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The commando with the horned helmet stalked toward Satine. She could feel the blasters trained on her from the other warriors behind her, but her eyes were on the boy lying prone on the pavement.
He's not moving.
She held up her hands reflexively and the man grabbed the com link from her grasp.
Korkie's not moving.
The commando accessed the log to see if she got a call off.
"You contacted the Jedi."
Yes. And Obi-Wan will come. He will.
She wants to believe it was worth it.
But Korkie's still not moving.
"Just as he expected."
Satine's head snapped in his direction.
They were anticipating this. They were anticipating him. This was all a trap.
Oh, Obi-Wan, what have I done?
The commander motioned to one of the other warriors. "Take her back to the prison."
"No!"
She couldn't leave.
"Please!" she cried, her hands raised. "Let me see that he's alright."
She didn't care about herself. They could take her wherever they wanted. But only afterwards.
The horned commando—the commander, she realized—stared at her, his face completely covered and completely inscrutable, but Satine knew his look was filled with disgust. He hated her.
And she knew he would offer her no mercy.
"Kill the boy."
"No!" Satine launched herself at the warrior who moved toward her son, headless of the other blaster still pointed her way. She grappled with him, trying to get his weapon out of his hands. She struck at the vulnerable places where his beskar didn't quite cover his flight suit, but she'd been locked in a cell for the last month, and he easily batted her to the ground.
She heard the fabric of her tunic rip, and pain shot up her leg. She stuck her foot out, and then a mass of beskar tumbled satisfyingly to the pavement. She scrambled to her feet, but the horned warrior had already advanced on Korkie himself.
He took aim, and Satine screamed her son's name.
Blaster fire singed through the air, and she no longer cared what happened.
But then she realized it was being directed at the commando, not coming from him.
A figure rocketed toward the end of the pier, and Satine saw it was her sister, wielding a blaster in each hand. There had been other commandos with her—their armor still colored in blues and grays, and not crimson red of the commandos that surrounded Satine—but she could only surmise why they did not follow. Beyond Bo-Katan came Korkie's friends—all three of them, thank the stars. They were on foot and brandishing weapons Satine had hoped they'd never have a reason to use.
The duchess felt herself yanked back, a heavy arm at her throat. The third red warrior pulled her in front of him as a shield. His beskar vambraces bit into her chest as he held her in place. She struggled and tried to pull his arm away, but she stilled when she felt a cold barrel against her temple.
"Saxon!" Bo-Katan, still hovering in the air, commanded the man standing over Korkie. "Stand down!"
"Not a chance, Kryze," he growled. "You're done. You've proven yourself as much of an aruetii as any pacifist."
"Aruetii?" Bo spat. "Take a look in the mirror, Saxon. Which one of us is following a karking Sith?"
"The Zabrak honored our ways and proved himself worthy. He will make us strong. That's more than I can say for your laandur sister." The warrior holding Satine seemed to agree. He pressed the blaster against Satine's forehead, the edge cutting into her skin.
She didn't mind, though. In forcing her head to the left, Satine's eyes passed over Korkie. He was face down on the ground. Saxon—Gar Saxon, Satine realized—still had his weapon trained on his back, but the red warrior's eyes were on Bo-Katan, so he didn't see Korkie's fingers start to twitch as he regained consciousness.
But Satine did, and she gave a sigh of relief and gratitude that he was alright.
"You're outnumbered, Saxon! Stand down and you'll leave here alive." Bo-Katan's statement came out as more of a taunt than a negotiation.
Saxon scoffed. "If you abide by that promise, you've already betrayed everything you stood for."
"Make no mistake, Gar," Bo snarled back, holding his gaze. "I'm still me."
Korkie reached for his blaster. The commando holding Satine noticed. He turned, but Satine yelled before he could alert his commander.
"Korkie!"
Korkie shot at Saxon, his shot missing wildly. Saxon kicked the blaster out of his hands, and it clattered several feet away. Bo fired next and it would have hit Saxon in the neck had he not blocked the shot with his shield.
Bo aimed again, but the other commando who didn't have his arms full fired on her. The shot impacted Bo's jetpack and sent her sprawling to the ground. Korkie scrambled for his weapon, but Saxon brought his boot down on the boy's arm. Bo's blasterfire didn't mask the snap.
The three cadets joined the fray, wielding their weapons as if they'd been doing it their whole lives. They rained shots on Saxon and the commando who had shot Bo down, but they all avoided shooting at the warrior Satine was involuntarily shielding.
The battle raged around her and the duchess would no longer be still.
Her captor raised his blaster to fire at Soniee, and in his preoccupation, Satine stepped back between the soldier's armor-clad legs. She twisted her body, slipping down through the arm that encircled her, and swiped her hand down on his outstretched arm. The blaster dropped to the ground. She scrambled for the weapon; he scrambled for her. She felt his hand on her arm and wrenched away, her tunic tearing once again as he stumbled and then righted himself.
The beskar blaster was heavy in her hands; the weight of what she faced even heavier. She had told Obi-Wan that she would defend herself. She would defend her people. But the blaster was shaking, like it had the last time she had been in this situation.
The warrior scoffed. His helmet had fallen off when he stumbled. He looked at the blaster pointed at him and then at her, and said with a sneer, "You won't do it. The Duchess of Peace doesn't fight."
The blaster stilled in her hand. She aimed low, and pulled the trigger. The blast caught the commando on the side of his thigh, right in the seam that the beskar couldn't cover.
His leg buckled and he fell to his good knee, clutching the wound reflexively.
"I choose not to fight," Satine said in a low voice. "That doesn't mean I can't be induced to do so."
He scowled and with a roar, he launched himself at her. Before she could even think about whether or not she could take a killing shot, the commando listed to the side and hit the ground, smoke rising from the side of his head. Bo-Katan kept her blaster aimed at his body, just in case her headshot hadn't taken care of the brute. Satine knew it had.
Though it happened far too often, Satine had never felt warmed by someone killing for her. And yet, with her long-absent sister, Satine realized there was affection in the act. She cast a small smile of thanks her way, and wondered if she was smiling back behind her helmet.
There was no reprieve. Bo and the cadets began firing on Saxon and the remaining commando in full force. Their beskar and shields kept them protected, but sooner or later, someone would get a hit, as Satine had. Realizing that they were now vastly outnumbered, Gar Saxon wrenched Korkie up from the ground and pulled him against his chest. The other commando pivoted behind Satine, intending to use her for cover. She swung around as well and turned the blaster she held on him.
"Sha'kajir!" Saxon cried out, his eyes on Bo. Satine's heart sank at the blaster now at the side of Korkie's head. "Put your weapons down, Kryze. Unless you want to lose the two remaining members of your clan right here and now."
Bo-Katan growled back, "There will be nothing to prevent your death if you do."
Korkie grimaced as Saxon pushed the barrel against his head. "It will be worth it to see you suffer, traitor."
Satine closed her eyes. She sighed, a deep sound of frustrated resignation, knowing how sincere Saxon was. He would do it. He would kill Korkie even if it meant his own end. Death Watch was a tribe that traded in revenge. And it wasn't just Saxon. She looked at Bo. Her face was covered by her helmet, but her body was coiled with so much anger that it sheeted off of her. Satine wanted to believe that her sister was different, but in spite of the fact that she had helped her escape the prison, this was still who Bo was. It wasn't worth denying that. To get his way, Saxon would lash out, and her sister would return hurt for hurt, pain for pain. Over and over, striking against everyone in her path in an effort to balance the scales.
No. It ended here.
"I will go with you."
Satine held up her hands and the blaster along with them. She turned away from the commando holding his weapon on her.
"Satine, don't."
She kept her eyes on Saxon and didn't look at her sister.
"Let Korkie go and I won't resist."
Saxon scoffed. "You are in no position to bargain."
"And you're in no position to carry out your master's bidding."
If he was expecting Obi-Wan, the Zabrak would want her, too, she was sure.
She stepped toward the commander, who turned his blaster on her, no doubt having seen she was more than proficient with her own. She knelt, placed the weapon on the ground, kicked the blasted thing toward the edge of the pier, and then she stepped forward again.
"Satine?"
Bo's voice was hard, but Satine could discern her apprehension. Bo-Katan was a soldier, waiting for an order, and she wasn't going to like the one she got.
"Stand down, Bo," Satine said coolly.
Her sister scoffed.
"I mean it."
Bo's blaster didn't waver, but she wouldn't fire.
Inching closer to Saxon, Satine could hear Korkie's huffs of pain, and they ripped through her. She longed to take him in her arms and comfort him as she had done when he was a baby. She knew she wouldn't get the chance.
So much she should have done earlier and hadn't.
So now, standing on Sundari's pier, she looked at her son and—wishing to the stars that Gar Saxon wasn't privy to this most intimate of conversations—she said, "There's so much I should have told you, Korkie. I'm sorry."
He focused on her, and he smiled through his pain.
"It's okay, Auntie. You don't have to explain."
If only that were true.
"I do," she said. "There are things you need to—"
"I know." He stood taller, and Saxon's arm tightened around him.
Satine gaped.
"How—how could you? You can't possibly—"
"I know."
His deep blue eyes held hers, and though Satine didn't know how, she knew he knew the truth. She breathed, full and heavy, a weight carried for eighteen long years lifting from her shoulders.
"Ni kar'taylir." She mouthed the words to him, so full of emotion that if she spoke, she would crumble.
She was close enough to touch him now, but before he could say anything back—before she could touch his cheek—Saxon grumbled, "That's quite enough of that."
He shoved Korkie away once Satine was directly in front of him, to ensure that Bo-Katan didn't have a chance to disobey her order. Korkie stumbled and tried to right himself, but he tottered from the pain and shock and grief.
"Lagos, help him," Satine said, but the girl was already moving to his side.
She threw Korkie's good arm over her shoulder, and braced herself to support him. They stood firm, and looked right together. Amis and Soniee stood behind them, fury written on their faces. Their expressions matched Bo's, visible now that she ripped off her helmet and let it fall to the ground. Sweat poured down her face, but her blaster never deviated from Saxon's head.
He glared at Bo, his own blaster still aimed at Satine in order to ensure Bo wouldn't try anything rash. He gripped Satine's arm with his free hand, and a second hand—the other commando— grabbed her from the other side. Both reached for their jet pack activators, clearly intending to carry her away in tandem.
"Sati?"
She'd never seen that look in her sister's eyes. So much left unsaid, which was a theme in Satine's life. So many years lost. But she was here now. And if she wanted an order, Satine would give her one.
"Obi-Wan will come, Bo. Promise me you'll help him." She glanced once more at her son. "He's Mandalore's best hope."
The commandos activated their jetpacks, and as she felt herself lifted from the pier and back toward the entrance of Sundari's dome, Satine saw her sister's terse nod and believed that, whatever happened, Mandalore would survive. They always had.