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"Adol kyr’am mhi vengana parjai."

Without death there is no victory.

The Althiri had been expected to break on the first day. By the fifth, Canderous Ordo had begun to respect them.

They were, by no means, weak people. Their planet, Althir III, was larger than Dxun and Onderon combined, but they hadn’t known conflict like the Mandalorians had. They were soft, cowardly, and far too comfortable.

And yet, their defensive fleet had held strong against another probing attack by the Mandalorian forces. Yet again, had they sent Canderous and his Basilisk war-fighter limping back to the main Mandalorian fleet.

Canderous cursed under his breath at the readouts in the cockpit. Only three stabilizers were functioning. The fourth fired whenever it pleased, almost as if it were trying to push Canderous off course. Warning lights flashed across the displays in front of him. He dismissed each one as it appeared. The ship was, somehow, still functioning. So was he.

Althir III hung beyond the wreckage of the previous four days, blue and unreachable.

Between Canderous and the planet, the Althiri fleet was already closing the wound his squadron had torn through its outer formation. Damaged cruisers moved aside and fresh ships replaced them. The Althiri fighters settled back into ordered screens and holding patterns as though the last attack had never happened.

The Mandalorians had lost eleven fighters proving that it could.

Canderous turned his head to peer through the rear transparisteel viewport of the cockpit and scanned the remains of the skirmish. His eyes darted from wreckage to wreckage. By his estimation, roughly eighty percent was made up of Basilisk parts. Disappointed, he turned his head back to the readouts in front of him and did his best to control what was left of his own fighter.

Through his concentration, Canderous heard his comm unit fizzle to life in his ear.

“Ordo.” Jagi’s voice broke through the static. “Your Basilisk is nearly in two.”

“I noticed.”

“Then why did you not return when it was still in one piece?”

Canderous leaned against the controls as the failed stabilizer fired again. The Basilisk rolled, corrected, and flew toward the open hangar of the Mandalorian carrier.

“Because it is still flying.”

Canderous closed the comm, frustrated with another failed offensive. They were being too careful. Too civilized.

We are Mando’a. Warriors, Canderous thought. We do not concern ourselves with careful thought and failed plans. We surmount the odds and grasp victory by the scruff.

Canderous finally wrestled his Basilisk into an open bay of the Mandalorian carrier and barely managed to land the fighter in it. The cockpit lifted open and hangar noise rushed in to replace the static. The engines of Canderous’s Basilisk were winding down, beyond this he could hear deck crews shouting, and somewhere behind him was the clang of metal striking metal.

Jagi stood beyond the nose of the Basilisk, staring up at him. His expression was stern with a hint of disappointment furrowing his brow.

“You switched me off,” Jagi said.

Canderous released his restraints. “You had already told me the stabilizer was failing.”

“I was trying to tell you the landing gear was gone.”

Canderous looked over the side. A deck crew had already pushed a support frame beneath the fighter’s port wing.

“It landed.”

“It fell into the correct bay,” Jagi retorted.

Canderous lowered himself from the cockpit. A burning pain tightened across his ribs when his boots struck the deck. If it weren’t for the helmet, Jagi would’ve noticed his face scrunching up.

Jagi noticed anyway. “You’re bleeding,” he said.

“Not much.”

“That is not how bleeding works.” 

“It is how mine works,” Canderous said, his usually coarse voice made all the more rough by the pain.

Jagi stepped closer and examined the scorched seam beneath Canderous’s arm. “Med bay.”

“After the briefing.”

“What briefing?”

Canderous glanced toward the hangar entrance. Two armored warriors were waiting there, both wearing the markings of Mandalore’s command staff.

Jagi followed his gaze.

“We lost eleven in that attack,” he said.

“Nine.”

“Nine were destroyed, yes. Two ships returned with their pilots dead in their seats.”

“Then we may use them again.”

Jagi’s expression hardened. “I was not counting the fighters, Canderous.”

Neither of the warriors spoke for a moment. Around them, deck crews pulled wreckage from the Basilisk’s damaged wing.

Canderous looked past Jagi toward the energy shield separating the hangar from open space. Althir III shone beyond the outer rings, still guarded by its fleet.

“They rebuilt the formation,” Canderous said.

“They have enough ships to rebuild it ten more times.”

“Then we should stop attacking the formation.”

Jagi studied him. “You saw something.”

“Their flank moved when we pressed the inner screen.”

“Canderous,” Jagi said with a sigh. “It moved because they were trying to surround you.”

“They exposed the ships behind it.”

“For six seconds.”

Canderous looked at him.

Jagi exhaled again. “You are going to tell command that six seconds is enough.”

“It was enough for me to see them.”

“That is not what I said.”

“No. It was not.”

One of the waiting warriors struck a fist against his breastplate. “Ordo,” the warrior announced. “The war council is assembled.”

Canderous started toward him when Jagi caught his arm. “At least seal the wound,” he said.

Canderous looked down at Jagi’s hand and then at his friend.

“The Althiri have held us here for five days,” Jagi said more quietly. “They will still be there after you stop leaking on the deck.”

Canderous considered this, then pulled a field dressing from Jagi’s belt.

“They had better be.”

Canderous sealed the dressing beneath his armor and followed the command staff from the hangar. Jagi fell into step beside him.

“You were not summoned,” Canderous said.

“Someone needs to explain which parts of your report actually happened.”

Canderous continued walking. “All of it happened.”

“That is usually the problem.”

When the warriors entered the briefing room they saw the battle laid out across the room.

A hologram of Althir III hovered above the central holotable, its rings rendered in pale blue bands. Hundreds of points of light crowded the space beyond them. Most burned white. The Mandalorian ships were red and considerably fewer.

Canderous found his own attack group near the edge of the display. Its formation was already being reconstructed from the morning’s engagement. Twenty red marks had left the carrier. Eleven had returned.

Someone had recorded the fighters rather than the pilots.

Six Mandalorian officers stood around the table. The battle commander waited at its head, helmet resting by one hand. Age had silvered the hair above his ears, but there was nothing in his posture to suggest weakness. A deep scar crossed his mouth and pulled one side into a permanent sneer.

His eyes moved from Canderous to Jagi.

“I summoned Ordo,” he said. His voice was low and commanding.

“I brought the part of his command that still listens to orders,” Jagi said.

The commander’s expression did not change. “Then perhaps you can explain why his fighters crossed the withdrawal line.”

Canderous approached the table. “The Althiri would not move.”

“So you ignored the line,” the commander said.

“I gave them reason to believe the attack was real.”

“They believed it. We lost eleven fighters.”

“Nine.”

Jagi looked toward Canderous but said nothing.

The commander touched the console at his end of the table. The morning’s engagement began moving again. Canderous watched his fighters drive toward the Althiri flank. The enemy formation bent around them, slowly at first, then with sudden violence as more ships joined the interception.

The projection froze once more.

“You were ordered to test their response,” the commander said, his voice gaining volume. “Not bury yourself inside it.”

Instead of words, Canderous responded by pointing toward the center of the Althiri formation. “There,” he said after a beat.

No one answered.

Canderous jammed his finger into the buttons of the console at his end of the holotable. The image enlarged around them. As the Althiri flank moved to contain him and his warriors, a narrow channel appeared between two defensive groups. It lasted only a few seconds before reserve ships closed it.

Behind that channel were three heavier vessels.

The commander studied them. “Command ships?”

“Or coordination ships,” Jagi said. “We could not get close enough for a clean scan.”

“They moved before the rest of the formation,” Canderous said. “The flank did not respond until those ships changed position.”

One of the officers leaned over the display. “You think the Althiri are directing the entire defense from three vessels?”

“I think they have ten times our number and still move as one fleet. They are directing it from somewhere.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“Then we destroy three large ships.”

That earned a few quiet sounds of approval from around the table.

The commander silenced them with a look. “We have spent five days throwing warriors against this line. Courage has not been the problem.”

“No,” Canderous said. “The line has.”

“Jehavey’ir ti aro,” the commander said. He reset the display. The Althiri ships returned to their original positions, packed into layered screens around the planet’s outer rings.

“We cannot reach the center while the flank remains in position,” he continued. “We cannot break the flank without committing enough ships to leave the rest of our force exposed.”

A red formation appeared opposite the Althiri fleet.

“Ordo, you will attack here.”

Canderous examined the approach. “With how many?”

“Every fighter remaining in your group.”

Jagi stepped closer to the display. “That will not be enough to break it.”

“You are not going to break it,” the commander said. “You are going to convince them that you intend to.”

A second red formation appeared behind Canderous’s group.

“Jagi will follow with the reserve. When the Althiri move to contain Ordo, Jagi will strike the outside of their formation. They will either reinforce the flank or allow him to begin rolling it inward.”

“And when they reinforce?” Canderous asked.

“The main fleet enters the opening.”

The hologram changed again. Mandalorian cruisers advanced through the gap created by the Althiri response, splitting the defensive line and opening a route toward the planet.

It was a good plan.

Canderous looked past the projected cruisers to the three larger Althiri ships waiting near the center.

“How long do I hold them?”

“You do not hold them. You draw them out and withdraw.”

“If they commit slowly, they will follow us back into position.”

“Then make them commit quickly.”

Canderous smiled faintly. “That part I understand.”

The commander leaned across the table. Canderous’s eyes met his and saw the anger burning behind them.

“Once the main force enters the gap, your part is finished. You will disengage. You will not pursue retreating vessels. You will not turn toward the center. You will not improvise another objective because something valuable happens to cross your sights.”

The room became still. Canderous did not flinch. His eyes remained locked on the commander’s. “Understood.”

Beside him, Jagi shifted his weight.

The commander looked at him. “You doubt him?”

“I believe he understands the order.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Jagi glanced at Canderous.

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”

The commander dismissed the projection. Althir III vanished, leaving the officers standing around an empty table.

“Launch in two hours.”

The others began filing out of the room. Canderous remained where he was, looking at the space where the Althiri command ships had been.

Jagi stopped beside the door. “You told him you understood.”

“I do.”

“That is not the same as agreeing.”

Canderous picked up his helmet and met Jagi’s eyes.

“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

Two hours later, the Althiri flank filled Canderous’s canopy.

His fighters approached in a narrow spear, engines held below attack speed. They flew close enough for Canderous to see the scorch marks left across their hulls by the previous five days of fighting. There had not been time to repaint armor or replace every damaged plate. There had only been time to make the machines fly again.

Jagi’s reserve waited behind them, concealed among the larger Mandalorian formation.

The Althiri had seen Canderous coming. Their ships had not moved from their positions in the defensive screen.

“Range?” Canderous asked.

“Closing on the outer screen,” one of his pilots answered. “No change in their formation.”

“They know what we’re doing,” Jagi said over the command channel.

“They think they know,” Canderous said. He pushed the throttle forward.

His Basilisk fighter surged beneath him. The rest of his group accelerated with him, their formation spreading as targeting warnings appeared across his display.

Althiri fighters detached from the defensive screen. One lonely squadron. Canderous counted them and frowned under his helmet. The Althiri were sending barely enough ships to slow him, but not enough to weaken their flank.

“Maintain course,” he ordered.

The first Althiri cannons opened fire. Light flashed across the darkness ahead. Canderous rolled beneath the opening volley and felt the fighter shudder as a bolt passed close enough to disturb its shields. His warriors broke around him, avoiding collisions without scattering from the attack.

An Althiri fighter crossed his sights. He fired once, forcing it to turn, then continued toward the larger ships beyond it.

“You passed your target,” Jagi said.

“It moved.”

“That generally happens when you shoot at them.”

Canderous ignored him. Destroying fighters was not the objective. Every second spent turning after one allowed the Althiri formation to remain where it was.

Another warning appeared. Two enemy craft settled behind him.

Canderous cut his engines, let the enemy fighters’ momentum carry them past, then drove power back through his fighter. His cannons struck the nearer vessel across its engines. It spun away trailing fire and fragments. The second Althiri fighter broke off. Around him the pilots in his wing were performing similar maneuvers, continuing their drive toward the Althiri fleet.

Still the flank held.

“Ordo,” the battle commander’s voice crackled in through his comms. “You are approaching the withdrawal line.”

Canderous checked the distance on his readouts. The commander was right. If the Althiri committed now, his fighters would still have room to disengage. If they continued forward, the enemy could close behind them.

He looked toward the cruisers at the center of the defensive screen.

They had not moved.

“Increase speed,” Canderous ordered.

Jagi answered immediately. “Canderous.”

“They are not convinced.”

“You do not need to ram the planet to convince them.”

“I’m not aiming for the planet.”

Canderous marked the nearest Althiri cruiser and transmitted the target to his group.

“Missiles on my signal. Concentrate on the forward shield.”

His warriors acknowledged.

The cruiser grew across his canopy. Defensive batteries turned toward them, filling his display with fresh targeting locks.

“Ordo, break away,” the commander ordered.

Canderous waited.

The Althiri cruiser fired. Canderous’s formation split around the barrage. One Basilisk disappeared in the light. Another tumbled from formation with half its wing gone.

Canderous kept the target centered.

“Now.”

Missiles streaked from the surviving fighters. They struck the cruiser’s forward shields together, covering its bow in a rippling wall of energy. The shields held. Canderous fired into the distortion, his cannons striking the same point again and again.

The cruiser began to turn away. Behind it, the Althiri formation moved.

Fresh fighters poured from the defensive line. Two frigates turned their bows toward Canderous, followed by a second cruiser. The flank bent outward as the Althiri attempted to surround his attack group.

Canderous smiled. “There,” he said. “Jagi, begin your attack.”

Jagi’s reserve emerged from the Mandalorian formation and struck the outside of the Althiri’s moving flank before it could complete its turn. Cannons flashed against shields. Ships that had been closing around Canderous were forced to divide their attention between the attack within their formation and the new threat behind it.

The gap began to open.

“Main force advancing,” the commander announced. “Ordo, prepare to disengage.”

Canderous turned his fighters across the Althiri approach, drawing more ships away from the rings. Jagi pressed against their outer line, keeping them from turning back. For several seconds, the battle followed the plan exactly.

Then the Althiri command ships moved.

Canderous saw them through breaks in the fighting: three heavy vessels withdrawing from behind the divided flank. Smaller ships shifted around them, forming a protective screen as they turned toward the planet. They were exposed.

“Ordo,” the commander said. “The main fleet has entered the gap. Withdraw.”

Canderous checked his tactical display. The path behind him was narrowing. If he turned immediately, his fighters could escape beneath Jagi’s covering fire. Jagi would follow, and the main fleet would divide the Althiri defense as planned.

If Canderous turned toward the center, Jagi would have to remain engaged to prevent the flank from closing behind him.

“Canderous,” Jagi said. He had seen the command ships too.

“They are moving,” Canderous said.

“So are we. Turn around.”

The nearest command ship rotated across his canopy. Its escorts were still struggling to assemble around it. The opening would last only seconds.

“Ordo,” the commander repeated. “Disengage.”

Canderous rested his thumb against the control that would transmit new targeting data to his fighters.

Jagi’s voice came more quietly over the channel. “We did what we came to do.”

“No,” Canderous said. “We made them move.”

Canderous marked the command ship and transmitted the target to every fighter still under his control.

“Ordo, disengage,” the commander repeated.

Canderous opened the channel to Jagi. “Hold the flank.”

Silence answered him for half a second.

“That was not the order.”

“It is now.”

“The main fleet is already through. We have our opening.”

“The opening will close. Those ships are coordinating the defense.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then watch what happens when we destroy them.”

The battle commander cut across their channel. “Ordo, withdraw immediately. Jagi, begin pulling your reserve from the engagement.”

Canderous looked at the tactical display. The Althiri flank was already attempting to fold back toward the rings. If Jagi withdrew, it would turn inward and trap Canderous before he reached the command ships.

Jagi saw it too. “If I hold here, I may not be able to follow you out,” he said.

“You will.”

“Do not lie to me, Canderous.”

Canderous watched the protective screen forming around the command ships. A few more seconds and the opportunity would be gone.

“Hold the flank,” he said.

Jagi did not answer immediately. Then his formation turned back toward the Althiri ships. “Holding,” he said. Canderous detected a hint of unease in his voice that would not have been clear to anyone who didn’t know Jagi as well as he did.

Canderous switched to his attack group’s channel. “All fighters, turn to heading zero-seven. Full power.”

His Basilisk rolled away from the retreat corridor. The surviving fighters followed, abandoning the route Jagi had opened for them and driving toward the center of the Althiri formation.

The battle commander continued issuing orders. Canderous silenced the channel.

The nearest command ship was still turning when they reached its defensive screen. Four Althiri fighters moved to intercept them. More approached from below the rings.

“Split by pairs,” Canderous ordered. “Do not stop for the escorts.”

His warriors divided.

The first Althiri fighter crossed in front of him. Canderous fired before its nose could turn. His cannons struck its shields and sent it spiralling away. He passed beneath the second so closely he could see its pilot through the canopy and continued toward the larger ship.

One of his warriors broke formation to pursue.

“Leave it,” Canderous ordered.

“It’s on me.”

“Then make it miss.”

The warrior rolled hard as the Althiri opened fire. Canderous did not look back to see whether he survived. He kept his gaze locked on the command ship filling his canopy.

It was larger than he had estimated from the tactical projection. Weapon emplacements turned along its hull. Shield energy gathered across its forward arc as it prepared to receive the attack.

Canderous shifted his target point toward its engines.

“Do not waste time on the shields. Get behind it.”

The Basilisks scattered around the ship. Defensive cannons followed them, filling the space between the fighters with intersecting fire.

A Mandalorian vanished from Canderous’s display. Another reported damage but remained in formation.

Canderous drove along the command ship’s hull, so close that its larger weapons could no longer track him. The heavy armor plating of the cruiser flashed beneath his fighter. Smaller defensive cannons fired from recessed positions ahead.

He destroyed the first and passed over the second before it could rotate.

“Ordo,” Jagi said. Weapons fire and shouted reports crowded the channel behind his voice.

Canderous reached the command ship’s stern. Its engines burned ahead of him like three white suns.

“I’m here.”

“They’re turning everything they have against us.”

“Keep them there.”

“I have already lost four fighters.”

Canderous armed his remaining missiles.

“Then make the others count.”

He fired. The missiles crossed the space between them and disappeared into the central engine.

Light consumed the rear of the command ship. The explosion struck Canderous’s fighter and hurled it sideways. Warning runes spread across his display as he fought to keep his ship steady.

When the glare faded, the command ship was drifting. Across the Althiri formation, dozens of vessels began changing course at once. Some turned toward Canderous, others turned toward Jagi, and several stopped moving altogether.

Canderous steadied the Basilisk and marked the second command ship. “One,” he said. “Two remain.”

The second command ship was defeated faster than the first.

Its escorts had broken formation when the first vessel lost power, leaving gaps wide enough for the Mandalorians to pass through. Canderous divided his remaining fighters and attacked from opposite sides. The Althiri attempted to turn away. They collided with ships waiting for orders that no longer came.

By the time the third command ship began retreating toward Althir III, the defensive line was no longer a line. It was a collection of frightened captains trying to fight separate battles.

Canderous left the third ship to the main fleet. “Jagi,” he called over comms. “Withdraw.”

Static answered him. Canderous opened the channel again. “Jagi.”

A burst of weapons fire overwhelmed the connection. Someone shouted a range. Another voice called for assistance. Then Jagi came through.

“We are trying.”

Canderous checked his tactical display. Jagi’s formation had nearly disappeared beneath the Althiri response. The ships Canderous had bypassed were converging on it from three directions. The route back to the Mandalorian fleet had closed.

“Turn toward the rings,” Canderous said. “The main force will meet you.”

“We don’t have room.”

“Make room.”

“With what?”

Canderous looked at the surviving fighters around him. Fewer than half remained.

“Hold your position,” he said. “I am coming to you.”

Jagi laughed once. There was no humor in it. “Now you’re coming back.”

The empty landing bays told Canderous how many warriors had not returned. Roughly half of the warriors that were present five days ago were no longer among them.

Ground crews crowded around the fighters that had returned. Some sprayed coolant over scorched engines. Others cut through warped canopies to reach the pilots inside. Medics darted between them, searching for wounds that could not wait.

The celebration, however, had already begun elsewhere in the carrier. Canderous could hear it through the bulkheads: boots striking metal, armor against armor, voices cheered their victory.

No one in the hangar joined them.

Canderous climbed down from his Basilisk and searched the surviving fighters until he found Jagi’s. Its landing gear had collapsed on one side. The fighter rested against the deck with its wing buried beneath it. A ground crew had forced open the canopy, but Jagi remained inside.

Canderous approached.

“You took your time,” Jagi said. He removed his helmet. Blood covered one side of his face, flowing from a cut somewhere above his hairline.

“The route was crowded,” Canderous replied, offering Jagi a hand.

Jagi looked at it before pulling himself out of the cockpit of his crippled fighter. His injured leg failed when he reached the deck. Canderous caught him beneath the arm and held him upright. For a moment, Jagi allowed it. Then he pulled away.

“How many?” Canderous asked him.

Jagi looked across the hangar. “Enough came back,” he said.

“That was not what I asked.”

“No,” Jagi said. His voice was low and hoarse with an emotion that Canderous could not quite place. “It wasn’t.”

A pair of medics approached. Jagi waved them toward another fighter whose pilot had not yet moved.

Canderous followed his gaze. Several members of Jagi’s command stood together near the hangar wall. There were too few of them to form a complete squadron.

“The command ships are gone,” Canderous said. “The Althiri line has collapsed.”

“I saw.”

“Our fleet is already moving toward the surface.”

“I saw that too.”

“Then you know it worked.”

Jagi wheeled around to look at Canderous. “Was that ever in doubt?” He asked, his tone was dripping with venom.

Canderous frowned at the question. “You argued against it.”

“I said it was not the plan. I said we would not have room to withdraw. I said my command would be trapped.” Jagi’s words were sharp and his eyes hot with anger. He gestured to the empty bays around them. “I was right.”

“And we won.”

“The main fleet was already through the opening.”

“The Althiri were turning to close it.”

“Then we would have attacked again,” Jagi said, exasperated.

“And lost more warriors doing it,” Canderous replied. His words were almost cold, calculating, matter-of-fact.

Jagi stared at him for several seconds, his brow furrowed in frustration. Canderous understood the expression but not the accusation behind it.

“My people died holding that flank,” Jagi said.

“My people died attacking the center.”

“You chose that for them.”

“I commanded them.”

“Yes.” Jagi stepped closer. “You commanded them,” he said through gritted teeth.

Canderous’s jaw tightened. “Say what you mean.”

“Gar ni skana’din.” Jagi hissed. “You saw an opportunity. You decided it was worth the risk. Then you gave the risk to me.”

“I gave you the position that had to be held.”

“Because you knew I would hold it.”

“Yes.” Canderous said. The answer seemed to hit Jagi harder than Canderous expected.

A voice announced the fall of the outer defense over the carrier’s internal comms. Cheers rolled through the ship again.

Jagi looked toward the sound. “They’ll call you a hero for this.”

Canderous watched through the energy shield the first Mandalorian cruisers pass beyond the hangar. They were moving toward the surface of Althir III.

“They should remember everyone who fought,” he said.

“They will remember the warrior who broke the line.”

“We broke it, vod.”

“Nayc,” Jagi replied. “You did.”

He turned and limped toward the medics before Canderous could answer.

A member of the command staff entered the bay and stopped beside Canderous. He slammed a fist into his breastplate.

“Ordo. Mand’alor has received the battle report.”

Canderous continued watching Jagi walk away. “And?” He asked.

“He wants to see the warrior who defeated Althir.”

Mandalore received him alone.

He stood before the forward viewport of the carrier’s command deck, hands clasped behind his back. Althir III occupied most of the view. The broken remains of its defensive fleet drifted across the outer rings while Mandalorian cruisers advanced toward the planet.

Canderous stopped several paces behind him. Even from this distance, Mandalore stood taller than him. Mandalore was an imposing figure even in the safety of his own ship. Canderous struck a fist against his breastplate.

“Mand’alor.”

Mandalore continued watching the fleet. “You were ordered to withdraw.”

Canderous lowered his hand. “Yes.”

“You turned toward the center.”

“Their command ships were exposed.”

“I have read the report, verd.”

Canderous waited.

Mandalore turned from the viewport. His armor was heavier than that worn by the warriors aboard the carrier, its surface scarred by battles fought before Canderous had completed his verd’goten. The ceremonial mask offered no expression.

“You were given a task,” Mandalore said. “Draw out the Althiri flank and open a route for the fleet.”

“The route would have closed.”

“Perhaps.”

“It would have.”

“You cannot know that.”

“No.”

The answer hung between them.

Mandalore approached until only the holotable separated them.

“How many warriors did you lose?”

Canderous gave him the number.

“And Jagi?”

Canderous gave him that number, too. Mandalore entered both into the table. A map of the battle flickered to life in the space between them. Red marks appeared around the image of Althir III, each representing a fighter that had not returned.

“You spent more than the plan allowed.”

“We destroyed the ships coordinating their defense.”

“You spent more than the plan allowed,” Mandalore repeated. His words were spoken slowly, as if talking to someone who did not understand.

Canderous looked at the casualty marks. “Yes,” he said.

“Would you make the same decision again?”

He thought of the empty landing bays. Jagi’s blood across his face. The accusation hidden inside his words. You commanded them.

Then Canderous looked toward Althir III. The Mandalorian fleet had crossed the rings. Assault carriers moved into position at the edge of the planet’s atmosphere. The surviving Althiri ships transmitted surrender codes.

“Yes,” Canderous finally answered.

Mandalore removed the casualty marks from the display. “So would I.”

He replaced them with the final arrangement of the battle. Canderous’s fighters cut through the center. The command ships lost power. The Althiri formation collapsed around them.

“You recognized their strength was also their weakness,” Mandalore said. “Ten ships can survive without orders. A hundred ships waiting for the same command become a herd.”

“They fought well.”

“They did.”

“They held us for five days.”

“And tomorrow their shipyards will begin repairing our fleet.”

Canderous studied the world beneath them. “They surrendered?”

“Their commanders have. The rest will follow.”

Mandalore touched the display again. A section of the Mandalorian force separated from the fleet and changed from red to gold.

“Clan Ordo committed one subsect to this campaign. It will now commit another.”

Canderous looked at the gold formation. Its ships carried his identification.

“You will command them,” Mandalore said.

Canderous had expected some recognition, an additional squadron once their losses were replaced, perhaps. He had not expected this.

“There are warriors in Clan Ordo with more experience,” Canderous said.

“There were Althiri commanders with more ships.”

Canderous looked back at Mandalore.

“Experience tells a warrior what has worked before,” Mandalore continued. “Command requires knowing when it will not work again.”

Canderous struck his fist against his breastplate. Pride welling in his chest. “I will not fail you, Mand’alor.”

“You will.”

Canderous hesitated.

“When the failure comes,” Mandalore said, “make certain we gain something from it.”

The audience was over. Canderous left the command deck with the new formation still displayed behind him.

He returned to the hangar as the first assault craft descended toward Althir III. Warriors gathered beneath the energy shield to watch them go. Someone recognized Canderous and called his name. Others took up the cry until it boomed through the bay.

“Ordo! Ordo! Ordo!” They cheered.

Canderous searched the crowd for Jagi.

“Ordo! Ordo! Ordo!”

He was not there.

For a moment, Canderous considered finding him. Then another flight of captured Althiri vessels passed the hangar, escorted by Mandalorian fighters. Beyond them waited the planet, its defenses broken and its factories intact.

Five days earlier, Canderous had arrived commanding a squadron. He would leave Althir with ships, warriors, and a significant number of Clan Ordo answering to him.

The campaign ahead no longer appeared impossible. It appeared endless. Canderous found that he wanted it to be.

For beyond Althir lay another system, and beyond that another. Somewhere past them all, the Republic was still pretending none of this concerned it.

It will. Canderous thought. It will concern those weaklings soon enough.