Khan rested well that evening. His master's voice had steadied him, patched the frayed edges of his courage. When he rose, the cold gray light of late evening lay over Theed like a soft blanket. There was little time for speeches or long prayers — they had work to do.
In the palace's royal hangar a slender stealth ship waited, dark and low, its hull swallowing the light. Two units of Naboo commandos stood at attention nearby. The commander in charge stepped forward as Khan and Zef Fun approached.
"Hello, Jedi Khan. I am Commander Seek Thidos," the man said, offering a short bow. "I will lead this operation on the ground. Thank you for accompanying us. It will be an honor to fight alongside a Jedi."
"The pleasure is mine, Commander," Khan answered, returning the bow. "Let us hope for a smooth and quick operation. The Force will guide us."
The commander allowed himself a brief smile, then grew serious. He moved to stand before the assembled soldiers, the low light throwing hard lines across his face.
"All right, people," Seek said, voice low but carrying. "This is not a parade. Today we remove a threat. We slip into the marshes south of Moenia, guided by Zef Fun. The objective: capture or, if capture is impossible, eliminate the rebel leader Wuk Kiwn. We move quiet. We move fast. We rely on skill and surprise — not numbers."
He tapped the small holo at his side and a soft image of a beacon appeared. "When the target is secured, we set this beacon. It will signal our forces that the leader is down, and then the main units will sweep in to destroy any remaining pockets of resistance. Questions?"
A few soldiers exchanged looks but none spoke. The plan sat heavy in the air — simple in words, dangerous in practice.
"All right," Seek said. "Mount up."
They moved onto the ship with the practiced silence of veterans. The commandos were careful, professional. Zef walked with them, steady and composed. He did not carry the exaggerated mannerisms others expected of his people; he moved like a guide who had known these lands since boyhood.
Khan felt his palms grow warm and steady as he strapped himself in. He was no stranger to duty, but this was different. The life he had taken the day before weighed on him still. He was a young Padawan, but the decisions he had made were not childish. They had been necessary. He thought of the villagers in the Valley of Vâne, of Padmé's steady eyes, of Dooku's calm voice telling him to trust his conviction. He thought of the lives that might be saved by stopping Wuk Kiwn now.
The flight to Moenia was short but taut. The stealth drive hummed like a held breath. Outside, the swamp rose up in a low, breathing green — a world of reeds, channels, and shadow. Khan watched it pass beneath them and felt the tension gather at the base of his throat.
When the craft came down, it made no fanfare. The hull kissed the water's edge and the hatch hissed open. The commander signaled in a whisper. "Night vision on. Move light. Perimeter first."
Everything became a study in hush. The soldiers clicked on their night-vision lenses. The world shifted: the swamp turned into a grid of shapes and lights, the shadows luminous, the distant outlines of trees like sentinels.
Seek checked the perimeter with two quick sweeps and gave a curt nod. "Perimeter clear. We go southeast from here. Zef — guide us. Keep us from bogs and hunter traps. If you see a path, point. If you hear anything, whisper it."
Zef's voice was nearly a breath. "Mesa lead. Mesa know this way. Follow careful."
They fell into formation. Two commandos flanked Khan; two more watched the rear. Zef walked just ahead, his long stride measured. Khan kept a hand near his lightsaber, felt its cool weight, and let the Force settle around him like a cloak. He moved not with fear, but with purpose.
The swamp closed around them — reeds whispering, distant frogs calling, the smell of wet earth deep and alive. The stealth ship dimmed behind them and the team became little more than shadow and breath. Every step brought them closer to Wuk Kiwn. Every step carried the weight of those who could not walk with them.
They pressed on.
Zef's guidance kept them moving cleanly through the reeds. He moved with a sure step, pointing out hidden bogs and webbed roots that would have swallowed an untrained foot. Because of him they avoided the loud marsh creatures and stayed on the paths that left the least trace. For a time it felt like the swamp belonged to them—the night, the soft hiss of insects, and the steady footfalls of the commandos.
Then, through a narrow break in the reeds, they saw the camp.
It was larger than anyone had expected. Tents and lean-tos spread across a low rise. Fires burned in scattered pits. Figures moved between shelters—Gungans, yes, but also others: scarred mercenaries with foreign armor, a pair of insectile-looking traders, and a man who looked like a spacer from the Outer Rim, checking a crude datapad. This was not a ragtag band of locals; it was a force assembled with purpose.
Seek pressed a finger to his lips and crouched down beside Khan. He whispered, voice urgent and low. "This is much bigger than we thought. If Wuk Kiwn has these forces, he can do serious damage. We must succeed—no mistakes."
Khan swallowed, eyes bright but steady in the green wash of night-vision. "Yes. But with so many sentries, how do we get through without being seen? How do we even find Wuk Kiwn?" His voice was careful, reasoning already working through possibilities.
Seek tapped a small slate, then nodded toward a slender tent near the center of the camp — larger, marked with a battered banner and guarded by two hulking mercenaries. "Our scout marked that one. It fits the reports—larger, central. That's likely his command tent."
They kept low and watched. A scout returned and crept back to them, murmuring the latest movements. The picture sharpened: patrol routes, an ammo cache, a row of pack animals yoked behind the lines.
Seek's jaw set. He gathered his small group and spoke fast and quietly. "We'll split. Create a commotion on the west edge—small fires, clashing, make it loud enough to draw guards. That will pull numbers away. Khan, I trust your skill. You and two men slip into the center, aim for the tent, grab Wuk Kiwn. Turn the Beacon on exactly when you have him. The rest of us will press the diversion hard enough to force their attention away from the center."
Khan's heart thudded but his voice did not shake. "If the diversion fails, they'll swarm us. Seek—will you be all right?" he asked, honest concern in his eyes.
Seek's face was hard with resolve. "I am a soldier of Naboo. If I die, I die for my people. We do our duty." He offered a thin, steady smile. "Do your duty too, Padawan."
Khan nodded slowly, understanding the cost behind the words. He turned to Zef. "And you?"
Zef's long ears twitched; his expression was grave. "Mesa stay. If things go bad, mesa go back to tell the palace. Mesa will not lose this chance."
Seek placed a hand on Zef's shoulder. "Good. If we fail, you carry the warning. If we succeed, you lead back the prisoners."
Khan laid a hand on his own lightsaber hilt, feeling the cool metal. "May the Force be with you," he whispered.
Seek met his gaze and gave a brief nod. "Then let's move."
They melted into the reeds—two paths now: one toward noise and battle, the other toward the heart of the enemy. There was no turning back.
Khan and the two commandos crouched at the edge of the camp, waiting for Seek's signal. The night around them was a green wash of shapes and light from their night lenses. Every breath felt loud.
Then, far to the west, a deep boom split the swamp. Fire rose like a red moon over the tents. Khan watched as soldiers from the camp ran toward the flare—exactly what Seek had planned. The distraction worked.
"Move," one of the commandos whispered.
They slipped forward on padded boots. Even with many attackers drawn away, pockets of sentries remained. The commandos moved with practiced efficiency—quick, brutal. When a sentry turned, a silent strike took him down. Khan did not hesitate. His blade ignited in a hiss; he moved with clean precision. He cut and parried and moved again—one, two, three. Each motion was swift and controlled. He did not let remorse stall him. The priority was speed; the goal was to get Wuk Kiwn before things spiraled further.
They reached the central tent — larger than the rest, marked by a battered flag and guarded lightly now thanks to the diversion. Khan signaled to the two men at his side. "Prepare an escape route," he mouthed. "I will try to get him."
They slid aside and took positions, tethered to the plan. Khan stepped into the tent.
Inside, a table sat in the center, scattered datapads and crude maps laid out like plans for a war. For a breath he thought the tent was empty. "Is he not here?" he muttered.
A staff lashed out from behind. Khan rolled forward on the wet canvas, ignited his saber mid-motion, and came up facing a massive shape.
Wuk Kiwn stood over him: taller, broader than most Gungans, scars carving his face. One eye was crossed by a pale line. He snarled, voice low and thick. "How dare you come into meesa camp and try to kill meesa!" He charged, his electric staff whistling.
They met in a clash of blue and green light. Wuk Kiwn hit with raw power—heavy, brutal strikes that would have cleaved lesser men. Khan's blade sang around the staff; he used speed and the elegant geometry of Form II to slip, deflect, and meet force with technique. Wuk Kiwn pressed forward, brutal and relentless; Khan flowed, turning strength into openings. He vaulted, backflipped, came down, and then closed the distance, disarming the Gungan with a clean twist and a snap that sent the staff skittering.
"Surrender now, Wuk," Khan said, breath steady. "You have lost."
Wuk Kiwn laughed, a bitter, dangerous sound. "This is not over, Jedi. Kill me if you wish, but meesa people will make war upon the Naboo!" His hand darted to a hidden knife on the table.
"I will not kill you," Khan answered. "You will answer for your crimes. We will not make your death a rallying cry."
Wuk Kiwn's face twisted with fury and shame. "Yousa a coward! Yousa no understand!" He lunged for the blade.
Khan barely reacted—he felt the rush of the Force push through him. With a controlled surge, he shoved Wuk Kiwn away from the table and into a supporting pole of the tent. The Gungan crumpled against the wood, stunned and unconscious rather than dead.
A commando slipped in at that moment, breathless. "Jedi—escape route is clear. Do you have him?"
Khan pointed. "Yes. Secure him. We will take him alive."
They bound Wuk Kiwn quickly. Outside, the second commando had a small hover-sled waiting, low and ready. They loaded the captive into the back. Khan moved to the center of the tent and pressed the beacon, the small device chirped and sent a coded pulse into the sky. It was the signal Seek had told them to send.
A moment later engines flared in the distance—the main forces responding to the beacon. Khan slid onto the hover-sled with the men, and they lifted off into the marsh-scented air.
Kahn and the commandos rode swiftly toward the central command post for the all-out assault. The sun filtered weakly through the thick mist rising from the swamp, painting everything in dull gold and green. As they approached, a ring of guards quickly raised their rifles—until one recognized them.
"They're ours! Let them through!" the soldier shouted.
The group entered the fortified command zone. Wuk Kiwn, still unconscious from the extraction, was handed over to a group of troopers who promptly escorted him toward a makeshift holding cell. The air around them buzzed with urgency—officers barking orders, comms crackling with updates from the front.
Kahn adjusted his cloak and made his way toward the command tent. Inside, he saw several senior officers surrounding a holo-table that displayed the ongoing battle plan. But what caught his attention most—was the figure standing beside them.
"Senator Palpatine?" Kahn said, surprised. "Why are you here?"
Palpatine turned with that familiar calm smile. "Ah, my young friend, you are safe. Excellent. As to your question—I could hardly remain in the comfort of Theed while the brave soldiers of Naboo risked their lives. The least I could do was witness their courage firsthand."
Kahn nodded, a touch of admiration in his eyes. "That's very noble of you, Senator. I'm sure the troops will appreciate knowing that their leaders stand with them."
Palpatine gave a soft chuckle, his tone as smooth as silk. "Perhaps. But I am far more interested in seeing how our young Jedi fares under fire."
Kahn bowed his head slightly, offering a modest smile. "I only did my part, Senator. The success belongs to everyone here."
He turned to the General . "General, I've returned with Wuk Kiwn in custody."
The General's stern face cracked into a rare smile. "Excellent work, Padawan. With his capture, the enemy's command structure is finished. We'll be closing this operation within the hour."
Kahn stepped beside the two men, watching the live tactical feeds on the holo-table. Bright blue and red markers shifted as battle reports came in—Naboo's forces pushing forward, the enemy lines breaking.
Palpatine folded his hands behind his back, his eyes focused yet unreadable. "Peace, restored through discipline and unity," he said softly. "How fitting for Naboo."
Kahn looked out beyond the tent flap toward the misty horizon. The blaster fire in the distance had begun to fade. "Yes," he said quietly. "It's good to see peace prevail again."
The General nodded firmly. "And it's thanks to all of you. We've stopped something far greater than any of us could've imagined."
Kahn didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on the monitors—the prisoners, the exhausted soldiers, the rising sun through the fog. "Let's hope," he said finally, "it stays that way."