The Force Wills - Chapter 149

Leaving the hidden Separatist facility was decidedly more exciting than getting in had been.

Korkie and Jhaveb carried the unconscious, traitorous Sergeant Kast between them and the squad took the air on jetpack straight into the cavern and flew towards the lava tube exit.

Ahsoka had set the timer on the detonator charges for a mere eight minutes.

“Any longer and we give the tac droid time to disarm them, move.”

Tervho and the other three squad members took up the rear of the line flight formation as they sped through the lava tubes at relative breakneck speed.

Korkie found himself embracing the Force to properly manage their load.

Left, right, sharp left, angle upward, accelerating hard to not plough themselves into an adjoining rock tunnel.

Emerging out of the tunnels and into the canyon, they shot up at max possible speed, bursting up into the sky.

They angled eastward immediately and made for the Aurna, which had swooped into a low level pass, matching velocity and opened the rear embarkation hatch made especially for retrieving jackpacking Mandalorians from mid-air flight. 

Korkie and Jhaveb dumped Sergeant Kast to the deck as soon as they could.

He felt the Aurna accelerate hard and saw a bright flash of light just before the ramp closed behind them.

The ship shuddered under the atmospheric shockwave as two fusion reactor explosions vaporized and displaced countless tons of rock in a few seconds.

“Blades! Front and center!” Ahsoka ordered immediately, not giving them a moment’s rest to even gather their wits.

The survivors of the squad fell in line and stood to attention.

She stood first in front of Jhaveb and placed a hand on his shoulder. He vaguely felt the Force twist and surge from her, feeling the energies linking her and the young man’s mind.

What’s she doing? He thought stupidly at first, but then realized the obvious.

If there was one brainwashed traitor, there could be more.

She nodded to herself and moved on to Medic Saxon.

It took her no more than thirty seconds to be satisfied and to move on to the others, each one taking less and less time.

“You’ll be happy to know that none of you are compromised by the same brainwashing that affected Sergeant Kast and that I’m satisfied by your loyalties,” she eventually declared and walked back up the line. “Kast was captured by a Separatist operative whilst she was on leave in Sundari. I’ve managed to recover her memory of the event, despite it being artificially suppressed. Lieutenant Kryze?”

“Yes, Manda’lor?”

“You will take over command of this squadron, Medic Saxon will be your 2IC. Your orders are to take the Aurna into orbit, make best speed back to Concordia.”

“Understood, Manda’lor.”

“In the meantime, I’m assigning this HK-HP, to become your personal bodyguard for the foreseeable future. He will do everything he can to accommodate your schedule but you will listen to him, Lieutenant, when it comes to matters regarding your own safety. Consider that an order as well, which I will be getting the Duchess to personally issue as well.”

Korkie inwardly winced, but he knew he should actually be thanking Ahsoka quite profusely. He could well imagine that his mother would order him to immediately return to the safety of the palace. To the black void with your duty to the Blades and service to Mandalore, she would say. He also struggled to imagine just how Ahsoka would convince his mother otherwise.

“Very well, Manda’lor.”

“Good, squad dismissed. Lieutenant, follow me.”

He walked in her wake and climbed up the ladder onto the cockpit deck.

Then was rather proud of himself for resisting the urge to look up.

He felt her purposefully push teasing amusement his way as she sat down into the pilot seat, easily picking up on that little moment.

‘You may stare with as much respectful appreciation as you want, Korkie. Do you know how much effort goes into training this ass?’

He boggled as those words registered in his mind and found himself utterly unable to say anything in response for a long few moments. He was cast about in the winds of uncertainty before he settled on the straightforward solution.

‘I imagine a lot, given the training hell I’ve been through with the Blades.’ He cleared his own throat, unwinding the small knot of nerves that accumulated there.

He could feel her knowing smile. ‘Just a bit of teasing, Korkie. Relax.’

Sitting down in the co-pilot seat he could only feel gratitude at her attempt to get his mind away from the fog of worry that had been clouding it since the revelation of Kast’s brainwashing.

“Relaxing is not something that I have in me at the moment,” he said as he stared through the forward transparisteel, with the rapidly thinning atmosphere which was giving way to the void of space.

Her hands flittered over the holo-controls and the Force gave a minor twitch as she did something.

“I’ve disabled the cockpit recorders, we can speak freely now. Korkie, worry is the greatest waste of energy that we sentients indulge ourselves in. It changes nothing and is a precocious child of fear that disguises itself. I’m going to disconnect from HK-HP after this conversation and I’ll connect to another proxy on Concordia. I’ll be in Sundari within 23 minutes, hunting down the CIS operative and alerting your mother of the greater danger.”

He broke the seal on his helmet and pulled it off, feeling suddenly constricted by it. He rallied, fighting for control and equilibrium.

It took him minutes of struggle before he reached something he would consider acceptable.

Of course she knew.

It was foolish of him to even consider that the secret could remain hidden in front of Ahsoka’s perceptions in the Force.

“How long have you known?”

She sat back in the pilot’s chair, her helmet shimmering briefly as the holosheathe adjusted to show her face. Despite everything he was temporarily captivated by her beauty; the soft orange skin, which had gained a slightly darker shade from a recent extended exposure to sunlight, her white and blue lekku had a different pattern to it - featuring a small diamond shape between every angular line. Her blue eyes stared at him with a twinkling ruefulness.

“Since the first time we met.”

Korkie closed his eyes, it was as he suspected. “I suppose I should thank you for your discretion, Ahsoka.”

“As much as I despise politics, it’s something we must live with. Has she told you about your father?”

Thinking about that was something he had made peace with himself years ago. He had the palace’s chief butler, Drar Mon, as a father figure since he was old enough to walk. His mother had made sure of that. Sure, he was curious about the great Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, but only in the abstract sense. It wasn’t as if they could ever meet in public or even in private as father and son.

Korkie had by now studied enough about Jedi, to know that they were firmly against the ‘attachments’ of family and dynastic ambitions. He had come into this existence because a younger Obi-Wan Kenobi had failed to uphold that commitment.

He nodded, “Yes and the understanding that it would be better for everyone if that connection remained in the past.”

“Indeed,” she said with feeling. “Nevertheless, if you ever feel the need to ask me questions, I know your father well-”

He held up his hands, “It’s all right-”

“No, listen Korkie. It’s potentially unresolved emotions about things like this that the Dark Side will latch onto. Understand that if I can perceive the connection, so can any Sith.” Her eyes shone with warning and determination. 

“Very well, I will take you up on that offer, should I feel the need.”

“Good.”

He rallied and gathered his own courage, steeling his heart. “Thank you for saving my life, Ahsoka.” He carefully reached out to her hand and it was only when it was gathered in his palms that he felt like kicking himself - his hands shimmered through the holosheathe, touching only the cold hyperalloy hands of a proxy droid. He firmly ignored that thought, gathering the intent in the Force and kissing her anyway just behind the knuckles. 

He looked back up into her eyes without fear.

Her smile and eyes were soft - he felt her radiance in the Force become like a warm blanket that fell on his shoulders on a cold winter’s night.

She didn’t need to say anything.

His mother had always said that Jedi generally don’t feel. That they would cast off everything for their precious Order and the commitment to it. It was at this moment that he knew she was definitely wrong. That might be true of Kenobi, but not of Ahsoka Tano.

Her actual body was thousands of light years away, but in the Force, she was right here and that mattered so much more.

In his mind, her radiance shifted in some indefinable way and now it felt like… a hug?

Then it shifted to something that was like a kiss?

She pulled back her hand, the wonderful moment disappearing.

In its wake, he was left feeling cold, wanting nothing more than to regain it.

“I need to go, a lot of calls to make,” she said softly, her eyes closing. He could almost see the fortress she pulled her radiance back into and now he was just perceiving the same thing she projected for everyone else – the aloof, strong Mandalorian Jedi. “Force be with you, Korkie.”

Her entire form rippled as the holosheathe bled away, replaced with the cold steel of HK-HP.

“And you, Ahsoka.”

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I ran for the Vizsla hangars as fast as I could.

Thankfully, no one needed to be rushed out of bed this time.

On this occasion I was taking the Fang fighter and it was fueled and ready for me, the ground crew saluting as I climbed the ladder.

The fighter’s systems whined and thrummed with power as it came alive under me.

This would be the first time I take out the new model Mandalorian Mk 2 Fang fighter, which was specifically made in answer to the threat of the CIS Tri-Fighter. It had all the bells and whistles that any modern starfighter had to survive in the evolving environment of the war, but the Mk 2’s cannon layout had been altered entirely. Instead of just two fixed forward cannons, they were replaced with rapid fire cannon turrets that rose up out of the fighter’s hull and which could traverse to the dorsal and ventral sides – effectively giving almost a 360 by 360 degree sphere of fire to the pilot. There was no ‘getting behind’ the Mk.2 Fang fighter.

The Tri-Fighter could be as maneuverable as it wanted to be, it would always face a wall of cannon fire if it attacked a Fang.

I hovered the Fang slowly out of the hangar, angled the nose up and hit full throttle.

The deflector shaping let me hit 900 kph within three seconds and as Concordia’s atmosphere grew thinner the speed quickly climbed to 1400kph.

I just about managed 2000 kph before the last vestiges of the outer atmosphere was left behind and I began building into orbital speeds.

MandalMotors and SoroSuub, had finally built on my initial directions regarding high speed in atmo, creating a deflector profile for fighters that let them easily reach high Mach numbers with a suitable strength engine. The Fang could now do a fair imitation of the old Earth SR-71 Blackbird if it had to.

Unfortunately, satisfying that old dream of mine would have to wait.

I pushed the fighter into a 3500 G burn the moment I had proper void around me, heading straight for Mandalore and an orbit that would bring me right over Sundari.

It was a trip that would take less than four minutes at this speed.

Yet why were probability lines telling me otherwise?

“Frakking shabla, os’ik!”

Screaming out of Mandalore’s atmosphere on an intercept course with me were six Mandalorian Protectorate fighters, flying the pre-war Fang.

I adjusted the comlink and directed my transmission to the incoming squadron.

“This is Manda’lor Vizsla, en route to Sundari, to Protectorate Squadron Theta. You are on an intercept with me. Please state your intentions.”

There was silence for a few seconds before the reply came. “Manda’lor Vizsla, this is Captain Kugh of the 6th Protectorate Squadron. We received a report of a stolen fighter with your transponder code.”

“This fighter is not stolen and fully registered with aerospace control, Captain. My flight plan was sent on emergency authorization from Governor Togai.”

There was a brief pause, “No such flight plan is reading on my systems, Manda’lor. Scans also indicate no life signs in your fighter.”

“I am making use of a proxy droid, captain,” I grumbled with annoyance. “So naturally there wouldn’t be.”

More silence.

“Manda’lor Vizsla, heave to and prepare to enter formation with us.”

Oh, for frak’s sake.

“And just where are you escorting me?”

“We are under orders to take you to Ronion.”

Ronion was a dome city over four hundred kilometers south-east of Sundari, which was also home to the Protectorate’s Aerospace squadrons.

“Whose order is that?”

“Only Duchess Satine can give the Protectorate orders, Manda’lor.” His tone was clipped and professional over the comlink, but I could smell the evasion in his answer from light years away.

“And did Duchess Satine give this order in the two minutes since I entered Mandalore-Concordia space, Captain?” I asked dryly, wondering what nerfshit he was going to spin next.

His answer was to cut the comlink.

‘Mistress, they’re powering up weapons,’ M8 warned.

“Should’ve expected this given just who the Separatist operative is. He’s made contingencies for my arrival.”

‘Protectorate squadron is ninety seconds to maximum gun range, missile range in twenty.’

“M8, what’s the likelihood that signal to the proxy will be jammed or disrupted?”

‘Low, mistress. They would need to sort the specific encoded hyperwave signal from the hundreds of thousands that constantly flow into the Mandalore sector.’

“Just checking, but given who our traitor is, we can’t rule out anything.”

My hands flicked over the controls, physical and holo, powering up the cannon turrets and enabling the drum missile launcher in the ventral spine.

‘Energy spikes, missile target locks, mistress!’

“I see it.”

The Protectorate Fang fighter was a variant that featured external mounts for missiles, whilst their internal launcher housed anti-capital torpedoes, which would not play a part here.

Twelve missiles screamed into the void and angled straight for me.

Since we were making a straight head to head intercept, I only had seconds to react.

I let loose a long burst from the turrets, swiping them upper left to lower right through space, whilst throwing my fighter into hard burn to starboard.

Nine missiles died, whilst three continued on, seeking to smash into my shields.

Electro-chaff burst from the rear of my fighter in a wide spread, sending two off course, whilst M8 managed to spoof the last one into a miss using ECM.

I could let loose with all my missiles in retaliation, but I wasn’t about to kill fellow Mandalorians for following the orders of a traitor.

The range closed further and I submerged myself deeply in the Force, pushing into the future to judge the correct moment.

Three... two... now!

In that single moment, with our respective velocities measured in hundreds of kilometers per second, the Protectorate squadron was only less than fifty kilometers on either side of me, taking evasive action to not collide.

Some tried to send cannon fire my way, which I danced my fighter through, but it was too late.

All six pilots fell to the Force Sleep. Their minds close enough for me to grasp onto.

“M8, record their course and speed, just in case.”

‘Got it, mistress.’

I readjusted course for Sundari and just a few minutes later began atmospheric entry.

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The fighter was admitted into the Sundari dome with no issue and I landed in the docks at a public hangar that Togai had organized.

Waiting for me were squadrons of Mandalorians from Clan Wren, Kirata and Saxon, all of whom were in the Blades, led by Countess Ursa Wren herself.

All 36 were in full beskar’gam and stood to attention the moment I vaulted myself out of the fighter.

“Manda’lor Vizsla,” she thumped her fist to her chestplate. “Welcome back to Mandalore.”

“Countess Wren, thank you for assembling on short notice. We will not have much time, especially since this meeting is rather public,” I looked to my right, where a lot of alarmed civilians coming and going from the docks had spotted us.

Ursa nodded, her stoic dark eyed gaze shot towards the civvies, “It would’ve been more prudent to have this meeting at the private Vizsla hangar, Manda’lor.”

“Yes, but that would play right into the hands of the traitor we are here to arrest. He’s planted a bomb there to kill us all in one fell swoop.”

Ursa’s lips thinned in anger and she immediately put on her helmet, every Blade immediately followed suit as shock and anger rippled through their spirits at my words.

She asked a simple question, “Who, Manda’lor?”

I switched over my comlink into local mode, beaming my voice into the helmets of every man and woman before me, keeping the conversation private.

“Prime Minister Almec’s protege, Jiro Varnok.”

Varnok was the current Minister for Internal Affairs. He was a rising star and ‘face’ for the bureaucratic reform of the Mandalore sector in the wake of the reconciliation between the New Mandalorians and the Old. He was technically a ‘convert’, he and his small clan had been in the Old Mando camp and had become a pacifist convert during the civil war. He was right next to Almec in every meeting and the snake was clearly within striking distance of Satine this very moment.

He was the kind of man that just faded into the background, who you would easily mistake for yet another drone of government. Yet that had changed in the last eight months, where he suddenly gained ambition and began campaigning to rise through the ranks, via some merit but mostly through the very carefully engineered ‘misfortune’ of those above him. No doubt aided by the CIS’s money and resources.

The plan had slowly been coming together and now it had become time to kill Korkie Kryze.

The ultimate aim was to kill not just Satine, but the entire extended Kryze clan, leaving no clear successor for the sovereign of Mandalore.

It would then fall to a clan congress to elect a new Duke or Duchess.

A congress where Dooku would enact a plan to ascend Clan Varnok to that post and if that didn’t happen, a bomb would wipe out the entire clan congress.

Leaving the entire Mandalore sector in utter chaos and embroiled in so many clan succession trials and battles, it would force the withdrawal of every Mandalorian Blade currently serving in the Republic Navy.

It would turn the entire sector inward, perhaps even a descent into another full blown civil war.

Exactly what Palpatine wants for the sector.

The Sith Lord, while having no romantic delusions of the Old Republic era, knew his history. A resurgent and strong Mandalore was not on the cards for his New Imperial Order. It would be a potential challenger to his rule and a potential locus around which resistance could form.

Which was exactly one of my contingency plans for the future.

Palpatine was already moving to prevent it.

Frak.

I was so incensed that I had delved a bit too long in the probability line - the Blades in front of me were growing concerned at my long silence.  

“Varnok was identified after the debriefing of Sergeant Kast - who he used brainwash tech on - to carry out the attempted assassination of Korkie Kryze.” I let those implications stew in their minds for a few seconds. “Since then I’ve done some digging into Clan Varnok and can only conclude that Jiro has been bought and turned traitor for Dooku.”

I downloaded a sanitized version of the intelligence M8 and I had dug up to every Blade in front of me.

What was amazing was how relatively in the open Jiro Varnok had been as a spy.

It was the trick with spies however, that they hid their activities as a single thread through the millions of data points that any modern civilization generated and accumulated. They presented an ordinary facade that camouflaged, but the second you isolated them and began looking at them with the lens of investigation and counter-intelligence, you began to see what was in plain sight all along.

Varnok’s financials alone merited a pointed visit from the Mandalorian tax authorities - that it hadn’t happened spoke of either corruption or foul play, probably a combination of both.

“You can read this at your leisure later, but I’m sharing this with you because I want there to be no doubts later. Yes, I am your Manda’lor and you’ll follow me into any battle when I call, but even under perfect conditions, we’re going to be kicking up a political mess. We’re going to arrest a senior government official, who has already used the Protectorate to try to blast my fighter and proxy to space dust before I could land.”

“What of the Duchess? Have you tried to contact her?” Ursa asked grimly.

“Given the close proximity Varnok has and the seeming ability to use the Protectorate as his tool, I’ve delayed in bringing this matter to her attention. He may be listening to every word of even her private communications. There is no way of knowing how much of Sundari Palace has been compromised by him or the Separatists at this point.”

“We’re going to fight the Protectorate, aren’t we?”

“If it comes down to it, yes. However I will do everything in my power to prevent that. Make sure your weapons are set to stun.” I walked up and down the line of Mandos standing before me. “This is precisely what the Blades were established to do if necessary. We truly answer only to the Sovereign of Mandalore and if the Protectorate, who is meant to be her open shield and blade, has become corrupted, then it is our duty to correct that.”

Every Blade before me thumped their chest in wholehearted agreement. Conviction, patriotism and zeal shone in every spirit before me.

“Are you with me, sons and daughters of Mandalore?!”

“OYA’LA!” 

I inwardly grinned as they replied with the traditional battlefield call - Let’s hunt.  

“Then follow me into the sky, OYA’LA VODE!”

The thrusters in my HK-HPs feet burst into life and I shot up from the dock level and behind me three squadrons of Blades surged into the sky on their jetpacks.

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The cuboid gardens of Sundari Palace looked especially beautiful today.

Jiro Varnok stood in his office in the government wing of the palace, taking in the view and couldn’t help but feel a vindictive satisfaction.

It was all coming together. A plan decades in the making, something that began from a promise made in the ashes of his destroyed clan and home. 

He cut a figure of refined menace, tall, lean, with the build of a Concordia miner honed by countless vibroblade duels. How far he had come from the scrappy teen working in the moon’s beskar mines, just to make ends meet for the survivors of his family.

Like so many in the Mandalorian sector, the civil war had changed the fates of countless, but for him, it became the ladder to rise and attain his most fervent desire.    

After so long under Sundari’s artificial lights, his skin was pale and his silver hair was pulled into a single warrior braid, his only concession to openly show his past among the Old Mandalorians, whilst his style of dress, every mannerism and language showed him as firmly part of the New.

Stylized white and indigo tunic, pants and flowing robes covered his form, reflecting starkly in the pure crystal transparisteel wall of his office.

His hand fiddled with a silver pendant around his neck as he inwardly shivered anew with anticipation. 

Today.

It was happening today!

Korkie Kryze was dead.

He had seen the Nightsister’s skills in a private demonstration. Against that, no mere neophyte trainee of Clan Vizsla and the upstart Blades could hope to achieve anything, especially when that Nightsister had an entire covert war droid contingent at her command.

The alien bitch would arrive too late, even with a proxy, and only find a dead body waiting for her on Raydonia.

He had little hope that Captain Kugh - his patsy in the Protectorate’s aerospace wing - would truly be able to stop her from eventually landing with her proxy in Sundari, but the bomb in the Vizsla hangars would do the trick nicely. The instant her fighter touched down… 

The word would soon come from Sergeant Kast that the job had been done, after which he could go and deliver the very sad news to the Duchess.

Oh, how he would relish seeing Satine’s insufferably perfect facade crack.

A major pillar of the Kryze dynasty would fall, and it was just the beginning!

She would see her entire family and clan die, one by one, until she stood alone, broken upon the ashes of her house.

Only then would he allow her the honor of dying by his blade!

The terminal on his desk began chiming, bringing him out of his musings.

He tapped the controls, “Yes?”

“Minister, I’m afraid to report that Manda’lor Vizsla did not land at her personal hangar.”

Jiro absorbed the news with outward calm.

“What? Explain immediately.”

Rono Fust, his spy who worked in the Sundari Docking Guild, coughed uncomfortably over the link, “She landed at a public dock, minister. Three Blades squads met her there and they just took off for the city interior.”

A shiver of alarm went down his spine.

Why would she need that many to just announce the death of Kryze? Not to mention, how could his informants have missed the gathering of so many Blades?

A single honor squadron he could understand, it was momentous news, but three…

That was an entirely different story and if his instincts were right there was only one purpose they would have.

36 fully armored Mandalorian warriors was enough to easily assault Sundari Palace. There was no way that togruta could know that he had been behind Kast.

Kast’s instructions had been to fight her fellows to the death after killing Kryze. She had no documents or anything on her that linked them. The brainflash had even wiped her memory of their meeting.

No, he had to calm down. He was jumping at shadows and he wouldn’t falter now that the pieces were finally falling into place.

The alien bitch would come, deliver her news with her elaborate retinue and then leave. Dooku had been adamant that he was not to move against her or her clan in any way… not yet at least.

Yet, the rationalization fell apart as he thought about his own study of Tano’s personality and her actions. 

She was coming for something more than just announcing the death of Korkie Kryze.

Was she here, despite all his precautions and preparation, for him?

It was impossible!

He grit his teeth with the indecision warring within. If he used his leverage in the Protectorate, telling them that this was an attack on the Duchess…

There was no coming back from that.

If they lost, which was almost a certainty with a Jedi leading them…

“Minister?”

“Go to ground, Fust. Destroy all com logs. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He cut the link and switched channels. “Get me General Streng of the Protectorate.”

“Right away, minister,” his secretary replied. It took a few agonizing minutes before a reply came. “General Streng on link, Minister.”

“Minister Varnok,” said the commander of the Palace guard. Jiro privately thought the old blowhard could really do with a vocabulator implant, he sounded like he was gargling rock. “How can I help you?”

“It’s come to my attention that an alarmingly large contingent of Blades are flying our way.”

“Really? More than usual?”

“Oh yes, perhaps you should alert the guard, just in case.”

“I’ll go out myself and get to the bottom of this, Minister.”

“Please do.”

He cut the link.

There, nothing but a concerned government servant, worrying about the approach of so many warriors to the palace.

He fiddled with his pendant again, considering what was inside.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to be nearer to the throne room and keep a remote eye on the general’s meeting, just in case.

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Ursa Wren had never imagined that she would ever fly in a combat formation over the streets of Sundari again.

Not since the civil war had such a thing been seen and now she was beside her Manda’lor, with three squadrons of warriors streaking over and under the myriad tall buildings that dotted the cityscape, dodging in and around the air car lanes and public transportation.

She doubted she was the only one among the Blades here who were thinking of those days.

Remembering the wrecked towers, rotting bodies littering the streets, always keeping an eye to the sky for the enemy, aerial combat, dead warriors falling out of the sky, scavengers swooping down on the body and stripping it clean before comrades could even think to save it. Sleeping in bombed out skyscrapers, eating gruel rations long past their expiry, the hunt for water just to keep the looming specter of dehydration at bay.

She dodged over an air bus and caught back up to her Manda’lor’s side, enabling a line of sight comlink. There was something that had been worrying her ever since she’d read through the evidence implicating the Interior Minister.

“Manda’lor, how sure are you that none of the Blades behind you are brainwashed?”

“Fairly sure, I’ve seen the specific method Varnok used and can sense none of that among you. I’m more worried about the Protectorate in that respect or the palace staff. Ursa, I’m going to do my utmost to see this doesn’t turn into a shooting match, but Varnok is not going to be idle when he sees us land. I’m playing a psychological game with him, forcing him to make a mistake.”

“I was wondering about that. You could’ve infiltrated the palace without drawing attention.”

“Yes, but the scale of the corruption forces my own hand in this direction. As strong as I am, Varnok would set the entire palace guard on me if I went in alone. He has also prepared some fabricated evidence that would muddy the waters long enough for him to enact escape plans whilst investigations are conducted.”

The palace came into view as they flew around a ceiling mounted building on the central level of the dome city.

Ahsoka led the way into a dive and angled them for a landing in the main thoroughfare of the palace’s northern gardens.

Ursa could already see that the palace guard on the perimeter towers were reacting - reaching for force pikes and unholstering blasters. 

She flared her body out of the dive, reducing speed and bringing her legs into a landing orientation.

The Blades touched down in a perfect defensive square formation, with only Ahsoka standing slightly out of it.

The palace guard rushed forward from their positions and surrounded them, brandishing their force pikes.

Ursa had to give these men and women credit - they didn’t hesitate, flinch or waver. Any of the current palace guards would also be war veterans and they knew full well what would happen if hostilities broke out.

Both sides wore beskar, but the Blades had the stronger, purer armor, which covered the majority of the body. The Protectorate only wore chest and leg armor, with an open ceremonial helmet. That wasn’t even taking into account the offensive weaponry mounted on arms of the Blades. Everyone had their WESTARs in holsters and made no move to draw them.

“Manda’lor Vizsla, to what do we owe the honor of your visit to the palace?”

Ursa grimaced behind her helmet as General Streng approached.

The Old Man of the Palace.

The man who had almost single handedly defended it against all the predations and tragedies of the civil war. He was the reason only minor repairs had been needed after the guns had fallen silent. He didn’t wear beskar and was clad only in his formal uniform, with a single WESTAR blaster in a holster on his hip.

His face was a virtual map of healed scars, the worst being a valley of skin that went down the right side of his neck and the reason for his gargling voice.

“I am here to arrest Minister Jiro Varnok for treason.”

Streng frowned slightly, “Is that so? A serious accusation. Something I doubt someone of your stature would do on a whim without solid evidence. Yet I wonder why you think you need so many of your Blades behind you to bring this charge forward? You have the Duchess’ personal comlink and can bring your concerns directly to her. Unless…”

Streng was no one’s fool, possessed of a veteran cunning that Ursa wished they could somehow bottle and hand out. He met the gaze of Ahsoka’s visor and his weathered face smiled casually.

The blaster shot echoed in the garden.

Chaos.

The left side of the Blade formation drew blasters and fired, the blue rings of stun blasts peppering the palace guard member who had fired with shots.

Ursa had her own blaster drawn and waited for Ahsoka’s order, when each blaster in the hands of the palace guard was ripped from their grasp.

The weapons clattered at the feet of the Blade formation.

“STOP!”

The order from her Manda’lor rang out through the garden. Ursa felt it push down on her mind and could see from the wincing guardsmen that this was not just a vocal command.

Yet despite the command through the Force, four guardsmen charged the Blade formation with their pikes.

“You four halt! That is an order!” screamed Streng.

The Blades under immediate threat swiftly dodged and deflected the pikes with vibroblades.

Ahsoka raised a hand and gave a mild wave.

The four guardsmen immediately went limp and collapsed.

“As you can see, General Streng, your guardsmen have a slight case of sleeper brainwashing among their ranks, more than likely keyed to any stated intent to arrest or detain Jiro Varnok,” Ahsoka explained.

Streng’s face grew stormy as he growled, “I’d thought we’d seen the end of this horror in the war. If four of my men are compromised among this section of the palace, then it paints a horrible picture of what is potentially waiting for us if we go inside.”

“We have no choice,” Ahsoka made a flicking gesture and every blaster pistol on the ground shot straight back to their owner. “I can at least confirm that the sixteen guardsmen around us are unaffected, as are you.”

He frowned, “You can tell that at a glance?”

“It’s a lot more involved than just that, General, but for our current purposes, yes I can. We must go, now.”

Ahsoka strode forward and he allowed her to pass, before falling into step on her right.

The Blades and guardsmen fell into formation with ease as they marched into the tall palace entry lobby.

The few civilian staffers who just happened to be there froze with fright and astonishment.

Ahsoka didn’t break her stride as she gestured to a guardswoman at the entrance desk, who immediately slumped forward into unconsciousness.

“Please tell me this is one of the reversible methods, Manda’lor,” Streng grumbled as they climbed the sweeping entrance stairs.

“It makes use of a modified variant of Spaarti clone flash learning. Most of your guardsmen will have relatively minor compulsions. The Blade who had been programmed to assassinate Korkie Kryze had extensive work done by comparison, enough to give her a partial split-personality.”

Once down the adjoining corridor, they turned left and Ursa inwardly swore.

They were heading to the throne room.

It meant that Ahsoka had spotted their prey near the one place they didn’t want him to be.

The staffers and guards instinctively got out of the way of the marching procession, even as cliques began to form around them. Ursa had no doubt that gossip was spreading through the palace at hyper speed at the moment.

Ahsoka rendered two more guards unconscious before they reached the throne room and paused just outside its doors.

The Duchess’ secretary looked like she was about to faint at the sight of all the martial might assembled outside her sovereign’s door.

“Oh relax, Nia,” Streng looked at the secretary with pity. “This isn’t a coup. It’s about preventing one. Is Varnok inside?”

The woman who was as pale as a sheet nodded with wide frightened eyes.

“Manda’lor, will you be able to protect the Duchess, no matter what happens in there?”

“Of course.”

“Nia, under the circumstances, I think it wise that we not go through with the formalities of an entrance announcement. I will take responsibility for it.”

The grand doors parted on their motivators with a hiss.

“That’s far enough, all of you!”

The Blades froze in their tracks at the state of the throne room.

Ursa felt her heart trying to jump out of her throat at the sight of the Duchess firmly in the grasp of Jiro Varnok. However, it was what he held around her throat that made everyone pause.

“You make any move to render me unconscious, Jedi, and my falling body weight will make sure the Duchess loses her head.”

Ursa recognized the thin silvery glint of a vibro-garotte that the minister had looped around the Duchess’ neck.

Satine for her part, looked entirely calm and remained absolutely still, despite the threat. Her eyes held only contempt as she glared backward as best as she could at the man who was using her as a shield.

Just how Varnok had managed to even get in a position to do this was apparent; two palace guards on either side of the throne, both brandishing blaster pistols towards the Blades. The remaining three guards that were supposed to be in here at all times were lying dead at their posts. 

Just how many did that bastard brainwash? And how did he manage it? She thought with frustration.

“I just have one question for you, Varnok,” Ahsoka declared serenely, that did nothing to underscore the sheer threat Ursa felt laced in the words. 

“Oh, and just what is that, Manda’lor?” he asked with a sneer.

Varnok, in an entirely reflexive move, tilted his head right, exposing just a few inches of the right side of his face and the right eye.

What happened next was over so quickly that Ursa could’ve sworn she must’ve actually lost time.

In a heartbeat, she heard the sharp retort of a WESTAR blaster sharply magnified and blurred in her ears.

She blinked and saw Varnok now had a cauterized hole the size of a credit chit above his right eye. He was clearly dead, but somehow remained firmly standing.

The two subverted guards were a different story as both collapsed bonelessly to the ground with blaster wounds straight through their mouths.

Ursa knew Ahsoka was a supernaturally excellent shot, but to fire a WESTAR so quickly and accurately that it might as well have been a Sniper-Repeater… she didn’t even know the weapon could discharge that quickly!

“Apologies, highness,” Ahsoka lowered her weapon with a reflexive twirl on her finger and it disappeared into the leg holosheathe of the HK-HP. “Please remain absolutely still.”

She raised a hand towards the duchess.

The garotte unwound around the sovereign's neck before rising up into the air. Varnok’s dead hands were also manipulated with the Force to let the weapon go. With the danger over, the body was unceremoniously tossed aside.

The weapon zoomed through the air towards Ahsoka, where she stopped it to hover before her. “Hidden in a pendant, passive shielding to not show up on scans.” The weapon shuddered and wound itself back into its normal form, looking for all the galaxy like something you could buy at any decent jeweler.

“General Streng, Manda’lor Vizsla,” Satine snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. “Explain everything to me. Immediately.”

Ursa was glad for her helmet, hiding the amusement she couldn’t contain as she watched the formidable Streng flinch at his sovereign’s tone.

“Yes, Duchess. I will have to defer to Manda’lor Vizsla’s superior knowledge on the plot that Varnok was hatching.”

Ahsoka bowed, “Your nephew is alive and well, highness.”

Ursa could only imagine the shock of being held hostage was sinking in and with that news coming so soon - Satine quickly closed her eyes, her entire body becoming a rigid statue.

“Streng and Vizsla, remain. The rest of you are dismissed,” the Duchess commanded implacably.

The Blades and Protectorate stood to attention, turned on their heels and marched out.

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A/N: Mandalore arc wraps up, some aftermath to come next along with new arc. Wish I could've given Varnok more time, or set him up more, but he's intended as the spy that you just don't see until it's too late. Ahsoka's distraction with everything related to the war means that she's literally never been in the same room as him, even when she's been to Mandalore via proxy.