For Whom The Bell Tolls [Flashback]

[Sreeya]

It had been four years since the battle of Coruscant. It was an event that sent shockwaves throughout the galaxy. Though Briza was not a Force user, it was enough to fill her with a sense of dread. She had dropped to her knees, screaming out in agony at the feeling that her very soul had been torn from her. Whatever the Sith demon queen had done, it was unnatural and alien. In truth, the event had terrified her. Briza prided herself in being fearless, but she was terrified of this Empress and what she was capable of.

The memory was all too fresh, with every bit of media covering nothing but footage of what was happening to Coruscant, along with faint glimpses of the vessel the Sith were on. Pure horror spanned all across the galaxy, and it was very clear the Sith had staked their claim over it. On top of that, the battles among the clans only heightened tensions. She played little part in it, mostly because she had already lost too many friends during the Coruscant battle.

When news of Corden's death had arrived, it had made her sick to her stomach. Since the death of her husband so many years ago, he had been the only man she had allowed herself to open up to. It was after his death that she came to know about his son, and the hints about the mother's identity were concerning. She put distance between herself and the Mandalorians, accepting solitude for the time being. Having had extensive experience as a mercenary, she had taken a job to transport some cargo in return for payment. The price was high as she was risking quite a bit by visiting Corellia, which was amidst an uprising. She had kept her Mando crafted armor, along with her weapons.

---​

Corellia was a battle ground, with distant bombs and the sounds of guns firing everywhere. She was unfazed by this, having been in the center of many fights. Briza avoided any particularly dangerous areas, checking her datapad to confirm the warehouse she needed to go to for the exchange. Why they couldn't choose a safer planet was beyond her.

Briza slowly pushed open the door to the abandoned building, her HUD not picking up any lifeforms around her. She walked in and had to utilize her helmet to see, as the building was pitch black. The fact that no one was here to meet her made her a bit uneasy. She was patient, however, and she found an obscure corner to wait in.

Minutes ticked by, though the distant sounds of war never let off. She began to fiddle with the cargo, wondering exactly what she was transporting. Briza never asked about the contents of what she delivered, as a don't ask don't tell policy worked best for traders. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

When it happened, nothing could have prepared her for it.

The entire building shook from the very foundations. Before Briza knew it, she was hurtled across the room and hit her head hard, dizzying her. An explosion tore through the building, fire erupting everywhere. A sharp piece of debris shot through the air and dug deeply into her thigh, piercing her armor. Briza's cries were futile, the entire building crumbling.

The ceiling fell in chunks, and all she could do was hug her body tightly to herself, lowering her head as debris fell atop her, and around her. When the collapse finally ended, she was surprised to find herself alive. Unfortunately, she was completely trapped, with limited oxygen supply. For the first time since she had arrived on the planet, there was utter silence around her.

“Kriff....”

 

[Brandon Rhea]

As the building exploded, a massive fireball engulfed the sky above it, sending smoke and debris throughout nearly half a dozen city blocks. A few years ago, emergency response teams would already be on the scene, and the fire would be contained, but not now. Not since the Sith invaded Corellia and began their occupation, an occupation Bastele swore to fight back against. He had lost the Galactic Alliance. He wasn’t going to lose his own planet.

Armed with a heavy blaster, Bastele leaped down from a perch on a nearby building, sprinting through the alleyways towards the devastated building. When he finally arrived, the former politician who had spent the last few years as a resistance fighter couldn’t help but feel the shock of how no one was around; no emergency crews, not even any citizens. This was not the Corellia he once knew. Coronet City was generally buzzing with life, in all its corners, but not now. Corellians knew that even walking outside their homes was to take their life into their own hands, especially at night. It was the sad reality of an occupation.

Bastele slowly made his way towards what remained of the building’s door, pointing his gun through first as he turned his head around the corner, looking through the rubble for signs of life. Beneath the ruins, he saw five bodies crumpled amidst the dust and debris. They were the traders that Briza was sent there to meet. Little did she know that they were traitors, playing both sides of this war. It was why Bastele was sent here by the resistance, with orders to kill them. It was why he set the bomb that destroyed the building.

“This is Eagle,” he said, his finger touching an earpiece. “Targets eliminated.”

As he turned to leave, Bastele heard a rumbling around what used to be a corner, followed by only one word: kriff. He jerked his blaster around, pointing it in the direction of the noise, and slowly stalked towards it.

“Strike last message,” he whispered, keeping his tone softer now. “Possible signs of movement. Standby.”

Bastele looked all around him, keeping his one good eye open as he turned his neck to see all of his surroundings. As he moved through the fire, stepping around fire and dangerously sharp metal, he briefly looked up, noticing the sky now that the roof had been blown off the building. The stars were nearly as clear as they were in space; most of the power to this sector of the city was cut off after sunset, so the only light in kilometers was the fire he was now walking around.

He finally reached the source of the noise, and he heard the mumbles of a woman coming from beneath it. The intelligence he had gathered about this operation clearly showed that this traitorous group only had five members of it. Though he didn’t discount the possibility that it was wrong, logic suggested that this was a contact the traitors were sent to meet. Whoever it was, it was possible that they had information that would be valuable to the resistance.

With his blaster still pointed towards the survivor, Bastele leaned down and began pulling the metal and stone off of her, noticing she was able to move more freely now. What he saw once he pulled the final piece off, though, was something he never would have expected. He never thought it possible that the debt of mercy he owed would be repaid, especially in a situation like this. He stumbled backwards, surprised, nearly obscuring his face through the smoke he walked back through, before pulling himself together. In front of him laid a link to his past, both dark yet hopeful all at once, he would have rather forgotten.

“Kale…”

 

[Sreeya]

Briza was close to passing out when she heard noises near her. She faded in and out of consciousness, the heat from being trapped growing unbearable. The fire near her began to lick closer to her feet, making her sweat profusely. The wound on her thigh hurt badly, and she had no way to even reach it. Briza barely noticed bits of debris being lifted one after another, more and more light shining through. Briza steadied her breathing, holding onto the last precious bits of oxygen as her head grew fuzzy. At last, she could see a figure before her, though she couldn't make out the face.

"Kale."

Briza's senses snapped back. She shook her head, quickly taking her helmet off and allowing her hair to fall to her shoulders. Though the air was stuffy, it was still better than the recycled air within her helmet. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and took a good look at her rescuer, her eyes growing wide with surprise.

"Bastele? What the.."

She heard more explosions outside, the building rocking once again. Pain coursed through her leg and she grit her teeth, struggling to stand.

"I don't know how or why...and I'd love to ask another time..but I humbly request that you help me the hell out of here."

Briza still hadn't fully processed exactly who stood before her. It was simply too great of a turn of events for it to be true. Last she remembered, he was a helpless prisoner, nothing more than a lump of space she had to send over to the Galactic Alliance. She had been in the position of power then. Though she found him oddly curious, it had never gone further past that, and he was always her prisoner. Yet today he was the one to save her, rescue her, and...since when did he know how to operate a gun? She kept the questions to herself for now.

Briza finally came to stand, deciding not to pull out the rod that pierced through her thigh, as she would bleed too much from it. She coughed from the smoke, her eyes getting watery, and yet it was still nicer than being trapped underneath the debris. The thought of what would have happened if he hadn't come would haunt her for years to come.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

The galaxy was different now, and Bastele was a different man than she once knew. The last time they saw each other, he was a politician and a diplomat. He was doing what he could to avert a war. He was hoping he wouldn’t be rescued, hoping that the Alliance and the Jedi wouldn’t be foolish enough to negotiate with Mandalorian terrorists just to save one expendable politician. But they were. It was a minor event, relatively speaking, that helped lead to the fall of the Galactic Alliance. It’s what led them to this moment.

Years ago, he might have been more interested that Kale was here, as a person from his past, but not today. Today his only interest was in what she knew, in what her connection might have been to the Sith occupation force that these traitors were willing to work for. Noticing the rod pierced through her thigh, Bastele stalked towards her and reached his foot out, stepping on the rod to put extraordinary pressure on it, so it would tear through more of her insides.

“You’re not in a position to request anything right now,” Bastele said, keeping his foot on the rod. “Those men you were here to meet, what were you giving them? What was your cargo? Who hired you?”

 

[Sreeya]

Briza cried out in pain as he suddenly applied pressure to the rod in her thigh. The pain was blinding, and she collapsed back to a siting position. She glared up at the man, suddenly not recognizing him. This was not Bastele. The man she knew was a helpless diplomat. As she got a hard look at his face, she could see a calloused exterior staring back at her. His eyes were almost lifeless, and it was clear he had relinquished his former identity fully. However, that did not mean that Briza would simply keel over. Though weakly, she quickly reached for a small blaster, attempting to feebly point it at him. In truth, she was still reeling from the collision against the wall, a trickle of blood trailing down from the side of her head.

"I don't have to answer to you, dick. Don't try to make up for when you were my little prisoner. "

She coughed as she spoke, the smoke rapidly filling her lungs. Briza attempted to ignore the searing pain in her leg, gritting her teeth with each word.

"Leave me and go on your way. My business does not concern you or the damn Sith."

Briza cast a sideways glance at the cargo, a small briefcase which contained who knew what. She hadn't opened it yet, but the look was enough to give him a clue. If he chose, he could investigate for himself, and she had no intention of stopping him.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Kale’s motioning towards the cargo crate, one that must have been made out of tough stuff given that it survived an entire explosion virtually unscathed, was decidedly less than subtle. Bastele took the hint, though; she meant it to be obvious enough for him to pick up. He looked behind him, glancing at where the cargo was sitting, and slowly walked backward towards it, making sure not to walk through any fire or dangerous debris as he did. He kept his eyes locked on her, with his gun pointed squarely at her face. He scanned her up and down, looking to see if there were any visual signs of danger. Though he saw some change in her since six years ago - a tougher demeanor, and more battle scars from the war that ravaged her people - she still looked to be the same person he knew years ago.

Bastele stepped to the other side of the cargo, letting himself still face her, as he tried to open it, only to find that it was locked shut. He pointed his blaster at the lock and shot it off, and the top of the crate snapped open. Bastele only looked inside for a moment, his face turning ghostly white, before he slammed it shut again and stood there, frozen in utter silence. Kale would no doubt notice how he was overcome with fear over what he had seen in the crate, though he was trying his best to hide it.

Finally, he walked back towards her, and stood over her wounded body for a moment before taking his rifle and slamming the butt of it into her face, knocking her out cold. Though the once-polite Bastele might have taken the time to read her her rights many years ago, he had little desire to be kind to anyone who carried that type of cargo.

----------------------------------------------​

Hours later, Bastele had returned to the resistance base, deep underground in the outskirts of Coronet, in a bunker once used by the Prime Minister of the Corellian System before that position was abolished. Kale was there too, now, safely locked behind a set of durasteel prison bars; the resistance was too ill-equipped to afford force fields. The wound on her leg had been patched up, though the medical attention in this base was crude at best. No doubt she would have a few lingering side effects and pain.

For his part, Bastele remained sitting outside her cell, on guard, with a heavy blaster turret beside him to do the fighting for him if needed. All he could do was wait for her to wake up, when their next… conversation would begin.

"Up!" he shouted, his voice monotone, lacking the charm she would remember from their last encounter. "I said wake up."

 

[Sreeya]

Briza groaned as she came to her senses, excruciating pain coursing through her leg. She blinked her eyes open, looking around to find herself in a cell. Truth be told, she wasn't the least bit surprised. She had been in this predicament a few more times than she cared to admit. Briza grimaced, hearing Bastele's voice bark orders at her. She slowly rose to a sitting position, noting that her injury was patched up. Briza was thankful for it, though the pain was still awful. She wondered how long she would keep a limp from an injury this severe. Briza did not move from the block she had woken up on, staring across at Bastele.

"This is adorable. You just couldn't wait to play out the irony, could you?"

She sighed heavily, looking away. After the torture Corden had put her through when she first got captured by Mandos, she was prepared for any level of it. The pain in her head remained, and she wondered if her skull had been fractured at some points. Briza's armor had been removed, and despite having a body suit on underneath, she felt naked.

"Can we get this over with? I don't know what the hell you want from me. I was asked to do a job in return for credits, which I did. I don't ask questions, so I didn't know what was in that briefcase. I can assure you now that I'm not playing for the Sith anymore. Not after I saw that psycho woman devastate Coruscant the way she did.."

 

[Brandon Rhea]

The mere mention of the Empress made him twitch. He couldn’t remember the devastation that she carried out, nor could he remember the holo-message he was told he sent across the planet just before the Empress and the Dark Lord sacked the planet, but he could remember what it did to him. He could remember feeling the fire burning across his face, after the grenade exploded in front of him. He could remember seeing himself in the mirror for the first time, with the patch over his eye and the scarring all across his body. He could remember the empty feeling inside, knowing that he presided over the end of the Alliance. It was a feeling that remained to this day. It was why he fought so hard, pushed so hard, and was even willing to imprison and nearly torture someone he may have once called a friend. The only thing that mattered was stopping the Empire. Anything else was a distraction, especially notions of irony.

“You really don’t know what you were carrying, do you?” he asked incredulously. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so glib about this.”

Bastele clapped his hands, and two resistance fighters walked through the door carrying the case that held Kale’s cargo. They opened and handed him from within it a tiny cannister, one that seemed innocent enough at first, but it was the bright blue light inside of it that held the horrors that spooked him in the abandoned building. That tiny blue light, shimmering in a twisted and ironic beauty, could have been devastating if the explosion Bastele himself set had destroyed the cargo crate.

"As a Mandalorian and ex-Alliance soldier, you’ll recognize this as an anti-matter bomb. Very rare in this day and age, but just what the Sith would want to get their hands on if they wanted to destroy a resistance in one stroke. If those traitors had gotten this to the Sith, they could’ve destroyed the entire city to stop us. So I don’t really give a damn what you didn’t know. Tell me who hired you and I’ll open this door right now."

 

[Sreeya]

Briza's expression mirrored Bastele's when he initially opened the cargo box. Blood drained from her face, her jaw hanging visibly open. Her grip on the bars loosened, pure shock in her eyes. It would be clear to him that she had absolutely no knowledge of the contents. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as she attempted to recall the name of the individual that had hired her. It had been posted in Hutt Space as a traditional job, your run of the mill errand with a decent amount of credits, nothing spectacular. To her horror, she realized that she could easily have been among the casualties from the bomb. Her goal had simply been to get it to the planet and perhaps not even deliver it to anyone. The Sith were ruthless enough to murder some of their own to eradicate a growing pest problem.

"D'arva Razik. I don't think that was his real name. He was a a Rodian. Honestly, he looked a bit dumb, so I doubt he was the higher authority."

Briza attempted to think back, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"He was alone and told me I would be meeting with rebels. He vaguely said these would aid them, but wouldn't specify how. I didn't ask. It sounded like someone wanted to 'help' rebels without taking credit for it."

 

[Brandon Rhea]

It didn’t take a genius to know that Bastele’s superiors would think he was an idiot for simply trusting her, but he did. Anyone else he would have shot by now, but he could see the ghastly expression on her face, and the horror of realizing what she was carrying in her eyes. For a Mandalorian and an ex-Alliance soldier, both proud organizations that trained their soldiers not to give away the game so easily, that was the greatest of tells. She was genuinely frightened, and probably ashamed.

Turning towards the wall, Bastele punched a few buttons on a datapad to call up to command center, and said, “This is Captain Bastele. Run a search on a Rodian named D'arva Razik. Send me everything you find on him."

Bastele took his finger off the keypad and walked back towards the cell door. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door, swinging it wide open so as to say that Kale was no longer his prisoner. Stepping back away from the cell, he walked towards the stairwell.

“For now, you’ll be given the quarters that those traitors were staying in,” Bastele said, with a faint grin etched across his face. “They won’t be needing them anymore. Let’s go.”

 

[Sreeya]

"Given quarters?"

Briza glared at him, not taking a step forward despite the door swinging open.

"Why am I still detained? Let me go. Give me back my armor."

What was he playing at? He had the information he needed, and he clearly trusted her enough to release her from the cell. He also hadn't made an effort to hide the interior of this location. She was genuinely confused about his motives. Briza grimaced as she realized he would play this out for his entertainment. Whatever had changed him to become so insufferable was irrevocable. Briza quietly walked out of the cell, falling into step beside him.

"Let me return to my clan, Bastele."

 

[Brandon Rhea]

My clan, she said. That slip could have potentially held crucial information. Despite the civil war that was tearing the Mandalorian clans apart, there were many Mandalorians who still felt loyal to the Empire, especially after the victory they achieved together during the Core campaigns. Though Bastele believed her that she did not know about the bomb, the rest of the resistance wouldn’t. Knowing she was still a Mandalorian, despite being on Corellia, could be used as leverage later.

“Absolutely not. You're coming with me when we go after Razik. It’s either that or the firing squad. I can’t justify keeping you alive unless you help us track him down.”

Raising his blaster towards her head, Bastele said, “It’s entirely up to you.”

 

[Sreeya]

Kale's jaw hardened. She was silent for a few seconds, gazing directly at the blaster that was pointed at her. If looks could kill, Bastele would have been vaporized. She clenched and unclenched her fists, exhaling through her mouth to calm herself down. She wanted to tell herself he was bluffing, however she was also a soldier. She knew how easy it was to get rid of potential threats the moment they stopped providing value. As a result, she did not doubt that she would be dead within moments if she continued to resist. Kale's body language alone showed defeat, her shoulders slumped and a noticeable slouch from her proud stance. She began to limp to follow him, exiting the cell. Kale did not do so before meeting his gaze, teeming with hatred. Venom dripped from her voice.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance. I should have squashed you like the little bug you were, right there under my boot. I will remember this."

She continued walking, unaware of where this new captivity would take her.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

A few minutes passed by before Bastele and Kale were on the roof of the compound, as first lights of dawn were beginning to creep above the distant horizon, barely noticeable through the metallic jungle of Coronet. The cool breeze brushed across Bastele's face; at once, it was both comforting and painful. The relaxing touch of the morning yawn always relaxed him, but the scars of a time long since passed still caused him pain no matter how gentle the touch.

Looking out into the distance, Bastele watched as the smoky embers of an Imperial convoy still burned hot from an attack earlier that night. Destroying the compound he found Kale in wasn't the only attack the rebels carried out; they moved hard and fast throughout every night, though generally to little effect.

"I like to come up here in the morning, and look out over my city. I watch whatever we've done the night before, and the light of the new day gives me hope. But the pain that even the wind can cause on my broken body reminds me that we face an enemy far superior to ourselves. We face an enemy that taunts us even through the wind, a basic function of nature. Maybe that's the cruelty of the dark side."

Bastele removed a datapad from his belt, one that had been passed to him on the walk towards the roof, and began reading from it, scanning an intelligence report he had read weeks earlier, after the pad had been taken off the body of a fallen enemy. When he got to the relevant part, he handed it to Kale.

"This was taken off the body of a dead Imp," Bastele told her. "It's an intelligence report about Mandalorian space. Apparently Corden Vencu was the only thing keeping the clans together, because they're none too happy with their new leader. Imperial intelligence thinks that if things don't get better, then the clans will be in another civil war inside of a year."

Bastele approached closer, getting right in her face, his one good eye staring directly into hers. "You look at me like I'm different, like I've betrayed the man I used to be. Maybe you're right, but you're here too. When your people are tearing themselves apart, you came here. You don't get to judge me."

 

[Sreeya]

Kale was still in pain, squinting as the first lights of dawn pierced through the sky. She wasn't used to gazing out into the open without her HUD, and the lack of armor almost made her feel naked. Kale hugged herself, almost uncomfortable at the brisk air brushing against her skin. She listened to his words, anger for him still pounding in her veins. She knew when it was utterly pointless to lash out, and now was one of those times. Kale closed her eyes, letting his words sink in, but also thinking back to images of any devastation she had left behind. Some of it led back to the first time she had crashed onto a Mandalorian base, back before she had ever met Corden. It was when she had lost her closest comrades, and the day she said goodbye to her life as a Galactic Alliance soldier. Kale opened her eyes again, only when Nathanaeu had closed the distance between them. She could only look into one of his eyes, and even that was striking. For a moment, she kept quiet, and then the distaste returned.

"I look at you like a man hellbent on revenge. I have been forced to make nice with these people. I have been forced to let them govern us. Do you not think revenge resides in my heart as well? I may be a part of the Mandalorians, but I will never forget my origin."

She grasped at a necklace on her neck, the last trinket from her time as a GA soldier.

"Blind rage will never steer us in the right course of direction. That's exactly what has caused the Galactic Alliance to fall apart. And it's exactly what is happening with the Mandalorians. Yes, we will have a civil war. Yes, we will completely splinter. However, that does not mean that individually we have to succumb to such mistakes."

Kale looked at him this time.

"If you ever come to a position of power, do not let vengeance drive you. Let the promise of a better day guide you. I have betrayed neither my people, nor myself. I know there will be a time to act, on my behalf, but it is not yet."

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Bastele shook his head, surprised at the blind naivety of a Mandalorian warrior, and said, "Appeasement is the delusion of those who think that evil can be bartered with. I don't mean your run of the mill, tinpot dictator. I mean pure, relentless evil. I don't know much about the Force, but I know it's the kind of evil only the dark side can create."

He gripped the railing on the side of the roof, looking out towards the smoke that was blowing over the battered cityscape, through broken windows and shattered skyscrappers. He lowered his head, thinking about how some part of him knew Kale was right. He knew the kind of man he had become, and what he had lost in the process. Bastele started his career here, on his home planet, in this very city, wanting to help people. He was an idealist then. He wanted to stop poverty, to stop corruption. That man was foreign to him now. All that mattered was getting the Sith off Corellia. This new man, the one standing here now, was justified. Righteous even.

"I've seen that evil here, the way they rip through this entire planet to try and claim it," he said, turning back towards her. "I saw it on Coruscant, where an entire world was devastated in the blink of an eye. Why? Because they could. Because it was easy, and it gave them what they wanted. This Empress of theirs isn't like the old Sith Lords. She doesn't care what she rules over as long as she rules over something. She would destroy the entire galaxy if she could rule over its ashes."

Bastele moved in closer, his voice angrier now, annoyed that he even had to explain himself to a glorified kidnapper. "So you can call it blind rage, or revenge, or whatever you want, but you don't know anything. Your worlds were taken from you once but you got them back by working for them. Let's see if you want to make nice when the Sith decide they want to burn Mandalore to the ground. I want to be standing in front of you when they do so I can tell you I told you so."

 

[Sreeya]

Kale resisted the urge to punch him, rage boiling within her now.

"You fool, you JUST described the kind of evil we are dealing with. It took Coruscant to show you exactly what you were up against. We had known this fact for a very long time. What would you have had us do? Try and gain the help of the Galactic Alliance? A horrendous group that wanted nothing to do with us? Look what became of them. You talk big, but look at how they crumbled and fell apart. We did what we had to do to survive. Saving the women, children and families rank far higher than hitting a much larger enemy just to go down in flames."

She glared at him, the sudden movement she made towards him causing pain to shoot up her leg.

"At the time, the Sith were the lesser of two evils. It was never a matter of choosing, but a matter of barely scraping by. You will gain nothing by being there to tell me I told you so. You will gain nothing because we already know that is a risk we may face one day. What do you have to lose? Do you have a family? Do you have others you cannot live without?"

Her voice rose higher and higher.

"You were a sleazy diplomat. You know nothing of honor and love, and the meaning of kinship between those that fight and die by your side. Do not tell me I don't know anything. You have seen only one side of it. Do not pass judgment on me."

She sighed, stepping back, speaking much quieter now.

"It's no use fighting amongst ourselves. What will the Sith have left to destroy if those that oppose them destroy each other first?"

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Bastele's chest grew as he seethed, air being sucked in as his body began to shake. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this angry, nor could he remember the last time he felt faced with such blatant hypocrisy. He didn't like feeling this way, of feeling self-righteous, but there was nothing else to feel right now.

"Are you kidding? You helped destroy us, and now you ask what use there is in fighting me? Those weren't Sith who plowed through the Core. Those were your people. Don't you dare think you can just feel sad and then make it all okay. Because you did have a choice, but the only choice you made was cowardice. You didn't have to join them. For all your bluster about being the great warriors of the galaxy, and how you find honor and glory in battle, you're nothing but hot air. Liars and cowards. You say the Alliance was weak, easily defeated? Then what honor was there in fighting it?"

He exhaled strongly, as if something had been sitting on his chest and not letting him breathe. "You could have done the right thing and fought them. Maybe they would've been too much for you, but at least you would've died honorably on the right side. Because the Sith will come for the Mandalorians eventually. You only delayed the inevitable. And when you did, you gave up what it meant to be Mandalorian. So when the Sith destroy you, it'll actually be merciful of them. You're already dead."

 

[Sreeya]

"Shut UP!"

Kale didn't know what hit her. All she knew was blind rage. All she could see were the lives of the Galactic Alliance comrades she had lost, back before she had ever gone into Mandalorian territory. All she could think of was the disgust she felt in aiding the Sith make a push into the core. There were traces of truth in his words, traces far too painful to ignore. Kale's fist came in suddenly, colliding with the side of his face with as much strength as she could muster. It wouldn't be anywhere close to a full on hit, as her strength had depleted from her injuries. Nonetheless, it was a punch. She reeled back from it, turning away and limping towards the other edge of the roof. She grasped the railing, breathing heavily and looking down. Hot tears began to slide down her face.

"I kept honor for my brethren, and nothing more. I was a Galactic Alliance officer and I watched my comrades die. I watched my husband die. All for what? It's an enemy that never yields.. it's an enemy that never stops..never backs down..never falters..not even for a moment. I am dead, Nathanaeu. I died when I lost my kin."

She slid down the edge, sitting with her back against the wall. She closed her eyes. The wound on her leg had reopened, blood seeping through the bandages.

"I can do nothing but survive now. I alone cannot make a difference. I am a part of a family with the Mandalorians. I do not command. I do not lead. If I were ever given the choice, it would have been my choice alone. I would have fought against the Sith alone. It was inevitable. Your death is as inevitable as mine. What will you gather from the ashes of this destruction? Who will be your army? They will be common men that have never held a blaster. That will be what you will take to face the galaxy's greatest army. The Empress alone can lay waste to an entire planet, so do you think any of us really has a chance? You can talk big..but to follow through with actions is impossible. I do not regret what I have done."

Kale toyed with a necklace.

"The only thing I regret is being alive when my comrades fell. But if I yet breathe, it is for a purpose. I have to find that purpose."

The words were very unlike her. She had been a leader in the Galactic Alliance, and her spirit could not be broken. Bastele had seen that side of her before. What stood before him was a mere shadow of the woman she used to be. Something had broken her, something that would start to break many Mandalorians in the years to come.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Without thinking, without recognizing the potential consequences of her actions, of striking a man whom she barely knew, Kale did more damage than she realized. Anyone else could have taken that punch, but Bastele was far more fragile. He was one left gravely wounded, barely alive, an entire side of him charred and mutilated, with scars so horrifying that any intimidation caused by the eyepatch was just the tip of a very large iceberg. It was that side of him that Kale hit.

Bastele crumpled to the ground, half-conscious, but still aware enough to fake it. Kale droned on, presumably unaware of what was happening to him, as he simply looked as if he was sitting down, his back away from her, contemplating her words. But his balance began to wane and he swayed to his side, the first obvious sign that something was wrong. He fell backward, hitting his back and head against the metallic floor, as blood began to spill from behind his eyepatch.

Such a faint hit had twisted, broken something inside an already damaged body. In his last moments of consciousness, Bastele didn't know what it was. He simply said her name. "Kale… Briza…," he called out, making sure she had his attention as he slipped into unconsciousness, wondering whether Coruscant had finally caught up with him.