumstances. Dying in a clash against Death Watch... what a load of absolute bantha osik."
Shifting her gaze away from Kal, Rav Bralor refocused on the matter at hand, shaking her head. "That's not the half of it. It's their new leader—he has been quietly visiting the clans, holding private audiences with chieftains and influential leaders."
"Recruiting?" asked Mij Gilamar, the Mandalorian doctor and combat medic.
"Possibly," Rav answered cautiously, weighing her words.
Across the table, Bardan saw Kal's hand clench into a tight fist. "Or worse."
The patriarch's gruff remark caused the entire room to fall into a heavy silence.
It was Bardan who eventually broke the quiet.
"Worse?" he prompted, looking searchingly at Kal Skirata.
"He is actively courting the support of the traditional clans, which can only mean one thing," Rav answered on Kal's behalf.
War. Nobody uttered the word aloud, but Bardan knew it was precisely what everyone in the room was thinking. If Death Watch was under new leadership and actively consolidating support among the clans, what other objective could they possibly have than igniting a new civil war? The Mandalorian government under Duchess Satine would certainly not step down quietly, and Bardan was confident there were still loyalist clans who remembered the savagery of Death Watch from previous conflicts.
"We won't let it to come to that," Kal declared, thoughtfully scratching his chin. "Between all of us, we have some contacts we can call upon, and if we manage to find Death Watch's hideouts, we can count on support from our boys. I would like to see those Death Watch brutes try their luck against our Commando boys."
The tender pronunciation of that last phrase brought a faint smile to Bardan's lips. For all his rugged, hardened exterior, Kal Skirata loved the clones as though they were his own flesh and blood. While the Clone Commandos were officially soldiers serving the Republic, Bardan knew that during their brief periods of leave, they spent their time on Mandalore; several squads of Commandos could be relied upon to assist them in this venture.
"Mij, can I count on you to establish an intelligence network?" Kal asked, turning to the doctor. "We need to begin conducting active reconnaissance across Mandalore and the broader sector. It is high time we sniffed out these aruetiionce and for all."
"We still have our official duties to the Grand Army, but we can certainly begin laying the groundwork," replied the Mandalorian doctor. A man of remarkably varied talents, it was Mij Gilamar who had originally taught covert operations to the Clone Commandos, so Bardan placed his full trust in his abilities.
Bardan knew that he and Etain would assist in every way possible, and perhaps in doing so, they might even find a way to help Arla Fett. The poor woman had to be kept sedated for her own safety most of the time, as her psychological instability frequently led to self-harm. Perhaps if they could discover a way to heal her fractured mind, she might be able to supply them with valuable intelligence; after all, she had once been part of Death Watch herself, however unwillingly.
Regardless of what lay ahead, Bardan knew he could rely on his new family to thwart the schemes of these Death Watch fanatics. Together, they would defend Mandalore and safeguard her people.
20 BBY | Dathomir
Twenty-Two Months After the Battle of Geonosis
Savage Opress
The bloody red mist hung low around them. Savage Opresswatched anxiously as his brother writhed in pain upon the stone altar, his agonizing screams echoing through the darkness-laden surroundings.
Mother Talzin, the Dathomiri Witch, invoked her magicks, directing the ritual of her own making. As she stood at the head of the altar, his brother underwent a transformation; his malnourished body swelled with unnatural power, and his sunken, faded skin slowly regained its former rich, dark crimson hue. The once-emaciated wreck of a Nightbrother was becoming a vessel of strength once more.
His artificial legs—a grotesque, spider-like construction resembling an ancient Harch, previously held together by sheer will and the Force—severed and fell away, the scrap metal disappearing into the low mist hugging the earthen floor. With sweeping movements of her hands and rhythmic incantations in the ancient, mystic language of Dathomir, Mother Talzin willed the surrounding scrap metal to reform. New legs took shape around the wounded Nightbrother, the metal pieces fusing together in a painful metamorphosis as a magma-like slag melted them into shape before the excess was reduced to dust by the Witch's magick.
As more screams tore through the heavy air of Dathomir, Savage watched in equal parts concern and fascination as Mother Talzin drew the ritual to its conclusion. His brother now lay upon the stone slab almost peacefully, his broad chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breaths.
Reaching out once more with a thin, pale hand, the chief Witch of Dathomir lowered a single finger onto the warrior's crimson forehead, intoning the final words of the incantation. Her voice deep and eerie, backed up with an otherworldly echo.
"Arise, Maul. Reborn son of Dathomir."
Two bloodshot eyes, burning with a furious, sulphuric yellow, snapped open.