The Dawn Eagle, since the opportunity presented itself, was undergoing unscheduled technical maintenance under the supervision of R2D2. Despite the gradual demilitarization, Mandalore's docks remained among the best equipped in the Outer Rim worlds. The astromech did not miss the opportunity to finally work on the Eagle's sublight engines under normal technical support. The ship's master was not against it and even assigned his student to help the droid. The young man turned out to be well-versed in technology, which earned him an approving trill in binary from the astromech.
The boy himself was not thrilled with the assignment. Of course, he loved tinkering with technology, and the engines of spacecraft in particular filled him with delight. However, he would have preferred to be on board the Eagle with his mentor right now. Especially since they were going to interrogate a real prisoner! Like in those holofilms that Skywalker rarely got to watch on Tatooine!
Here it was – the life full of adventure and danger he dreamed of, chained to Watto's stall! Just within reach!
And he had turned out to be capable of becoming one of the Jedi! Those very invincible warriors that the transport pilots who often visited the Toydarian's shop talked about.
Although... his mentor did not speak too highly of the Jedi... Although he himself was one of them... or had been. The boy had not yet understood who Revan really was, given the many names his teacher had called himself in different situations, and his sometimes strange behavior. But he was sure of one thing – he would not have a better mentor!
And this made it even more обидно! Instead of taking Anakin with him to meet the Mandalorians, Revan ordered the boy... to meditate.
And now? Why not let him stay for the interrogation! No! Go, Anakin, and help R2 with cleaning the injectors. Unfair!
"Dwo-dit!" the astromech chirped sharply, drawing the boy's attention.
"What? I still don't understand you well when you're so fast..."
The droid didn't let the young man finish. Instead, it opened one of the compartments on its barrel-shaped body and extended a manipulator, with which it poked first at Anakin and then at the open injector housing.
"Di-dit!"
"Understood, understood," Skywalker sighed sadly, "Don't get distracted."
It was too difficult for the young student to understand his mentor's motives and actions, whereas every action and decision of Revan had a very specific meaning. All the grueling training under the guidance of Maul and HK, combined with the still clumsy and shallow meditations, were paying off. The boy was becoming physically stronger and felt the Force better, although he didn't realize it himself. The development was smooth but systematic, and his consciousness barely registered the changes.
Revan watched his student's training and closely monitored his development, although he did not show it explicitly. Often in the evenings, he joined Anakin's meditation and carefully guided the boy's consciousness in his still timid attempts to feel the flows of the Force.
Skywalker turned out to be a rather complex personality, carrying many scars from childhood. He grew up without a father, was a slave, and barely survived among an alien society in a mix of cultures. As a result, Anakin was highly vulnerable to the influence of the Dark Side. More so than Revan had expected, which forced him to make changes to the original training plan and abandon intensive training until the student was ready.
Everything almost went to ruin on Dromund Kaas. Skywalker instinctively reached for the energy of the Force raging around the planet and opened himself to it, which almost led to his death or, worse... falling into the abyss of madness. Darkness, in the absence of strong willpower control, distorted the personality of anyone who risked letting it into their body and soul. It tempted and offered comfort. It caused euphoria and made one forget... lose oneself. One had to be prepared for such an influence. To learn to indulge one's passions while keeping one's mind pure. This distinguished the Sith from the fallen. The former knew what to do, the latter did not.
The boy almost lost himself, but HK's timely intervention gave Revan time to correct the damage his student had suffered from the ancient capital of the Empire. The former Sith even managed to turn everything to the child's advantage. Anakin felt the Dark Side, began to understand the threat it held. But he still didn't understand what to do with it.
However, that was how it was supposed to be. Before comprehending the difference between the different aspects of the Force, one had to understand the basics. To feel and accept what the Force was. It could not be explained in words. The student had to come to an understanding of its essence himself.
Each meditation brought Skywalker closer to the right answers. His connection to the Force grew, and his consciousness became more structured. The boy calmed down and reacted much more adequately to his surroundings.
A month ago, he would have already snuck aboard the Eagle three times and tried to observe the interrogation. Now... yes, he still wanted to get there, but he still chose to follow his Mentor's instructions.
Revan did not take him to the meeting with the clans because he was not ready for the shock that event would entail. The boy was already too agitated by a simple trip for supplies, he even ran to seek advice on countering the Mandalorians from HK!
He was still a child, after all.
Revan constantly had to remind himself of this. He had never trained children before. His... followers... They were already adults and established individuals. Alec, Mitra, and others who ignored the Council's orders and followed the young knight to war.
Perhaps the closest in age to his, so to speak, students, Revan could recall Mission Vao, a Rutian he met on Taris shortly before its destruction. The girl was only fourteen, and life on the streets of the lower city had left its mark on her, just as Tatooine had on Anakin. She was not a full student for Revan, as she was not Force-sensitive, but the former Sith genuinely cared for her. At first, it was difficult to find an approach to her, just like now with Anakin. But Revan had managed then, and was confident he would manage now.
Meanwhile, on board the Eagle, in the mess hall, Revan, Tyra Nomad, and HK-47 gathered. The former Jedi was in no hurry to begin interrogating the prisoner, deciding to wait for the mercenary. After all, although he was well acquainted with Mandalorian culture, Tyra had lived with them, and her experience might be much more valuable now.
"Where are her clothes?" Nomad asked, examining an image from the surveillance cameras in the cargo hold where the younger Kryze had been thrown.
Bo-Katan sat in the corner of the room, leaning her back against the wall, and lightly tapped her fist on the metal floor. She was only wearing underwear.
"They remained on Concordia," Revan shrugged.
"Explanation: During the apprehension, I was forced to remove everything from the prisoner that could be used as a weapon. With regret: To the credit of the Mandalorians, I must admit that almost all of the captive's equipment fit the definition of a potential threat," the assassin droid reported.
"Bad," Nomad shook her head.
Revan understood her.
"For a Mandalorian to lose their armor at the hands of an enemy, and to be captured... It's a disgrace. And with far-reaching consequences," Tyra continued to explain, "Even if she's not looked down upon in pacifist society, her comrades from the Death Watch will certainly not forget such a transgression."
This was something new. Revan didn't remember the Mandalorians of Canderous's time being so attached to their armor. Ordo himself only started wearing it after becoming Mandalore. And he didn't feel any discomfort about it.
"Beskar'gam can always be reforged," Canderous usually joked, "But a Mandalorian cannot be reforged."
Has everything changed so much in four thousand years?
How would they react to the loss of armor now?
Revan had seen different reactions from Mandalorians in similar situations. After all, during the Mandalorian Wars, prisoners were frequent guests on board the Obsidian and Leviathan. Some fell into a rage and sought death at the hands of their captors, others admitted defeat and were ready to serve the victor, as long as it did not harm their clan. But some withdrew into themselves. They did not react to attempts to talk to them, did not answer questions. Only torture could briefly bring them out of a state of complete apathy.
And now Revan would not want to see such a state in Kryze. He wanted to learn the character of the Duchess's sister to better understand the differences between them. Perhaps one of the sisters would become a valuable ally in the future? The former Jedi was in no hurry to dismiss such a possibility.
"What color was the armor? Were there any clan symbols on it?" Tyra suddenly asked.
HK described in detail the gray-blue armor he had removed from the prisoner. There were no symbols on it, except for the Death Watch emblem.
"That's better," Nomad nodded.
"What do you mean?" Revan asked.
"Her beskar'gam. It belonged to the Death Watch. That is, it was not clan-related, not connected to the Kryze family," the mercenary began to explain, "And you can play on that. Even if she lost what the Death Watch gave her, she still has her Clan. And for the opportunity to restore her honor and wear clan beskar'gam again, any true Mandalorian will be ready to go to great lengths."
"In that case, she doesn't put duty to the Death Watch above her Clan," Revan remarked reasonably.
"Nothing is above the Clan," Nomad cut off.
"For you," the former Jedi noted, "And as we've seen, not everyone is ready to follow old traditions."
Tyra snorted in response and shrugged. Her face was hidden by a helmet, so her appearance did not convey all her emotions. But Revan could clearly feel her mood through the Force.
The mercenary was nervous. And in the storm of emotions that were clearly felt around her, the former Jedi caught anger and contempt. The members of the Death Watch clearly did not evoke warm feelings in Nomad.
"What can you say about her herself? Is there any information?" Revan returned the dialogue to a constructive course.
"Little is known. I personally haven't crossed paths with the Kryze clan," Tyra said thoughtfully, "No one has heard anything about Bo-Katan herself for several years. I suppose, since she joined the Death Watch."
"What about her sister?"
"What about her sister?"
"Doesn't she maintain contact with her relatives?"
"We are Mandalorians. We have... complicated relationships within the clans. Everyone is free to do as they wish, as long as it does not affect the interests of another Mandalorian. So there is nothing surprising in the fact that the sisters do not communicate."
"A strange approach," Revan chuckled, although he himself remembered well that Canderous, at one time considered the head of the Ordo clan, had left his post and wife, choosing the path of a mercenary.
"That's the way," Nomad shrugged.
"That's the way..." Revan repeated mechanically.
Tyra turned her head towards her interlocutor, and surprise and interest flickered in her emotions.
"Well, I think we should talk to the prisoner and find out a little more," Revan suggested, pointing towards the exit to the corridor leading to the cargo hold.
"If she starts talking," the mercenary remarked.
"Everyone talks, sooner or later," the former Sith shrugged.
"Request: May I be present?" HK-47 interjected.
Revan paused for a few moments. The droid had many flaws that could cause problems. However, HK still had more advantages. After all, the assassin droid, whom Kryze undoubtedly remembered, could serve as an additional motivator. Not to mention that HK's executioner-interrogator protocols were among the best in the galaxy.
"Let's go," Revan nodded, which caused the droid incredible enthusiasm.
HK almost sparked with anticipation. How long had it been since he had observed an interrogation performed by the Master!
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Nomad asked quietly.
"No, but I'm sure there will be more benefit than problems."
The path to the improvised prison cell did not take long. As soon as the door hissed and slid aside, the prisoner, still sitting in the corner, raised her eyes to the "guests."
Revan and Tyra entered the compartment, accompanied by HK. Kryze indifferently looked at the man and woman, obviously mistaking both for Mandalorians because of Revan's armor and mask. And then her gaze caught on the droid. And here the reaction was much more noticeable. The prisoner gritted her teeth and frowned slightly, but quickly regained her composure. But Revan felt the raging spectrum of emotions that engulfed Bo-Katan. She recognized HK. Definitely.
Kryze stood up and walked to the center of the compartment. Giving the supposed Mandalorians a contemptuous look, the girl straightened up, proudly spreading her shoulders and lifting her chin.
"Bo-Katan Kryze," Revan said in a slightly distorted voice from the mask.
The prisoner did not react, demonstrating an unyielding will and readiness to give a worthy rebuff to anyone who tried to extract even a word about the Death Watch's plans.
"It was surprising to find you among the Death Watch, considering your sister's politics. Perhaps we should invite her for a talk too?" Revan continued.
A barely perceptible snort was his answer.
"Isn't that a bit too defiant behavior for someone who lost her beskar'gam because of a droid?" Tyra said mockingly.
Kryze threw a sharp, angry glance at the mercenary. Her eyes swept over Tyra's figure, examining her armor.
"It's not for you, vagrant, to teach me," the prisoner snorted.
"Hit a sore spot?" Nomad pressed with her voice, "The deputy head of the 'great' Death Watch was disarmed by a simple droid?"
Kryze stood in silence. Only her angrily flaring nostrils betrayed her mood.
"A warrior who has lost his armor will not preserve his honor..." the mercenary said, stepping a little closer and looking into the prisoner's eyes.
"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam," Kryze spat venomously, "But what would you know about that? Lowborn."
Bo-Katan's words could be translated as: "A warrior is something more than just his armor."
"Ge'hutuun," the mercenary hissed.
And without knowing the language, anyone would understand that the word spoken was not a good characteristic.
"Nomads always pick up all sorts of trash," the prisoner said demonstratively, turning away from Tyra.
The maneuver resulted in Revan being directly opposite Bo-Katan.
The Mandalorian's gaze swept over his armor without any clan symbols.
"And a vagrant, without a clan," Kryze said contemptuously.
"It's better to be a clanless vagrant than a murderer of your own people's future," Revan retorted.
"Mando'ade have fought for their future for centuries. Including with each other," Bo-Katan said indifferently, "That's the way."
The girl did not fall for the first trick. Revan planned to stir up her emotions and force her to reveal her true character, skillfully hidden behind a mask of arrogance.
- And yet, I don't recall Mandalorians exterminating their own children," the former Jedi said calmly.
"There's an emotional response," the man noted mentally.
"What are you talking about?" Kryze frowned.
"Of course, family is more than blood," Revan continued, ignoring the prisoner's question. "But you can't keep recruiting the un-blooded indefinitely."
The emotional surge was strong. Bo-Katan clearly held rather unconventional views on generational succession. If, by Mandalorian law, anyone sentient could be accepted into a clan and trained as a Mandalorian, then, judging by Kryze's remark about "accepted into the clan" Tyra, the Duchess's younger sister believed that knowledge and traditions of Mando'a could only be passed down to pure-blooded Mandalorians.
It was an interesting situation.
"What are Death Watch's beliefs?" Revan wondered.
"What kind of nonsense is this?" the prisoner grew increasingly agitated, completely ignored by Revan.
"I certainly didn't expect Death Watch to kidnap dozens of children to use them as bargaining chips," Revan said with a smirk, but a moment later his tone became much more serious and threatening. "After all, children are the future of any nation."
"Death Watch never took children captive!" the prisoner declared heatedly.
"Soon there won't be any pure-blooded Mandalorians left," the former Jedi again let the exclamation pass unheard. "Even now, under the armor, you more often find an alien accepted by a compassionate clan. Ignorant, poorly trained, trampling traditions! For he is not meant to understand them!"
"We..."
"Is this truly Death Watch's goal? To subjugate Mandalore by getting rid of the true Mandalorians?"
"How could you..."
"That's why you didn't side with Jaster? Made a deal with the Jedi?"
Revan continued to shower her with accusations, not letting the prisoner get a word in. Most of his points were frankly far-fetched or stretched thin, but they had an effect. Bo-Katan had already lost her composure and looked at the former Jedi with indignation and something distantly resembling righteous anger in her eyes.
"Death Watch never did that!" Kryze screamed, finally losing it. "We are true Mandalorians, and only we care about the future of our people! We preserve the true traditions of our ancestors, and only we know how to save Mandalore from the rot that the Republic carries within itself!"
"Such fanatical pronouncements, like at a rally," Revan chuckled. "Don't you have any thoughts of your own? Huh, Kryze? Is it a family trait? One sister dances to the Senate's tune, the other became a puppet of Death Watch?"
"I am no puppet!" the girl retorted indignantly. "I follow my convictions and do what I believe is right!"
"Even kidnapping children?" Nomad snorted.
"Death Watch never did that!" the prisoner hissed with hatred.
"One hundred and thirty-one missing members of various Mandalorian clans would disagree with you," Tyra stated, "Among them are your allies. Wren and Dar. Is that why Ursa suddenly decided to change her stance in Parliament?"
"Lies!" Bo-Katan barked. "Death Watch was created to protect Mandalore and preserve the glorious traditions of our people..."
"Like genocide?" Revan interjected.
"Like the glory of victory over a worthy opponent!" Kryze roared.
"And how much honor and glory is there in defeating someone who doesn't even resist, thinking only of the missing children?" the former Jedi countered.
"You don't become stronger by defeating the weak," Tyra supported.
"What can you possibly know about the Mandalorian path? A clanless wanderer and an orphan! Vi... Our leader would never stoop to blackmail! And certainly wouldn't..."
"Turn to the Jedi?" Revan smirked, interrupting Bo-Katan's tirade. "Like Tor Vizsla did?"
"What's wrong with pitting enemies against each other and watching?" Kryze asked defiantly.
"And what if you pit allies against each other?" Revan replied calmly.
"What?" the prisoner frowned.
"Or is your, as you put it, leader, not doing that?"
"We don't fight amongst ourselves..." Kryze began cautiously, sensing a trap.
"Don't we? Clans are torn apart by internal conflicts among their kin. Clanmates hide their true thoughts from each other and act as if they are among enemies, not family. And you think that's normal?"
The girl frowned, trying to understand where the strange, clanless Mandalorian was leading.
"Ursa Wren serves Death Watch, while her father maintains neutrality. The Beroya have split in two and were forced to expel those who became spies for your Death Watch."
Kryze remained silent.
"And what about you?" Revan looked into her eyes. "You're going against your sister, even knowing that Death Watch almost killed her once?"
It was a bluff. There was no direct evidence of Death Watch's involvement in the assassination attempt on the young Duchess, but many things pointed to it.
"It won't happen again! I was promised that with my sister..." the prisoner quickly shut her mouth, realizing she had fallen into a trap.
"So that's when you joined Vizsla and his gang?" Revan said calmly.
Kryze flinched and stared at the man with wide eyes. The name of the Death Watch leader hadn't been mentioned by chance. Revan wanted to see her reaction. Yes, he was revealing some of his cards, but sometimes, for a successful move, one had to show their hand.
"How did you know?"
"Does it matter?"
The girl didn't answer.
"I am not your enemy, Bo-Katan Kryze," Revan said, lightly touching the prisoner's mind with the Force. "We want the same thing. To save Mandalore and its traditions. To prevent the Senate from finally turning mighty warriors into a herd of banthas."
Kryze nodded sluggishly and looked up at the former Jedi with a slightly clouded gaze.
"Death Watch is not the only way. And its ideals are not the only correct ones," Revan continued, gently enveloping the prisoner's mind with waves of the Force. "Think about my words."
Signaling Tyra, Revan turned and headed for the exit of the cargo bay.
"HK, keep an eye on the prisoner," the former Jedi ordered.
"With pleasure: Accepted, Master!" the assassin droid responded cheerfully.
Kryze stood and studied the floor with a lost gaze. However, after a few moments, she stirred and shook off the stupor that had gripped her.
"What's your name?" she shouted after Revan as he was leaving the bay. "And where did you get that Hutt droid?!"
"I built it myself," Revan replied without turning around. "And my name... I have many."
The bay door closed, leaving the prisoner alone with the droid, whose optical sensors, burning with red fire, were fixed on Bo-Katan.
The girl took a step towards the door.
The metallic overseer blocked her path.
"Joyful offer: I implore you, sack of meat, to make a desperate attempt to leave your place of confinement, so that I may fully demonstrate to you all the capabilities of this unparalleled chassis, assembled personally by my Master. Warning: Unfortunately, you will no longer be able to appreciate them. Inside-out sacks of meat are not very talkative for some reason."
The girl snorted and stepped back into "her" corner, sitting down against the wall again. However, the indifference on her face was replaced by an expression of extreme thoughtfulness.
"And what was that circus?" Tyra asked when she and Revan returned to the mess hall.
"A little preparation," the former Jedi smiled under his mask.
"For what? For interrogation?"
"For interrogation and possible re-recruitment," Revan shrugged.
"You think that's possible? She seemed fanatically devoted to Death Watch and Vizsla."
"But we managed to shake her confidence a little," the interlocutor noted. "Besides, her reaction made it clear that Vizsla doesn't involve her in all his plans."
Revan didn't mention that he had been trying to break through the prisoner's consciousness throughout the conversation and instill certain thoughts in her, which was not easy, given Kryze's strong will. And to do it all unnoticed was difficult. But still, he managed.
It would take more than a day, but water wears away stone. The thought that Death Watch wasn't so good would begin to take root in Bo-Katan's mind, raising more and more questions about Vizsla's actions and plans. This would eventually have to shatter Kryze's confidence in her chosen path. And if, at the right moment, another path was indicated, there was a good chance of gaining an ally among the enemy. Or even two enemies, if one remembered the still-unstudied Duchess.
"Yeah. Kidnappings were definitely news to her."
"Exactly."
"And she confirmed that Vizsla is the leader of their organization."
Revan nodded.
"And she cares about her sister. Even if she tries to deny it even to herself."
"Her slip of the tongue about joining Death Watch?" Tyra guessed.
"Exactly."
"And what are our next steps?"
"Wait," Revan shrugged.
"And that's all?"
"Not quite," Revan shook his head. "We still need to find out what the elder of the Kryze sisters is like."
"The Duchess?"
"Do you know anyone else?"
The mercenary just snorted in response.
"It's a shame she turned out to be a follower of... other views," Nomad said with displeasure. "She dared to call me an orphan."
"Throughout the ages, there have been those who tried to place themselves above others, relying on some form of social division. Race, gender, heredity – it doesn't matter. Don't pay attention."
"Don't worry, I'm not so easily provoked."
Revan was about to recall the girl's reaction to Kryze's jab, but decided against it. Instead, he decided to look more closely at the possibility of transferring Kryze's clan armor into the prisoner's hands. Restoring honor. This could be played upon if the initial suggestion yielded the expected result.
Much needed to be considered.
"And won't your psycho droid kill her there?" Tyra suddenly asked.
"HK? No, I don't think so. Not after he almost failed the previous mission. He might cripple her, but he won't kill her."
"And yet, he clearly doesn't have all his code lines in order."
"He's unique," Revan chuckled. "And very useful."
"As you say," the mercenary sat down in a small armchair in front of the table with a holographic projector installed in the corner of the mess hall. "What about your horned one? Hasn't returned?"
"No, Maul hasn't finished his mission yet. He last contacted us almost a day ago. It seems he found something interesting."
"So, we wait?"
"We wait," Revan agreed.
"A game of pazaak?"
"You win."