Moon Knight

He studied her for a moment. Ronin had fancied himself a pirate king and had been one of his enemies during his time with Black Sun. While he’d never dueled the man himself, he was well known as a scoundrel and they had found themselves on opposite sides of several conflicts due in part to Piccolo’s hatred for him. Hatred which for once seemed well-deserved. “We have a saying that begins gar taldin ni jaonyc -- it doesn’t matter who your father is. You stayed here and fought and that means more than whose blood is in your veins,” he said. A saying he identified heavily with, given what they had discovered about his own buir. Kandor then turned his attention to Mellanie. If Kalyani was Ronin’s daughter, her mother was most likely Zara Nargal, hence Ronin’s long association with the Link. Mellanie wasn’t a Wartide but was Zara’s daughter as well if they were really sisters. Fett had once been hired to investigate the scandal between Nargal and Sabian Devanus, then a jetii long before becoming the first Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance, a fact which informed his other theory. “I suppose you were a Devanus before you were a Vevut,” he observed. Mellanie grinned wryly. “Yes, Sabian is my father. I assume this means you know him, too?” It was mostly a rhetorical question; Fett’s statement implied it was so. Fett actually had fought Sabian Devanus during one such scuffle between the Black Sun and the Link. It was a strange thing that these two had wandered onto Manda’yaim at such a time. “Next time you speak to your buir, tell him I apologize about the scar and that if he needs something from the Protectors he can have a discount.” Mellanie raised her eyebrows. “Will do,” she replied, amused. She glanced at Mirdala and made a quick assumption. “So, how long have you two been married?” Mirdala looked toward her husband, working over the timeline in her head, “Six...maybe seven weeks?” The petite woman shook her head. “It was shortly before we landed the intel that signaled full-scale war on the sector. Speak of that, were you two planning on staying on to help out? You’ve fought with us, even when leaving would have been the easier road,” she cast a meaningful look Mellanie’s way. “That’s mandokarla by anyone’s definition.” Mellanie glanced at Araac. “I am,” she replied. “I'm committed. Got me a Mandalorian husband and a new family here; now there is nothing I'd rather do than protect it. And hey, if I can earn some credits while doing so, so much the better.” “We are both interested in joining the Protectors, Mand’alor,” Araac clarified. Mellanie looked at her sister. “What are you thinking, Kaly?”

By now it was late afternoon, and ShadowFett had spent most of the day tending to the organization of the new Mandalorian Protectors. There was already a job posting being offered, as a matter of fact, by an organization called Red Dawn. Fett could remember the Black Sun calling themselves that in the past and suspected they were doing so again, but he could attest that they would pay well and those credits could help rebuild the Sector. MandalMotors had new designs that they wanted his opinion on; some of the clan command structure had needed reorganizing and new staff had needed to be brought into Ops for those that made the decision not to continue in the Protectors; word needed to start getting out about the fact that they were ready to start taking additional contracts. But he had limited tolerance for administrative work, even back when he was CoreSec commissioner, and eventually he had retreated back to the hotel room and Mirdala for a little bit of solitude and light reading. She had spent most of the day in the room, not even wanting to come with him to what amounted to an R&D session with a bunch of fellow engineers despite her aptitude; she had once completely designed and prototyped a series of defense droids for CoreSec HQ, after all. “Are you up for heading downstairs for some skraan?” he asked her. “I don’t want another lecture from Nek, do I?” she remarked wryly as she put down the datapad she’d been reading. “Sorry,” she offered, apparently catching herself in her ennui. “A change of scenery would be nice.” She crossed the room and gave him a hug. “I’m glad you’re back. We’ve been working through some calculations for enhancing our suit systems since we’ve got to do some major repair on yours.” “That reminds me,” he said, returning the embrace and then steering them toward the door. “After all this, I think it’s high time we had another look at your kit, see if we can get you an additional edge.” “I guess we’ll have to since I get the feeling that regular police-work isn’t exactly going to be in our future. If it wasn’t for your kit, I think that fight might have been over before it began.” She grew silent as the memory of the first few moments of their encounter with Ab’ki and Fieyr ran through her mind. Vi’ika nudged her with her snout and gave a soft whine, which brought her back to present circumstances. “How did your meetings go? I’m sorry I didn’t feel up to going this morning,” Mirdala asked as they reached the bustle and low din of the tap caf. All around them life was slowly returning to normal - old friends met, deals made, jobs found. The current noise level of the Oyu’baat was far more lively when compared to the days during the week-long war. Life went on, and Mirdala was still figuring out what that would mean for her. “They’re mostly formalities,” he answered. “The Protectors can run themselves. But I think it helps to have one person make a few decisions and set some direction, and that falls to me.” He scanned the dining area. “Say, aren’t those the two Vevut dalase you met during the fighting? Want to say hello?”

That evening Fett and Mirdala returned to their room thoroughly worn out. Following the conclusion of TeVerd's remembrance, they'd returned with the aliit to the Oyu'baat, where they had eaten together. Many of them Kandor had already worked with -- Rhys, Vy'ika, and Viscount closely over the last few months getting where they were now. Nek had always been there to patch them up afterwards. Briia he'd worked with when doing jobs for Taen on Concord Dawn, and there he'd also briefly met her new riduur and Rhys' son Aliise, who was another Omicron but younger than the others, as well as Pren and Pren's wife. Rhys' other ade -- Ravika and Thire -- he was meeting for the first time. They were all adults around Kandor's age or a bit older, and judging from their appearance they were Rhys' biological children with a riduur now long departed, mostly human with just a touch of Ageless that made them all tall with sturdy frames. Ravika also had a husband, but any children they had weren't present. Thankfully even without his buy'ce, 2277 had access to his implant and could help him keep track of the additional new names. He had known that Rhys had a family and was glad to explore a little bit more of his new extended aliit -- the other side of things that weren't the Ad'Norts, who were recovering now back on Concord Dawn. As usual, of course, it took a lot out of him and he was all too happy to head back upstairs and crash with his wife. There were still a challenging few days ahead, but the meal had been a good reminder of their support structure, and Fett was hopeful for the time coming when they were again strong and able to together look ahead.

((Co-written.)) After a moment of consideration he spoke. “Mhi solus tome,” he said. “If you think it’s appropriate, I will wear them.” Mirdala let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She would have understood if he’d declined, but the fact he was open to wearing the markings brought a measure of peace to her heart that she sorely needed more than she’d realized. Returning to her bag to retrieve the paint, she gestured for him to take a seat on the edge of the bed so she could actually reach his face to apply the colored paint. In the center of his forehead, she started with a black, upside down triangle, then extended the downward lines slightly beyond where they met at the point before adding two straight lines down from the other two points. “The black is for victory, your aggression, and strength. It echoes your primary armor color choice of justice,” she explained while she worked. “The symbol is for brotherhood, but when worn in context with mine also means ‘husband’.” Instead of red, his lines were blue for the confidence he had in her and the shared wisdom they’d gained from each other and their time with TeVerd. The same two sets of five black circles were added beneath his blue line, matching hers. She explained all of this to him, and stepped back awash in gratitude for his willingness and the fact he still stood beside her. “Vor entye. This means more to me than you know.”

Mando'ade did not typically burn their dead but instead buried them, often in unmarked graves. But from what Kandor knew of the Omicrons, they were extremely protective of the Ageless genome and considered what the Old Republic had done to create them during the Clone Wars something that could under no circumstances be repeated by any organization or government. He didn't quite understand it, given that to his knowledge TeVerd had willingly donated genetic material for the cause and then trained them as one of Jango Fett's cuy'val dar, but there was no way they were going to back down on this. Not even for Mirdala. He sat down on the bed next to his wife and swept an lock of raven hair, displaced by her buy'ce, behind her ear. Maybe they did need to get away from this for a while. While the Sector would always be yaim to her on some level, just now it was all graveyards and hospitals. He decided to pitch the idea to her soon. They'd barely had a moment of quiet since they'd gotten married. Kandor crawled to the top of the bed and lay down, gesturing for her to join him. "Come on, we can afford a few hours of rest before the memorial," he said. "It'll do us both some good."

A lot had been happening in the greater galaxy. Vladimir Faust had turned up again. Kandor didn't know how his old enemy had survived his encounter with the jetiise Starlisk and Trevelian on Triple Zero, nor how the galaxy continued to persist given that. He'd witnessed first hand over Kuat just how powerful the mass murderer had become, and his power had only grown up until his defeat at the Memorial. Something had to be different this time around. One thing was clear, however -- Faust's presence was a threat to them all and could not be disregarded. He was reading about a dar'jetii fleet over Kashyyyk when his riduur entered the room. He removed his buy'ce and got up to greet her, immediately noticing how tired she looked. She walked in on unsteady legs, her normally-olive skin was pallid, and there were dark circles under weary eyes, their brilliant jade color dulled. As she began to shed her plates, she set a stack of multi-colored beskar chest diamonds on the dresser with a metallic clatter. Once again he wondered at just how hard she was willing to push herself, all while he'd been dozing off in a bacta tank. Kandor approached Mirdala and held out his left arm, rotating his palm face up to demonstrate the limb's restored flexibility. "Never been better," he said, but he gave her a concerned look. "You, however, look like you've been through haran." He drew close to her and took her hand for a moment, studying her. She was cold to the touch. He eyed the chest diamonds. "You passed your test, though," he intuited, looking back at her. "Their legacy is safe with you."

Soon Kandor had dressed and Soresh approached him, telling him that Mirdala had accompanied Rhys into the woods for "some kind of Seeker thing" and he didn't know when they'd get back. Mirdala had at times seemed apprehensive when it came to Seeker rituals and training, as the related trials involved both self-reflection and judgment at the hands of the ghosts, but Kandor himself knew his wife was more than capable of proving herself. So Mand'alor headed back to the Oyu'baat himself. He checked in at the command center and there was someone from MandalMotors that wanted to speak with him. They were pitching the idea of making a few different versions of the Keldabe-class battleship design using Ab'ki's credits for both R&D and the actual construction of the first warships. Fett approved of the idea. While the ships of aruetiise currently made up the defense fleet, having Mandalorian capital ships to enhance and supplement it going forward would allow them to not only incorporate their cultural sensibilities into their fleet, but speed up production by building things that MandalMotors was already optimized to build rather than trying to emulate the designs of another shipyard. Overall there was not much that needed his attention. Mando'ade were reporting in to join the Protectors, but he had no administration tasks nor would the organization require much from him. The clan structure would be its infrastructure, and if jobs came in they would take them. Ops was starting to send a few people out into the galaxy to start spreading word of the Protectors' existence to governments and organizations that might have need of their services. The jobs could start coming soon. But Kandor had little appetite for mercenary work anymore, he reflected as he returned to their room for a sanisteam. He had to admit it had been difficult in the past few weeks to see past the end of the Shadow War. Any future plans of which he and Mirdala had spoken had up to this point been speculative, mired by the uncertainty of their survival through the conclusion of a conflict which had claimed the lives of so many. That they both yet lived meant they could together begin taking steps into the next chapter of their shared life in earnest. As the rest of the bacta exited through the drain in the sanisteam floor, Kandor once again dressed in civilian clothing but moved toward his buy'ce. He needed to catch up on what was happening across the galaxy. He made it a point to stay informed, but the fighting had kept him away from it for the past few days. "Before you do that, Master, there's something you absolutely must see." The voice came from Flirt, who was hovering over the dresser nearby. "Mistress Ad'Goran came by yesterday to retrieve her armor. She found a gift from a friend which is now under the dresser." He gave the tiny beskar'ad a suspicious look. "And just how did it end up under there?" he asked. "I believe it will speak for itself," she answered with a slight giggle. She wasn't lying. Kandor found the white box under the dresser and, with some amusement, could readily imagine his riduur's irritation at the utterly inappropriate wedding gift inside. The card was unopened, but he knew it must be from that Twi'lek contact of Viscount's that had set them up with fake identities for their mission to Hapes. Even Vy'ika, who was a pro at ruffling Mirdala's feathers, wouldn't go this far. The card was a flamboyant thing of pink and black, and inside was a small data card and a note scrawled in perfect handwriting: I'm sure two gorgeous people like you will be able to think of plenty of things to do with some time alone. - Deren Kandor plugged the data card into the room's terminal and found a paid-for, two-week retreat to a luxury resort on Borleias. The sort of place neither he nor Mirdala would ever consider taking themselves. He contemplated the information for a moment, then shrugged and pocketed the data card, then slipped on his buy'ce and asked 2277 to get him up to speed.

Beneath him Kandor heard the hum as a motor sprung to life and started to drain the bacta from the tank around him. He knew he'd dozed off a few times in the warm healing liquid despite the mild discomfort of the harness and rebreather mask. The pain in his elbow was gone and he found that it was once again flexible, which was a relief. As willing as he had been to tough it out for a while longer, losing the use of a hand even for a short time was a major inconvenience. He didn't like relying on others for the simple tasks he'd tried unsuccessfully to do one handed. As the bacta finished draining, he removed his mask and unsealed the tank's access handle once the light turned green indicating that it was unlocked. He stepped out and grabbed a towel off the table to start drying off. He'd ultimately need a sanisteam to stop smelling like bacta, but it wasn't urgent. It was at that point that he started to notice something was odd. There were a Mandalorian doctors and a couple beskar'ade in the area, but none of them were doing anything. They simply had turned to silently look at him. Unwavering, unblinking, having stopped whatever it was they'd been doing before. Kandor approached the nearest one. "Everything alright, doc?" he asked. But there was no response. He looked around and soon spotted Mirdala making her way towards him from across the room. She looked tired; more worn-out than he could remember seeing her. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her brow knit in concern or distress. "Mird'ika? Me'bana?" he asked. She didn't respond, but made her way all the way up to him. She took his hand and placed something within it, closing his fist tight around it. No one else had yet made a sound. "Please," she said quietly. "Don't let go." He looked down and opened his hand. A single braid of black hair lay there, but there was a sudden draft in the room and it fell to the floor. ------------------------- Kandor Fett awoke to the sound of a small motor powering a spinning blade that drained the bacta from the tank. He frowned beneath his breath mask. Had he been dreaming, or had it been a Moon Knight vision? Allis Hett had not appeared, but she didn't always. Beyond the transparisteel tank walls, doctors and beskar'ade bustled about with their various tasks and errands. Kandor opened the swinging door, finding his elbow was just a touch stiff but in good shape. He was handed a towel and looked around, noticing Soresh out of his beskar'gam, placing a call on his commlink. Mirdala wasn't in sight but he knew she would return soon from wherever she'd ended up. As he dried off and dressed he puzzled for a moment at the meaning of the black braid from the dream, but to little effect. If it had just been a random dream originating from his own subconscious, it could have no meaning at all, and Moon Knight visions that were predictive didn't often make sense until the moment of their realization was upon him.

Relief efforts and rebuilding from the aftermath of Ab'ki's attack began on Concord Dawn. MandalMotors started construction of a Golan III platform in orbit.

He was mildly annoyed at his wife's persistence in trying to get him out of Ops and into treatment, but Kandor knew she was right. He'd leaned heavily on the minds gathered here throughout the defense of the Sector and he knew they didn't need his direct oversight to begin its reconstruction and defense. Besides, he had to admit he felt like osik. His elbow was his largest injury and the one most demanding of attention, but it was far from the only one he'd sustained in the last few days, and even now they were oozing under his bandages. Kandor nodded to Mirdala. "Alright, you win," he conceded. "We'll find you if we need you," one of the command center staff assured him. ---------------------------- MandalMotors got to work immediately. Construction began on a Golan III platform directly over Keldabe as well as the one capital ship design they had fully developed -- a Keldabe-class cruiser, an impressive and purely Mandalorian ship. Meanwhile R&D got to work designing new elements that could assist the defense fleet, and MandalMotors started recruiting heavily to help meet the Sector's new demand, putting Ab'ki's credits to use. ---------------------------- It didn't take long for Kandor and Mirdala to get down to the hospital, and he was soon getting prepped for surgery and some time in a bacta tank. It would take a few treatments over a couple days before he was totally recovered, but it was time that they actually had, which was a welcome change from the frantic pace of their lives the past few weeks.

Kandor raised his eyebrows at the number on the datapad. It was a Golden Link Casino heist amount of credits, larger than the gross domestic product of some small planets and probably the whole Mandalore Sector. It was horrifying to think what Ab'ki and his dar'buir had done to extract these credits from their previous owners, but somehow she'd funded not only her fleet but the huge army of mercenaries that the Mando'ade had just repelled. Credits like these could do a lot to rebuild the Sector, and though they could never replace those that had died in its defense, the net effect of the attack and aftermath could result in it being stronger than it had been in many decades. "Consider the Sector's immediate needs met," he said. "Kandosii, Viscount." He looked around the Ops center and saw that all eyes were on him. "Get me a channel to the clans. We've all worked hard getting the defense of the Sector organized. Let's put that infrastructure to good use," he said. "Aye, Mand'alor," someone answered. "Channel is ready." Fett took a deep breath, standing up straight as he searched for words that would best convey what needed to be said. "Mando'ade, this is Mand'alor. As you have no doubt become aware, the dar'jetii Ab'ki is dead and her army has been defeated due to our combined efforts," he began. "The victory exacted a high price upon the Sector, but now more than ever we must present a united front. We have secured Ab'ki's fleet and her funding, and we will use them to aid in rebuilding. I am reforming the Mandalorian Protectors to aid in these efforts. It will be a mercenary group with the ultimate responsibility of aiding the clans through organizing their defense and accepting jobs from the arue'tiise to fund further growth. If you would like to join, please speak to your clan leaders in the coming days. "For now, take some time to remember those who gave their lives in defense of our people and our home. We will then honor them by making ourselves strong. Mand'alor out." The channel was closed and someone hurried up to him. "Mand'alor, the full tallies from the fleet are in," she said, handing him a datapad. Fett looked over the list. Two dreadnaughts, almost half a dozen frigates, and several Corellian gunships. Most of them were in some need of repair, but critical systems were functional. "I'm going to need someone from MandalMotors up here as soon as possible," he said. A significant percentage of Ab'ki's funds would go to them. There was a lot to do.

Kandor personally thought that no one had sufficient political motive pick a fight with the Mando'ade even battered as they were. But the galaxy outside the Sector was changing as the aruetiise again looked to make war on one another, and in the past those conflicts had at times made their way into the Sector by someone hoping to gain access to beskar or mercenaries through the occupation of Manda'yaim or the blackmail of the clans. They had the opportunity now to close off such a threat with almost perfect certainty. "Ab'ki's fleet is much larger than we'd anticipated, and most of those ships have been captured. They're the makings of a sector defense fleet that could turn away even the Remnant or Galactic Alliance," he said. "I'm going to reestablish the Mandalorian Protectors like Spar's but bigger." Viscount wasn't the only one in Ops listening to what he was saying, and Fett noticed he had the interest of some of the commanders and verde that had helped oversee the battle for Keldabe. "We'll refit Ab'ki's ships and learn to operate them. With the aruetiise starting to fight among themselves again, the Protectors should be able to hire out forces and we can funnel a portion of the earnings into rebuilding our cities and building new ships." He leaned against the large holotable in the middle of the command center. "Getting started will be rough," he admitted. "Until we get contracts, we won't have the credits to invest in the fleet. I'm open to any suggestions on that, but otherwise the process of getting the fleet working will have to be gradual."

Kandor eyed his wife for a moment as if trying to decide whether he could get away with putting off treatment further. Honestly, he was in a fair bit of pain, but what happened in these next few hours was important and he could deal with the discomfort. Finally he relented. "Take a look at it if you must," he said, shrugging it out of his sling and sitting down on a nearby cot. "I can tell you the problem though. I have a fracture on my radius just below the proximal radioulnar joint and I tore out my lateral collateral ligament. Pretty sure there's a piece of my radius floating around in there." Nek gave him a look as he pointed a hand scanner at his elbow to confirm the self-diagnosis. "You know your anatomy pretty well. I didn't know you had medical training." Kandor shrugged with his right shoulder only. "It's complicated. Ask me to explain it some other time." As an empath with exposure to both Seekers and Force users, Nek would probably be able to handle an explanation of the Moon Knight powers better than someone with no experience concerning ghosts and paranormal abilities, but there were better places to get into it than here. In this particular case, his formal medical knowledge was a few decades behind, but human anatomy didn't really change, only treatments. And even those took a long time to reach widespread adoption unless they were in response to some new epidemic. "Then you realize what has to happen," Nek said. "Someone will have to open up my elbow and reattach the end of the radius before I can let bacta do the rest," Kandor answered. "But I have two or three days before it will start to heal on its own, so I can still put off surgery. Until then the sling will keep me from injuring it further." He sent Mirdala a significant glance. "Now, Viscount's waiting for us in Ops. Let's get some skraan in you so the good doctor will let us go."

While Mirdala was unconscious Fett finally got a chance to catch up on the battle reports. Conflicts across the Sector had resolved in the past several hours after Ab'ki's demise. The biggest fights had happened on Concord Dawn, Ordo, and in Keldabe. Dawn in particular had taken a beating, and Fett made his next call to Taen, who'd organized and led its defense. Taen's report was concise. What was left of the Mandalorian army had been retasked into fighting fires that had been set on farmlands for miles around the capital. A significant portion of the city's buildings had been reduced to rubble by a relentless artillery barrage and bombing. The Ad'Norts themselves had fought hard and taken a beating. Taen's teen-aged daughter, Trita, had sustained a severe spinal injury that had a high chance of leaving her paralyzed. Vannae had lost two limbs to a grenade but had been stabilized and was receiving emergency bacta treatment. Several of the others had sustained various other injuries, but Laesha, an experienced medic, was helping patch them up. Taen delivered the news tersely. The battle had been costly, but they were alive. The news was still coming in from the other battle sites. Ships captured from Ab'ki's fleet were tallying up. Viscount had arrived on-world and made his way to the command center, asking to meet with Fett when he could make his way back there, but for the moment Kandor's implant was telling him that his wife was coming around, so he returned to her and gripped her hand with his usable one. "Don't worry about me," he told her obstinately. "Mird'ika, I spoke to Taen. Some of the aliit is in bad shape but they'll pull through." He looked her over. "What about you?"

Here at the end of so much fighting, Tresha was either numb or she, like Fett, honored TeVerd's sacrifice in such a way that she found peace in his death, though of course he would be missed and it was their duty to remember him. In time Kandor hoped Mirdala would find the same peace, and however long that took he would do his best to support her. Sometimes healing was a long, slow process, but he was a patient man, and one that knew how tough his wife was. When Tresha spoke again it was with concern for the Sector. "I know," ShadowFett answered. "With Ab'ki, Fieyr, and the Kyr'tsad dead, our people may now be safe. But I'm not going to leave it up to chance." He had at times said that he bore the title of Mand'alor only to keep it safe from such men as Joreel Ordo and Vihk Ahzinger, who through their warmongering had put the clans and the culture at great risk and perhaps even paved the way for Ab'ki's invasion without knowing it. But with the title came a responsibility to act as the clans needed in such times as these, and he would do so, lest through his inaction he did even more damage than his predecessors. He wondered what agents of Ab'ki might have survived, and what they were capable of doing. Had she an apprentice? What of Caelix Trammel, whose handiwork they suspected had been involved in the caves of Shogun? As far as he knew, the death of one demagolka created the next, just as Mirdala's killing of Darth Hask had begun Ab'ki's obsession with murdering her and anyone else she could get her hands on. Kandor would have to make sure due diligence was done on tracking down any leads they might have on that and snap up any bits of Ab'ki's shattering powerbase they might be able to identify through her fleet and captured agents. All of this needed to happen soon. He double-checked Mirdala's vitals. He wouldn't leave her, but even from here he could get in touch with her vode.

Kandor had turned back to tending his wife, taking the opportunity while she was unconscious to squeeze a few drops of bacta into her ears to repair the damage they'd sustained during the speeder crash. She would probably protest that she was being treated before more critical wounds, as meager as the required volume of bacta was, but she didn't get a say this time. When Tresha spoke again, he returned to her and looked down at her in silence for a few moments, his uncovered face as stoic as his buy'ce as he considered his words to follow. "Some time after your battle with the demagolka, while Mirdala and I were engaged against Ab'ki and Fieyr, TeVerd's medical center came under attack by Kyr'tsad," he explained softly. "In armed defense of the injured, he fell." He put his hand back on her shoulder. "N'eparavu takisit. I know it's not news you ever wanted to receive a second time, but he died in the line of duty." To Tresha and her aliit, TeVerd was only recently back from the dead after he had allegedly perished alongside Tresha's buir Hwulf on Abraxos a little over a year ago. It hadn't been until Chandrila just three weeks past that Tresha had been let into the secret that her ba'vodu had in fact survived, so tightly had Mirdala and the Omicrons guarded the secret in the name of operational security. Kandor knew that Tresha had been very close with her buir and because of his death she and TeVerd had a sense of mutual responsibility to watch out for the other. But war was not sensitive to such things. Verde were called to give their lives in battle and did so willingly. It had taken TeVerd hundreds of years to find the fight that would be his last, and he had gone out on his terms in defense of his people after passing his legacy on to many successors, one of which in some capacity was Tresha. Fett hoped he would be so lucky.

With only one good arm, Kandor struggled to catch his wife when she suddenly collapsed, and two of the medics that were thankfully on hand quickly lifted her onto one of the few remaining empty cots. Her implant was dutifully feeding her vitals to his own, which quickly dispelled the majority of his worry. "I'll take care of her," he said, waving off the medics to deal with more critical patients. He quickly but calmly worked to get her situated and inserted a nutrient IV, his fingers brushing passed the L-shaped scar on her arm as he located a vein. "Atin'la dala," he said under his breath. She was exhausted despite the nuhoy they'd finally gotten, emotionally drained, and she hadn't eaten the skraan he'd had brought up to their room in the Oyu'baat, so it had probably been close to 24 hours that she'd been going on her last meager sustenance. She wasn't in real danger, she just needed nutrients and a little bit of time. Kandor soon turned back to Tresha. "She'll be fine. Just pushed herself a bit too hard," he explained. "Not your fault."

Kandor allowed a quiet sigh of relief, finding a place on Tresha's shoulder that wasn't burned to gently place the hand he could still use. "You won your battle," he said. Only Tresha could confirm that the demagolka was dead, but her survival and the sweep by the reinforcements they'd brought from Shogun certainly made it likely. In this case, though, Kandor found that the fact that Tresha was alive was enough of a victory. "And the Sector has won its own. Your cousin and I killed Ab'ki and Fieyr and Keldabe is safe." He wasn't sure if he should mention TeVerd. He knew that Tresha would take it hard like Mirdala was. TeVerd had been close to the Ad'Norts through his Seeker battle-brother Hwulf, and Tresha had already blamed herself for his injury on the ridge. She would need to hear it sooner or later, if she didn't already know. There was also the question of Concord Dawn. He'd received preliminary reports that it had been hit pretty hard, but he hadn't heard specifically from Taen and the rest of Tresha's aliit yet. No news was not necessarily good news. But for now he didn't add anything else, defaulting to Mirdala's closer connection with Tresha to know best what to say.

Kandor gave her another one-armed embrace. "I know. With all we have seen of Seeker ghosts and Moon Knights, we can say with certainty that he is not truly gone, and that he is watching over you from the manda." Just then his implant received a comm. He was glad to know the hardy device had made it through the ordeal, and it seemed to be fully functioning after the Sith lightning attack and a reboot. He pulled partially away from Mirdala and focused out the window. "Understood, we're on our way," he said after a moment, then turned back to her. "Mird'ika, that was Soresh. They found Tresha. She's hurt but alive." ------------ A few minutes later they were headed down the street to the med center where Soresh had told them Mirdala's cousin was being kept. The Mando'ade around them were in a great variety of spirits. Some were celebrating the victory with a buy'ce gal. Others sat quietly together, experiencing loss and aay'han. The city itself bore the scars of the artillery assault. Most of the AA towers were in shambles, and rubble littered the narrow Keldabe streets. Small groups of individuals were working to clear some of the debris, but it would be a long process. The med center itself was above capacity with wounded. Bloodstained beskar was piled under medical cots, stretchers, and hovercarts. Medics rushed about trying to triage and so direct their efforts. Tresha was a sight. Battered and showing a pattern of burns, her left hand had been replaced by a bandaged stump. Kandor winced at the memory of losing his own hands long ago, but could vouch for modern prosthetic technology. He looked at his wife. "Can you reach her empathically?" he asked.

For once Kandor slept through Mirdala getting up, but nonetheless the sound of the sanisteam caused him to stir. His whole body ached and his kovid was full of cobwebs, but it was a marked improvement from the past day. He slowly moved to the edge of the bed, his arm practically useless. Flakes of dried mud from Shogun and Manda'yaim both rubbed off his skin and onto the sheets as he rose. The water of the spring in the Seeker cavern had left as much grime as it might have washed away, and he'd added layers of sweat since then. A few minutes later Mirdala emerged from the refresher and Kandor had managed to grab a set of civilian clothes. His beskar'gam would at the very least need hosing down and quite possibly repairs before he'd suit up again, barring something dramatic. He rose to greet his wife. "Morning," he said. He met her eyes, trying to get an initial read on her. Her jade seemed a bit guarded. "What do you say I get cleaned up and we go downstairs for some skraan?" He knew he had to get her to at least do that, so rather than wait for an answer he immediately entered the 'fresher and started his sanisteam. Everything was more difficult to do one-handed, but the amount of reddish-brown dust that was being rinsed down the drain at least meant he was doing some good. Not long after he'd managed to get dressed convincingly and headed back out into the room, awkwardly trying to get his arm back in his impromptu sling with mixed results. "How are you holding up? Any physical injuries need attention?"

Though Mirdala immediately collapsed, Fett was slower to remove his beskar'gam, having to deal with his sling and only having one particularly useable hand. Still, the veteran warrior steadily shed his plates and equipment, surveying the damage to both his gear and his body. He'd have to replace his targeting rangefinder and the hose that delivered repulsor pack fuel to his flamethrower. His flight suit was torn in multiple places as well. It could be patched but he owned five identical ones so it wouldn't be badly missed. Using his teeth to open the packages, he slapped bacta patches on his worst injuries and injected himself with another round of pain killers. He would need full bacta submersion to fix the elbow and he'd be able to get it sooner or later, but with the fighting done for the time being it wasn't critical. He was still in desperate need of a sanisteam, but his exhaustion was now catching up to him in full force. He slowly crossed to the bed and lay down next to Mirdala, his eyes on her sleeping form. They'd made it this far, somehow. His life since she'd found her way back into it had been at times the best it had ever been, but so too had it been marked with grief and loss. They'd lost family and formed dreams only to have them shattered. He hoped that one day they would look back together on the first 6 weeks of their marriage from afar as a tumultuous start to something strong and enduring, but that made it no less difficult to be in the moment, to try and help his wife find some peace in this latest tragedy. Something he was still just learning to do. Kandor rolled onto his side. He'd take it a day at a time. As he drifted off into the long-awaited embrace of sleep, he mentally recited something that he'd never before seen fit to use. Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Kirlocca. TeVerd.

Kandor stepped up close behind her and put a hand on the curtain. He looked at her for a moment, no more certain of what they would find than she was, then drew it back. There were no two ways about this; she’d have to face it at some point. Beyond lay the venerable Seeker, Vi’ika laying at his feet, his clothes stained in his own purplish blood as well as crimson. He bore numerous injuries, including a lethal chest puncture. Some of the wounds had torn apart the bandages that had briefly covered the last set. He hadn’t been wearing his beskar when he’d died judging from the patterns and the blaster burn along his side. Suddenly, it was as though all of the tension left his wife’s body, but she somehow managed to remain on her feet. Wordlessly, she turned away from the makeshift morgue and walked out of the aid center, no longer able to deny the truth of her father’s death. Fett lingered a moment, nodded appreciatively toward Vi’ika, and pursued his riduur, grabbing a stack of bacta patches from a nearby table as he departed. They were done here for the time being. A little bit of rest would certainly do him a lot of good, and it might just start Mirdala down the path as well. He caught up with her and gently steered her back towards the Oyu’baat.

Kandor Fett stood, helmet off, in the middle of the command center, surrounded by the general hubbub of strategists and alor'ade as they expertly managed the influx of soldiers, hunched over a table-sized holomap of Keldabe and the surrounding airspace, his one good hand flat on the table as if to provide him with some stability. Utterly exhausted from days of fighting with scarce breaks between them and injured in several places, he focused through the continuous pain as he watched the battle unfold. Mirdala had left; not only that, but she'd shut off her comm as well as her locator, so it was clear that she did not want him to follow. She was locking him out again, as she often did when angry or grieving. And he was now belatedly receiving word from 2277 that Kirlocca, too, was dead. One of the very few beings he had considered a friend. He eyed the heads of Ab'ki and Fieyr, a gruesome display but a definitive one. It had cost dearly, but the Shadow War was over. The reports were coming in from elsewhere in the Sector, where similar things were happening as were happening on Manda'yaim. The dar'jetii's death had signaled the end of a period of watching and waiting for her armies to materialize and ushered in a flurry of activity as they converged to expel those that had. The ships that she had brought, an impressive array of corvettes and frigates as well as the one Dreadnaught, were being seized. The Mando'ade would somehow come out of this with possession of a fleet that could stand up to the GA or Remnant. Moon Knight shifted and could feel his kute rub against the bandages he and Vy'ika had administered on the flight over. He knew what he would have to do. The fleet would need a banner or there was no telling where it would end up. His people, these soldiers, would be as frustrated as he that aruetiise had taken the fight to their homes and done such damage, exacted such a price in blood. With the right move, Fett could help solve these issues and put the Mandalore Sector back on the map even as the threat of galactic war loomed. It was time for that. There was a hell of a lot of work to be done. "Mand'alor," someone was saying to him. He turned his head. One of the tacticians was giving him a concerned look. "You look like you can barely stand," she said. "We can handle things here. The battle is won. No one will hold it against you if you disappear and get some bacta and rest." Fett studied her silently. Somehow he'd been standing over the map for fifteen minutes already. "Soon," he said. Mirdala's locator beacon had popped on again. She'd made her way back to the first aid center where they'd been holed up whenever that had been. Could it really have been the last time they'd slept? He pulled his buy'ce back on and headed out the door in her direction. The streets were lined with bodies. For just a bit longer, they would have to rest for him.

A sound like the rumble of thunder preceded the arrival of the Justice from hyperspace. At first, the ship appeared to be alone, and across the empty expanse of vacuum between it and Mandalore it hurtled intrepidly, apparently unconcerned with the hostile Dreadnaught heavy cruiser and support craft that had by now achieved space supremacy over the Mandalorian capital. But this was due not to any recklessness, for moments later Mand'alor's vessel was joined by what seemed at first tiny flickers of motion blur which then revealed themselves to be ships of nearly every variety. They continued to file in from hyperspace, multiplying from a dozen to hundreds to thousands. These were the faithful defenders of Shogun, Ab'ki's death signaling the end of their vigil there. Together they fell upon the dar'jetii's fleet, not annihilating the vessels but neutralizing their shields and then boarding through numerous docking tethers, hatches, and hangar bays, beskar-clad soldiers pouring out of personal ships and landing craft to take the fight to the aruetiise on foot. Those that did not dock descended rapidly toward embattled Keldabe. The spaceport was held by Kyr'tsad but ships found anywhere and everywhere to land, from rooftops and market squares to the fields beyond the Mandalorian capital. Still other ships turned upon the army that lingered still in the jungle, some bombarding their position while others landed troops to move upon their camp on foot. These were fresh troops, unwearied by days of fighting, greater in number than the invaders and deployed rapidly with careful coordination from Ops and Mand'alor their leader. Fett himself, his arm in an improvised sling and his kit mired in the blood and grime of battles fought, accompanied by his riduur Mirdala and her vode Rhys and Verdeyuii, descended on the planet and entered the command center situated within the ancient tapcafe Oyu'baat. "Ab'ki is dead," he announced. "Let us evict what forces of hers remain within our Sector."

ShadowFett had agreed to stay aboard the Justice, but he wouldn't be sitting the situation out entirely. Somehow he didn't think walking into the situation with his arm in a sling and his bloodstream full of pain killers would help them negotiate the safe return of the hostages, and he would have limited capabilities if a firefight occurred. Still, as Mirdala and Rhys walked out across the field, he maintained line of sight to them and the waiting group of ver'verde from one of the Justice's swiveling turret wells while further monitoring the scenario via comms and scanners, hoping that this wouldn't into a situation like had just happened on Manda'yaim. The unfortunate truth was that sometimes hostages were dead as soon as they were taken, and the only difference he could make was what happened to everyone else. But this time they had some bargaining chips and as far as they knew the mercenaries only wanted to get out alive. The exchange was brief, it turned out. Fett's finger tightened on the trigger when suddenly a group of the mercenaries collapsed, but Mirdala's Force trick when combined with the proof that Ab'ki was dead quelled any thought of a fight. He was admittedly concerned that she had again used the Force in anger, but she had also shown restraint in that she hadn't so killed anyone, and he found he could not fault her. Indeed, letting them run when she had the upper hand was an act of mercy that he knew even Isolder would not have offered. "Good work," he said over the team channel. "While you clean up I'm going to check in with Ops here. Maybe we can ride our momentum and swing the tides in Keldabe." 2277 connected him even as he got up and returned to the cockpit. The alor'ad in charge hadn't been aware that Mand'alor was on world, but he quickly filled him in on the situation on Shogun. It was really a lack of a situation. There had been no attack on the world, probably an attempt by Ab'ki to keep all focus elsewhere. Nonetheless, armies had mustered around the few major cities, much of it set into motion by Tros Ardell. Now that Ab'ki was dead, it was safe to say that no attack was coming, and so these fresh armies could be relocated. Within minutes Fett had received confirmation that the armies were mobilizing aboard whatever ships were available and would disperse to remaining trouble spots across the Sector. Several would go to Concord Dawn, which was taking a beating, but one of them would follow him back to Manda'yaim. If Ab'ki's forces there weren't already in retreat in the next few hours before they could muster and relocate there, they would be soon thereafter.