The low rumble of the ST-70 threatened to lull Kandria to sleep, and she found her eyes drooping more than once. The only thing that stopped her from doing so was the two Mandalorians currently sitting across from her in the cargo bay of the ship. Her grip tightened instinctively around her lightsaber at that reminder, an act which went noticed by Captain Tryd who was seated beside her, his blaster trained on the two prisoners.

“Relax. You’ve done enough. I can take these two if they try anything.” He said, however at the same time winced, clutching at his side with his free hand.

Kandria quickly shook her upon seeing this, “I could say the same about you. If you hadn’t been shooting, I would have almost certainly died,” A smirk crossed her features and she gave Tryd a wry sidelong glance, “Besides, Vancil would never let me hear the end of it if he caught me dozing.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Tryd, “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. I mean, you managed to stop his absolute rampage against Vizsla over there. I’m sure he’d forgive you for getting a bit of rest.”

That gave Kandria pause, her mind wandering back to the events a few hours prior.

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Kandria hugged Vancil. It was an almost instinctual act, and she was surprised she could even do it, having never actually experienced one before. She wouldn’t have even known they existed without having witnessed the simple action between a mother and son during the liberation of a Sith controlled planet while the Great Galactic War still raged.

She was so tired, every part of her was sore, and the brief surge of power she had experienced had been ebbed out into nothing. She could do this though. Why she did it was a whole other question that she wasn’t physically or mentally capable of answering at the moment. It just felt like the right thing to do.

She shut her eyes as her body threatened to shut down, forcing her to lean on the Sith for support. Her exhaustion abated somewhat and a strange warm feeling entered her as she felt his arms wrap around her as well. The raging beat of his heart and breathing began to slow, and the pure anger he exuded began to retract back into him.

They stood there in that embrace for a few more silent seconds before Kandria managed to pull her head back to look at him, his face still hidden behind his mask.

“Are… are you okay?” She found herself asking.

“…Yeah,” Came his delayed reply, the tone of his voice seeming more muted than usual, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kandria nodded and she let out a sigh of relief, “Okay… That’s good.”

Vancil’s gaze shifted to the likely only barely alive Mandalorian leader splayed out across the rubble.

Kandria’s gaze followed his where she shook her head, “It’s over… we won. There’s no need for any… anymore.”

Vancil continued to stare at the leader, a hint of anger resurfacing before disappearing just as quickly. The tension in Vancil slowly disappeared, ending with a sigh of relief, “Yeah… thank you.”

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Shortly after he had finished calming down the two had helped Tryd back onto his feet, the captain being lucky to only really suffer a probable broken rib and a limp in his right leg, nothing a medical bay couldn’t fix quickly. The two surviving Deathwatch members were a different story. The male leader was slightly simpler to deal with, having been so absolutely thrashed by Vancil that his metal armour had been beaten inwards, making most of it a permanent fixture until they could have them safely removed. Vancil offered to just rip it off, but because the metal had been so brutally malformed, and the leader was already on the brink of death, his offer had been refused.

They had been able to remove the leader’s helmet though, with maybe a tiny bit of force on Vancil’s part. Surprisingly, the leader’s identity was Pre Vizsla, the governor of Concordia and the one who had greeted them as they had arrived on the moon. Captain Tryd was especially surprised at this, even looking like he was about to start laying into the traitor governor as much as Vancil had been before he got his anger under control.

As Tryd made sure that Vizsla was in a stable condition and not about to leave the mortal plane, she and Vancil went over to check on the female terrorist. That one had a bit more fight in her, however due to the fact that she was still in a daze she only put-up token resistance before Vancil promptly punched her lights out. Hers was another surprising identity, as while neither she nor Vancil had seen the woman in their lives with her auburn hair, Tryd claimed that she was in fact the sister of the Duchess, Bo-Katan Kryze.

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After Bo-Katan had been secured and Pre Vizsla was in no danger of perishing from a light gust of wind they made their slow, exhausting march out of the quarry. Vancil, despite being buried under the most rubble was the least exhausted and ended up carrying both of their newly acquired unconscious prisoners out of the quarry, dragging Bo-Katan by the collar and heaving Pre Vizsla onto his shoulder. It was quite impressive, especially as they got to the uphill climb, where the only time he faltered was when Bo-Katan got caught on a rock, the situation quickly being resolved with a simple rough tug.

Then again, it was also likely that the only reason he could still keep up with the two of them was because they themselves were moving at a snail’s pace, dragging their feet every step of the way. Yet, regardless of their slow travel speed they did eventually make it to the top, where their speeders plus three new ones were parked.

The ride back to the dock was uneventful, and despite the collective fears of the group they were neither intercepted on their way to the docks, or attacked on their arrival. The place was just… empty. Not a soul in sight. In fact, it seemed as though everyone had simply packed up and left in the same way the Deathwatch camp had been. Speeders had disappeared, and crates which had previously been stacked around the dock were missing, and the several workers they had seen on their initial arrival were also gone.

And, to her astonishment and bewilderment, the ship was still there. It was unlocked, open, and while some of their supplies had been shifted around nothing seemed to be missing. To Kandria it was nothing short of a miracle. Tryd seemed as bewildered as Kandria, but didn’t react further than a slight pause. Vancil mumbled something about ‘arrogant little shits’ but otherwise didn’t comment further, likely coming to some conclusion about why the ship was still here but deciding now wasn’t the time to explain it.

After the prisoners had been secured tightly to their seats it was decided that Vancil would be the one to fly the ship, with him being in the best condition and of the soundest mind, while Kandria and Captain Tryd remained in the cargo bay to keep an eye on the prisoners. While they may not have been particularly battle ready, their prisoners faired no better, having been roughed up as much as them.

“Yeah, go on, have a little snooze. I’ll be sure you never wake up from your nice peaceful sleep after I finish killing this traitor over here.”

That of course, didn’t stop the now conscious Bo-Katan from claiming that she could take them.

Kandria sent a bored glance to Bo-Katan, “You got knocked out after taking a little tumble against a wall. I’m pretty sure I could take you in my sleep.”

The auburn-haired terrorist snarled and leaned forward as much as the band binding her to the chair would allow, “Let me out of these restraints and let’s see.”

Captain Tryd snorted, “Kandria’s right you know. I’m kind of disappointed in you Bo. Didn’t you join Deathwatch to bring back the great ‘warrior skill’ of our people? Your current situation really tells a lot about that skill if that’s the case.”

Bo-Katan grit her teeth and spit at Tryd’s feet, “You can’t blame me for this. They needed the help of their Jedi witchcraft.”

Immediately, Kandria and Tryd’s gaze snapped to the ladder leading up to the cockpit. When there was no reaction, they turned back. For some reason though, she was the one who felt angry about the statement.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being called that anymore.” Kandria stated, both to herself and to Bo-Katan.

The terrorist snorted in response, “What, a Jedi? They’re the ones that use your witchcraft. A bunch of cowards really, can’t win an honest fight.”

Kandria grits her teeth as her anger simmered a bit hotter, “I’m not a Jedi. Not anymore. The Jedi have been corrupted, and I do not need their approval to follow the true ideals of the Jedi. And you can’t really talk about honest fights. Honestly you Deathwatch people remind me of whining children.”

Bo-Katan turned red with rage and she leaned forward, “Excuse me!? Mandalorians are the true warrior race, we basically built the code of honour and perfected the art of war.”

Kandria scoffed as she idly eyed Bo-Katan’s helmet on the seat to her left, “Oh please. From what I’ve seen, you Deathwatch folk are as much a perversion of the Mandalorians of ages past as the Jedi are now. All you have done is blow up some city blocks, laid a trap while you hide at a safe distance, and then fly away with your fancy little jetpacks when things turn even slightly against you. You’re cowards, the lot of you. Common thugs at best.”

Spittle flew from the now raging Mandalorian as she turned a beetroot red, “COWARDS!?!? YOU FUCKING SHIT, A JEDI HAS NO RI-“

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as Kandria’s hand snapped to the helmet, flowing it towards Bo-Katan at terrific speed. A slight widening of the eyes was all the reaction she managed before it hit her clean in the face, knocking her out for the third time and causing her to slump forward.

Kandria remained silent, surprised at her sudden outburst. She turned to Captain Tryd, her tone lazy and tired, “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

With that Kandria closed her eyes, a peaceful smile crossing her face as she pulled down her mask.

That had felt good.