The Dawn's Eagle, seizing the opportunity, was undergoing an unscheduled technical inspection under the supervision of R2-D2. Despite the gradual demilitarization, the Mandalore docks remained among the best-equipped facilities in the Outer Rim worlds. The astromech didn't miss the chance to finally service the Eagle's sublight engines with proper technical support. The ship's owner approved and even assigned his apprentice to help the droid. The boy proved to be technically proficient, earning an approving, binary trill from the astromech.
The boy himself wasn't thrilled with the assignment. Of course, he loved tinkering with machinery, and spaceship engines especially filled him with awe. However, he'd much rather be aboard the Eagle with his master. Especially since they were about to interrogate a real prisoner! Just like in those holofilms that Skywalker rarely got to see on Tatooine!
This was the life, full of adventure and danger, that he had dreamed of while shackled to Watto's junk shop! It was right there! Just a hand's reach away!
And he'd even proven capable of becoming one of the Jedi! The invincible warriors that the freighter pilots who frequently stopped at the Toydarian's shop always talked about.
Though... his master didn't speak highly of the Jedi... even though he himself was one of them... or used to be. The boy still hadn't figured out who Revan truly was, considering the many names his teacher used in different situations and his occasionally strange behavior. But of one thing he was sure—he wouldn't have a better mentor!
And that made it even more frustrating! Instead of taking Anakin with him to meet the Mandalorians, Revan had ordered the boy to... meditate.
And now? Why not let him stay for the interrogation? No! "Go, Anakin, and help R2 clean the injectors." It was unfair!
"Two-o-di!" the astromech sharply chirped, getting the boy's attention.
"What? I can't understand you well when you—"
The droid didn't let the boy finish. Instead, it opened one of the panels on its barrel-shaped chassis and extended a manipulator arm, which it jabbed first at Anakin and then at the open injector casing.
"Di-dit!"
"Got it, got it," Skywalker sighed sadly. "Don't get distracted."
The too-young apprentice found it hard to grasp his master's motives and actions, yet every decision and deed of Revan's had a specific purpose. All the grueling training under Maul and HK, coupled with his still clumsy and shallow meditations, were yielding results. The boy was growing physically stronger and better at sensing the Force, even if he didn't realize it himself. His development was smooth but deliberate, his conscious mind barely catching the changes.
Revan observed his student's training and attentively monitored his growth, though he didn't explicitly show it. Often in the evenings, he would join Anakin's meditation, cautiously guiding the boy's mind in his still timid attempts to feel the flows of the Force.
Skywalker proved to be a complex personality, bearing many scars from his childhood. Growing up without a father, being a slave, and barely surviving within an alien, mixed-culture society had left its mark. As a result, Anakin was highly vulnerable to the influence of the dark side. More vulnerable than Revan had anticipated, which necessitated changing the original training plan and abandoning intense exercises until the apprentice was ready.
Everything had nearly fallen apart on Dromund Kaas. Skywalker had instinctively reached out to the raging Force energy surrounding the planet and opened himself to it, which almost led to his death, or worse... a descent into madness. Without the control of a strong will, the Darkness twisted the personality of anyone who risked letting it into their body and soul. It tempted and offered comfort. It caused euphoria and made one forget... lose oneself. One had to be prepared for such an influence. One had to learn to give in to one's passions while keeping the mind clear. This was the difference between the Sith and the fallen. The former knew what they were doing; the latter did not.
The boy had barely escaped losing himself, but HK's timely intervention gave Revan the time to repair the damage the ancient Imperial capital had inflicted on his student. The former Sith even managed to turn the incident to the child's benefit. Anakin had felt the dark side, starting to understand the threat it posed. But what to do about it, he didn't yet know.
And that was precisely how it should be. Before comprehending the difference between the Force's various aspects, he needed to grasp the fundamentals. To feel and accept what the Force actually was. It couldn't be explained with words. The apprentice had to arrive at the understanding on his own.
Each meditation brought Skywalker closer to the right answers. His connection to the Force grew, and his mind became more structured. The boy was calming down and reacting more appropriately to his surroundings.
A month ago, he would have snuck aboard the Eagle three times already to try and watch the interrogation. Now... yes, he still wanted to be there, but he chose to follow his Master's instructions.
Revan hadn't brought him to the meeting with the clans because he wasn't ready for the emotional upheaval such an event would cause. The boy was already too agitated by a simple supply run; he'd even run to seek advice from HK on how to counter Mandalorians!
He was still just a child.
Revan constantly had to remind himself of this. He had never trained children before. His... followers... they had all been adults, established individuals. Alec, Meetra, and the others who had ignored the Council's orders and followed the young Knight to war.
Perhaps the closest in age Revan could recall among his, so to speak, students was Mission Vao, the Twi'lek he had met on Taris shortly before its destruction. The girl was only fourteen, and life in the lower city streets had left its mark on her, just as Tatooine had on Anakin. She wasn't a full-fledged student for Revan as she wasn't Force-sensitive, but the former Sith genuinely cared for her. Initially, she was difficult to approach, much like Anakin now. But Revan had managed then, and he was confident he would manage now.
Meanwhile, aboard the Eagle, Revan, Tira Nomad, and HK-47 gathered in the mess hall. The former Jedi was in no hurry to begin the interrogation of the prisoner, deciding to wait for the mercenary. Though he was intimately familiar with Mandalorian culture, Tira had lived among them, and her experience would be far more valuable now.
"Where is her armor?" Nomad asked, scrutinizing the surveillance camera feed on the holodisplay in the cargo hold where the younger Kryze had been thrown.
Bo-Katan sat in the corner of the compartment, her back against the wall, lightly tapping her fist on the metal floor plating. Her only clothing was her undergarments.
"It stayed on Concordia," Revan shrugged.
"Clarification: Upon apprehension, I was obliged to remove everything from the prisoner that could be utilized as a weapon. Regretful Admission: To the Mandalorians' credit, I must concede that almost all of the prisoner's equipment fell under the definition of a potential threat," the assassin droid reported.
"That's bad," Nomad shook her head.
Revan understood her meaning.
"For a Mandalorian, to lose their armor at the hands of an enemy, and then to be taken prisoner... It is a dishonor. One with far-reaching consequences," Tira continued to explain. "Even if the pacifist society doesn't necessarily look down on her, Bo-Katan's comrades in Death Watch certainly won't forget such a transgression."
This was something new. Revan didn't recall the Mandalorians of Canderous's era being so attached to their armor. Ordo himself only began to wear it after becoming Mand'alor. And he hadn't experienced any discomfort over it.
"A beskar'gam can always be reforged," Canderous usually joked. "But you can't reforge a Mandalorian."
Had so much truly changed in four thousand years?
How would they react to the loss of armor now?
Revan had seen various Mandalorian reactions in similar situations. After all, during the Mandalorian Wars, prisoners were frequent guests aboard the Obsidian and the Leviathan. Some fell into a rage and sought death at the hands of their captors; some admitted their defeat and were ready to serve the victor, provided it didn't harm their clan. But others completely withdrew. They didn't react to attempts to speak with them, didn't answer questions. Only torture could momentarily pull them out of a state of utter apathy.
And that was a state Revan did not want to see from Kryze now. He wanted to learn the Duchess's sister's character to better understand the differences between them. Perhaps one of the sisters might become a valuable ally in the future? The former Jedi was in no hurry to dismiss that option.
"What color was the armor? Did it have any clan symbols?" Tira suddenly asked.
HK detailed the gray-blue armor he had stripped from the prisoner. It bore no clan symbols, except for the Death Watch emblem.
"That's better," Nomad nodded.
"What do you mean?" Revan asked.
"Her beskar'gam. It belonged to Death Watch. Meaning it wasn't clan armor, not tied to the Kryze family," the mercenary began to explain. "And we can play on that. While she lost what Death Watch gave her, she still has her Clan. And for the chance to restore her honor and don her clan beskar'gam again, any true Mandalorian would be willing to go far."
"That is, unless she places her duty to Death Watch above her Clan," Revan reasonably pointed out.
"Nothing is above the Clan," Nomad retorted.
"For you," the former Jedi noted. "And, as we have confirmed, not everyone is ready to follow the old traditions."
Tira snorted in response and shrugged. Her face was hidden by her helmet, so her expression didn't convey all her emotions. But Revan perfectly sensed her mood through the Force.
The mercenary was nervous. And within the storm of emotions he distinctly felt around her, the former Jedi caught anger and contempt. The members of Death Watch clearly did not evoke warm feelings in Nomad.
"What can you tell me about her herself? Is there any information?" Revan returned the dialogue to a constructive track.
"Little is known. I personally never crossed paths with Clan Kryze," Tira said thoughtfully. "No one has heard anything about Bo-Katan herself for several years. Presumably, since she joined Death Watch."
"What about her sister?"
"What about her sister?"
"Doesn't she maintain contact with her relatives?"
"We are Mandalorians. We have... complicated intra-clan relationships. Everyone is free to do as they wish, as long as it doesn't infringe on the interests of another Mandalorian. So it's not surprising that the sisters don't communicate."
"A strange approach," Revan chuckled, though he himself well remembered that Canderous, who had once been considered the head of Clan Ordo, had left his position and his wife to choose the path of a mercenary.
"This is the Way," Nomad shrugged.
"This is the Way..." Revan repeated mechanically.
Tira turned her head towards her interlocutor, and a flicker of surprise and interest crossed her emotions.
"Well, I think it's time to talk to the prisoner and find out a bit more," Revan suggested, gesturing toward the corridor exit leading to the cargo hold.
"If she talks," the mercenary remarked.
"Everyone talks, sooner or later," the former Sith shrugged.
"Query: May I be present?" HK-47 interjected.
Revan pondered for a few moments. The droid had many flaws that could create problems. However, HK's strengths were greater. After all, the assassin droid, whom Kryze undoubtedly remembered, might serve as an additional motivator. Not to mention that HK's executioner-interrogator protocols were among the best in the galaxy.
"Come on," Revan nodded, which caused unbelievable enthusiasm in the droid.
HK nearly sparked with anticipation. How long had it been since he watched the Master conduct an interrogation!
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Nomad quietly asked.
"No, but I'm sure the benefit will outweigh the problems."
The walk to the makeshift prison cell didn't take long. As the door slid open with a soft hiss, the prisoner, still sitting in the corner, looked up at her "guests."
Revan and Tira entered, accompanied by HK. Kryze indifferently scanned the man and the woman, obviously mistaking both for Mandalorians due to the armor and Revan's mask. Then her gaze fixed on the droid. And here, the response was much more noticeable. The prisoner ground her teeth and subtly frowned, but quickly regained her composure. Yet Revan sensed the raging spectrum of emotions that engulfed Bo-Katan. She knew HK. Definitely.
Kryze stood up and walked to the center of the compartment. Granting the supposed Mandalorians a look of contempt, the woman stood tall, proudly straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin.
"Bo-Katan Kryze," Revan spoke, his voice slightly distorted by the mask.
The prisoner did not react, demonstrating an unyielding will and a readiness to provide a worthy defense against anyone who tried to extract even a single word about Death Watch's plans.
"It was surprising to find you among the Death Watch, considering your sister's politics. Perhaps we should call her in for a conversation, too?" Revan continued.
A barely noticeable scoff was his only answer.
"Isn't that a bit defiant for someone stripped of her beskar'gam by a droid?" Tira said with a sneer.
Kryze shot a sharp, angry glance at the mercenary. Her eyes swept over Tira's figure, inspecting the armor.
"It is not for you, wanderer, to lecture me," the prisoner sneered.
"Hit a nerve?" Nomad pressed. "The deputy leader of the 'great' Death Watch was disarmed by a mere droid?"
Kryze stood in silence. Only her angrily flared nostrils betrayed her mood.
"A warrior who loses her armor will not preserve her honor..." the mercenary said, moving slightly closer and looking into the prisoner's eyes.
"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam," Kryze spat with venom. "But how would a low-born like you know that?"
Bo-Katan's words could be translated as: "A warrior is bigger than the armor."
"Ge'hutuun," the mercenary hissed, which translates to "Coward," or "Traitor."
Even without knowing the language, anyone would understand that the spoken word was not a compliment.
"Nomads are always picking up some kind of scum," the prisoner turned away from Tira in a show of dismissal.
The maneuver placed Revan directly opposite Bo-Katan.
The Mandalorian woman's gaze slid over his armor, which bore no clan symbols.
"And a wanderer, without a clan," Kryze contemptuously threw out.
"Better to be a clanless wanderer than a murderer of one's own people's future," Revan gave back, not letting the insult slide.
"Mando'ade have fought for their future for centuries. Including with each other," Bo-Katan said indifferently. "This is the Way."
The woman didn't fall for the first ploy. Revan had planned to stir her emotions and make her reveal her true nature, skillfully hidden behind a mask of arrogance.
"Yet, I don't recall Mandalorians exterminating their own children," the former Jedi calmly stated.
'Emotional response detected,' the man mentally noted.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Kryze frowned.
"Of course, family is more than blood," Revan continued, ignoring the prisoner's question, "but you can't infinitely recruit the low-born."
The emotional outburst was strong. Bo-Katan clearly held non-traditional views on generational succession. While Mandalorian law allowed any sentient being to be adopted into a clan and trained as a Mandalorian, judging by Kryze's slight against the "adopted into the clan" Tira, the Duchess's younger sister seemed to believe that the knowledge and traditions of the Mando'ade should only be passed down to pure-blooded Mandalorians.
That was an interesting insight.
"What beliefs does Death Watch actually adhere to?" Revan wondered.
"What is this rubbish?" the prisoner grew increasingly agitated, completely ignored by Revan.
"The one thing I didn't expect from Death Watch was the kidnapping of dozens of children to use them as bargaining chips," Revan said with a smirk, but a moment later his tone became much more serious and threatening. "After all, children are the future of any nation."
"Death Watch never took children prisoner!" the captive declared hotly.
"Soon there will be no pure-blooded Mandalorians left at all," the former Jedi again let the exclamation pass by. "Already, more often than not, you find a non-native under the armor, adopted by a kind-hearted clan. Ignorant, poorly trained, trampling on tradition! Because he is not given to understand them!"
"We..."
"Is this the goal of Death Watch, then? To subdue Mandalore by getting rid of the true Mandalorians?"
"How dare you..."
"Is that why you didn't side with Jaster? Made a deal with the Jedi?"
Revan continued to rain down accusations, not giving the prisoner a word in edgewise. Most of his points were openly fabricated or far-fetched, but they were having an effect. Bo-Katan had lost her composure and was looking at the former Jedi with indignation and something remotely resembling righteous anger in her eyes.
"Death Watch has never done anything like that!" Kryze finally shouted, completely losing her temper. "We are the true Mandalorians, and only we care about the future of our people! We preserve the true traditions of our ancestors, and only we know how to save Mandalore from the rot that the Republic is bringing!"
"Such fanatical statements, like something from a rally," Revan scoffed. "Do you have any thoughts of your own in your head, Kryze? Is this a family trait? One sister dances to the tune of the Senate, the other became a puppet of Death Watch?"
"I am no puppet!" the woman protested. "I follow my convictions and do what I believe is right!"
"Even kidnapping children?" Nomad snorted.
"Death Watch has never engaged in such activities!" the prisoner hissed with hatred.
"One hundred and thirty-one missing members of various Mandalorian clans would disagree with you," Tira drove the point home. "Among them are your allies. Wren and Dar. Is that why Ursa suddenly decided to change her stance in Parliament?"
"Lies!" Bo-Katan roared. "Death Watch was created to protect Mandalore and preserve the glorious traditions of our people..."
"Like genocide?" Revan interjected with a barb.
"Like glory from victory over a worthy opponent!" Kryze growled.
"And how much honor and glory is there in winning against someone who isn't even resisting, thinking only of their missing children?" the former Jedi countered.
"You won't get stronger by defeating the weak," Tira supported him.
"What could you two possibly know about the Mandalorian Way? A clanless wanderer and a foundling! Vi— Our leader would never stoop to blackmail! And certainly wouldn't..."
"Call upon the Jedi?" Revan smirked, interrupting Bo-Katan's tirade. "Like Tor Vizsla did?"
"What's wrong with pitting enemies against each other and watching?" Kryze challenged.
"And what if you pit not enemies, but allies?" Revan calmly replied.
"What?" the prisoner frowned.
"Or is that not what your, as you put it, leader is engaged in?"
"We don't fight among ourselves..." Kryze began cautiously, sensing a trap.
"Don't you? Clans are being torn apart by internal conflicts between kin. Clan members hide their true thoughts from each other and behave as if they are in an enemy camp, not among family. And you think that's normal?"
The woman knitted her brows, trying to understand what the strange clanless Mandalorian was leading up to.
"Ursa Wren serves Death Watch, while her father remains neutral. The Beroya split in two and were forced to exile those from the clan who started spying for your Death Watch."
Kryze was silent.
"And what about you?" Revan looked into her eyes. "Going against your sister, even knowing that Death Watch nearly killed her once?"
This was a bluff. There was no direct proof of Death Watch's involvement in the attempt on the young Duchess's life, but many things pointed to it.
"That won't happen again! I was promised that my sister..." the prisoner quickly shut her mouth, realizing she had fallen for a trick.
"Is that when you joined Vizsla and his gang?" Revan said calmly.
Kryze flinched and stared at the man with wide-open eyes. The name of the Death Watch leader was not mentioned by chance. Revan wanted to see her reaction. Yes, he was revealing part of his hand, but sometimes it was necessary to expose oneself for a successful move.
"How do you know?"
"Does it matter?"
The woman did not answer.
"I am not your enemy, Bo-Katan Kryze," Revan said, gently touching the prisoner's mind with the Force. "We want the same thing. To save Mandalore and its traditions. To prevent the Senate from completely turning mighty warriors into a herd of banthas."
Kryze nodded slowly and raised a slightly clouded gaze to the former Jedi.
"Death Watch is not the only path. And its ideals are not the only correct ones," Revan continued, softly enveloping the prisoner's mind with waves of the Force. "Think about my words."
Giving Tira a signal, Revan turned and headed toward the exit from the cargo hold.
"HK, watch the prisoner," the former Jedi instructed.
"With Readiness: Affirmative, Master!" the assassin droid chirped cheerfully.
Kryze stood, her gaze lost as she studied the floor. However, after a few moments, she snapped out of it and shook off the stupor that had gripped her.
"What is your name?" she shouted at Revan's back as he was leaving the compartment. "And where did you get that Hutt droid?!"
"I assembled him myself," Revan answered without turning around. "And my name... I have many."
The compartment door closed, leaving the prisoner alone with the droid, whose optical sensors, glowing with red fire, were fixed on Bo-Katan.
The woman took a step toward the door.
The metal overseer blocked her path.
"Joyful Suggestion: I beg you, meatbag, make a desperate attempt to vacate your place of confinement, so that I may fully demonstrate to you all the capabilities of this unparalleled chassis, personally assembled by my Master. Warning: You, unfortunately, will not be able to appreciate them. Inside-out meatbags are, for some reason, not very communicative."
The woman snorted and retreated to "her" corner, sitting down against the wall again. However, the indifference on her face was replaced by an expression of extreme thoughtfulness.
…
"And what was that circus act?" Tira asked once they and Revan were back in the mess hall.
"A little preparation," the former Jedi smiled under his mask.
"For what? The interrogation?"
"For the interrogation, and a potential defection," Revan shrugged.
"You think that's possible? She seemed fanatically loyal to Death Watch and Vizsla to me."
"But we managed to shake her confidence a little," his companion noted. "Especially since her reaction made it clear that Vizsla does not include her in all his plans."
Revan didn't mention that he had spent the entire conversation attempting to breach the prisoner's mind and implant certain thoughts, which was not easy given Kryze's strong will. And to do it all unnoticed was achieved with great difficulty. But he succeeded nonetheless.
It would take time, but water wears away stone. The idea that Death Watch wasn't so great would begin to take root in Bo-Katan's mind, raising more and more questions about Vizsla's actions and plans. This should eventually shatter Kryze's conviction in her chosen path. And if he pointed her to another path at the right moment, there was a good chance of gaining an ally in the enemy's camp. Or even two enemies, if he recalled the still-unstudied Duchess.
"Indeed. The kidnappings were definitely news to her."
"Exactly."
"And she confirmed that Vizsla is the leader of their organization."
Revan nodded.
"And she cares about her sister. Even if she tries to deny it, even to herself."
"Her slip about joining Death Watch?" Tira guessed.
"Precisely."
"And what are our next steps?"
"Wait," Revan shrugged.
"And only that?"
"Not exactly," Revan shook his head. "We still need to figure out what the elder of the Kryze sisters is all about."
"The Duchess?"
"Do you know anyone else?"
The mercenary just snorted in response.
"It's a pity she turned out to be a proponent of... other views," Nomad said in a displeased tone. "Dared to call me a foundling."
"Throughout all ages, there have been those who tried to put themselves above others based on some social division. Race, gender, heredity—it doesn't matter. Pay it no mind."
"Don't worry, I'm not that easily provoked."
Revan considered bringing up the woman's reaction to Kryze's jab but decided against it. Instead, he chose to look more closely at the option of returning Kryze's clan armor to the prisoner. The restoration of honor. He could play on that, provided the initial suggestion yielded the desired result.
There was much to consider.
"And is your crazy droid going to kill her in there?" Tira suddenly asked.
"HK? No, I don't think so. Not after barely failing the previous assignment. Maim her, perhaps, but not kill her."
"Still, he clearly doesn't have all his lines of code in the right place."
"He's unique," Revan chuckled. "And very useful."
"As you say." The mercenary sat down in a small chair in front of the table with the holoprojector installed in the corner of the mess hall. "What about your hornhead? Hasn't he returned?"
"No, Maul hasn't finished the assignment yet. The last time he contacted us was almost a day ago. It seems he's found something interesting."
"So, we wait?"
"We wait," Revan agreed.
"A game of Pazaak?"
"Deal."
————
Read ahead of schedule here → pat-reon(.)c-om/Bluuuxx [remove the parentheses and hyphen]