Chapter Text
It's not wise for an imperial to stray so close to a Mandalorian. TK-493 knows this, especially since their resurgence - retaking their home system, reclaiming all the Beskar the Empire took as tribute, slaughtering their way through Light-cruisers and hidden facilities alike.
TK-493 knows, when they were much, much younger, they would have been furious at the audacity. Now they are older, and the Empire's glory has been wrenched from under it by a whelp from an Outer Rim dust-ball bearing the ways and culture of a bygone age, and what's left is being ripped apart by a different culture of warriors they thought they'd eradicated. Perhaps its karma.
(TK-493 ignores that they are from the exact same Outer Rim dust-ball. They fought their way off that planet with blood, sweat, tears and hard work. The barely respond to their sisters messages any more.)
Jedi, Mandalorian. To TK-493, they are the same. Impossible enemies that wrenched themselves from their own destruction to wrought it tenfold in vengeance
The Empire has Fallen. The Emperor, Darth Vader, the Inquisitors - all dead. What is left are those clinging to their power and secret facilities where they attempt to rebuild themselves from. If the Jedi and the Mandalorian can bring themselves back, surely the Empire can too.
TK-493, however, will likely not see it. They've been walking for hours since their TIE was shot out of the sky, trying to ignore the way their skin prickles with a set of eyes on their back. LN-382 and TK-233 are stumbling behind them, bickering about who'd flown to close to the planet that they'd been seen.
Mandalorians have been spilling out of seemingly nowhere lately, as have Jedi. The Imperial Menace carves his way through freighters as if he never took a break, Leia Organa fights for the rights of the new temple to remain secret, Boba Fett has returned from the dead to take over Tatooine, and Bo-Katan Kryze has reclaimed the throne of Mandalore.
They were here on an information gathering mission; there have been reports that even the edges of Madalorian space - small, insignificant planets like Aq Vetina and Bandomeer - have been settled by the warriors.
Bandomeer is understandable; its an agricultural and mining hub that the Empire took great pains to secure. But Aq Vetina is a choice. It hasn't been settled since the Confederacy took it in the early Clone Wars.
That's why TK-493 is here; to try and understand what resources pulled them here. But they realise, now, how much of a mistake it might have been.
TK-233 doesn't seem to agree, fantasising about the promotion that he'll get once they manage to report back. A thought that LN-382 disagrees with vehemently, being of the opinion that they'll all be killed for loosing a trio of TIEs.
"There aren't enough Stormtroopers for us to be that expendable anymore!" TK-233 chirps, and TK-493 pointedly doesn't mention that Moff Gideon brought a whole platoon of troopers to corner a four people and got the whole lot of them murdered without a care. LN-382, on the other hand, has no such qualms.
The Mandalorians will know that they're here - who else could have shot their ship out of the sky? - and they have no way off the planet until their squad can slip on world and find them. They must complete their mission in the meantime.
The hair on the back of their neck stands up straight.
They turn through the trees; tall, red things that choke the sky between their branches and leaves, and stumbles almost headfirst into a ruin.
One of the settlements the Confederacy destroyed, is their first thought. But then they notice that there is no rubble, and red cloth patches up roofs where construction seems half in progress, and they freeze.
"Oh hello promotion!" TK-233 mutters gleefully.
They're not in a ruin. They've wandered right into the heart of the Mandalorian's territory.
There's the crack of a twig behind them and they spin out of the way before a stream of plasma can burn them alive in their plastoid shell. They duck behind a thick tree and run, catching only a glimpse of the blue, hulking figure.
They bolt, because they value their life more than they value the mission, quite frankly, and they have no illusions that capture at the hands of Mandalorians would be anything other than painful, and really its capture at their hands or punishment for failure, and TK-493 doesn't actually know which one they'd prefer.
They glance back to watch LN-382's fire her blaster and get a face-full of plasma for her efforts, and TK-233 screams right before a blaster bolt from nowhere silences him forever.
TK-493 continues to run. They don't get far before a second Mandalorian drops on top of them and buries their knee in their back. Their nose smashes against the inside of their helmet and their visor cracks.
"What does the Empire want here?" The Mandalorian on top of them asks, voice low and smooth through their modulator. TK-493 tries to shift, but Beskar is heavy - as is a fully grown humanoid.
"Just kill them and be done with it." Another voice, the second Mandalorian, calls, heavy footfalls trudging behind them. They come around in front so that TK-493 can see the blue of their boots.
The one on top of them yanks them back and slaps a pair of binders on their wrists, and they are unceremoniously dropped on the ground.
"We need to figure out why they're here." The first one says, shoving them up against a tree.
This one is smaller than the blue one; but his armour gleams silver and unpainted, and TK-493 recognises this one, and promptly gives up hope of survival.
"We know why they're here, cyare." The blue one snorts - and its hard to tell through the helmet, but it sounds fond. "It happens when you draw attention to yourself."
"We don't know how they knew we were here." The silver one counters.
"We didn't!" TK-493 gasps, because if they had known that the Dragonslayer was here, they simply would not have come, threat of punishment by the Empire or otherwise, "We just- wanted to know why Mandalorians were here - but we-"
A growl like sound emanates from one of them, but they're not sure which one.
Maybe its from both. They shut up anyway.
They continue to converse in their own language, satisfied with TK-493s silence and their inability to understand what they're saying. They recognise a couple of words - Mand'alor (Their leader, they know that), and aruetti (That one gets said all the time in the recordings of Mandalorians storming Imperial bases, some kind of insult?) and the word 'ade' gets tossed around a lot, too (They don't know that one).
They bite their tongue as the pair seem to come to an agreement, the blue one huffing, turning on their heel, and trudging away. For a brief moment, they hope to survive a little longer - the silver one had wanted to question them, so surely-
A blade slashes across their throat so fast they don't immediately realise what's happened, and the last thing they see is a dark cape disappearing into the trees.