EDITED 9/21/2016 Altered a line by Goran due to changes in future plot.
CHAPTER FIVE
--Coruscant--
"How are you feeling?"
Wallen groaned as he tried to lift his head up from the couch. His skull felt like it weighed a hundred tons.
"That you, Aunt Narriet?" he mumbled.
He heard an exasperated sigh as an orange-skinned Kel Dor came into his line of sight, arms crossed. "You've been out of it all morning. You should be clear-headed by now... unless you drank more than the barkeep said you did."
Wallen fixed his gaze on the Kel Dor, trying to put a name to the face. "I know you," he muttered.
"You should. Who else has gotten you out of unpleasant situations before?"
With some effort, Wallen sat up, trying not to get dizzy from the sudden blood rush. "Where have you been? Last time I saw you was on...."
"Lianna," Xemer finished for him. "After I... left you there, I did work for the Glorian Empire. I had little other choice -- I was essentially their slave."
"What about after? After the war ended? You didn't... you didn't come back."
Xemer looked away, his expression difficult to discern due to his antiox mask and goggles. "I... was afraid there'd be bad blood between us. That you'd resent me for what I did."
Wallen shook his head, which just made the headache worse. "I'm not that kind of guy, Xemer. I don't hold grudges for people who were just doing their job."
"Really? Because you sure do seem to hate Girdun."
Wallen scowled. "Girdun's a slime-ball. Who wouldn't?"
Xemer chuckled. "Well, in that case, you're gonna love the job I have for us."
"Will it involve a lot of movement? 'Cause right now I'm feeling as active as a Hutt."
"We're going to kidnap Girdun."
Wallen blinked, unsure if he had heard right. "Say again?"
"Girdun is sure to have tabs on what's going on between the Alliance and the Imperials -- tabs which even General Loran wouldn't know about."
"Wait... you know about all of that stuff? That the Wraiths and I were trying to do?"
"I've been monitoring you guys for a while now," Xemer said. "So what do you say? You up for the task?"
"Hold on just a minute: do you really think the two of us will be able to kidnap a man like Girdun? Given the fact that he and Maddeus are chummy with each other, he's bound to have a handful of security guards."
"No worries," Xemer said. "I've scheduled a meeting with all of Wraith Squadron at the Spacer's Lounge in Eastport. We'll get things going from there."
"All right," Wallen said as he slowly got to his feet. "What are we waiting for? let's go."
Xemer's brow crinkled. "Are you sure you can handle yourself?"
"Of course I'm--" Wallen promptly bumped into a table, nearly toppling over before catching himself. "...Sure."
Xemer laughed. "If you say so."
--Mandalore--
Two armored figures walked through the rainy streets of Enceri, water pouring down hard on their helmets. One of the two, a tall male clad in green and yellow armor, swore under his breath as his boot splashed in another muddy puddle.
"Blast this cursed rain," he muttered. "If I slip and break my back, I swear I'll--"
"You'd better get used to it, Danjus," replied his companion, a female in yellow armor. "You're not on Pantora anymore."
"We never had this kind of weather there," Danjus went on and continued ranting to himself until the pair reached their destination; a rundown inn standing alone in the remote city. They entered the inn and found five other Mandalorians sitting around a table. One of them, a gray-haired man in blue armor, waved the newcomers over.
"Mirta, Danjus, glad you could make it," said Goran Beviin. "Please take a seat, and we'll get down to business."
"Are we safe here?" Mirta asked, looking around the inn. A cloaked man sat at a nearby table, while an old man swept the floors.
"Don't worry, we're fine," Goran said. "What happens in the Old Mythosaur stays in the Old Mythosaur, is what the owner told me."
"So we're really doing this then?" Danjus said as he removed his helmet, revealing a blue face and a head full of white hair. "We're really going to turn against Mand'alor?"
"Atinar," Goran corrected him, scowling. "That pile of osik doesn't deserve the title of Mand'alor."
"Even so, he's got his fair share of followers," Mirta said, taking off her own helmet as she sat between Orde Kaburn and Benor Sardan. "All of Clan Lok and most of Clan Vevut have sided with him, as well as what's left of Clan Vizsla."
"They're all traitors," Danjus snarled, slamming his helmet down on the table. "He claims to be taking us back to our roots, but all he will succeed in is take us to our deaths."
"But we are only seven, while he is many," said Tessa Xash. "How can we even hope to bring him down?"
"Only seven present," Goran corrected. "We have numbers elsewhere, albeit not as great as Atinar. Given enough time, I'm sure we'll have enough to lead a full revolution."
"So what do we do until then?" Orde asked. "What can we do. if we're so little in number?"
Goran glanced at his husband Medrit, who gave a curt nod. Taking a breath, Goran said, "We can play our wild card."
The other Mandalorians looked at him, confused. "What wild card?" Danjus asked.
Medrit leaned back in his seat and called out to the cloaked man. "You want to do the introductions, or shall I?"
The man slowly got out of his and pulled back his hood. Mirta, Danjus, and the rest all gaped as the white-armored Mandalorian spoke.
"My name is Kadar. I am of Clan Vizsla, though I have long denied my heritage. But now... I'm ready to take it back."
* * *
"Vizsla? Vizsla!"
Tral Vizsla did not break his stride as he walked towards Mand'alor's office, merely casting a glance at the young Twi'lek rushing up to him. "This better be important, Tahur," he muttered.
"A shuttle just landed outside," Tahur said, trying to keep up with Tral. "It's Imperial."
This brought Tral to a stop. He turned to look at Tahur, an eyebrow raised. "Why would there be Imperials here? They would've told Mand'alor in advance, I'm sure."
"I don't know," the Twi'lek said, his head-tails swaying as he shook his head. "I just know they wish to see you as soon as possible."
Tral bit his lip before moving past Tahur. "Tell Mand'alor I'll see him in a few minutes," he said as he went.
Once outside, Tral found six of his commandos surrounding the Lambda-class shuttle, weapons raised. To his bemusement, the shuttle had yet to lower its ramp. Walking up to a yellow-clad commando, Tral said, "No one's come out yet?"
The commando shook her head. "No. I don't know what they're playing at."
As soon as she had spoken, the ramp of the shuttle finally lowered and a solitary figure stepped down. They wore all-black robes, with a hood over their masked face. Silver inlays radiated from the mask's visor, evidence of a cultural design Tral was not familiar with.
Everything about them made Tral suspect they were a Sith, but not one he had met before.
The figure came to a stop five meters from Tral, the edge of their long robes brushing the dirt. The six commandos had their blasters aimed at the visitor, waiting for Tral to give the order.
"Welcome to Mandalore," Tral said coolly. "What brings you here to our world?"
"Tell your men to lower their weapons," the stranger said, their voice sounding masculine albeit altered by the mask. "It would not be wise of them to fire upon me."
"Are you one of Darth Taral's Sith?" Tral pressed on. "Forgive me for prying, but we were not forewarned of your visit."
"I did not find it necessary. Now, unless you plan on wasting my time, I wish to meet one of your own."
Tral's brow furrowed. "And who would that be?"
"He calls himself Benor Sardan."
"Benor?" Tral repeated. "What business do you have with him?"
"That is not for you to know. Take me to him now."
"I'm sorry, but I don't know where he is."
The man rolled his hand into a fist. "I have no desire to play games. Where is Benor Sardan?"
Tral glanced at the female commando. "Lei? Any ideas?"
"I haven't seen Benor in months," she whispered back. "And even so, can we even trust this man? He won't even tell us who he is."
Looking back at the mysterious figure, Tral said, "Tell you what: I'll take you to our leader, Mand'alor, and he will tell you how to find Benor. Deal?"
"You are trying my patience, Mandalorian," the man said. "But very well. I shall humor you."
"Excellent," Tral said, masking his apprehension. "Right this way."
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