In one of the docks of Keldabe spaceport, an unremarkable freighter stood peacefully. The ship had arrived on Mandalore completely legally and did not arouse any suspicion from the authorities. After all, what danger could arrive on a light freighter from Coruscant? At least, that's what one of the Mandalore sector border control officers thought, who gave the freighter permission to land in Keldabe.
And if the complacent Mandalorians had bothered to check the Dawn Eagle and its crew... their opinion on the level of threat from "harmless merchants" would have changed drastically.
After all, the freighter was armed significantly more than was required for safe flights through Republic space or even Hutt territory. And what should have raised even more questions was the fact that all the armament, except for one pathetic laser cannon, was hidden and not documented anywhere. And the crew, in turn, was a delight with a variety of extremely suspicious individuals. Starting with the owner of the ship, known in different parts of the galaxy by different names and officially a member of the Jedi Order. The rest raised no less questions. A Mandalorian mercenary, known in the Hutt Cartel territories. A Zabrak assassin, although he managed to stay out of the spotlight. A child from Tatooine, who was not even ten years old, but had already made a mark in the battle for Naboo. The droids caused the least suspicion... and in vain. After all, a harmless protocol droid was actually the most effective and ruthless killer in the galaxy.
And this killer was currently trying to get rid of one annoying little bag of meat, whom he was forbidden to shoot by his Master's order.
When Revan assigned HK to train Anakin, both teacher and student were unhappy with the decision. The maniacal droid considered teaching the fidgety child a waste of time and his magnificent potential as a killer. The boy, having grasped the direction and methodology of training on the very first lesson, was simply horrified by the mechanical killer. And an attempt to complain to his mentor yielded no results. Revan, who had attended one of the droid's lessons, only scolded the boy for laziness and excessive self-confidence when the youngster decided to prove to his teachers that it didn't take much brains to handle a blaster. For which he paid.
HK taught harshly... but effectively. Skywalker soon understood this when he began to make his first successes in handling blaster weapons. Knowledge of the principles of operation and features of different types of rifles and pistols allowed the gifted beginner to better understand how to more accurately calculate shot trajectories and how to more effectively use his still weak Force foresight abilities to avoid injuries. Even the Mandalorian mercenary was impressed by how quickly the boy progressed.
Despite all his dislike for the assassin droid, Skywalker had to admit that his lessons were useful.
And after HK demonstrated his capabilities in training with Tyra, making the student understand that a blaster remained a blaster at any distance and could be used in close combat, Anakin began to develop respect for the droid.
The last straw that made the boy completely reconsider his attitude towards HK-47 was an incident on Dromund Kaas. Anakin considered Jedi to be invincible warriors, superior to all other fighters, let alone ordinary shooters, and therefore could not believe that a simple droid had managed to defeat several at once. Even if they weren't Jedi, but, according to Revan, gifted individuals who had undergone similar training, and HK was far from a simple droid, Skywalker was impressed.
From that day on, the boy did not miss an opportunity to learn from the forty-seventh's experience in methods of countering various opponents. The assassin droid itself was not delighted by such a change.
"HK!" Anakin caught the droid in the mess hall.
"Irritated response: Not now, meat bag. I have an assignment from Master," the mechanical maniac waved away, whose killer protocols had already marked a neat point of blaster bolt impact on the forehead of the bothersome youngster.
"I'm going on a mission too!" the boy didn't back down.
"Indifferently: My condolences. I will send a notification of your untimely demise to Coruscant."
HK lifted Skywalker by the collar of his light jacket and moved him out of the way.
"Hey, I'm still alive!" the child again blocked his path.
"Interested question: Do you want me to help solve this problem?"
"No!" Anakin hastened to answer, the first lessons with the assassin droid flashing in his memory.
"Threateningly: Then don't stand in my way, meat bag."
HK bypassed the boy and headed for the exit.
"Wait!" Skywalker still overcame the fear that gripped him for a moment and blocked the droid's path.
Although the killer, forced to stop again, merely flashed his eyes in response, Anakin felt that he had walked on the very edge.
At that very moment, in HK-47's processor core, combat blocks, killer protocols, and the personality matrix were engaged in a fierce battle. Some suggested dealing with the annoying obstacle to the mission in the most brutal way, others, particularly the personality matrix, were not against it in principle... Only the logical blocks insisted on prohibiting any harm to the small, annoying bag of meat. And the prohibition was strict. Except that there was a loophole in the training plan, where the reasonable use of force, as well as punishment for educational purposes, left the assassin droid "room for creativity." Only, based on the frequent requests from the annoying bag of meat, the effectiveness of the educational measures was insufficient.
Then some subroutine reminded him of the Master's order to train Skywalker and ensure that the brainless, young bag of meat didn't kill himself... or others.
Making a note to intensify the training program and review the punishment system... and possibly delete some irritating program blocks to the Hutts, HK condescended to answer his unwanted student.
"Impatiently: One question, and I advise you to ask it quickly."
Anakin was even confused by the sudden luck.
"Um..." the boy stretched, blinking and trying to make his mind form a coherent sentence.
"Mockingly: If this nervous tic you've been demonstrating for the last three seconds carries a secret message, then its meaning eludes me."
"I..."
"Feigned thoughtfulness: Unless it's a desperate cry for help."
"But..."
"Pretended enthusiasm: For example, you're trying to say that you sincerely regret being the most useless bag of meat among the entire crew and creating the main mass of problems for your mentors, and therefore, unable to bear the spiritual torment any longer, you sincerely ask me to end the suffering of all the ship's inhabitants by separating your empty skull from your frail body."
Skywalker obviously realized that the assassin droid should not be bothered unnecessarily, but it was too late to back down. Only the words that were spinning in his head refused to form a coherent question. HK, even being just a droid without any Force abilities due to his artificial origin, somehow managed to suppress his interlocutor. A feeling of chilling danger and a distinct vibration in the Force streams, which even an inexperienced gifted person like Anakin could feel, emanated from the mechanical killer whenever he didn't want to answer the boy's questions. How a lifeless droid managed this, Skywalker didn't understand. The boy's teacher couldn't give a clear answer to this question either.
Revan, by his own admission, never considered HK-47 a simple droid, a tool for murder and carrying out his will. The former Jedi created HK already being on the Dark Side, when he found it difficult to trust his comrades. The droid became someone to whom he could entrust tasks that no one else should know about. Cruel, effective, and unconditionally loyal, the mechanical maniac could be called the closest thing to a "friend" for a Sith.
For years, the droid traveled the galaxy, searching for and eliminating gifted individuals, gathering information, and carrying out any of the Master's instructions. He had been to the Star Forge, to secret caches with Star Maps, to Jedi enclaves, to the Temple on Coruscant... In the end, he spent several thousand years in a Force-saturated cave. This could not have left its mark.
While remaining incapable of feeling or using the Force, HK was saturated with it. Revan felt this very clearly, but could not fully explain it. Most of all, this phenomenon reminded him of cases when gifted individuals were so attached to a certain object, for example, armor or a ship, that a full connection in the Force formed between them, allowing them to impart certain properties to the object. In the Order, for example, there were known cases when Jedi generals did not allow their ships to perish, even after receiving critical damage, or could even mentally control them even at a significant distance.
Could Revan have unconsciously bonded HK to himself? The droid, from the first days after activation, began to show signs of an independent personality, which happened with similar machines only after several years of operation, and even then, if memory was not cleaned.
HK was special. And Anakin once again felt this peculiarity on himself.
Skywalker was saved from the assassin droid's clutches by R2, who rolled into the mess hall.
"Indignant denial: I am not intimidating, but exerting all my efforts to assist a useless bag of meat, as our Master ordered," HK said in response to a series of indignant beeps in binary.
The astromech's response was so saturated with skepticism that even for someone unfamiliar with binary language, the message became obvious.
"Challengingly: Chirp something else, you useless scrap collector, and I'll give the bag of meat an unscheduled lesson on the internal workings of astromechs."
R2 did not remain in debt and, creaking menacingly, activated a manipulator with an ion discharger hidden under one of the hull panels.
"Feigned fear: Oh, how scary," HK said mockingly. "Is that a grease gun? Even T3 had a blaster, what do you have, a bucket of bolts?"
The astromech was outraged to the core and almost sparked with indignation. It seemed that in another moment, the small droid would attack HK. But it was not destined to find out how this fight would end.
"Enough!" Revan roared, having observed the unfolding scene for the last few minutes, leaning against the doorway.
"Politely: Master," HK straightened up, undoubtedly noticing his creator before anyone else.
"T-woooo," R2 whined resentfully, trying to convey to Revan the full depth of the insult inflicted on him by the maniacal droid.
"Teacher! I... I just wanted to ask HK a question," the boy began to justify himself, meeting his mentor's stern gaze.
"And what question?" Revan asked impassively, shifting his gaze from one participant in the dispute to another.
"Sarcastic remark: He won't say even under torture," the assassin droid flashed its optical sensors.
"Be quiet, HK," Revan gestured for his creation to be silent. "Continue, Anakin."
"You said we were going on reconnaissance to Mandalore!" Skywalker stammered. "I managed to read something about the planet on the HoloNet, but I couldn't find anything sensible about the planet's army. As if it doesn't exist. Tyra is also a Mandalorian and very strong. What if everyone there is like that? What if we have to fight? So I decided that I should ask one of my mentors how to deal with a Mandalorian."
"Convincing instruction: Don't get caught by a Mandalorian," HK interjected.
"And if you have to?" Anakin didn't give up.
"Advice: Shoot the visor, don't stand still, avoid close range."
"I agree with HK on all points," Revan chuckled. "Until you finish your training, you'd better not mess with Mandalorians. And if a fight is unavoidable, move and try to escape."
"Addendum: And kill the enemy before he kills you."
"HK!" Revan reprimanded the mechanical maniac.
"And what if I don't want to kill anyone?" Skywalker asked. "Can't you just stun them? Hit them on the head with something heavy! Or throw them against a wall. Can't you?"
Revan shook his head.
"Mandalorians don't wear armor for decoration."
"What do you mean?"
Instead of the mentor, HK spoke.
"Unnecessary explanation of the obvious: Mandalorian beskar'gam effectively protects the wearer from kinetic and thermal impact. Cases have been recorded where the armor suit saved even during a close detonation of a MAP-4 anti-infantry mine. Sarcastically: Of course, a blow to the head will be the best tactic."
"HK, stop it," Revan frowned. "But, Anakin, our pet maniac is generally right. It's quite difficult to stun an armored opponent with something. Unless with a stun gun or by exploiting vulnerable spots in his equipment. You haven't been trained in this yet, so don't take unnecessary risks. Follow me and don't do anything stupid."
"Yes, teacher," the child sulked.
"Go to your quarters. Prepare for departure. We're leaving in an hour."
"Yes, teacher."
Skywalker hurried away, casting an offended glance at HK as he left. The droid, however, was pleased with the result. Maybe this time the little bag of meat would leave him alone for at least a week.
"Now you," Revan turned to the droids.
"Willingly: Master?"
"T-wo?"
"You're going to Concordia together."
HK twitched slightly from a surge of voltage in his circuits.
"Confirmation request: What?"
"R2 is going with you. You'll need an experienced 'ice cutter'."
The astromech let out a joyful trill in binary, expressing boundless gratitude for the trust and opportunity.
"Indignantly: I can handle hacking myself. And I work much better alone!"
The assassin droid, however, was not enthusiastic about the idea of partnering with the astromech.
"Judging by your own reports from Coruscant, without Nomad's help, you wouldn't have been able to get out of the Republic Archives building quietly and without noise."
"Dejectedly: But..."
"And also obtaining information would have become sharply more complicated. Your words, right?"
"A grim confirmation: Yes, Master."
"Wonderful. R2, you're going with HK. Follow his instructions until you return to the Eagle. You are dismissed."
Smiling slyly, Revan left the mess hall, leaving a joyful R2 and a bewildered HK alone. The operation no longer filled the assassin droid with the same enthusiasm as before. After all, now he would have to take into account R2's actions, and also cover for this clumsy and slow partner. After all, he is the Master's property. And the Master's property must be protected.
"Subdued: We're leaving in ten minutes."
"Dwoo-beep!" the astromech confirmed cheerfully and rolled towards the cargo ramp.
Finding a ship heading to Concordia was quite simple. Passenger and cargo flights between Mandalore and its largest moon were regular. After all, it was Concordia that, at the moment, fed the devastated homeland of the Mandalorians. Although the moon itself was not in the best condition, as after the rapid development of the mining industry, the area of fertile land had significantly decreased. However, the current governor of Concordia had a plan to restore the planet's ecosystem... at least that's what the slogans of the election campaign, held almost a year ago, proclaimed. As a result, Pre Vizsla, to whom these slogans were attributed, won the election, and, by all appearances, the governor enjoyed popular support.
The close attention to the official complicated the mission somewhat, as it was Vizsla who was the thread that, according to Nomad's information, led to the Death Watch. After all, his clanmate was the leader of the Watch until he was killed by Jango Fett.
Approaching planet government officials was a routine matter for HK. However, this time the assassin droid was accompanied by an astromech. And R2's behavior, showing excessive enthusiasm and a craving for adventure, could jeopardize the entire infiltration and information gathering operation.
The assassin soothed his processing core with the thought that he always had the option of a forceful breakthrough. The Master would not approve, but sometimes there were no other ways to cover tracks and leave with the loot. After all, the order was precisely to find information and leave no trace? Accidents happen every day. Nothing unusual, right?
"Dwoooo," R2 drawled dejectedly, examining the dreary interior of the cargo hold of the transport ship heading to Concordia.
Transporting droids in the passenger cabin was allowed only if their owner could not do without the help of their mechanical servant. HK and R2 arrived at the spaceport without their owner accompanying them, allegedly on an important mission. Why waste expensive seats in the comfortable cabin of the transport ship if the droids didn't need this comfort? Thus, the droids ended up in the cargo hold of shuttle M-2549.
"Tired remark: For an astromech who served on a government yacht, you are too eager to see how these worthless bags of meat live," HK stated in response to R2's beeping.
"There is only blackness in space. Boring," the astromech expressed his point of view. "Cities and planets. Interesting."
There were no other droids in the cargo hold, and R2D2 had disabled the surveillance cameras as soon as the pair of infiltrators boarded. So HK could stop pretending to be a polite protocol droid and give his personality core free rein.
"Observation: On all planets, everything is the same," the assassin droid replied. "Explanation: Class division, overt or veiled, inevitable development of corruption, many vulnerabilities in law enforcement agencies. Only the scenery changes."
"Dwoo-Dip?"
"Answer: Yes, I think space is better."
Even in binary, R2's subsequent exclamation sounded extremely indignant.
"Woo-pip?! Fyuuuuuu???" which could be translated as: "Are you malfunctioning?! How is it better?"
"Condescending answer: Space is filled with darkness, cold, and death, and bags of meat are mostly unable to survive in it without protective equipment. No light, no sounds, the ideal environment for a hunter."
"There's no one to hunt," R2 noted.
"Philosophical remark: There is no perfection anywhere."
The astromech turned the upper part of his body so that his optical sensor was directed precisely at HK-47.
"You are strange," he concluded.
"Indifferently: You too, talking trash can."
In response to the offensive nickname, the astromech unleashed an angry tirade, which the assassin safely ignored.
"Explanation of the situation: The Master gave clear instructions. On Concordia, you will follow my instructions and not ask unnecessary questions."
"Dwoo?"
"Answer: That's an unnecessary question."
"Boo-dit?"
"Explanation: We will infiltrate the governor's residence under the guise of messengers from the mining and processing company 'Kararis.'"
"Beep-doo-dit?"
"Irritated answer: Yes, such a company exists and is registered on Corlus-3. A small organization constantly looking for new raw material suppliers at low prices. There should be no suspicion. And don't interrupt me anymore."
"Fyuu."
"Indifferently: And you too, bucket of bolts."
Another portion of specific curses in binary language went unnoticed.
"Continuation of the explanation: Next, we will infiltrate the governor's office or the server room, depending on where there are more opportunities for covert access to the target's terminal. Your task will be to hack the security and copy the data. Is everything clear?"
"Woooo," the astromech whined indignantly.
"Enthusiastically: Excellent. Then we will return the same way to the spaceport and leave the planet."
"Woo-dit?"
"Anticipatingly: If something goes wrong, we will act according to circumstances."
The flight to Concordia was quite short, which was not surprising, as Mandalore's moon was close enough. The spaceport where transport shuttle M-2549 landed was small in area and intended only for small passenger vessels, as it was located in the administrative district of Concordia's capital. Cargo ships were accepted at other spaceports located away from residential areas.
To HK's surprise, who expected to meet Mandalorians in their usual armor, no one around, except for spaceport security personnel, wore beskar'gam. Apparently, despite the fact that almost all tradition-bound Mandalorians were exiled to this moon, openly wearing armor was not customary here.
The architecture resembled traditional Mandalorian buildings, which could still be found in Sundari and Concord Dawn. After the Purge, such buildings were becoming rarer. Especially those decorated with clan symbols and traditional patterns. Nevertheless, HK noted to himself that he was extremely disappointed with how the Mandalorians had changed.
"Identification, name, and purpose of arrival," the local customs officer said without looking up, processing the shuttle passengers.
It was the turn of the pair of infiltrator droids.
"Benevolently: N4-HK7 and R2D2, authorized representatives of the mining and processing company 'Kararis.' We have arrived for negotiations with the Concordia administration regarding prospective raw material purchases from your mining enterprises," HK replied, again playing the harmless protocol droid, and handed over a holodisk with supporting documents.
The answer made the customs officer look up at the droids in surprise.
"Droids?"
"Affirmatively: Absolutely, respected spaceport officer."
"Have you really become so impoverished in your backwater," the customs officer grumbled. "Sending droids instead of people now. Saving on expenses?"
It's not that the situation was unusual. Many non-wealthy companies sent droids for negotiations. It was much cheaper to send a protocol droid that required no expenses for food and accommodation and possessed exhaustive information about the company's capabilities and needs, than to bother organizing a business trip for one of the employees. Moreover, the droid ignored dubious offers and guaranteed the company protection from unfair deals on unfavorable terms for a peculiar "kickback."
"Duration of stay?"
"Enthusiastic answer: Standard twenty-four hours," HK replied.
Nodding at the droid's words, the spaceport employee entered the information into the system and approved the droids' stay on Concordia.
"Next."
Politely bidding farewell, HK and R2 left the spaceport and headed for the aerocar landing pad. They needed to rent one to get to the governor's residence.
The astromech excitedly spun the upper part of his body, trying to gather as much data about his surroundings as possible. Little R2 was interested in everything. He rarely had the chance to visit another world.
HK, on the other hand, wondered how the technicians on Naboo had allowed such a deformation of the astromech's personality matrix?
Even on the way to the Concordia administration building, where the governor's office was located, the assassin droid took care of organizing cover. He contacted a representative of the local government's trade chamber and scheduled an appointment. The wait, however, was expected to be significantly more than a day, but that was no longer important. The main thing was that the droids now had an official reason for their visit.
The administration building was not striking in its scale or luxury. After all, the colony was not that large initially and specialized in agriculture. After the discovery of mineral deposits and the development of the mining industry, the settlements were rebuilt several times, but the administration did not receive due attention. The government was located on Mandalore. Here, on Concordia, there was only local self-government. And flaunting the colony's wealth and success would be imprudent.
There was not as much security as HK expected. Even the Republic archives were better guarded. The droids passed the security post with minimal delay, caused by the verification of their accompanying documents and a request to the governor's secretariat for confirmation of the scheduled meeting. As soon as the information was confirmed, HK and R2 entered the building without any obstacles. No one bothered to check the date for which the meeting was scheduled.
The surveillance system was standard for Republic administrative buildings. Obviously, the new Mandalorian government was trying with all its might to show its unity with the Republic, imitating it in every way. Not the best tactic. HK noted that if the structure allowed, he would definitely spit irritably, expressing his opinion about pacifist Mandalorians.
Having given the astromech the agreed-upon signal, HK began to implement his plan. And the first stage was access to the internal security network.
Having calculated the most convenient access point, practically invisible from the surveillance cameras, the assassin droid escorted his partner to the terminal. Connecting and hacking the security was not difficult for the astromech, which made HK slightly revise his opinion about the uselessness of the bucket of bolts imposed on him.
First, the infiltrators disabled the video surveillance system, turning off several cameras and launching a self-diagnostic program. While the system was trying to restore its operation, R2 copied the building plan, marked the guard routes and the location of the governor's office, and then, cleaning up the traces of interference and leaving himself the possibility of remote access, disconnected from the network.
"Request: Is everything ready?" HK inquired.
The astromech beeped affirmatively.
"Request: Show the building schematic."
R2 projected a holographic three-dimensional image of the governor's residence, marking the location of Pre Vizsla himself, his office, as well as the server node from which it would be possible to connect to the target's personal terminal.
HK quickly calculated the options and developed the best approach. Vizsla was too close to his terminal and would inevitably notice if someone accessed it. The system was designed in such a way that when attempting to copy files, the source terminal received a signal about the ongoing operation. The governor needed to be distracted.
"Order: Go to the server node and wait for my signal. I will deal with the target," HK ordered.
R2 quickly beeped in confirmation and rolled further down the corridor.
The assassin droid, on the other hand, decided to create a small diversion. After all, this approach worked on Coruscant. Why not try it here.
With a confident step, but without attracting undue attention, HK-47 reached the governor of Concordia's reception room and unceremoniously pushed through the crowd of people waiting for an audience, making his way to the secretary's desk.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"A Hutt droid!"
"Be careful!"
Those waiting to meet the governor were not thrilled by the metallic humanoid pushing past them. The attention of everyone present, including the guards, was now focused on HK.
"Indignantly: This is outrageous! My masters, the honorable founders of the mining and processing company 'Kararis,' cannot wait three whole days! I demand that I, as a representative of the mining and processing company 'Kararis,' be met with immediately!"
The droid's angry speech only added fuel to the crowd's discontent, and the fire of a general scandal erupted instantly.
Curses and insults rained down from all sides. Those who came for an audience with the governor shouted over each other, expressing everything they thought about the insolent droid.
Taking advantage of the situation and the general uproar, HK copied the voices of several particularly indignant representatives of trading companies and insulted a couple of competitors on their behalf. Of course, even despite the noise, the recipients heard how representatives of competing organizations spoke of them. The droid instantly ceased to be the center of attention. The offended rushed to defend their honor and the honor of their companies, of course pouring rivers of verbal filth on those who dared to say something unflattering about themselves.
And then, what started after HK carefully nudged one of the arguing parties, and his fist brushed the opponent's shoulder... A general brawl, threatening to escalate into a large-scale fight, was only prevented by the timely intervention of the guards.
Attracted by the noise of the scuffle, the governor himself came out into the reception room. This was exactly what HK had intended, and he immediately sent R2 a signal to connect to Pre Vizsla's terminal.
Everything was going according to plan. It made no sense to barge into the governor's office now, and it was rather dangerous for the success of the operation. So HK hurried to leave the reception room while Vizsla and the guards were busy sorting out the situation.
Out of habit, the assassin noted that if he had been tasked with eliminating any of those present, now would have been the perfect time. Not even a trace would remain. One precise vibroblade strike. Quiet and effective.
Just a few minutes later, a success signal came from his partner. R2 had apparently found something interesting on the governor's terminal. It remained to leave the building and study the obtained information. If lucky, they would learn something about the Death Watch's activities. If the governor had no information... they would have to change tactics. HK did not plan to return to the Master empty-handed.
Suddenly, sensitive sensors picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. HK was already preparing to once again feign an indignant protocol droid, but the situation turned out differently.
Turning around, the assassin droid saw two Mandalorians in full blue and silver armor before him. All that the forty-seventh managed to do was to match the clan markings on the armor with the list he had received from Tyra. Reu and Dar, clans actively supporting the Death Watch. Without letting the droid say a word, the pair of warriors fired. The ion pulse was supposed to immobilize and disable the droid. However, HK-47's creator had taken precautions for such cases, installing a backup power system and automatic reboot of the processing core, which had already helped the mechanical maniac escape difficult situations more than once, such as during his escape from the prison block on Leviathan.
However, instead of fighting back against the attackers, HK decided to pretend to be deactivated. After all, if those about whom information was to be gathered had obligingly come for him, why resist? After all, they might even take him to their refuge, thus solving another problem with finding the enemy base.
"Di'kutla beskar'ad!" one of the attackers snorted.
"He's anything but stupid," his partner retorted. "A 'stupid droid' like you wouldn't have been able to distract our attention so skillfully."
"He wasn't alone. The Master must be somewhere nearby," the first one spoke again.
"He had an astromech with him," the girl added. "We need to find him too."
"And what about this one? To the expendables?"
HK prepared for battle, but it was not necessary.
"No, we'll take him to the technicians. His construction is too interesting. Perhaps we can find out something about his owner."
"What? I'm not dragging him!"
"No one is asking you! It's an order!" the girl snapped.
The first shooter grumbled something in Mandalorian, but obeyed. He couldn't lift HK alone, so he called for help from someone else.
HK's sensors registered one of the approaching figures whispering almost inaudibly and with obvious fear: "Aden ani'la beskar'kyr'am..."
"Merciless invincible iron death," HK translated from Mandalorian. "It's been a long time since I was called that."
**Chapter 33. True Mandalorians**
Mandalore. Revan had long stopped being surprised by how closely his fate was tied to this world and its people. Again and again, something brought him into contact with the Mandalorians, forcing him to work together or setting him on opposite sides of the barricades. It was to be expected that in his new life, the former Jedi would not escape such a turn.
Apparently, it was the will of the Force...
However, for the first time in his memory, Revan felt... pity for the Mandalorians. This did not fit with the image of a terrifying and strong opponent that had firmly settled in the memory of the former Republic general. But... what the proud warrior race had turned into... was disheartening.
Even defeated, stripped of honor and their leader, forced to scatter across the galaxy and become mercenaries, the Mandalorians remained true to themselves and their customs. Even without armor, Canderous remained a true Mando'ade. Resilient, strong, deadly, but at the same time loyal to his code of honor and not devoid of nobility.
But, those whom Revan now saw on the streets of Keldabe, in his eyes, were anything but Mandalorians. Who would have thought that life in a pacifist society would have such an impact on a once great people? The abandonment of Mando'ade customs did not benefit Mandalore.
The inhabitants of the city did not look strange, no. Rather, they were completely... ordinary. Faded... lost. That's how they felt in the Force.
"What has happened to you?" Revan thought.
"Is it different from what it was in your time?" Tyra suddenly asked, walking to the former Jedi's right.
They were both clad in Mandalorian armor, so the girl could not see her interlocutor's expression, but Revan's mood did not escape the mercenary's attentive gaze when he subtly shook his head, clearly upset by something.
"Very," the former Jedi replied briefly, adjusting his hood.
Since open wear of armor by civilians on Mandalore could raise many unnecessary questions from law enforcement officers, the armor had to be covered with a cloak, which, in general, did not bother Revan, who was accustomed to cloaks, but greatly annoyed Tyra.
"I haven't seen what Mandalore was like before the Purge," Nomad spoke again. "But my mentors tried to explain to me the essence of what it means to be a true Mandalorian."
The girl fell silent for a few moments, but Revan felt that this was not all she wanted to say.
"I wanted to become one of them. I wanted to join the children of Mandalore... to feel part of something... strong again."
"Having lost your home and calling among the Chiss, you found solace in the teachings of the Mandalorians," Revan interrupted the mercenary. "I can understand your feelings."
"I doubt it," Tyra snorted, forgetting again who exactly she was talking to.
"As you recall, I lived a rather eventful life in my time."
"Hutt... Sorry, I didn't mean..." the girl realized, realizing that she had tried to point out the inexperience of an ancient warrior who had gone through countless battles and managed to bring both Mandalore and the entire galaxy to its knees.
"I have often been in situations where only the lines of the Codex... or rather, the Codexes, saved me from the abyss of despair and madness," Revan chuckled sadly. "Padawans are not for nothing drilled into their heads from an early age loyalty and unwavering, blind faith in the Order. This helps not to lose bearings in the raging ocean of madness that fills the galaxy. But when this faith crumbles, when the Order ceases to be your support, and the words of the Codex begin to sound false... it is terrifying. Few manage to hold on and not fall into Darkness, destroying their minds and personalities. And to survive such a thing more than once... So, believe me, I can understand your desire to fill the void in your soul and find support again by becoming part of something greater."
The girl just nodded in response, accepting her interlocutor's words. She didn't want to say anything more, because all the emotions that lay hidden in the mercenary's soul could not be conveyed by words. Revan described her state very accurately. Raised in a world with a rigid caste system and grown up on the philosophy of Chiss Domination, Tyra lost everything she knew and hoped for. A bright future in the armed forces evaporated like a meteor in the atmosphere of a gas giant. Dreams of glory and greatness sank into oblivion. Even hopes for happiness within the family... they too vanished. If Nomad's clan hadn't found her then, Tyra wouldn't have lived another week.
So it was not surprising that she clung to a new home among the Mandalorians and began to fanatically absorb the teachings given by the clan mentors. Aru'Tir'Anude cast aside her past and became Tyra Nomad. In her desire to prove to everyone again that she was not just "defective trash" or "impure-blood," the girl dedicated herself entirely to becoming a true Mandalorian in the eyes of her mentors. A warrior from the times when Mandalore was respected and feared. And what a disappointment she experienced when she saw what had become of the world whose culture she so longed to join. To become part of what had disappeared... again.
"Tell me briefly, who will be present at the meeting," Revan's voice pulled the girl out of her gloomy thoughts.
"Mostly representatives of the opposition in parliament and a few neutral clans who disagree with Kryze's policy, but are also not ready to join the Death Watch," Nomad replied. "I can't give you the exact composition of the assembly, but besides my clan, I think representatives of Eldar, Ruk, and Rau will be present."
"Tell me about them."
"From what I know, Eldar was originally a clan of hunters on Dxun and was one of the first to be gathered under the banners of Mandalore the Keeper. After another civil war on Onderon, the clan decided to move closer to the capital and chose the planet Ordo for their new home. Later, clan representatives appeared in Keldabe shortly before the Purge. They try not to meddle in politics, preferring to stay aside until Mandalore calls them. Almost like Nomads, but unlike my clan, they prefer not to leave the Mandalore system."
"What about Rau? I think I heard about them back in those distant times."
"It's not surprising. Rau took on the role of peculiar Defenders of the inhabited worlds of the Mandalore systems. So they should have stood in the way of Revan's armada."
The former Jedi nodded, not wanting to dwell on the topic. After all, when he turned Mandalore the Ultimate's tactics against him, the Republic's army had done many things for which Revan felt no pride.
"What about their current situation?"
"They are engaged in the defense of Concord Dawn. By parliamentary decision, they were allowed to keep their armor, but their armament was limited. It's no secret that Rau is not happy with this situation. But they also don't want to join the fanatics from the Death Watch, awaiting the decision of the current Mandalore."
"Fett?" This time, the former Jedi managed to pronounce the clan's name almost without wincing.
"Yes," Tia nodded. "But Jango disappeared and completely withdrew from leadership, giving all power to these pathetic pacifists."
"I see. What about Ruk?"
"The Ruk clan... Snakes, and that says it all. Slippery, secretive, and deadly. They love poisons and silent weapons. They behave neutrally in parliament, and from the outside, it might seem like they are content with everything. But they, like other clans loyal to traditions, do not wish to part with their armor and heritage."
"Then why didn't they join the Death Watch?"
"That's a question that plagues everyone who sees the real state of affairs. As I said, slippery guys."
"Is that all we expect to see?"
"Practically. Maybe a couple more neutrals who are trusted by the heads of allied clans."
"And all in the same situation as your clan? What about the hostages?"
"No one is talking about details. Everyone is afraid of spies in their ranks. Especially after the Wren clan distinguished itself among the opposition."
"What's wrong with them?"
"Wren belongs to the Vizsla house. The clans have a common ancestor, but suddenly they started feuding. And it's unclear what caused Wren's actions. Is it their own initiative or Vizsla's game?"
"I hate intrigue," Revan noted mentally.
For a while, the former Jedi and the Mandalorian mercenary walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
"May I ask a question?" Nomad broke the silence first.
"Ask," Revan nodded.
"Have you decided what name you will use when communicating with the clans?"
The former Jedi had indeed thought about this question many times. Revealing himself completely was definitely not worth it. Firstly, few would believe the story of Revan's resurrection. Secondly... the relationship between the former Republic general and the warriors from Mandalore had always been quite tangled and complex. And it was difficult to understand how the Mandalorians of this time viewed them. The Nomad clan, as Revan understood from Tia's words, considered the former Jedi almost a sworn brother to Canderous Ordo and spoke of his contribution to Mandalore's history with nothing but respect and pride. But not everyone shared their point of view. After all, it was Revan who had deprived the people of Mandalore of a leader for many years.
So, he would have to use a made-up name. One of those under which he was already known in the galaxy should suffice.
There was still the question of affiliation with the Order. After the Purge, Jedi became not the most welcome guests on Mandalore. And while the Duchess would gladly have welcomed him to her residence, demonstrating the peacefulness and friendliness of the renewed Mandalore, all the others...
"Perhaps I will use the guise of Vaner Shan – a mercenary from Tatooine," Revan replied after a moment of thought.
"Reasonable. After all, Avner Van is officially considered a Jedi, and the very first check of the name will confirm this. Vaner, however, arouses far less suspicion."
"Even if he's connected to the Hutt Cartel?" Revan chuckled.
"Especially for that reason," Tia nodded seriously. "Believe me, connections with criminals on Mandalore are far preferable to connections with the Order or the Republic Senate."
"I suppose the Republic is also viewed with prejudice here?"
"Not all. At least, not openly," Nomad shook her head. "Kryze's party continues to grovel before the Senate, so they will praise the Republic and democracy as if they owe them the salvation of Mandalore from all the woes and misfortunes of the galaxy."
"And among the opposition?"
"You don't even need to mention the Death Watch. They sincerely believe that Mandalore's greatness lies in the bloody massacre that Mandalore the Ultimate staged when he swept across the galaxy with fire and sword," Tia snorted. "The other clans are enraged at the Republic and the Order because of the Purge and subsequent repressions, which led to the establishment of a pacifist government."
"As always," Revan exhaled wearily. "The Republic and the Order themselves create enemies by succumbing to fear and prejudice."
The former Jedi had often wondered why conflicts repeatedly arose in the Republic's space, and among the gifted in particular. It was all due to fear. As soon as a gifted person began to study the Dark Side, they were branded as fallen and sought to be isolated or destroyed. This provoked a retaliatory reaction, pushed the gifted deeper into darkness, fed their fear, and thus, we get a new Dark Lord, seeking to secure himself by eradicating the champions of Light.
Revan recalled their frequent conversations with Scorch in Nayriss's dungeon. The Sith then told the Jedi that most of his people supported the Emperor not so much out of fear of the Lord himself, but out of fear of destruction by the Jedi Order. Vitiate seized power, taking advantage of the moment. He promised the Sith salvation and a safe home. Yes, it was a deception... but it worked.
Damn! The Empire and the Republic were on opposite ends of the galaxy and could have remained without encountering each other for thousands more years if not for fear. The two sides clashed again, which almost led to the destruction of everything. And Revan himself was partly to blame. It was he who went to the edge of the galaxy looking for the cause of his nightmares, thereby almost provoking Vitiate. Only by a miracle and at the cost of his own life was it possible to postpone the invasion. All because of what? Because of fear!
"Oh Force, all gifted beings need to have their code hammered into their heads first, not learn to fight their own paranoia!" Revan thought to himself, continuing to follow Tia.
"We've arrived," the mercenary's voice pulled the former Jedi out of his stream of anxious thoughts.
Revan looked around. A normal two-story house in a not-so-rich, but decent area of Keldabe. No visible guards, no security systems, nothing that could attract unnecessary attention from law enforcement officers. The only strangeness that the former Jedi noted was that there were no passers-by or residents from neighboring houses around. The block seemed deserted, but the condition of the nearest houses suggested otherwise. It gave the impression that the owners had simply gone for a walk a few minutes ago.
"The disguise is good," Revan noted.
"The most secret things are best hidden in plain sight," Nomad shrugged and approached the door.
Lightly knocking on the door with her armored glove, Tia stepped back a pace.
The door opened a couple of seconds later. No questions, no passwords, they were simply let in. Which, however, was not surprising. Revan was sure that they had been watched for a long time. And the feeling in the Force confirmed this. In each of the surrounding houses, there were living beings. But there was no sense of threat.
"There will be guards inside, so no sudden movements," Nomad warned and took a step forward.
Even from the inside, the house gave the impression of an ordinary dwelling that the owner had left, heading for a walk.
Revan felt the presence of living beings quite clearly. So the appearance of four warriors in armor was not a surprise.
"State your names," one of the Mandalorians demanded.
"Tira Nomad and Vaner Shan, we've come for the meeting," the mercenary replied calmly.
The guard relayed the names to someone via commlink and, after receiving approval, ordered them to follow him.
The path led to the basement premises, which turned out to be... simply enormous. An inconspicuous door at the far end of a narrow room on the floor below turned out to be a passage into a branched network of tunnels that led them into a real underground hangar. Estimating the size of this place, Revan concluded that the entire complex occupied several city blocks. It was a real small settlement, hidden from everyone.
The hangar was divided into several zones. One was clearly designated for housing and consisted of a dozen improvised rooms, closed on all sides by steel sheets, on which faint markings were visible, indicating that they were previously cargo containers.
A market with many stalls and shelves was also clearly выделялся, where everything was obviously traded, from food to weapons.
A little further was something like a repair workshop and a vehicle depot. And immediately behind it, the sector was completely blocked by durasteel armor plates and was clearly guarded.
It gave the impression that the complex was designed for a much larger number of inhabitants than were present here now.
"Surprised?" Nomad chuckled, hearing a quiet grunt from the former Jedi.
"Where did all this come from?" Revan asked, successfully hiding his surprise.
"The legacy of our ancestors," Tia declared proudly.
"Explain?"
"This is the 'Basilisk Nest'."
"What?" Revan didn't understand.
"A former warehouse for 'Basilisk' type combat droids from the time of Mandalore the Ultimate. Later, it was converted into a shelter in case of an orbital strike, and after another conflict in this part of the galaxy, the complex was forgotten for many centuries. The Nomad clan rediscovered it only about a hundred years ago. Now, secret clan meetings are held here," Tia shifted her gaze to a group of local residents dressed in worn armor. "And some people prefer to live here entirely and hide from the current government because they don't want to give up their beskar'gam."
"And how many of them are there?"
"No, only a couple of dozen. Those who are wanted and cannot live on the surface," Tia explained. "Although there are not as many patrols of law enforcement officers in Keldabe as in Sundari, only a few with special government permission can openly wear armor."
"Does everyone really accept this situation?"
"No, that's why we're here."
Tia confidently strode towards the most securely protected part of the complex. As it turned out, it was there that something like a command center was located, where the meeting was to take place.
They were already expected.
In a small hall with a long oval table, six people in Mandalorian armor with helmets on were seated. All were armed. The emotions felt chaotic. Confusion, anger, discontent, interest.
"A perfectly normal cocktail of feelings for a Mandalorian," Revan noted mentally.
"Greetings, esteemed elders," Tia began with a bow, then addressed a warrior in black and silver armor with red inserts separately. "Greetings, Mentor."
"Tira," the stranger nodded in response. "Your request for a meeting caught us by surprise."
Everyone present spoke exclusively in Mando'a, and Revan was glad that he hadn't been too lazy to learn the language in his time.
"Yes," another Mandalorian, whose armor was dark green with orange inserts, confirmed with displeasure. "The Parliament will hold a session in the coming days to consider the possibility of using the services of the Judicial Corps, which will further tighten the collar around Mandalore's neck. We should be preparing, not wasting time on empty talk."
"I agree with Eldar," the Mandalorian next to him, in white and blue armor with a gold visor trim, supported him. "This bill could hit the entire opposition hard. Not to mention the threat to my clan."
"Concord Dawn will never abandon the Rau clan, brother," said Tia's mentor. "You have done much for the inhabitants of this planet, protecting them from pirates."
"But it won't save us from the possibility of Senate-loyal soldiers appearing right under our noses," objected, obviously, an elder from the Rau clan.
"Now is not the time for this discussion," interrupted the previously silent warrior in purple armor with yellow and silver inserts. "After all, we haven't even learned the name of our guest yet."
The attention of the assembly shifted to Revan.
"Who are you?" asked the representative of the Eldar clan.
"Vaner Shan," the former Jedi introduced himself with a slight bow.
"Shan?" someone from the assembled group repeated.
"Not a Mandalorian," concluded an unknown participant in gray-blue armor.
"But he speaks Mando'a and wears beskar'gam," said the representative of the Ruk clan, judging by the armor, with a smirk.
"And he respects our traditions," Tia defended Revan.
"You've only been among us recently yourself. What do you..." a Mandalorian in dark orange armor began to scold the girl sarcastically.
"Enough!" the mercenary's mentor boomed. "Tira is one of the Nomad clan. She is one of us and has proven more than once that she deserves respect, just like any other Mandalorian. Don't forget that from now on, Buro."
The voice of the Nomad clan representative was deep with a slight hoarseness, which could indicate the venerable age of its owner. Unfortunately, nothing more could be determined because the faces of all present were hidden under helmets. They all called each other exclusively by clan names, which further complicated identification... And it was damn foresightful. Even if there was an outsider at the meeting, he wouldn't learn the names of the participants or their distinguishing features. After all, many of those present, according to Tia's remarks, were high-ranking officials in the government of Mandalore and neighboring worlds in the system.
"Perhaps we should return to the question of what our guest is doing here?" the representative of the Ruk clan urged everyone to order.
"Tira?" Nomad turned her visor-covered gaze to her protégé.
"Mentor, I believe that Vaner can help us save Mandalore," the mercenary declared.
Judging by the reaction, the girl's words did not impress anyone.
"And why did you decide that he will help us?" inquired the representative of the Eldar clan.
"He has extensive experience... in such matters."
Revan understood the girl's difficulty in answering. How to convince the assembly that one person could help them, without naming his achievements or true name... It was a foolish undertaking from the very beginning.
"Girl," interrupted Tia, the representative of the Rau clan, "we appreciate your desire to help us and your clan. But you probably don't realize the situation we are in."
"Kryze's government dances to the tune of the Senate and the Jedi. We are deprived of almost all means and opportunities for resistance," continued the representative of Ruk. "If there's a threat of a coup, troops will be reintroduced into the sector, and we will simply be destroyed."
"Not to mention that besides Kryze, we are also pressured by Vizsla and his Death Watch," added the girl from the Buro clan.
"That's what I wanted to talk about," Tia took the floor again. "Vaner can help with the release of the hostages."
A tense silence hung in the air. Someone quietly cursed under his breath.
"How much did you tell him?" the representative of the Nomad clan asked dryly.
"A lot," the mercenary replied, clearly nervous but trying not to show it.
"That was reckless," hissed the Mandalorian from Buro.
"Normally, you should be eliminated immediately," the representative of the Eldar clan joined the conversation. "But we can't be sure that the information hasn't already gone further, which makes your death meaningless."
"I assure you, I know how to keep secrets," Revan said calmly, and with a slight challenge in his voice, added, "As well as how to insure my life."
The hint was quite clear. The information was still kept secret, but if any attempt was made to harm Vaner, the details would be disclosed.
"We don't like threats," growled the Mandalorian from the Rau clan.
"It wasn't a threat, brother," thoughtfully said the representative of the Ruk clan. "We've simply decided to talk as equals. Interesting."
"Yes, it's not often you meet such people," Nomad added. "However, with friends like that, one would expect nothing less."
Revan understood the hint. The mention of his race directly indicated that they already had a dossier on Vaner Shan. And by friends, they meant not Tia.
"You work with the Hutts, don't you?" Nomad stated, not asked, projecting a hologram with a brief dossier on Vaner Shan above the table.
Nothing else was expected from a clan specializing in investigation and research.
Revan grunted, then removed his hood and mask.
"So young," the representative of the Eldar clan was surprised.
"But already having achieved so much," the Mandalorian from the Ruk clan said respectfully.
In the dossier, from what Revan could make out from the back of the hologram, there was information about Vaner's involvement with the Hutt Cartel, the Tatooine Blood Claws, and the seizure of Black Sun territory on Coruscant.
"As Tia said, I have experience in such matters," Revan said with a smile.
"And what is similar about our situations?" Nomad asked calmly. "You have carried out several brilliant operations to seize power from a local gang and an isolated criminal syndicate cell, while securing the support of the Hutts. Yes, the achievement is impressive, but how will this experience help in our situation, when we are talking about an entire star system with billions of inhabitants?"
"A lightning-fast takeover won't work here," the representative of the Eldar clan agreed with Nomad's words. "In case of a forceful action, we will face a civil war, and on two fronts. The Senate will not stand aside, and it will all end with a new Purge. Or Jedi will simply arrive to repeat what they did on Galidraan. We will achieve nothing but our own demise."
Revan nodded thoughtfully.
"You are largely right. A civil war is unavoidable," he agreed with the previous speaker. "However, you overestimate the capabilities of the Senate and the Order. The reaction will not be so swift. You will have from several months to a year in reserve."
"What makes you so sure?" Ruk tilted his head slightly.
"The Senate is a giant bureaucratic machine. There has never been a case where it could make a decision faster than in several sessions, which can drag on for weeks. Information arrives at the chancellery in fragments. Without creating an investigative commission, this cannot be done. And that's a few more weeks to form the staff and transfer them to Mandalore. After that, the return flight, a report, a new session, and again long speeches by bureaucrats. And if... if we secure the support of some senators, the discussion can be dragged out for months."
"And the Jedi?" someone asked.
"The Order is even more sluggish than the Senate, believe me. Time and time again throughout its existence, their inaction has allowed events to unfold in the galaxy that raise suspicions about the sincerity of their commitment to conditional good and light. The defenders of democracy and guardians of peace have repeatedly allowed large-scale inter-sector wars to erupt, claiming trillions of sentient lives. And they only started acting when it was too late to minimize the damage, or when someone else had already done all the work for them," by the end, notes of anger and disgust slipped into Revan's voice. "This was the case, for example, four thousand years ago. The Jedi allowed the Mandalorians to capture half of the Republic, and if it hadn't been for the intervention of a group of outcasts, the Republic would have ceased to exist then. Then followed a new civil war, the Sith Empire, and countless other mistakes of the Order."
"What are you leading to?" Nomad interrupted his reasoning.
"The Jedi are not as strong as they seem. They are constrained by... - Revan chuckled at the thought that crossed his mind and voiced it, - Fear. Fear makes them inactive. And apathy... is death."
The assembly remained silent for a few moments, contemplating the guest's words.
"You claim that in case of an escalation of the conflict, we don't need to worry about the intervention of the Republic and the Jedi?" Ruk clarified.
"We shouldn't lose sight of them either, but we shouldn't count on a quick reaction."
Revan was sure of his words. The Senate was bound by democratic protocols, and the Order could do nothing without the Council's approval. And the decision-making process could easily be slowed down. After all, senators had always been easily bought for credits. How much does a representative of some poor sector, where nothing is mined, produced, or grown except space dust, need? A couple of thousand credits, and his vote will serve the one who extended a "financial" hand.
It's a bit more complicated with the Order, but having contacts with several masters, Revan could influence the Council. Even if not fully, but to slow them down, to throw them off the scent... easily.
"But this is just a delay," Buro reminded everyone. "Sooner or later, an army will come for us."
"By then, we will be able to prepare," suggested one of the participants who had not introduced himself.
"And where will we get ships and weapons to prevent the enemy from entering our sector?" the Mandalorian did not give up.
"That won't be necessary," said Eldar, who had been in thought.
"What?"
"Consider it. In case of a successful coup, we will establish a new government on Mandalore. After that, we will change the representative in the Senate and put forward the question of recognizing the government as legitimate and corresponding to the will of the people of Mandalore."
"Smells like leaving the Republic," Ruk chuckled.
"No, then they'll declare you separatists, and in that case, expect the army to pay you a visit," Revan retorted.
More and more remarks from the meeting participants began to sound. The topic was actively discussed and developed. When Revan first entered the hall, the clan representatives were in a rather subdued state. They saw no way out of the situation. But now... they had been pointed in the right direction, given hope, and explained that there was indeed a way out. With each passing moment, the clan representatives gathered here increasingly resembled the Mandalorians Revan knew. Strong, purposeful, ruthless, daring. Someone had even already proposed a plan to attack the palace in Sundari, but others at the meeting shut him down. But the main thing was that the Mandalorians were once again ready to act.
"So, will you accept my help?" Revan reminded them of his presence.
The discussion quieted down, and the attention of the assembly focused on the guest's figure.
"Your ideas deserve to be considered in more detail," the representative of the Ruk clan nodded in agreement, "But we cannot trust an outsider."
"However, young Tyra Nomad and her clan vouched for you..." a Mandalorian from the Eldar clan turned to the mercenary's mentor, waited for an affirmative nod from Nomad, and continued, "The clan supports their protégé's opinion."
"We have much to discuss and gather all available information before we can make a decision," Ruk spoke again, "Therefore..."
Suddenly, the communicators of everyone present went off one after another, indicating an urgent message.
"Did something happen?" Tyra asked her mentor worriedly.
He frowned, reading the text on the datapad.
"An explosion in one of the northern mines on Concordia," he reported, "Strange."
"Isn't it in this sector, according to intelligence, that Death Watch is hiding?" a Mandalorian from the Buro clan asked her neighbor barely audibly.
He nodded in response.
*Slap!*
The sound of Revan's palm hitting the face of the former Jedi echoed through the hall.
"I asked... quietly..." the guest grumbled into his glove.
"Do you know anything about this?" the representative of the Ruk clan inquired.
"I sincerely hope not," Revan groaned in response.
However, he had no certainty. After all, it was to Concordia that HK-47 had been sent. And the connection between this fact and the explosion that occurred struck the former Jedi instantly, even without resorting to the Force.
"Well, with this, I propose to end our meeting, as we will clearly have a lot of work ahead of us in the near future. Parliament will not ignore the bombing of one of the mines, even if it's long closed," the representative of the Eldar clan rose from his seat.
All present agreed with the opinion of the Mandalorian in dark green armor and hurried to leave the secret sanctuary of the opposition.
All except Tyra's mentor. Nomad sat and waited until everyone except his protégé and Revan had left the meeting hall.
When they were left alone, the Mandalorian rose from his seat and approached the guests.
"Sevras Nomad," he extended his hand for a handshake.
"Vaner Shan," Revan shook it.
The Mandalorian grunted, as if surprised by how the name sounded.
"Shan..." he said thoughtfully, "Do you know that the Nomad clan originated on the planet Ordo, as a branch of the clan of the same name?"
"Tyra mentioned it," the former Jedi nodded, beginning to guess what was going on.
"Ordo, according to the precepts of Mandalore the Keeper, kept very detailed chronicles, preserving the history of our people for posterity," Sevras continued, "And the name 'Shan' often appears among the records. A funny coincidence?"
Revan smiled faintly in response.
"And this name is associated with an unpleasant organization, for belonging to which any of those present at the meeting a few minutes ago would have shot you. But you're lucky your name is 'Shan'," Nomad continued without releasing his hand from his firm grip, "A good name. The name of a friend. But one that has perished in the ages. This is your real name, isn't it? Jetii."
He had been discovered. It was as clear as day. There was no point in playing anymore.
"Not entirely, but much connects me to Shan," Revan decided.
"And what is your name, jetii?"
Sevras tensed noticeably, clearly preparing for an attack if he didn't like the answer.
"Revan."
Nomad flinched as if struck and froze like an immobile statue.
"Repeat," the Mandalorian finally managed to squeeze out.
"I am Revan."
For a few seconds, Sevras simply looked at the guest's face, not releasing his hand. Then he suddenly loosened his grip and stepped back, releasing Revan's palm from his armored glove.
"So, the Ordo diaries tell the truth..." Nomad whispered, "The Butcher will return to save us again or destroy us."