The scarlet starship glided slowly through the stream of cargo vessels in low orbit around Coruscant. Its compartments were empty, and silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the steady hum of engines and the chirping of instruments. Only in the small mess hall was it unusually "crowded." For such a small ship, four sentient beings in one room, even if two of them were droids, was already considered a "crowd."
In the middle of the room, near the holographic projector, stood a tall young man in light Mandalorian armor, hidden under a light cloak with a deep hood. He was silent, arms crossed over his chest, his gloomy gaze shifting from a strange, reddish protocol droid to a female figure clad in full Mandalorian armor. Even though neither the droid's helmet nor its faceplate had movable parts that could betray the emotions of this pair, the mutual dislike they felt for each other was palpable.
"Droid?" the Mandalorian woman snorted mockingly.
"Contemptuously: Meatbag?" the iron soldier retorted.
An R2-series astromech, fiddling with a wall-mounted power distribution panel, emitted a mournful binary trill and returned to its work.
"Both of you, calm down!" Revan growled. "Even the astromech is short-circuiting because of you!"
The constant "barbs" and verbal sparring between the galaxy's best assassin—HK-47—and the Hutt cartel's best mercenary, according to her own claims, Tyra Nomad, had been ongoing since Revan and the Mandalorian left that ill-fated cantina on Coruscant. Because of this, the ancient dark lord was already wondering if he really needed allies. But he easily dismissed the thought, reminding himself that HK had proven his usefulness and loyalty many times, and the Mandalorians... he had a special relationship with them.
"Forgive me, but following your idiotic and, undoubtedly, suicidal plan," Nomad replied, "I'll have to infiltrate the Jedi Temple... THE JEDI, may the Hutts tear them apart! And my support will be a rusty tub with a couple of equally rusty tin cans? One of which doesn't even have arms or legs?!"
R2 squeaked indignantly.
"Don't chirp at me, bucket of bolts!" the girl snapped back.
"Arrogantly: For a brainless meatbag, you talk a lot," HK said, tilting his head slightly. "Feigned surprise: Could it be that the goo that so resembles bantha dung and fills your skull has suddenly begun to form complex sentences of more than two words?"
"Ah, you..." the Mandalorian reached for her holster, but before her fingers could close around the blaster's grip, the barrel of a rapid-fire carbine, easily held in the droid-assassin's manipulator, pressed against her helmet's visor.
"Calm down, I said!" A wave of the Force threw the participants of the conflict in different directions, but both managed to stay on their feet.
Revan turned first to the Mandalorian.
"You are working with HK and R2, that is a condition of our contract, understood?"
"Yes," Nomad nodded reluctantly. "Although I can't understand how a protocol droid and an astromech will help me."
"These two will help you sneak inside and get out alive," the ancient explained calmly. "R2, unlike his brethren, has an expanded decoding database for hacking security systems. And the one you mistook for a 'protocol droid' was and remains the best assassin droid in the galaxy. And believe me, he has far more experience fighting Force-sensitives than all the mercenaries combined."
HK proudly lifted his metallic chin. The astromech squeaked mockingly, appreciating the formidable assassin's pose.
"Irritated: Shut up, waste grinder!"
Revan, under R2's angry trill, slapped his forehead with his palm.
"This is madness," he stated.
The Mandalorian merely snorted and turned her head away.
"HK! R2! Your task is to help this esteemed individual," he gestured to the representative of the Nomad clan. "You know the plan. This is an order."
"Readily: Yes, Master," the assassin droid immediately responded.
The astromech, like his elder colleague, clearly chirped a confirmation and even seemed to salute with his plasma torch.
"Circus," the Mandalorian said contemptuously.
Revan said nothing in response and reiterated the main points of the plan.
"So, I'm heading to meet the Council on a speeder. HK, is the transport ready?"
"Affirmatively: Everything is ready, Master. A high-speed, compact speeder awaits you in the cargo bay, right by the loading ramp," the droid reported.
"Excellent. I will land on one of the platforms on the main entrance side," the ancient pointed to the hologram of the Temple. "You will infiltrate through the service passage on the upper tier of the main building on the west side. There's a transport artery nearby, and a passing freighter won't raise suspicion."
"Is the platform guarded?" Tyra clarified.
"No. Judging by what I've managed to learn, the platforms are guarded only by automatic security systems," Revan replied.
"That doesn't negate the presence of turrets. The area is open, and it will be difficult to approach without making noise."
"Contemptuously: dilettante," HK said at the minimum power of his vocoder.
The Mandalorian heard him and wanted to object, but the ancient Jedi drew her attention again.
"The system doesn't account for emergency situations and opens access to the platform for ships requesting landing for repairs. That's what you'll use," Revan said loudly. "R2, re-encode the main beacon signal so it emits a distress signal, but limit the radius. We don't need rescuers flying here."
The astromech chirped joyfully, ready to happily carry out his new master's order.
"After landing, you, Tyra, will go ahead and infiltrate the Temple's service channels here," the former Jedi pointed to a hatch near the platform. "R2 will connect to the service terminal near the emergency supports, which should automatically extend for cushioning during an emergency landing. Before Tyra reaches the hatch, it must be open, and the turrets disabled. Is everything clear?"
"Order understood," the adventure-prone astromech replied enthusiastically in binary.
"HK, you cover them," Revan turned to the assassin droid. "It's quite possible someone will decide to check what's happening on the platform."
"Reluctant agreement: Understood, Master," the iron maniac replied in a sad voice.
"Eat it," Nomad muttered quietly.
Revan, noticing that despite his outward calm and stillness, HK was wounded by this remark. This meant the Mandalorian, who hadn't understood who she was teasing, was in for an unpleasant fate. Something like an accident. To which the assassin droid would, absolutely not, be involved.
"HK, Tyra Nomad's safety is your responsibility," Revan ordered.
The ancient Jedi felt as if he heard a distinct crackle from HK-47's processor when the droid looked at him with its crimson optical sensors.
"Query: What percentage of the mentioned 'meatbag's' safety would be acceptable?" the droid asked slowly, as if struggling to form words into a sentence.
"The higher, the better. She must survive," Revan decided to clarify.
The former dark lord understood perfectly well that HK would find a way to get back at the Mandalorian, but he would never violate a direct order. This meant Tyra Nomad's life was not in danger... at least not from the assassin droid... and no one mentioned the inviolability of her health.
Apparently, HK had come to a similar conclusion, as he clearly livened up after confirming the order.
"Query: Clarify the countermeasures against Jedi, Master."
"Non-lethal. This applies to you too, Tyra."
"Understood," the droid nodded.
"As you say," Nomad agreed, shrugging.
Mentally wishing the Temple inhabitants not to venture near the northern landing platform, Revan continued the briefing.
"I will keep an open channel on a coded frequency. Passive security systems won't detect it. But the Jedi have very sensitive hearing, so try to keep conversations to a minimum."
"I can use Mandalorian non-verbal commands. My people used them in ancient times," Tyra tapped her finger on her helmet near her ear, causing distinct clicks in Revan's headset.
"I am familiar with them," the ancient agreed. "As is HK."
R2 squeaked indignantly and asked the assassin droid for an infopacket with this unknown form of communication.
"Irritated refusal: Get lost," HK-47 waved him off.
A repeated squeak and whistle, much more insistent.
"HK, be a good boy," Revan asked with a slight smile.
"Forced agreement: Fine, I'll give you the infopacket with the list of encrypted commands used by Mandalorians."
Nomad didn't ask where the Jedi and his droid got such information. From the very beginning, this Vaner Shan was too strange and unpredictable for someone who trained in the Order of diplomats and peacekeepers. Military bearing, confidence, and clarity of movement, knowledge of tactics and strategy, clear experience in sabotage operations, and armor that he almost never took off. If Tyra hadn't seen him wield a lightsaber with her own eyes, she would have confidently said that this guy was one of her own. Not by blood or race, but by the training that Mandalorians give their children.
"Let's move on," Revan returned to the hologram. "Your task is to find Anakin Skywalker and bring him aboard the Eagle while I entertain the Council with 'negotiations.' They are most likely holding him in the part of the Temple where the guest apartments are located. I can't say more precisely."
"What about your Jedi tricks?" Nomad made an indefinite gesture.
"I will be able to sense him only when I am inside the Temple. These ancient walls are saturated with the Force and reliably hide the auras of their inhabitants."
"Yes, yes, I understand. As I said, your Jedi... mystical... tricks."
Revan shook his head disapprovingly.
"In any case, I will try to find out where they are holding him. So, listen carefully, I will give the signal," he said.
"I'll use the tunnel network under the ceiling," Nomad pointed to the hologram. "I'll try to intercept you here. Will you need help?"
"I'll manage on my own," the ancient waved off. "Your task is Anakin."
It didn't take long to discuss the main points of the plan. And when, ten minutes later, Revan left the Eagle's board, the pair of droids and the mercenary were ready to act. Although they didn't feel enthusiastic about the forced cooperation.
While the Temple's security officer was intently watching a small speeder on which someone ordered by the Council to be taken into custody was supposed to arrive, a small freighter on the opposite side of the complex, emitting clouds of black smoke from its left engine, was smoothly descending towards the service landing platform. And a call signal was persistently blinking on the communication panel.
Finally, the officer noticed the light and opened the channel.
"Transport HKT-33827-2 calling Jedi Temple! Emergency situation! Requesting permission to land!" a female voice boomed from the speakers.
"This is all I needed," Gluto Din grumbled, whose quiet life had already been disrupted by a sudden order for detention.
And how peaceful it was in the Temple just a couple of months ago! Silence and tranquility. Rare skirmishes between younglings or overly rowdy Padawans didn't count. No one had dared to attack the Jedi abode during Gluto's entire service. And suddenly everything went topsy-turvy! The Masters were in a panic! After a pair of Jedi left for Naboo, security measures were increased. Extra shifts had to be worked!
Din was one of those security personnel who hadn't trained in the Temple but were hired from the civilian population, like most of the service staff. His Force potential was very weak, and he didn't participate in active security duties like the Sentinels. However, even sitting at the surveillance system console, he sincerely believed he was working harder than everyone else, so his bad mood was quite justified.
The external surveillance cameras showed an unpleasant picture. The freighter requesting landing was being tossed from side to side. The pilot was clearly struggling with the machine, trying to keep the smoking wreck in the air.
Gluto winced. He already had enough worries. But if this thing crashed nearby, and it became known that the Temple had refused help to someone in need, everyone in security would have problems.
"Transport HKT-33827-2, landing permitted. Service platform 3. Access to the complex is denied. Will you call the repairmen yourselves?"
"Yes, thank you. We'll manage ourselves! You've helped us a lot! Thank you! I already thought we were done for," some girl, apparently the pilot of this truck, chattered.
"Well, that could have ended badly," Din thought, remembering the density of Coruscant's traffic flows. "They definitely wouldn't have made it to the platform on the lower levels. Ah, I must not forget to send a couple of guards to monitor the repair progress."
And aboard the Eagle, meanwhile, the invasion of the Temple was being prepared.
"Don't wobble so much, you'll damage the supports!" Tyra shouted at the assassin droid sitting in the pilot's seat.
"Condescendingly: I know the capabilities of this ship better. And I can flawlessly imitate the behavior model of a damaged ship in the air."
"The main thing is, don't wreck the ship itself, tin can!"
"Sympathetic advice: The main thing is, don't clean your stomach without taking off your helmet."
"Ah, you..."
Nomad didn't finish speaking, as the freighter touched the platform surprisingly softly.
"Recommendation: We should start the operation immediately before security recovers," the droid advised.
"I know myself," the Mandalorian grumbled. "Hey, astromech! Get to the cargo ramp, quickly!"
As soon as the loading ramp touched the platform, an R2-series droid smoothly rolled down it and, without wasting time, drove to the service terminal and connected to it. The actions were quite normal for an emergency landing. It was necessary to manually enter the ship's data into the terminal, and, if possible, request repairs. Or rather, that's how any other ordinary astromech would act. R2-D2 was by no means ordinary. Therefore, instead of registering the ship, he intercepted control of the video surveillance systems and looped the last 5 seconds of recording, creating the illusion that an astromech was peacefully working on the platform.
The Mandalorian, who emerged from the freighter, looked directly into the nearest camera and, nodding approvingly, hurried to the service hatch.
"Now the entrance," she reminded the droid.
R2 whistled in confirmation and began hacking the door.
Long seconds of waiting followed.
"You're taking too long!" Nomad hissed irritably, still considering the idea terribly stupid.
In response, the astromech squeaked something unintelligible.
"Feigned surprise: I wonder how the vocabulators haven't melted from such words!" HK commented, apparently on the astromech's statement.
"What did he say?" Tyra asked.
"Explanation: He merely assessed the intellectual abilities of a useless meatbag who is simply incapable of understanding the complexity of hacking the fractal encryption applied in this security system," the assassin droid replied, shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that his faceplate remained motionless.
He was quite pleased with this fact, because if he could smirk, he would be deprived of the pleasure of witnessing the entire range of emotions that passed across the faces of stupid meatbags as they realized what was said.
Nomad exhaled loudly, trying to curb her growing anger.
"Just as soon as we finish this, we'll talk," she whispered maliciously.
The next moment, the terminal near the door, which was on the opposite wall from the service hatch and led to the storage rooms, beeped.
Two men in the Temple's gray security uniform appeared from the passage. They clearly didn't expect to see a mercenary and two droids on the platform, as they moved slowly and relaxed, their hands away from the weapons hanging at their belts.
"What the Hutt?!" one of them managed to exclaim before being hit by a charge from a hand-held stunner fired by Tyra.
The second guard managed to grab a shock baton from his belt – not the most logical choice in such a situation. The result was the same as his partner's – an electric shock and loss of consciousness.
The Mandalorian didn't lower her weapon, keeping the still-open door at gunpoint.
HK-47, disengaging his blaster's safety, walked over to the unconscious bodies and checked them.
"Conclusion: not dangerous," he commented, accompanying his words with a light kick to the ribs of the nearest security officer.
"I don't miss," Nomad said smugly, returning her blasters to her belt.
At that moment, the guard who lay closest to the door with the shock baton in his hand stirred and let out a quiet groan.
"Observation: The stunner charge is insufficient. Some of the guards are weak Force-sensitives. Although they don't reach Jedi level, these meatbags are much tougher than their kin," HK explained, approaching the groaning fighter. "Recommendation: Increase weapon power or use other neutralization methods."
With these words, the assassin droid sent the poor fellow into a deep and prolonged sleep with a kick from his metal leg.
"Hey, what's going on here?" a voice came from the open doorway.
Apparently, someone had heard the noise and decided to investigate. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a Jedi.
Tyra realized this as soon as the edge of a brown robe appeared from around the corner and prepared for a prolonged fight.
However, to her surprise, HK fearlessly stood in the path of the young member of the Order.
The Jedi, noticing the weapon in the droid's hands, immediately activated his lightsaber and assumed a stance.
"Who are you, and what happened here?" the gifted one asked sternly.
HK instantly dropped his carbine from his hands.
"Frightened remark: This is not mine!" the assassin droid chattered, imitating the stuttering manner of speech of many protocol droids.
The carbine fell with a clang onto the stone pavement of the landing platform.
The Jedi was distracted, and the droid took a wide step towards him.
When the gifted one looked up again, HK turned slightly to the side, revealing the mercenary and R2.
"Surprised remark: Look, there are Mandalorians here!" the iron maniac shouted, imitating panic.
"What?!" the Jedi stared at Tyra.
And in the next moment, the adept of the Light, who had come to check the strange noise on the landing platform, received a powerful electric discharge from the shocker installed on HK's forearm. The power was enough to instantly render the man unconscious. HK knew perfectly well how and with what to neutralize Jedi.
"Contemptuous comment: They think slower than four thousand years ago."
Turning around, HK saw Tyra Nomad, clutching a flashbang grenade in her hand. She carefully removed her finger from the detonator and returned the dangerous ball to the pouch on her hip.
Despite the dislike that HK-47 felt, to the best of his abilities, he noted the correct choice of weapon for a duel with a Force-sensitive.
"I thought your master was just praising you in vain to inflate his price," the mercenary said slowly, examining the droid intently, as if seeing him for the first time. "But I see you've actually encountered Jedi before."
"Statement of fact: Like you. Like many mercenaries in the galaxy."
"But few lived to tell of such encounters, right?"
"Condescendingly: Life is worth nothing if the Master's order is not fulfilled."
They looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Mocking question: What, are you just going to keep staring at me, bag of meat? Or will you help tie up these three?"
"May the jawas sell you to farmers," Nomad grumbled angrily, pulling out flexible self-securing handcuffs.
"Sincere wish: Right after you're sold into slavery to the Colicoids."
Bickering listlessly, the pair of assassins, forced to act exclusively humanely, made sure that for the next hour, the guards and the overly curious Jedi would sit quietly and not make a sound.
By this time, R2 had announced that the castle had finally surrendered. The passage into the service channels was open.
"I'm going in," Tyra informed her allies.
"Confirmation: R2 and I are staying by the ship," the assassin droid replied.
The astromech chirped something about continuing to sabotage the Temple's security system and concealing the mercenary's presence.
Nomad nodded and slipped into the hatch.
"Instruction: At the fork, turn left," HK transmitted through the encrypted channel.
A moment later, a shriek and the Mandalorian's angry hiss were heard, interrupted by curses in Mando'a.
"Clarification: To the left, relative to the ship's current position," the droid clarified with barely concealed mockery in his voice, to which he received another dose of curses in response.
Revisiting her opinion of the insolent red-haired droid and assigning him the personal status of "malicious tin can," Tyra began to move through the tunnels located between the Temple's residential levels, listening to what the inhabitants were saying.
R2 hacked into the records of new students and found information about Skywalker, which he immediately reported.
Vaner was right. The boy was being kept in the guest wing. However, the room number was not specified, and therefore the search area remained too large.
Signaling her employer that she was inside, Nomad continued to move towards the central hall, through which any part of the Temple could be reached.
Along the way, through an opening in one of the service hatches, the mercenary saw a convoy escorting Vaner. Seeing how the Jedi treated him, the girl chuckled. The sight of a dozen Guards, with lightsabers in hand, and supported by a couple of masters, following the boy with obvious apprehension, seemed extremely amusing to her. The guards' movements conveyed fear, and they were following the escorted person, not leading him. Vaner's proud gait made it clear who was setting the pace of the procession.
"Show-off," the mercenary snorted good-naturedly.
Deciding to follow her employer, hoping to learn the location of the main target, Nomad emerged from the service channel and, activating her personal optical camouflage device, continued her path along the ceiling. Her route was well hidden by steel and stone beams and supports, which were also not illuminated, so she didn't have to worry about being detected. After all, the optical camouflage system, unlike a cloaking field generator, did not provide 100% invisibility, leaving a blurred silhouette in space.
And then, luck smiled on the mercenary. In one of the halls, she overheard a conversation between two padawans who were discussing Skywalker's location.
In response to a signal from Vaner, Tyra followed the padawans, trying to make sure her employer noticed her movement.
Catching up with the two students was not difficult, but finding a moment when they were alone proved problematic. But, after a few minutes, the mercenary had a chance to get more precise information about the target.
Jumping down from the ceiling onto the unsuspecting teenagers, Tyra knocked one of them unconscious with a precise blow to the back of the head, and then knocked the second to the floor, pressing a stun baton, borrowed from the guards at the landing pad, to his neck.
A short discharge was enough to disorient the padawan so that he could not concentrate and use the Force. Interrogating older members of the Order in this way would have been dangerous, but these children, still very young, had not been properly trained in anything.
"Where is Skywalker?" the mercenary asked quietly, bringing the helmet's visor almost close to the paralyzed teenager's ear.
"What?" the student asked, frightened.
A gloved hand covered the victim's mouth, and a discharge from the stun baton followed. The insulators of the Mandalorian armor coped well, preventing the charge from harming the executioner.
"Where is Skywalker? The boy who flew in from Naboo," Nomad repeated the question.
"I don't…"
Another discharge. This time, a longer one.
"Don't…" the teenager moaned pitifully.
"Tell me what I need, and the pain will stop."
It took a few more sessions of persuasion, but the kid finally gave in. He lacked the knowledge and the strength of spirit to resist the interrogation of an experienced bounty hunter.
Having obtained the target's coordinates, Nomad returned to the service tunnels to avoid taking risks. Moreover, the interrogation had taken up precious time, and the traces could not be completely hidden. These Hutt Jedi could feel the pain of those around them. So, the corridor where she interrogated the padawan would soon be crowded with guards and concerned masters.
She was lucky that the masters and the strongest fighters, capable of sensing even her presence within the Temple walls, were either on missions or busy with a meeting with Vaner. Otherwise, the mercenary would not have been able to reach Anakin's room so easily.
"Who are you?!" the fair-haired boy, who perfectly matched the target's description, exclaimed in fright as the Mandalorian jumped to the floor right in front of him.
A wave of the Force emanated from the child, causing Nomad to stagger and jump back to maintain her balance.
The boy looked at the stranger incredulously and was clearly contemplating whether to call for help.
"Calm down, Skywalker!" she raised her hands, demonstrating peaceful intentions. "I'm a friend. Vaner sent me."
"Vaner?!" Anakin asked joyfully, instantly forgetting his caution as soon as he heard the name of his friend and mentor. "Where is he?"
"Not far. He asked me to get you out of here," Tyra replied, simultaneously sending a signal through her headset that the target had been found.
The boy was happy, but immediately became wary.
"How do I know you're really a friend?"
Tyra smiled kindly at the question. Her employer had foreseen it.
"He asked me to give you this," Nomad took a small, curved cylinder, covered in soot and oil stains, from her pouch.
A part that the boy couldn't fail to recognize, as he and his friend had installed it with their own hands the evening before the Boonta Eve Classic races on Tatooine.
"A connector from my podracer!" Skywalker exclaimed in surprise. "It's definitely his! You really are from Vaner!"
HK-47, who had remained with R2 at the landing platform, also received a signal about meeting the target.
"R2, let's go," the assassin droid ordered, proceeding to the next part of the plan.
He and the astromech were supposed to fly the Eagle to the meeting point and pick up the mercenary with Anakin, and then help the Master get out.
The freighter, as if by "magic," stopped smoking and pretending to be a wreck, quickly took to the air and, at a low altitude, began to smoothly circle the Temple in an arc.
Suddenly, R2, who continued to remotely track the mercenary's movement through the open communication channel with the Temple's surveillance systems, let out an alarmed whistle, attracting the attention of his older brother.
"Irritatedly: What is it, bucket of bolts?"
A new series of beeps and clicks in binary language.
"Anticipatingly: So that's how it is? Take control."
With these words, HK got out of the pilot's seat and, grabbing his carbine, proceeded to the airlock on the starboard side.
Opening the hatch and activating the magnetic clamps on his legs, so as not to worry about the strong gusts of wind characteristic of Coruscant's atmosphere, the assassin droid raised his weapon and aimed somewhere at the Temple wall. From the outside, it seemed as if he was going to shoot at the stone masonry of the central pyramid, but his intentions were much more sophisticated.
Tyra Nomad, who ran nose-to-nose with a pair of Jedi in the corridor, cursed everything, especially the moment she agreed to this insane adventure.
Anakin couldn't move along the ceiling, and the path through the service channels would have taken too much time. And Vaner, judging by the roar in his headset, had no time at all. The attempt to cut through the path led to an unexpected and extremely unpleasant encounter.
The odds against two gifted individuals at once, especially in a confined space, were already not in her favor, and with the condition "do not kill," they became close to zero.
"Surrender," one of the Jedi said calmly, pointing a glowing blue blade at the mercenary.
"Hutta's two," Nomad replied just as calmly, trying to find a way to escape quickly.
The ballast in the form of the boy made the situation worse.
But, just as the mercenary was ready to make a desperate breakthrough to the nearest service hatch, something she did not expect happened.
From the open observation deck, a charge from a blaster carbine flashed like a scarlet arrow, hitting the thin cable from which a heavy lamp was suspended from the ceiling. Forced to escape from the falling light source, the Jedi missed the moment when the Mandalorian threw a couple of grenades at them.
Shielding the boy and waiting for the detonation, Nomad turned to the disoriented knights and, for good measure, hit each of them three times with a stunner.
"Mockingly: Don't thank me," the voice she had previously hated, suddenly sounding like music, came from the helmet's speakers.
"We'll settle this, tin can," she replied on the run, picking up Anakin.
And literally around the next corner, she had a chance to help her employer, who was fighting his way out of the Council chamber.
When, a quarter of an hour later, Tyra, accompanied by Vaner and Anakin, boarded the Eagle, all she could manage before heading to her assigned cabin and passing out in her armor were the words, "Don't forget your promise."
"I remember," Revan replied to her back. "A favor for a favor."
The mercenary fell asleep with the feeling that she had done the right thing by contacting this strange Jedi. If anyone could help her clan, it was him. The descendants of Clan Ordo would regain their former glory.