Star Wars Rogue Knight

Part 8

Mandal Motors HQ

Sundari

Mandalore

"It's funny. I don't feel different. I expected something more..." I trailed off and looked at my wife who was standing next to me and gazing through the windows.

"Congratulations, Delkatar." Bo paused and smiled. "Mandalore." She savored the word. "I can't say I really expected this when I met you back on Ryloth."

"Nonsense. All the histories will claim you knew my greatness the moment you laid your eyes upon me. They'll add something about love at first sight too." I quipped and earned myself a poke in the ribs.

"As long we're the ones who get to write them."

"The alternative is not acceptable."

"No. It's not." My wife agreed.

It was a bit touch and go, but in the end I did get just enough support to earn the title and everything that went with it – which was a greatly increased workload.

"My sister isn't too pleased with your decision." Bo informed me.

"The best thing for her is to be away from here. Many will blame her for the devastation."

"She was in charge. Had been for more than a decade. In the end it was Satine's responsibility, even if she had less control overall than many would like to believe."

"True enough. We need a new ambassador to the Republic and given her connection with the New Mandalorians and overall pacifistic nature, the Senate will love her."

"If she plays her cards right, they will never see her coming. It's a pity it took this to open her eyes." Bo sighed as she stared at the devastation.

I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"At least she sees it now. There are some who wouldn't open their eyes even after something like this."

"Are you talking from experience?"

"Yeah." I sighed.

Hopefully, once she awoke, Amidala would be sane and her eyes would be opened too. If the bio-attacks on Naboo couldn't do it when combined with her current ordeal, nothing was going to cut it.

"Besides, that way you'll be able to keep her near Kenobi. Those two need some chilling out."

"The Jedi Council's reaction to his marriage might put a damper on their honeymoon."

"What about ours? Satine's a big girl, she'll have to improvise."

"I want you to lead my personal strike force. Small, elite, geared for rapid deployment and facing Force Adepts. Incidentally, that would keep us quite close."

"Can't keep your hands off me already?" Bo chuckled, before becoming serious. "How many men and is there any special equipment you require?"

"Besides your personal arms and armor, I'll be providing access to top of the line Republic gear as well as whatever specialized equipment money can buy."

"Does that include Basilisks? Speaking about them..."

"They're quite sturdy and might have survived even if we have to dug them out. And yes, our unit will be equipped with them once sufficient numbers can be produced. As for numbers – I want at least a platoon."

"I'll see to it." Bo nodded. "You know some of the Clan Leaders will be trouble even among those who supported you, right?" My wife changed the topic. "And I don't mean challenging you to a single combat."

"Undermining my authority and trying to ȧssassinate me you mean. Yep, I'm expecting it, though they just have to join my fanclub just like the rest."

Some people didn't really like me taking charge and issuing running orders moments after I was given the title, even if they expected it.

Step one was consolidating here on Mandalore – eliminating Death Watch remnants and whatever CIS forces made it to the ground, all the while executing SAR. Once that was done, Skirata who would be running thins for me here was going to storm Concordia and clear it from DW elements.

Step two was for Yomaget, Awuad and their colleagues kicking up the industry in high gear as well as implementing radical expansion. They would be opening new factories, building new shipyards and working on building a brand new navy as well as producing the heavy equipment for a whole army.

It was a tall order, one that they couldn't do without outside help.

That was step three and for me to worry about. My black ops units would be funneling both funds, equipment and specialists this way, while I had to not only make the call for the spread out Mandalorians to come home but also plan the incorporation of this whole sector under our rule.

All that was just the beginning too and on top of my other duties.

"It will be a few days before we leave for Coruscant. I want you to select your men as well as ȧssist Kole as much as possible."

"I'll do all I can to help him." Bo nodded.

I made Ordo the one in charge of the Mandalorian Protectors – the formal name of the local police and non-military security forces. That had the benefit of giving him a lot of resources for locating his daughter.

I was careful not to mention to his face that she might not have survived the bombardment and even if she did, it was likely that her Death Watch kidnappers killed her and made themselves scarce.

"I'll get to if it this is all."

"Yes. I'll see you tonight."

"And I'll have you all to myself then."

"Is that a promise?"

"If you're a good Mandalore." Bo pulled me closer and gave me a searing kiss before winking and sauntering off. "I'll let you do the boring stuff."

I watched her retreating form until she left the office I had commandeered for my own use and shook my head. I've forgotten what married life used to be and didn't know how much I missed the little things until now, even if I knew it would be different with Bo.

All right, what was the next thing on the agenda? Damn it, I needed another aide or two. At least I'll be getting Piett back soon.

Ah, yes – choosing people to head education, medical and civilian infrastructure from the New Mandalorians, then I was going to interview Bralor for internal minister or something in that vein. Kriff it, I've forgotten how much work was setting up a new government after the previous one got vaporized.

At leas this time I didn't have to deal with newly conquered world so I there would be less issues than Balmora and Alderaan, right?

Kriff it, who am I kidding? It was just a matter of time before something went to hell just to be a massive pain in my ȧss.

I had to get myself into gear, because in less than an hour I would be meeting Awuad to discuss the standard equipment for the planned Mandalorian army. Once that was done, Thang, who was to be my deputy financial minister and Yomaget the actual financial minister would be both on my case to figure out how the kriff we were going to pay for rebuilding after the attack, creating a brand new navy and army, not to mention the industrial expansion.

That wasn't going to be fun.

Note to self – see if I could capture high ranking members of the Banking Clans and blackmail them for copious amounts of money.

=RK=

Part 9

Hunter flight

Great desert

Obi-Wan paid bȧrėly any attention to the Commando squad strapped beside him in the passenger compartment of the Mandalorian fighter-transport. The Jedi was busy contemplating everything that happened lately and the ways it affected him. He toned out the Clone's banter and the whɨnė of the engines, focusing on his issues.

Kenobi felt drifting, lost.

Less than a day ago, he – a Jedi Master, practically trampled on the Order's rules and millennia of tradition by following his heart. Worse, he hadn't really thought about all consequences, despite he felt sure he had considered the ramifications of his decision. The inevitable confrontation with the Jedi Council he expected and it would be something to deal with in just a few days.

Spending the rest of his life with Satine – he simply loved that idea.

Even becoming a Mandalorian hadn't sounded too bad as long as he didn't act as the stereotypical brutes as whom the average Mandalorian had been portrayed across the galaxy. Things weren't so simple and clear cut after all.

Obi-Wan could very well imagine being a Mandalorian and yet doing his best to protect the Republic from her enemies. Those things weren't mutually exclusive after all. Besides, strictly speaking, there wasn't something within the core of Mandalorian culture that forced someone to become a murderous bastard.

He should know – after all, Kenobi did go over a refresher course of Mandalorian history and customs while contemplating if marrying Satine was a good idea.

What he found hard to reconcile within himself was how the love he felt towards his wife was affecting him as a person. Merely admitting it to himself hadn't been too hard, despite how it felt at the time. Marrying on the other hand… It was different – a proof of his commitment to Satine. A step he simply couldn't, wouldn't want to take back even if he was offered the choice.

"The things we do for love..." Obi-Wan whispered too quietly for the Clones to hear.

That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Ultimately his marriage was a choice between what he believed in as a Jedi and what he wanted as a man in love.

If he had to be honest to himself, Obi-Wan chose to be selfish and that changed him. It subtly shifted his priorities and make it easier to disregard his nature as a Jedi when making a decision.

His mind drifted back to the bunker…

A week or two ago, Obi-Wan was sure he would have confronted Veil violently over the murder of the two medics. He still wanted to do it. That wasn't a necessary kill in the heat of combat, it wasn't an understandable military decision that lead to those deaths.

Morally, Kenobi knew what was the right thing. Legally too, even if it wasn't really his place to place judgment in that context – strictly speaking that was for the local security forces to deal with even if it was now probably a moot point. Veil was busy making his bid for Mandalore and if successful, the worst he was going to face would be a personal challenge or two from family or friends of those men.

As a Jedi… yesterday Obi-Wan truly saw what a Sith in control of the Dark Side looked like. He knew his duty then.

Kenobi was ready to fight an enemy he had been trained to smite ever since he could remember anything.

Instead, Veil started talking and Obi-Wan stayed his hand long enough to listen. At the beginning, it wasn't because he believed that Delkatar could persuade him not to attack. It wasn't even because Kenobi was pretty sure he couldn't win. He would have fought anyway.

No. What stayed his hand was Satine's presence. There was a part of Obi-Wan buried below all his training as a Jedi that simply refused to expose her to an all out fight between him and a Sith Lord.

Yesterday, Obi-Wan refused to even think about that, yet the thought was in subconsciousness. It was in his heart.

Kenobi was afraid of dying without spending more time with his wife. He was afraid of what would happen to her if Veil had to cut him down, even if Satine was the Sith's sister in law.

So he listened, prepared for his last stand, yet his heart dėsɨrėd for a way out.

When Veil offered it to him… Obi-Wan's hands became clutched fists.

Even worse, Kenobi could see that he did the right thing in that bunker. Dying there wasn't going to achieve anything. After Windu's actions during the Jedi Temple's attack, an attack against Veil by another Jedi Master executed without proof for betrayal against the Republic was going to damn the Jedi Order in the eyes of the galaxy.

"Well played." Obi-Wan muttered.

"Sir?" Niner, Omega Squad's leader asked.

"Nothing, I'm just thinking aloud. Carry on." Obi-Wan dismissed the Clone's question.

The Jedi Master hadn't thought about that in the bunker. Kenobi had acted out of reflex borne of his training, of the way he had been taught. The right thing to do seemed so obvious then and he never thought about the consequences beyond either somehow succeeding or his much more likely death.

Obi-Wan wanted to think that he knew Veil somewhat. The Sith simply wasn't going to tolerate another attack upon himself by the Jedi. At best, the man was going to wait until the war wasn't hanging in the balance before retaliating, at worse a confrontation between the man commanding all Republic combat troops and the Jedi was going to lead to a short and brutal civil war that would have damned the Republic.

The worst thing was that even now, Obi-Wan wasn't sure where exactly Veil stood. While he had his suspicions, he wasn't sure about Delkatar's long term plans. Ultimately, was the Sith an ally to the Republic or would he see it fall once the war was over? Would he continue with his live and let live policy towards the Jedi? Would Veil try to corrupt them or simply offer another way?

What was the truth and what were lies spun by a Sith Lord?

Kenobi shook his head and concentrated. His mind was wandering, avoiding a topic he feared to contemplate. It was something Satine asked him shortly after they arrived at Mandal Motors HQ.

"What would have you done in Veil's place?" Obi-Wan's wife had asked. "I know what I should feel. He did kill two of my people, yet he saved my little sister."

Obi-Wan was afraid to face that question, even if Veil did ask it too, back in the bunker. He had done his best to dismiss it. After all, a Jedi's answer was obvious, was it not?

It was anything but, even if you didn't bring morality into the question.

At the time, Satine was the leader of Mandalore's government. She still was unless Veil was already chosen as Mandalore. That by itself warped the question – because of her position, Satine was more important than two regular medics. Sacrificing them to keep her alive and hale would be more than a fair price to pay.

Doing so would have been the correct decision on many levels and a proper Jedi would likely agree… even if doing so came dangerously close to flirting with the Dark Side.

However, when he was asked that question, Satine's status didn't matter. It was about what Obi-Wan would do to keep his wife alive.

Now he knew the lengths Veil would go to.

Not to long ago, he saw what Anakin would to for a very long shot at helping Padme, his now not so secret wife.

What was Obi-Wan Kenobi going to do to keep Satine safe?

The Jedi was afraid of that question. It made him shiver as if the Dark Side itself was touching him when he thought about it.

However, giving an answer – that simply terrified him.

Because, Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Master, simply didn't know. He might simply uphold his principles as a Jedi… or do anything in his power to keep Satine safe.

Just as he had no compunction of going after Grievous, not because it was his duty as both a Jedi Master and a Republic general, but because his wife asked him to bring the Confederate general to justice.

Obi-Wan sagged in his seat and wondered what was he supposed to do.

In his agitated state, he missed the Dark Side's gentle touch that offered salvation.

=RK=

"Look alive boys. Target sighed. Ten K out."

Obi-Wan's self reflection was interrupted by the pilot.

"Is he alone?" Kenobi was grateful for the distraction.

"I'm seeing a handful of commando droids and a few of SBs."

"Drop us behind the closest dune and strafe them a few times. I'm dealing with Grievous, you take out his guards." Obi-Wan ordered.

"Yes, general." Niner answered.

The pilot's confirmation came in the form of him opening up with the craft's laser cannons.

"Scratch some droids. Be aware, enemy is splitting up. I'm dropping you on Grievous' right flank."

Kenobi submerged into the Force and let it revitalize him. A moment later his worries were erased and replaced by unrivaled clarity.

A minute later, Obi-Wan dropped from the hovering transport with the Clones landing around him.

"Target's breaking to the right of your position. Good hunting." The ȧssault transport screamed away to avoid any potential AA fire.

"Go." The Jedi Master ordered and sprinted after Grievous. He had no problem sensing the cyborg presence in the desert.

Within seconds, Kenobi had the CIS general in sight. Grievous was busy climbing up the next dune and unfortunately for him, the Jedi was in no mood for a protracted chase. Obi-Wan raised a hand and pulled back the cyborg, who gave out a strangled cry and tumbled down amidst a small sand avalanche.

Kenobi jumped down and drew his lightsaber.

"Grievous." The Jedi stated blandly and activated his weapon.

The cyborg stood up and drew a pair of stolen lightsabers.

"Kenobi?" Grievous looked surprised seeing the Jedi wear Mandalorian armor.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. He recognized those lightsabers. They belonged to friends of his, who were now dead. Murdered by the being in front of him.

Just like that, the calmness Kenobi felt since letting the Force flow freely through him, vanished.

This thing… it was responsible for the death of millions, probably billions. It murdered Obi-Wan's friends… and it bombarded Mandalore making Satine feel awful.

It was Kenobi's duty to put an end to that abomination and that's exactly what he was going to do.

Obi-Wan shot forward, without even thinking. He was acting on instinct, reinforcing his body with the Force without even thinking, yet she obeyed.

Grievous parried the first strike, yet stumbled back surprised by the strength behind the Jedi's attack. The cyborg tried to retaliate with his other blade, but his slash was parried with contemptuous ease before Kenobi's saber struck again forcing the other general to retreat another step.

It took all of Grievous mechanically ȧssisted strength and speed to keep Obi-Wan's azure blade from striking it. Despite that and all of his training, the cyborg was forced into a relentless retreat.

That confused the Confederate commander. He had fought Kenobi before and was aware of how good the human was.

This was something quite different – the Jedi was attacking with savagery he had never displayed before. Worse, the attacks were coming much faster and stronger than ever.

Obi-Wan's blood sang. He fell into a rhythm of ceaseless attacks and found that for the first time in his life he really enjoyed a battle. Kenobi found himself pouring all his frustration, uncertainties and fear into his strikes and it was liberating.

That thought made him falter and gave Grievous a chance to jump back so he could take a breather. The Jedi frowned. He couldn't really feel the Dark Side trying to influence him. There was no anger to feed her, even if he was frustrated.

Yet there was fear.

The cyborg counterattacked before Kenobi could think about it all. The Jedi easily fell into a Soresu form and started deflecting the incoming attacks. They were much easier to read than ever before. Anticipating them was simpler, natural.

"You're different today, Kenobi." Grievous spoke. "For a moment there you fought almost like a Sith."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened at that declaration and it almost cost him everything. The cyborg used that brief surprise to explode into motion and did his best to dismember Kenobi.

Only a last ditch shove using the Force kept the Jedi intact.

Grievous stumbled back and laughed.

"Did I hit a sore spot? Did you enjoy my little performance? Granted it was interrupted before the best part..."

The mechanical menace went silent when Obi-Wan went on the offensive.

This time Kenobi felt anger. Grievous dared joke in his face over the murder of countless people. Satine's people…

Obi-Wan's people now.

It was Grievous and Vizsla who planned the attack and almost got Satine's sister murdered. Tried to kill them all with orbital strikes and only failed because of Pellaeon's last stand and the death of the Mandalorian navy.

It dawned on Obi-Wan that he was facing one of the people that almost murdered his wife yesterday.

Kenobi's anger boiled and his composure simply shattered. A cold wave washed over Obi-Wan as he fell upon the cyborg and he felt more powerful with every strike he delivered at Grievous.

The combatants blurred as they engaged into a flurry of blows and then it was over.

A metal hand flew away – separated at the elbow. Obi-Wan continued his onslaught and slammed his lightsaber into Grievous' remaining blade again and again. The third strike was too much and it broke the cyborg's guard. The azure blade flashed down and severed Grievous other hand at the shoulder.

The two generals glared at each other for a long moment.

"I won't yield!" Grievous screamed. "I won't be put into a kriffing jar again!" If he was physically capable of it, the cyborg would be foaming at the mouth at that point.

"Surrender?" Obi-Wan asked calmly.

There was no trace of anger in the Jedi's voice.

Kenobi felt cold. He could sense the Dark Side's touch upon him. Despite what he expected, she wasn't tempting him. Wasn't demanding that he strike down Grievous.

The Dark Side simply waited – ready to follow his directions.

"You did escape the last time." Kenobi reasonably pointed out surprised by Grievous' reaction.

"I wont' be held again!" The Cyborg shouted and lunged at the Jedi.

Obi-Wan raised a hand and picked up Grievous using the Force, suspending him in mid-air.

"What am I to do with you?" The Jedi wondered aloud.

Grievous' decided to stay silent at that point and simply balefully glared at Kenobi.

"You know, my wife want you brought to justice." Obi-Wan repeated Satine's request.

There was silence, before Grievous' laughed.

"Wife? The Jedi's poster boy is married? Was she here yesterday? Did I get her?" The cyborg sneered in an obvious attempt to provoke Kenobi.

"She was. In fact, we married yesterday. This is her world you wrecked." Obi-Wan snapped.

"Good."

Kenobi could imagine Grievous' smile and the very thought made him snarl. Below his helmet, Obi-Wan's eyes got bled into yellow.

The Jedi's hand gripped his lightsaber harder.

"You know, there are probably a lot of good reasons why I should bring you in right now. Intelligence among other things. After all, you should stand trial for my crimes."

"Crimes?" Grievous laughed. "My only crime is that I've been a more successful general than all of you Jedi put together! It took a Sith being in charge of your forces to stalemate us!"

"No matter how loath am I to admit it, you're right about that." Obi-Wan noted. "In the end, we Jedi are diplomats and peacekeepers, not soldiers or proper generals." Kenobi sighed. "A Jedi in my position would capture and bring you back."

Grievous' glare intensified and he started struggling into the telekinetic grip.

"As I am now, I no longer have the right to call myself a Jedi." Obi-Wan stated in contemplative tone. "I chose love over the Jedi Order. It's hard to admit it but today I'm on a path that one day might make me chose between Mandalore and the Republic." Kenobi paused. "I'm pretty sure I'll take my wife's lead on that one." Obi-Wan smiled, even if Grievous couldn't see it.

"So what?"

"It's funny you know. I've walked away from all I knew and I didn't really realize it up until now. I've already made my choices. All I needed was to understand why."

Obi-Wan took a step forward. "If I continued to consider myself a Jedi, I would have been torn apart by divided loyalties."

Another step and Kenobi was within a hand's reach of the cyborg.

"I didn't really get it until we crossed blades. If you were anyone else besides Vizsla, I might have failed to understand. Yet, fighting you – a man who tried to murder my wife… It was a revelation."

"What the kriff are you talking about, Jedi?"

"I'm rambling, am I not? Feeling free… It's strange, you know. Liberating." Obi-Wan stared at Grievous.

Kenobi raised his lightsaber and brought it down in one swift motion, then he released the cyborg.

Grievous fell on the ground in two pieces.

It was strange. Perhaps it was because Obi-Wand didn't strike down in anger. He didn't feel the Dark Side falling upon him. Didn't feel like falling after executing Grievous in a cold blood.

Instead, Obi-Wan felt at peace now that a threat to his wife was removed from existence.

"Niner, status report. Do you need ȧssistance?" Kenobi activated his comm.

"We're just wrapping up, general. Grievous?"

"He won't trouble us ever again."

"Good work, sir." The Commando congratulated him.

"Hunter flight, come and get us." Obi-Wan ordered their ride to collect them.

On the flight back, Kenobi would have time to contemplate his actions and the conclusions he reached.

=RK=

Part 10

Industrial Sector

Sundari

Mandalore

I've been Mandalore for two days and I already hate the bloody job. Endless meetings, most of which with people you could hardly stand, enough bargaining and deal making to make a CEO of an interstellar corporation jealous, what felt like everyone in the government shoving their problems up the chain until you had to deal with them personally… and those were only the highlights.

Pro tip – if you intent to go into politics and raise up to the top, think long and hard if succeeding is going to be worth it. Pro tip the second, it's much better to be the power behind the throne instead the one actually having to do all the bloody work.

I couldn't wait to wrap up the most immediate troubles and leave Skirata to deal with this shit even if that was going to mean I would have the handle the senate with all that entailed.

On the bright side, Piett arrived lats night with reinforcements from Geonosis and some good news – operations there were complete. All ground forces were extracted, the Navy had recovered or blown up every wreck we left after the space battle and all our units had pulled out for either some R&R or to reinforce various positions across the galaxy.

Even better, he came on the same ship with Aria and HK, who I immediately sent to find Vizsla – dead or alive I wanted him brought in front of me. He and the Death Watch were going to serve as great scapegoats for everything wrong on Mandalore – it was going to be mostly true too.

I had what survived from Satine's government PR department point out at every opportunity who exactly allied with the Confederacy and invite them here, preferably just before or after the latest casualty report went public.

Meanwhile, I was playing the role of the good and concerned Mandalore – visiting the worst hit parts of Sundari, when there were journalists around to show everyone I actually cared. That's why right now I was visiting the industrial sector – it was last on my list after checking up the heavy hit residential districts. I used every opportunity to promise bloody vengeance to whoever was listening – and there were a many pissed off Mandalorians who loved the idea.

At lest this time I wasn't suffering alone – Thang Auwad was with me, showing the flag so to speak. He had his hands full too after his wife didn't survive the attack and had to ascent as both a Clan Leader and a CEO of their consortium. In fact, at least a third of the factories lost in the capital were either owned or worked with Auwad in weapon manufacturing.

"We should have sixty percent of the damage fixed within the week." Thang informed me after we spoke with the reporters.

"That sounds reasonable." I looked at the rows of large buildings strewn around us. While a significant section of the dome had collapsed in the area, the weapon factories were built with the expectation of such shenanigans. Most were superficially damaged and could resume production once the area was cleared of debris and the rail networks used to shuttle resources and components in were certified safe for use.

"The rest would need up to a few months of repairs with at least two factories being a write off..." Auwad trailed off and pointed in the distance.

My eyes followed his hand and I saw what used to be a factory. Most of the building was simply gone with only twisted parts of its metal outer walls remaining. It was obvious that the facility had taken a direct hit during the bombardment and that was something it simply wasn't built to handle.

While a lot of the weapon and munitions factories on Mandalore were excessively armored and otherwise protected, that was primary as a safety concern pushed by Satine's government. Most of the manufacturing centers simply weren't expected to handle even limited orbital bombardment if both the planetary shields and the theater one covering the capital were down.

"Do you have numbers on the recovery costs?" I asked.

"Do you really want to know?" Auwad sighed. "The preliminary cost I gave you during out last meeting is going to rise. A third of the cargo subways are down with some tunnels collapsed. Fixing that will take both time and money. We'll be able to partially sidestep the issue by using small cargo vessels to deliver resources to the surviving factories, but most of them simply weren't designed to work that way. Not to mention that doing so would be logistically troublesome."

"Solutions?" I asked.

"A lot – all requiring more time and money than might be practical."

It all came back to Mandalore simply lacking enough money to do everything I wanted in a reasonable amount of time.

"Your plans are good, Mandalore. Most of us like them quite well in fact. It's feasible to turn Mandalore into an industrial powerhouse that can build us both a powerful navy and a respectable combined arms army. We can even do it in the time-frame you require. We just can't do it with the money and resources at our disposal. The best we can manage is to start on the initial stages of the build up."

"You and Yomaget made me well aware of that. That's why we'll be meeting tonight. There are some decisions to be made about the future, but this isn't the time or place to discuss it.

=RK=

Death Watch Safe house

near Sundari

Mandalore

"Is the Intel any good?" Niner asked.

He and the rest of Omega were tapped for another hunt – this time they were after Vizsla. Personally, the Clone officer hoped it would be successful too.

Seeing Grievous cut in pieces a few days ago was simply indescribable. The Clone felt elated, especially when the damn Cyborg did its best to kill him and his squad. After dealing with Grievous once and for all, Niner as sure that general Kenobi would be unable to pay for a drink in any bar in the galaxy frequented by GAR personnel.

Considering that this Vizsla character helped arrange the "tiny" orbital bombardment incident that almost saw Omega buried in a bloody warehouse, Niner was on board with dismembering that bastard too.

"That's what Intel claims." General Veil's pet psycho droid deadpanned. "By now you should all know not to trust Intel without double and triple checking no matter what they claim. That way you'll live longer." HK sagely advised.

"He might be a royal pain in the ȧss, but he knows what he speaks off." Aria nodded. "At least as far as war and killing people is concerned." The Chiss woman added.

"So we're going to check. Carefully." Niner shrugged. It wasn't like Intel failed to burn him in the past, though usually he tried very hard not to think about those cases.

The small group was hidden behind a hill overlooking a tiny settlement – just two rows of building set up around a road leading to the capital. The only reason the place existed was a small, mostly automated mining operation for various silicates which could be found under the local desert. The only notable thing around was a pair of landing pads and two hangars bȧrėly big enough to handle the fighter/transport combo favored by the Mandalorians.

"That's the general idea. Remember, if practical, the general wants Vizsla brought in alive. However, we're under orders not to risk our lives over that low-life." Aria, who was technically in charge of the operation, ordered. She might be a Sith in training, but that didn't mean she wanted to explain to her Master how she got his soldier killed.

"What's the plan, Ma'am?" Niner asked.

"HK's going in as a scout. He can use his stealth field to check if our quarry is here. You're setting up a sniper nest up there..." Aria pointed at the top of the hill, "after checking up for any nasty surprises. The rest of us will sneak closer and be ready to provide support if HK finds either Vizsla or any trace of Death Watch presence. Any concerns?" Aria asked the veteran soldier.

Niner was surprised that his opinion was asked for in the first place. In his experience a lot of officers, especially Jedi, didn't bother to do so once they made up their mind, even if he had worked with a few who were a pleasant exception to that rule.

"Well, Ma'am if I might suggest a few alternations..."

=RK=

Part 11

Mandalore's office

Mandal Motors HQ

Sundari

Mandalore

"Can you remind me why the kriff I wanted this bloody job in the first place?" I snapped after finished skimming through yet another data pad and placed it next to the growing pile of complete paperwork.

Despite my best efforts, the pile with things to go through was steadily growing and I was yet to start the various meetings I was scheduled to attend today.

"It sounded like a good idea at the time, sir?" Piett guessed.

My aide had arrived twenty four hours ago and by this morning he was up to speed with his expanded duties – it wasn't something that made him particularly happy but at least handling all the additional work coming his way would look great on his resume – both in the army and civilian life.

None of that changed one inevitable fact – running a whole world, much less what I was hoping to become a proper interstellar nation was an awful lot of thankless, usually boring and often frustrating work… and that was even before having to personally meet with any politicians hell bent on making your life harder. I was already missing the good old days when I could simply Force-choke the bastards and call it a day.

Returning to Coruscant was going to test my patience and self-control like few other things did.

"Any good news, Firmus?" I asked my aide.

"Orbital clean up continues apace. Relatively intact hulls are being dragged to the shipyards for evaluation and either rebuilt or will head for the breaker to be re-purposed."

That particular idea came from Horus – re-using the more intact wrecks to bolster the navy sooner than would be otherwise possible and stripping everything else that wasn't blasted to scrap for parts. That idea was going to give us the skeleton of a navy a bit sooner so I wasted no time in approving it and relocating resources for the venture.

Of course, that plan was going to create additional work for Mandal Motors and make them a nice amount of money besides the other projects they were already busy with. The corporation was cheerfully expanding its industrial capabilities and hiring a lot of people in order to fulfill all the contracts I was sending their way.

Guess who was going to be receiving huge chunk of Mandalore's budged…

"I don't know about being a good news, though there are a lot of reporters from all over who want to speak with general Kenobi. It finally leaked to the galaxy at large that he was the one to take out Grievous and every reporter in the Republic wants to interview him."

"Better him than me. Schedule a press conference – I hope Obi-Wan won't be too put off with me for throwing him to the krath hounds that is the media. It's not like I have the time for the likes of them – there will be enough of that when we're back on Coruscant." I grumbled. That reminded me – now I had a press-secretary, a survivor from Satine's government, who was busy fending off the media ever since I became Mandalore just a few days ago.

"The last bit of good news – your wife has finished selecting your personal guard and they will be ready to meet you later today."

"That's one bit of tradition that I hope won't bite me in the ȧss..." I stated.

A proper Mandalore had to have a proper retinue made of warriors – an honor guard if you will, even if he was supposed to fight and win his or hers own battles. Part of it was symbolic – you couldn't really hold the title without having people ready to fight and die for you after all, and that had to be obvious to all. Second and more practical – they were supposed to be Mandalore's agents – commanders, aides, etc…

Unfortunately, I simply lacked the knowledge about the locals to make such a selection myself. Usually most of the honor guard would be part of my own Clan but considering that there were two of us – me and Bo, that wasn't possible. That left me sending my wife to recruit me a retinue and trusting her judgment.

"Good to hear. I trust that there will be more than enough bad news and troubles needing my attention to offset the good ones?" That was inevitable really.

"Yep. First, there are various smaller corporations that want a piece of the action and will be raising hell until they get on board with the various expansion program..."

"If we had the credits to burn, they would already have contracts or be negotiating ones." I grumbled.

"All they see is their big rivals receiving tons of government money, long term work and good working relations with Mandalore. Apparently that make them nervous..." Piett shrugged. That really wasn't his area of expertise – in fact I should be having another aide to deal with the economic side of things and I would be meeting her later today once she was up to speed with the situation.

None of that changed the fact that the smaller corp would be a problem until I threw them a bond and I simply lacked the resource to pull it off right now. I glanced at the data pad containing my schedule – I'll be speaking with people from the economy ministry in the afternoon, they might have an idea what we could work out.

"What's the next problem?"

"The consequence of the orbital bombardment and dealing with former Death Watch members..."

Yeah, that was going to be delicate – the die hards were easy – we were going to kill the kriff out of the fools. The ones who joined only in the last few months in a hope of ousting Satine's government and then switched sides when the DW began acting crazy or at worst when Grievous enacted his own bit of murderous insanity… Well the later groups were harder to handle.

A lot of people wanted the heads of anyone ȧssociated with the Death Watch. Considering that my wife was a former member, that was out of the question, though I would have to sooth a lot of ruffled feathers. Then there were some clans that actually expected rewards for turning on the Death Watch when the chip were down – just another political landmine I had to carefully handle, preferably before it blew up in my face.

I had the sinking feeling that Piett was just starting.

I was right...

=RK=

Death Watch Safe house

near Sundari

Mandalore

The accommodations left something to be dėsɨrėd, but given the circumstances, they were much better than the alternative – either a prison cell or more likely a blaster bolt to the head. The Death Watch's leader had no illusions what awaited him if he ever fell in the hands of the loyalist after the unsuccessful coup he was force to launch by Grievous.

Vizsla morosely looked over his surroundings – plain gray metal walls of a small space port's overseer. A desk made of the same stuff, a few not particularly comfortable chairs and a computer terminal. At least the air conditioning was working or considering the location – a rocky patch in the middle of the desert near the capital, Vizsla and his warriors would be nicely cooked by now.

"Sir, someone tripped the seismic sensors under the hill. The cameras show nothing..." One of the guards spoke over the comm. "I'm activating the QRF and awaiting instructions."

Vizsla couldn't say that he was particularly surprised. After the series of debacles over the past few weeks that culminated into the death of everything he had been working towards for more than a decade, another setback was all but expected. If he had to be honest to himself, it was a small miracle that his location hadn't been tracked down earlier.

The overall destruction visited upon Mandalore by that fool Grievous explained it.

The Mandalorian snarled at the very thought of that cursed cyborg. Not only the machine's madness wrecked Vizsla's plans, it turned out to be for nothing too – both Satine and Veil survived and that Sith bastard was chosen as Mandalore too!

The Death Watch's leader grit his teeth in fury and frustration, doing his best to calm himself down so he could think rationally. It was high time to get off the planet, perhaps to Concordia, though it was only a matter of time before the loyalist sorted up themselves and retook the moon. No, going back home would meant willingly entering a trap. Vizsla knew that his only acceptable alternative was to retreat, not flee damn it, and openly join with the Confederacy. Either that or simply vanish in obscurity far away from this sector of space. However, the latter alternative simply wasn't acceptable! He hadn't worked this long, hadn't sacrificed so much to quit now!

"I need information! How many of them are outside? Are there ships in the air or in orbit above us?" Vizsla shook himself out of his funk and took charge of the situation. "I want all our warriors ready for action. We're getting out of here."

"Understood. Something flickered on the motion detectors to the west, though they're clear now. I'm pretty sure our sensors are being spoofed."

Huh, that wasn't standard MDF forces tactics. He should know – those on Concordia, who answered to him had identical training and equipment to their friend on Mandalore itself.

"Republic special forces..." Vizsla grumbled. That probably meant they had some of their ships in orbit waiting to intercept anyone who decided to flee Mandalore.

He smiled thinly. "Prepare our guest for transport. She's our ticked our of here so make sure the enemy doesn't manage to spirit her away." At least that particular exercise of futility that could be laid on Grievous' penchant for kriffing up properly laid plans was going to be useful now.

Vizsla took a moment to check up his weapons before picking up his helmet from the desk where he had discarded it earlier and made his way out of the office. The very fact that the enemy was skulking around instead of attacking or leveling the place from orbit probably meant that they either suspected he had the captive in here or they weren't sure that there was a Death Watch presence in the area.

At any rate, Vizsla had to make sure the Republic forces who for all intents and purposes had taken over Mandalore through their general, were aware who he had in his custody. Otherwise things might just go to hell like everything else…

"Our… guest is ready for transport. Everyone is armed, armored and awaiting orders, sir."

The same guard announced.

At least Vizsla still had a few competent people left. That thought gave him much less comfort that in should have. In the last week he had lost too damn many excellent warriors and good friend.

"Good work, sergeant. Here's what we're going to do..."

=RK=

"You don't want to do anything hasty." A voice boomed over the space port's speakers. "Republic forces, we're well aware of your presence. I would want to draw your attention to the office building's door. You probably recognize our guest – the daughter of one of your general's supporters."

"Well, that's unexpected." Aria grumbled. She was about eight hundred meters from said building and had a decent view of its entrance.

"That's an understatement." Niner muttered quietly.

They could all see a pair of Mandalorians complete with full Death Watch armor escorting a young girl and the kid was outfitted with a harness rigged with enough explosives to level the space port.

"Did I mention I loathe the Death Watch?" The teams sniper added. "I have a good visual of the vest. A lot of explosives, including at least three thermal detonators I can see." Dev, I'm patching you camera feed."

"They're making a point. Or just insane." The demo expert grunted. "Can't do anything remotely. Trying to jam the area won't be good idea either. Order's ma'am?"

"We either let them go or kill them all." Aria sighed. "If they surrender, most of if not all of them will get a trial and get shot if they're lucky and they all know it." The Chiss woman closed her eyes and examined the situation through the Force, looking for a better solution. She recognized the girl and what the Death Watch mouthing off over the loudspeaker said was true. What Aria didn't know was if the kid was expendable or not.

Astra frowned at that thought. She had been expendable too – after all the bastards who created her did sent her to die. The kid didn't have much more choice right now that Astra once did.

"We're going to walk out of here, board our ship and leave the system or the girl gets it. It's not like we have anything left to lose."

"Orders, Ma'am?" Niner asked.

Aria opened her eyes and stared at the girl, wondering what to do.

=RK=

Part 12

Death Watch Safe house

near Sundari

Mandalore

It's curious thing, hatred. As someone who trained to be a Sith, Aria Astra should be familiar with that emotion. Along with fear and anger, that's what she should be feeling most of the time – well, at least that's what your average Jedi would tell you.

However, in her short life, Aria had seldom found herself hating anything, besides the people that created her as a disposable weapon and sent her to her doom. Yet, on that day, in the deserts of Mandalore, she hated. The Force Adept saw the parallels between her situation and the slip of a girl rigged with enough explosives to evaporate everything nearby. They were both unwillingly used only to be discarded afterward.

It was probably worse for the hostage – at least Aria didn't know better or anything different at the time.

"Order, Ma'am." Niner repeated in a damningly neutral tone.

Aria glared at the spaceport. Her mind was discarding any plan she could think of as soon as they surfaced. Letting the Death Watch go was out of the question, besides it would be pointless. Astra didn't need the Force to tell her that the hostage would be as good as dead or worse if the kidnappers made it out of system with her. Simply ȧssaulting the spaceport would be futile – Aria could feel the determination mixed with desperation coming from the Death Watch. They knew they were dead men if the rest of the Mandalorians got their hands on them.

The Force Adept could almost see what would happen if she ordered an attack – the Death Watch would fight with fanatical tenacity, determined to kill as many Republic soldiers as they could before detonating the charges put on their hostage and going out with a bang.

Aria needed another solution – one that didn't waste the lives of the people under her command, yet dealt with the enemy and saved the girl.

"Niner, on my signal take out the Death Watch in sight, suppress all exits and get Dev to the hostage so he can dismantle the explosives." The Sith in training ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am. You have a solution on the little issue of the spaceport blowing up if we do it?" The Clone Commander asked.

"I'm creating one now." Aria answered before closing her eyes and diving into the Force.

Astra's perception expanded and she could feel every sapient being in the area – the Clones, Death Watch, including those she couldn't see with her eyes, the hostage and a handful of utility droids. Aria's body sang with power as she concentrated and drew more of the Force within herself than she had ever before. The sheer power made her light-headed and euphoric, made her feel as if she could do anything she dėsɨrėd.

Aria pushed those thoughts aside, though it wasn't without some effort and concentrated on the task at hand. A pleasant tingle ran up and down her skin as her power coiled around and through her and then, the Force Adept was finally ready. She raised a hand – the gesture helping her mind guide the energy that was still raising in potency and unleashed it, guiding the Force as well as she could.

A shimmering, purple tinted energy field surrounded every living thing withing the spaceport and froze them all in place.

"GO!" Aria hissed the order, while straining to hold a stasis field going upon more than a dozen targets.

"Execute, execute, execute!" Niner snapped over the comm and blaster fire erupted all over the spaceport.

Aria could feel people dying, which allowed her to drop the stasis upon their cooling corpses. That was the only thing that allowed her to keep the technique ongoing as long as she did. Every moment was a battle – while the Force felt almost eager to obey, the strain of channeling and precisely directing so much power upon that many separate targets she couldn't actually see took their toll. For the first ten seconds or so it was practically euphoric – the feeling of unrestrained power was almost addicting. The same went for the tingle of the Force flooding her being.

However, the longer Aria had to keep the technique ongoing, the worst it became. The pleasant tingle became an electric current. The energy coursing through her veins turned from a soothing spring into a river of molten lava.

Aria knew that if she kept it up for too long, the strain of channeling so much energy would simply fry her body from the inside – if she could remain conscious for long enough that is, because with every passing second she was drawing more and more exhausted.

Then, after what felt like an eternity – it was all over. Aria felt the last man she held in stasis die and she released the technique. A small smile graced her lips, then her eyes rolled and there was only soothing darkness.

=RK=

"Admin secure. Status report!" Niner ordered after gunning down the last Death Watch member in the building – who was conveniently frozen in place along the rest of his murderous buddies.

"No contacts outside." Fi announced. "I'll keep overwatch." The sniper added.

"I'm securing the hostage. Make sure someone doesn't interrupt me and blows up all sky-high." Dev sounded a bit strained – it was never a good thing when your demo expert had a similar tone.

"I'm covering them." The synthetic voice of the General's pet killer droid added over the comm.

"All clear in the annex. I'll check up the ship next." Cor added.

"I'll make another sweep of the admin and join you outside." Niner paused. "Ma'am, what's your status?" The Clone asked. He frowned when no response came back. "Anyone, do you have eyes on the boss lady?"

"A moment, sir." Fi said and continued a few seconds later. "I have a visual. She's collapsed four hundred meter east from my position. Advise?"

"I'll check on her once I've swept the building for any other unpleasant surprises. Keep overwatch. The last thing we need is for some holdout to blow us all up."

=RK=

Military hospital

Sundari outskirts

Mandalore

"General on deck!" Niner's voice snapped like a whip. A moment later, his commando unit stood at attention.

"At ease soldiers. You did well." I beamed at them.

Oh, they did all right. My first stop was the morgue to make sure with my own eyes that Vizsla was very much dead, which he was – missing a forehead and most of the head would do that.

"Exemplary even. A terrorist leader dead, a high value hostage saved and no friendly casualties." I continued.

Niner shifted at my last words, but only gave me a formal thanks.

"Don't worry. My apprentice is my next stop and I'm pretty sure she'll be all right. By your account she simply overstretched herself." I added, while examining the Clones feelings.

Huh, they appear to have accepted Aria as one of their own. Good for them. It might be interesting to see where that would go. Beside, I could always use another spec-ops unit.

I almost smiled when I went past the Clones towards Aria's room. Kole Ordo and Mira were nearby and I could feel their relief and happiness without problem. It was fortunate that my apprentice was able to wrap things up so nicely – I couldn't have done it much better myself to tell the truth. She earned me and the Republic some political points with the Clan Leaders – Vizsla was very much dead and Ordo's kid was recovered mostly intact.

Then there was what that meant on a personal level – I owed both Aria and Omega squad. I would have hated to see Mira dead. When all was said and done, she and Kole were probably the last connection I had with my past with the exception of HK. I'll probably should do something nice for them – well at least I made a mental note to that effect and entered Aria's room.

My apprentice was tucked into a hospital bed and hooked up to various beeping machines. Two banks of clear fluid and one of what looked like bacta were fed to her intravenously. Besides that, the room was typical for a MASH – plain gray walls and a small med-droid resembling an overgrown spider hovering in the corner.

"What are her injuries?" I asked the machine.

"Extreme exhaustion, heat stroke, minor internal burns. She is stable."

Honestly, it was a bit better than I expected when I got the preliminary report. She would be more or less down for a couple of weeks as far as strenuous use of the Force went. Just to make sure, I went to her bed and placed my hand on her forehead then concentrated. I carefully swept Aria's body with my power, making her flinch in her exhausted sleep.

Yep. She had overdone it all right, though fortunately it wasn't nearly as bad as my stunt above Geonosis. Before leaving for Coruscant, I should make her a milder version of the Alchemy concoction that hastened my own recovery.

Thinking about alchemy, I got an idea. It's been quite a long time since I crafted any items – the last time my first wife was still alive, but perhaps it was time to dabble again. After all, Aria was in for a gift.

"You did well." I muttered, then gave the droid some instructions that would make my apprentice's recovery a bit more comfortable, then I made my way to the Ordos.

They were in an identical room, complete with a GAR medic and a med-droid. Not to mention Omega guarding the entrance, though they were positioned to easily cover Aria's room as well.

"I hope all is well, all things considered?" I asked from the door.

Inside I saw Kole hovering over protectively next to Mira, who was being scanned by the med droid. The doctor was busy checking various scrapes and abrasion on her arms. The kid obviously didn't make it easy for the Death Watch and bore the scars to prove it – including puffy and split lips and a big bruise covering almost half her face.

"Mandalore!" Ordo straightened up and slammed his fist over his heart.

"General?" The doctor glanced my way. "Nothing we can't fix." He added.

"Good to know. How are you two holding up? And keep that for official events." I waved at Kole.

"Better than this morning." Ordo sighed. "Much better." He muttered.

"You're late." Mira grumbled after studying me for a few seconds.

I returned her stare and nodded. All the cheer and glum I saw when I met her for the first time were absent from hr eyes. She was angry, furious even, though those emotions were fragile. I could clearly feel here relief and fear behind that front.

"Unfortunately I wasn't able to live up to my legend this time."

"Close enough for me." Kole shook his head.

"Not for Mira." I nodded at the kid, who was still frowning mightily. "The Death Watch are done. Their leadership annihilated and their last strongholds on Concordia will be soon under ȧssault. But that doesn't really matter to you, right now, does it?" I asked the kid and earned myself and angry scowl. A lot of therapy for this one I guess and that wasn't something I would like to undertake anyway.

"Not now and not for some time I guess." Kole added. "I however am grateful. Those traitors got what deserved."

"Credit where credit's due – it was Omega squad and my apprentice who saved the day."

"And Clan Ordo owes them all a debt of honor." Kole spoke with finality.

"That's between you and them." I nodded.

"What do you plan to do now? I'm asking as a Clan Leader." Kole glanced at the doctor and droid. "If it's not classified." He added.

"I'm leaving to Coruscant shortly. Both to negotiate an alliance with the Republic as Mandalore and answer about gaining the title while being a GAR general."

"Better you than me." Ordo all but shuddered at the though of personally dealing with the Senate and Republic's bureaucracy.

"Beside that, I'm calling them home." I smiled. "All of them."

Kole gave me a speculative look.

=RK=

Basilik's Rest

Nar Shaddaa

The Smuggler's Moon. According to some, this place was Coruscant's dark twin. It was the closest place that the Hutt's as a whole and many of the galaxy's criminal cartels and organizations had to a capital. It was a moon so built up that it resembled one giant hive of crime and villainy.

It was also a great place for any mercenary to find either job, short term lodging or whatever gear they might need – especially if the gear was less than legal in what passed for civilized space these days.

For more than four thousand years, significant chunk of the mercenaries passing through Nar Shaddaa were of Mandalorian origin or found said culture appealing and eventually became one.

In hindsight, it wasn't surprising that there were some establishments not only frequented by Mandalorians but catering almost exclusively to their kind. The Basilik's Rest was one of the oldest and highly reputable of them – something that meant both more and less on a place like Nar Shaddaa.

On a good day, at least half the clients were Mandalorian mercenaries either just passing through, decompressing or waiting to meet a contract – something that have been happening in that place for hundreds of years. If you didn't know better, it would have been just another busy day.

That day, there were some notable differences – first all clients were either Mandalorians, or people the patrons trusted. Second, the various holoscreen which usually displayed many different blood sports, races or dancing strippers from half a dozen species, were all switched on the same channel.

And most importantly, all the patrons had their attention firmly fixed on the displays.

As far as many of them were concerned, it's been just a week or so since the galaxy changed. It wasn't simply the war between the Republic and the CIS that got their attention, though that conflict was a big part of it. In fact it was a catalyst.

No, what got their interest and that of most Mandalorians spread through the width and breath of the galaxy was closer to home.

It has been a week since the skies above Mandalore were lit of fire by the flames of war. A week since the cradle of Mandalorian civilization was bombarded from space.

More importantly, it was mere days since the most notable Clan Leaders gathered in Sundari and chose a new Mandalore. That by itself was novel – it was a long time since their people had a nominal leader they could respect and thins Mandalore already had their attention. His name had been whispered ever since the attacks upon Coruscant. Then it was a mere novelty. A competent Republic general – who knew that they still existed.

The Ryloth came and made some Mandalorians take a closer look. The words of Veil's exploits were becoming more and more notable. More credible. Especially when the people on Nar Shaddaa knew a lot of local captains who lost their lives and ships when they threw their lot with the CIS in an attempt to enslave more of the Twi'leks.

Just a month or so ago, Geonosis changed things. It make all Mandalorian warriors worth the name stop and take a notice. That same Republic general fought and won the biggest space battle in a thousand years. The war was escalating and it sang to the Mandalorian's warrior hearts. Their blood ran just a bit quicker, their hearts beat faster in anticipation.

They lived to fight in a conflict such a this one, yet the weak leadership back on Mandalore wasn't going to do a thing. Satine and her ilk were pacifist of all things and unfortunately they had too many supporters on Mandalore itself… where their people's industry was concentrated after their Civil War.

It was an untenable situation that made many Mandalorians put out feelers to see if either the Republic or the CIS would have work for them. It was either that or join the Death Watch and risk another Civil War – something that a lot of them did anyway.

Yet, all that suddenly became irrelevant. The Death Watch was all but gone – extinguished within a week after they betrayed their own people to "allies" who saw no issue with bombarding Mandalore.

To be fair, many, even most Mandalorians haven ever stood upon that world. It wasn't their place of origin. Not their homeworld.

However, it was something as important – it was a symbol. The place where their culture was born. And the Confederacy didn't thing twice before unleashing their fleet upon that world.

That little fact pissed off a lot of Mandalorians, even if most of them had no outlet for their anger.

That was about to change.

The holoscreens were busy showing images of Sundari – the most populated city hit by the orbital strikes along with many of the smaller cities and towns. The pictures soon shifted, showing images captured during the space battle – most notable a Mandalorian battleship ramming a CIS Command cruiser that was trying to escape when Republic reinforcements showed up to save the day – and didn't the very idea grate on every Mandalorian who knew the details of that battle.

Whoever edited the clips was good – below the warships tearing each other apart, everyone could see Mandalore burning.

The image changed again and made everyone pay attention. Seven people stood on a small podium with Sundari's wrecked skyline in the background. They all wore customized heavy armor with their Clan Symbols displayed proudly. Five of them were known Clan Leader and they were flanking the other two.

Horus Yomaget was easy to recognize for anyone who paid any attention on things back on Mandalore. It couldn't be any other way with the man having the notable distinction of being in an opposition of both Satine's government and Death Watch. With Clan Yomaget being practically the most numerous, powerful and wealthy of them all, he could afford to do so. Next to him stood someone who only some of the older warriors recognized – Kal Skirata and many wondered where that ancient krath hound came from. The other Clan Leader were harder to place. Thang Auwad – who took the leadership position after his wife died during the bombardment wasn't a well known entity though he held a lot of power thank tho the industry he controlled through his Clan and its allies.

The big surprise was Merrik Bralor – who prior to the battle used to be one of Death Watch biggest supporters – with both equipment and manpower. He apparently didn't appreciated Vizsla's friends bombarding his homeworld.

Another lesser known, yet important figure figure was the man wearing Ordo symbols. While that Clan was almost extinct nowadays, the name still carried a lot of weight.

That left the two people in the middle. The so called Negotiator – one of the more famous and effective Republic generals and a Jedi to booth. Yet that man wore three symbols on his armor – those of the GAR, Mandalorian people and a stylized winged sword. They were all familiar to the Mandalorians who had studied history and especially the old battles – which was a lot of them.

It was the symbol of the Jedi of old and it was placed where the Clan sigil should be. The symbolism of it all was quite interesting and it gave credence to some interesting rumors – that general Kenobi had became a Mandalorian and married Satine Kryze of all people.

Just as the last figure married the Duchess sister Bo-Katan, a former Death Watch member.

Said figure wore a black armor with two symbols – one of Mandalore and the other a stylized wheel that was a close resemblance of the emblem of the Sith Empire.

He really didn't need an introduction in among the bar's patrons. There was scarcely a being in the building who didn't know Mandalore even if this was the man's first official address despite a few public showings caught by the media.

At first glance, he didn't look like much, that new Mandalore. A bit on the short side, not particularly muscled. Short cropped black hair and a pair of dark eyes. Average face that you wouldn't look at twice.

Yet, even seeing him through the screen, the man had a presence. An aura. He commanded one's attention.

Then Mandalore spoke.

"It's an honor to stand once upon the soil of Mandalore. It is even bigger honor to be wearing this armor," Veil rapped his armored knuckles over his brėȧstplate above his heart. "To be accepted as a Mandalorian. To earn the title of Mandalore, to be elected by the Clans as our people's uniting voice..." He trailed off and smiled grimly.

"Someone else in my place might say it's regrettable that this happens in an age of strife, when a ware ravages the whole galaxy. However, those wouldn't be words that anyone with the heart of a Mandalorian warrior would ever utter. For we know the truth. Being Mandalorians is the greatest of commitments, greatest of sacrifices and that goes double for anyone who dares to claim himself a leader of Mandalorians." For a moment it seemed that Mandalore stared at the very souls of the Mandalorians watching his address.

"That is something the misguided fools of the Death Watch and their Confederacy masters forgot. They aimed to take power over Mandalore by the strength of arms and keep it with the numbers of the CIS droid armies. They were not true Mandalorians. They had no honor and proved it for the whole galaxy to see." Veil paused and gave a grim nod. "The Death Watch already paid for their hubris and so did their leader Pre Vizsla. The last remnants of that cowards organization still hides on Concordia and will be dealt with once and for all. Yet, that leaves their masters. The people they made a deal with in order to claim Mandalore – the place where our culture originated."

Mandalore shook his head in wonder.

"It's as if simply conquering this one world would have given them what they wanted – control over the Mandalorian people. They forgot who we are. What we are. They planned to subjugate us, to use us as expendable shock-troops that should be discarded once their war was lost." A pause. "The utter fools. We don't live just in this one place!" He pointed at the ground below his feet. "Not this world, not this system or even this whole sector! We span the galaxy! Being Mandalorian isn't a species or a political statement. We don't have a central command that is easily decapitated. We aren't a single species or a bloodline that could be exterminated. We can rebuild our ranks with others who want to join us, other who have the same hearts as us!"

Mandalore raised a fist.

"We aren't just a mere people or an army. To be a Mandalorian is a culture! An idea, and you can't kill and idea with blades, blasters or warships! To the Confederacy of Independent systems that tried to subjugate us, I tell you this! You can't kill an idea no matter how many worlds you lay to waste. Yet we can kill you! And we will. To the Confederacy leadership – you can take this as an official declaration of war between the Mandalorian people and you – a courtesy more than you deserve."

Mandalore's eyes bored into the camera.

"To the Mandalorians living, fighting all over the galaxy, I tell you this – it is high time for you to come home. It is high time for everyone to remember us. I won't order you. I won't issue commands. I will ask you as one warrior to another, come and join me! Let us make the galaxy remember us and our enemies tremble at the very thought of us!"

Mandalore smiled.

"I know what your hearts dėsɨrė. Its the same though, the same emotion that makes my own beat faster. There is a great war to be fought and we will be a part of it. Even better, our honor demands that we be a part of this conflict. It cries against the madness sowed by the Confederacy! We will lead the way and write our names in the annals of history so even in a ten thousand years we will be remembered!

That's why I ask you all to come home. Bring your weapons, your ships and let us set our enemies ablaze!"

=RK=

Council Chambers

Jedi Temple

Coruscant

The large circular room was all but empty. Only a single tiny being sat in one of the chairs placed in a circle around an open space in its center.

The Grand Master of the Jedi Order watched the end of Mandalore's address and his ears drooped in regret. It wasn't because Veil had betrayed the Republic, no matter what many would be screaming and soon. Not yet at least. But because it didn't matter. That man had his reasons for such a controversial choice. They might have even been good enough.

It didn't matter. Yoda already felt the Force trembling. More and more Jedi were seeing the same transmission. The conservatives and many of the neutrals would see Veil becoming Mandalore as nothing more than a typical Sith power grab… and Yoda wasn't sure how much of such conclusion would be an overreaction.

The one thing he knew was that the friendly Sith had seen an opportunity and grabbed it. The consequences however… did the man think about them and if he did, did he care?

Yoda closed his eyes, sighed and slumped in his chair. He could sense the turmoil in the Temple itself. Some Jedi were confused, others would probably wait for more information before they made up their mind. Yet too many were scared and angry. He had to be ready to fend of the conservatives and try finding a middle ground. Because the alternative was unthinkable. The way things were going ultimately it wouldn't matter who won the war or if Veil was going to show his true intentions. The Order was splintering, slowly tearing apart under the strain of multiple factions and Yoda wasn't sure how to fix it.