IN THE SHADOW OF THE MANDALORE

Chapter three, pt 2

The Mandalorian Sith

iii

“What did you say the name of your father’s ship was?” Voss asked.

“Archangel.”

Voss forwarded a message coming across on his NavLink from SecuroCom. “It’s been forced down. The only intel they have on it is that there’s a vessel with Mandalorian registry involved.”

“Mandalorian? How’s that even possible?” Dax said. “All Mandalorian ships have been barred from the planet.”

“Barred?” Alyssa laughed lightly. “You mean just like smuggling’s illegal, and mercs are banned from the Republic? And don’t forget that Bounty Hunters aren’t allowed on the planet because the majority of them are Mandalorians from when the Guild started up fifteen hundred years ago. It’s probably a dummy lead to throw us off—like the drones.”

“Then why attack the boy’s father?”

“Any ideas, Dax?”

“I’ll let you know when I get there!” Dax said, pulling back on the conn and rolling out of the battle. He zeroed in on the message Voss forwarded him, entering it into the ship’s computer. He looked at the SucoroCom fighters forming up as he dropped below the line of fire and felt confident he wouldn’t be accused of deserting the battle.

It’s not much of a battle.

It quickly turned into a rout with the arrival of the reserve squadrons.

Dax saw Alyssa’s ship fall out a short time later, followed by Voss.

“Dax!”

“You know I have to go and help, Kashiefi,” he said.

“You could at least form up properly.”

iv

Alyssa P’oh

Dax could sense it, a growing feeling of panic somewhere deep inside his mind. He told himself he had to get his feelings under control, get into the rhythm of it, find the Canto. He couldn’t afford to let go of his anger now—not when they were flying into what Master P’oh believed was an ambush. Whatever questions he may have had regarding his father, would have to be put aside. Chambered. If he allowed his fear to grow, he’d find himself questioning every decision he made because he was afraid of jeopardizing the safety of his family.

Mandalorians seldom work alone.

It was a voice from his past, and he nodded to himself, acknowledging the truth of it. He didn’t know if he was agreeing, or acknowledging that it was a known fact. He remembered it from one of the tactical lessons Master P’oh made him take. He didn’t remember much about the class except that Jedi Master Elran was quick-witted, old, and well respected. Some of the students said she was a descendant of Grand Master Shan. Dax didn’t know if that was true, and quite frankly, he didn’t care.

To know an enemy, you have to understand them; that’s all that matters now.   

And what do I know about Mandalorians?

For as long as Dax could remember, the Jedi Order had been at war with the Sith Brotherhood. War isn’t exactly the right word for it, the politician part of his mind told him. There hasn’t been a serious outbreak of war since they signed the Treaty of Coruscant eight hundred years ago, but there’re still battles being fought, and world’s being conquered. Contention, he told himself. The Galaxy’s been in contention for centuries now, fighting a war neither side is willing to acknowledge.

He told himself he’d never understand the passions of the Dark Side—but perhaps to some degree, he did. He knew enough not to test himself against it. Understanding the Dark side was acknowledging that every man had to guard against his own fear. He knew the thinking that might lead a man toward hatred and self-doubt; everyone went through it at one time in their lives. Master P’oh had been battling the demons of Darkness for years; but those demons were locked deep within her. Wrapping herself in the Force and seeking her way through it was her only choice.

He let the Force surround him, counting the beats of his heart as he tried settling his emotions. He didn’t think of himself as slowing down his heart as much as he felt he was slowing down the flow of time around him; the rhythm. His Canto.

That’s the trick, he told himself.

It’s a sense of feeling that comes from deep within you. He still heard Kashiefi’s voice from somewhere in his past. He acknowledged it to himself with a slow nod of his head as the three ships broke formation together.

It felt like only a moment passed before Dax watched Voss gaining atmosphere ahead of him. He was only a heartbeat behind, with Master P’oh behind him to his right. Flames enveloped the nose of his ship as the front shield turned everything around him into a dark violet colour before fading to a lighter blue. The ship’s re-entry would slip through the entire spectrum of colours, the final yellow fading to a white light again and signifying re-entry—a process that would take a matter of seconds.

“Your heart beats inside you like the pounding of a distant drum,” Kashiefi told him in one of those purposeful moments she spent instructing him, years ago. “You can hear it inside your head. The blood pounding out the rhythm of your life—the Canto—what we Rylothians look to as Essence. You have to look at the Force as a shield you gather around yourself. If you can slide inside the rhythm, slow it down, and control it within you, you can become one with the Force around you—and the Force is around you. It’s around everything, and a part of everything. That’s the trick of it.”

And she was right, he thought. It all made sense, eventually.

At first, he thought he’d never understand the Force. He couldn’t feel the essence of the thing within him that he needed to connect with. He understood the possibilities of thought training were infinite—its consequences eternal—but he’d yet to take the time to direct his thoughts into channels that would do him any good. He was leaving everything to chance, instead of seizing the moment and reaching out. It helped to concentrate.

The first time he felt the Force within him—

“Dax!”

It was Kashiefi.

He could hear the apprehension in her voice. The worry. The thought of flying into a possible trap occurred once more as he pulled up on the conn, slowing the ship down as he thought about the consequences of rushing in blindly. He had to know details first.

“I’m sorry, Kashiefi. I didn’t think it all the way through,” he confessed.

“It’s understandable,” Voss replied with the unmistakable hiss in his voice as he dove towards the planet’s surface. “Are you sure about these co-ordinates, Alyssa?”

“I’m double-checking them right now.” There was a moment’s pause before she spoke again. “Affirmative. We’ll meet in Sector nine-three—”

“Never mind that, Alyssa, just try and keep up,” Master Voss said, a laugh in his voice.

“This isn’t a contest, Voss,” she said. There was a firmness in her voice that Dax thought she only used with him.

“Everything’s a contest, Alyssa. Like I said, try and keep up.”

“We don’t know the situation,” she screamed in frustration.

“Do you know something about this Mandalorian we don’t?” Dax asked, thinking to distract Voss. “Because if you do, now would be the time to share.”

“NavCom says the ship’s unconfirmed, but TarCon says it’s a Mandalorian design. There’s no known registry. That’s all we need to know. It’s an obvious ploy. It has to be. How else can they say it’s unconfirmed, and in the next breath say it’s Mandalorian? It’s probably a merc using an old code he found looking to pick up a ransom. If this is anything, it’s a kidnapping.”

“You can’t know that!” Kashiefi barked out.

“You’re reading too much into this, Alyssa; you read too much into everything. You overthink things, Alyssa; you always have.”

There was a moment of tense silence.

“How do you get a ship with no registry onto a planet without anyone knowing?” Dax asked. “I thought the NavCom was supposed to be impossible to beat.”

“And yet, we still have smugglers,” Voss reminded him. His voice was calm again and Dax could hear the hiss in his words.

“Not everything is what it looks to be,” Alyssa said quickly. “You keep overlooking the fact that we came here thinking it might be a Sith. The fact it’s a Mandalorian ship is secondary.”

Dax knew she was right. She always gave simple explanations that weren’t answers, but explanations that were meant to make him think. He wondered if she did it on purpose, or if it was just the way her mind worked.

“I see smoke ahead,” Voss said, and Dax watched him do a roll as he banked left through a cloud bank. He saw the smoke below and looked over at Kashiefi punching the inside of her canopy with a clenched fist of frustration. He knew better than to ask her what they should do.

As a Padawan, it wasn’t his place to tell Voss to wait. It took him some time to realize his opinion wasn’t always wanted—and not just by Kashiefi. Over the years, she’d had a dozen different lovers—some of them Jedi, most of the bounty hunters, mercs, and smugglers—and he was quick to learn that they all resented him as her young human Padawan.

He couldn’t begin to fathom the complexities that made up Kashiefi, and doubted if he ever would. She’d always been discreet when it came to her affairs. It was only after becoming her Padawan that Dax realized why the Jedi Council thought she needed a calming influence in her life. Hers was a reckless life. She drank ferments, and spent her nights in Spice dens on the lower levels. She was everything a Jedi wasn’t supposed to be, and yet, she never allowed herself to fall to the Dark side.

She has so many of her own demons, there’s no room for anything else.

They did a quick fly-by and Dax could see Alyssa through the glassed-in cockpit of her Interceptor-class fighter as she searched the shattered ground looking for a secure landing site. Voss had put his flyer down as close to Archangel as possible; Dax watched him climb out of the cockpit and jump across the broken ground surrounding what was left of his father’s ship. Archangel looked like a wounded animal spewing out its last gasp of staggered breath. The Mandalorian ship was hovering nearby, the turbines boring what would be an eventual hole through the transparisteel flooring beneath it. Dax wondered how long it would take before the floor gave way and everything imploded.

He’s not thinking this through.

“Kashiefi?” Dax said into his ComLink. “Perhaps you should tell him to pull back? He can’t assume it’s a merc.”

“His is a different sort of recklessness,” she said, but he could hear the concern in her voice.

“Keegan,” she called into the ComLink. “You might want to consider giving the Mandalorian ship a wider berth. The integrity of the surface looks to have been damaged during the crash.”

“I’ve found the perfect place to set down.”

“Yes, but you should know better than to think a Mandalorian won’t have a back-up plan.”

“I told you, you’re overthinking this, Alyssa. He won’t be expecting an attack. You’d better hurry before I take care of everything myself.”

“And what about the Sith?” Dax blurted out. “He’s going to know you’re coming. There is no element of surprise.”

“Again, I look forward to meeting him,” Voss said, leapfrogging from one twisted beam of metal to another. Dax could see Voss’s long prehensile tail reaching out like another arm to help with his balance. He paused long enough to toss his helmet to the side and attach his re-breather to his snout. He swung his cloak back over his shoulder as he reached for his lightsaber and activated the blade.

He raised his ComLink, looking up at them as he spoke.

“You always did have a flair for the dramatic,” she said into her ComLink. “Stay there and wait for us.”

“It’s a Sith, all right,” Voss said, ignoring her. “He had to cut his way into the ship.”

“That roof over there,” Kashiefi said, pointing to a building to her left. Dax saw a short, squat warehouse that appeared large enough for both ships.

“Wait for us,” she said into her ComLink again.

“Wait for you?” Voss laughed. “And pass up any chance I might have for glory?”

“There’s no glory in dying. You’ll be facing a Sith and a Mandalorian. The odds are against you.”

“Two against one? Those seem like pretty fair odds to me.”

Dax docked beside Kashiefi and went through the shutdown procedures as fast as he could. After he climbed out of the ship, he looked down from the rooftop to the wreckage below. He pulled his flight helmet off and snapped on his re-breather.

“That’s a thirty meter drop,” Dax said with a slow shake of his head, his voice muffled by the re-breather.

“And?”

“Nothing. I was just pointing it out.”

“When you did your Padawan trials on the Rogue,” she said, tossing her cloak to the side, “They tossed the five of you out of a shuttle at one thousand meters. You had your blast shields down so you had to use the Force. This is no different.” She was going through a quick weapons check.

“What?” Dax laughed. “This is a lot different. For one thing, the gravity on the Rogue is one-tenth of what it is here. It took us two minutes to fall.”

“Hardly,” she said, the smile through her re-breather showing in her eyes. “Then again, this will be easier, won’t it? The sooner we get down there, the better. Come on, don’t let fear and common sense stop you.”

She put her hand on the ledge and jumped.

Trust in the Force, he told himself as he leapt out over the ledge.