The crimson starship drifted lazily within the low-orbit traffic flow of freighter vessels over Coruscant. Its compartments were empty, and silence reigned everywhere, interrupted only by the steady hum of the engines and the beeping of instruments. Only the small mess hall felt unusually "crowded." For such a small vessel, four sentients in one room, even if two of them were droids, was considered a crowd.
In the middle of the room, near a holoprojector, stood a tall young man in light Mandalorian armor, concealed beneath a bright cloak with a deep hood. He stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, transferring a grim gaze from a strange, reddish-hued protocol droid to a female figure encased in a full suit of Mandalorian armor. Though neither the helmet nor the droid's faceplate possessed moving parts that could betray their emotions, the mutual animus they held for one another was palpable in the air.
"A droid?" the Mandalorian scoffed derisively.
"Contemptuously: A bag of meat?" the metallic soldier retorted without missing a beat.
The R2-series astromech droid tinkering with a wall-mounted power distribution panel emitted a mournful binary trill and returned to its work.
"Both of you, settle down!" Revan growled. "You're shorting out the astromech's circuits!"
The constant "jabs" and verbal sparring between the galaxy's greatest assassin, HK-47, and the self-proclaimed best mercenary in the Hutt cartel, Tira Nomad, had been ongoing since the moment Revan and the Mandalorian left that ill-fated cantina on Coruscant. It made the ancient Dark Lord question whether allies were truly necessary. He quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself that HK had proven his utility and loyalty countless times, and as for the Mandalorians… Revan had a special relationship with them.
"Forgive me, but following your idiotic and, no doubt, suicidal plan," Nomad replied, "I'm supposed to stealthily infiltrate the Jedi Temple, JEDI, may the Hutts curse them! And my support will be a rusty freighter with a pair of equally rusty tin cans? One of which doesn't even have arms or legs?!"
R2 beeped indignantly.
"Don't you chirp at me, you bucket with a bulb!" the woman snapped.
"Arrogantly: For a brainless bag of meat, you speak at length," HK-47 said, tilting his head slightly. "Feigned surprise: Has the sludge that so closely resembles Banthas' droppings and fills your cranium suddenly started forming complex sentences of more than two words?"
"Why, you…" The Mandalorian lunged for her holster, but before her fingers could close on the blaster pistol's grip, the muzzle of a rapid-fire carbine, held easily in the assassin droid's manipulator, pressed against her helmet's visor.
"I said, calm down!" A wave of the Force slammed the combatants apart, yet both remained on their feet.
Revan first turned to the Mandalorian.
"You are working with HK and R2; that is the condition of our contract, understood?"
"Yes," Nomad conceded reluctantly. "Although I still don't understand how a protocol droid and an astromech will help me."
"These two will help you get inside undetected and get out alive," the ancient one calmly explained. "R2, unlike his counterparts, has an expanded decoding matrix for bypassing security systems. And the one you mistook for a 'protocol droid' was, and remains, the best assassin droid in the galaxy. Believe me, he has far more experience fighting Force-sensitives than all your mercenaries combined."
HK proudly lifted his metallic chin. The astromech mockingly chirped, assessing the formidable assassin's posture.
"Irritably: Shut up, waste grinder!"
Revan clapped his hand to his forehead at R2's angry trill.
"A madhouse," he stated.
The Mandalorian merely snorted and turned her head away.
"HK! R2! Your task is to assist this respected individual." He gestured toward the representative of Clan Nomad. "You know the plan. This is an order."
"Readily: Understood, Master," the assassin droid instantly composed himself.
The astromech, like its elder counterpart, sharply beeped confirmation in response and even seemed to salute with its plasma torch.
"A circus," the Mandalorian contemptuously muttered.
Revan didn't respond to that and reiterated the main points of the plan.
"Alright, I will proceed to the meeting with the Council on the speeder. HK, is the transport ready?"
"Affirmative: Everything is ready, Master. The high-speed, compact speeder awaits you in the cargo hold right by the loading ramp," the droid reported.
"Excellent. I will land on one of the platforms near the main entrance." The ancient one pointed at the Temple's hologram. "You, however, will infiltrate through a service access point on the upper level of the main structure on the west side. A major transport lane runs nearby, and a passing freighter won't draw suspicion."
"Is the platform guarded?" Tira clarified.
"No. Based on what I've managed to learn, the platforms are secured only by automated security systems," Revan replied.
"That doesn't rule out turrets. The area is exposed, and approaching without noise will be difficult."
"Contemptuously: Dilettante," HK said on the lowest setting of his vocoder.
The Mandalorian heard him and was about to protest, but the ancient Jedi drew her attention again.
"The system does not account for emergency situations and opens access to the platform for ships requesting to land for repairs. That is what you will exploit," Revan pronounced loudly. "R2, re-encode the main beacon's signal to broadcast a distress signal, but limit the radius. We don't need rescue ships flying in."
The astromech chirped happily, ready to execute its new master's command with gusto.
"Upon landing, you, Tira, will proceed forward and enter the Temple's service channels here." The former Jedi pointed to a hatch near the platform. "R2 will interface with the service terminal near the emergency bracing struts, which should automatically extend for dampening during an emergency landing. Before Tira reaches the hatch, it must be open and the turrets disabled. Is that clear?"
"The order is clear," the adventure-prone astromech enthusiastically responded in binary.
"HK, you are their cover." Revan turned to the assassin droid. "It's highly likely someone will check what's happening on the platform."
"Forced compliance: Accepted, Master," the metallic psychopath responded glumly.
"Eat it," Nomad muttered under her breath.
Revan noted that despite HK's external stillness and composure, he was stung by the remark. This meant the Mandalorian, who still didn't realize whom she was provoking, was in for a most unpleasant fate—something like an "accident" to which the assassin droid would be entirely and completely unconnected.
"HK, Tira Nomad's preservation is your responsibility," Revan commanded.
The ancient Jedi thought he heard a distinct crackle in the vicinity of HK-47's processor when the droid shifted his scarlet optical sensors to meet Revan's gaze.
"Query: What percentage of preservation for the aforementioned 'meatbag' would be acceptable?" the droid asked, speaking slowly as if struggling to form the words into a sentence.
"The higher, the better. She must survive," Revan clarified.
The former Dark Lord understood perfectly that HK would find a way to get back at the Mandalorian, but he would never violate a direct order. Therefore, Tira Nomad's life was not in danger… at least not from the assassin droid… and no one had mentioned the inviolability of her health.
HK apparently came to a similar conclusion, as he visibly cheered up after confirming the order.
"Query: Specify the counter-Jedi measures, Master."
"Non-lethal. That goes for you too, Tira."
"Acknowledged," the droid nodded.
"Whatever you say," Nomad agreed with a shrug.
Mentally wishing the Temple's inhabitants wouldn't investigate the northern landing platform, Revan continued the briefing.
"I will keep an open channel on an encrypted frequency. Passive security systems won't detect it. But the Jedi have very sensitive hearing, so try to keep conversations to a minimum."
"I can use Mandalorian non-verbal commands. My people used them in ancient times." Tira tapped her finger on her helmet near the ear, causing distinct clicks in Revan's headset.
"I am familiar with them," the ancient one conceded. "As is HK."
R2 beeped indignantly and requested an info-packet on this unknown method of communication from the assassin droid.
"Annoyed refusal: Go away," HK-47 waved off.
A second series of beeps and whistles, much more insistent.
"HK, be nice," Revan requested with a slight smile.
"Grudging compliance: Fine, I will transfer you the info-packet with the list of encrypted commands used by Mandalorians."
Nomad didn't ask how a Jedi and his droid possessed such information. From the start, this Vaner Shan had been too strange and unpredictable for someone trained in the Order of diplomats and peacekeepers. His military bearing, confidence, and precision of movement, his knowledge of tactics and strategy, his obvious experience in diversionary operations, and the armor he almost never removed. If Tira hadn't seen with her own eyes how he wielded a lightsaber, she would have confidently stated he was one of her own people. Not by blood or species, but by the training Mandalorians give their children.
"Moving on," Revan returned to the hologram. "Your mission is to locate Anakin Skywalker and bring him aboard the Dawn's Eagle while I keep the Council 'entertained' with negotiations. They are most likely holding him in the section of the Temple where the guest apartments are located. I cannot be more precise."
"What about your Jedi tricks?" Nomad asked, making a vague gesture.
"I can only sense him once I'm inside the Temple. These ancient walls are saturated with the Force and reliably conceal the auras of the inhabitants."
"Yes, yes, I get it. Like I said, your Jedi… mystic… stuff."
Revan shook his head disapprovingly.
"In any case, I will try to find out where they are keeping him. So listen closely; I will give the signal," he informed her.
"I will use the tunnel network above the ceiling," Nomad indicated on the hologram. "I will try to intercept you here. Will you need help?"
"I'll get out myself," the ancient one dismissed her. "Your job is Anakin."
It didn't take long to discuss the key points of the plan. Ten minutes later, as Revan left the Dawn's Eagle, the pair of droids and the mercenary were ready to act, though they weren't thrilled about the enforced collaboration.
While the Temple security officer was intently monitoring the small speeder upon which someone the Council had ordered detained was supposed to arrive, a small freighter, billowing plumes of black smoke from its left engine, smoothly descended toward the service landing platform on the opposite side of the complex. A signal call persistently flashed on the comm panel.
Finally, the officer noticed the light and opened the channel.
"Transport NKT-33827-2 calling the Jedi Temple! Emergency situation! Requesting permission to land!" a female voice squawked from the speakers.
"Just what I needed," grumbled Gluuto Deen, whose quiet life was already disrupted by the sudden detention order.
How peaceful the Temple had been just a couple of months ago! Silence and tranquility. The rare skirmishes between Younglings or overly boisterous Padawans didn't count. In all of Gluuto's service, no one had dared to attack the Jedi sanctuary. And suddenly, everything went haywire! The Masters were alarmed! After a couple of Jedi flew to Naboo, security measures were increased. He had to take on extra shifts!
Deen was one of the security personnel who hadn't trained at the Temple but was hired from the civilian population, like most of the service staff. His potential in the Force was very weak, and he didn't participate in active security duties like the Temple Guards. However, even sitting at the surveillance system dispatcher's console, he genuinely believed he worked harder than everyone else, so his foul mood was entirely justified.
External observation cameras showed an unpleasant picture. The freighter requesting a landing was tossed from side to side. The pilot was clearly fighting the vessel, trying to keep the smoking wreck airborne.
Gluuto grimaced. He had enough to worry about. But if this piece of junk crashed nearby, and it became known the Temple refused aid to someone in need, everyone in security would have problems.
"Transport NKT-33827-2, landing authorized. Service Platform 3. Access to the complex is denied to you. Will you call the repair crew yourselves?"
"Yes, thank you. We'll manage ourselves! You've helped us so much! Thank you! I thought we were done for," some girl, apparently the freighter's pilot, rattled off.
'Ugh, that could've ended badly,' Deen thought, recalling the density of Coruscant's transport lanes. 'They definitely wouldn't have made it to a platform on the lower levels. I must remember to send a couple of guards to monitor the repairs.'
Meanwhile, aboard the Dawn's Eagle, preparations for the Temple invasion were underway.
"Don't wobble so much, you'll damage the supports!" Tira yelled at the assassin droid sitting in the pilot's seat.
"Condescendingly: I am better acquainted with this vessel's capabilities. And I can flawlessly simulate the behavior model of a damaged ship in the air."
"Just don't wreck the ship, bucket of bolts!"
"Helpful recommendation: Most importantly, do not cleanse your stomach without removing your helmet."
"Why, you…"
Nomad couldn't finish her sentence as the freighter touched down on the platform with surprising gentleness.
"Recommendation: We should commence the operation immediately before security becomes aware," the droid advised.
"I know that," the Mandalorian grumbled. "Hey, astromech! Get to the cargo ramp, fast!"
As soon as the loading ramp touched the platform, an R2-series droid smoothly rolled down it and, wasting no time, drove to the service terminal and plugged in. The actions were typical for an emergency landing. It was necessary to manually enter the ship's data into the terminal and, if possible, request repairs. Or rather, any other ordinary astromech would act that way. R2-D2 was by no means ordinary. Therefore, instead of registering the ship, he hijacked the video surveillance system controls and looped the last 5 seconds of footage, creating the illusion that an astromech was peacefully working on the platform.
The Mandalorian who stepped out of the freighter looked directly at the nearest camera and, grunting approvingly, hurried toward the service hatch.
"Now the entrance," she reminded the droid.
R2 whistled in confirmation and set about cracking the door. Long seconds of waiting dragged on.
"You're taking too long!" Nomad hissed impatiently, still believing the whole venture was incredibly foolish.
The astromech beeped something indistinct in response.
"Feigned surprise: How is it that the vocabulators on those models have not melted from such words!" HK commented, obviously regarding the astromech's remark.
"What did he say?" Tira asked.
"Explanation: Merely giving an assessment of the intellectual capacity of the useless meatbag, who is simply unable to comprehend the complexity of cracking the fractal encryption applied in this security system," the assassin droid replied, shamelessly utilizing the fact that his faceplate remained motionless.
He was quite pleased with this fact, for if he could sneer, he would be deprived of the pleasure of watching the full spectrum of emotions cross the faces of the stupid meatbags as they processed what was said.
Nomad exhaled loudly in an attempt to curb her rising anger.
"Just let us finish this job, and then we'll talk," she whispered venomously.
At the next moment, the terminal near the door on the opposite wall from the service hatch, which led to the storage rooms, beeped. Two men in gray Temple security uniforms emerged from the opening. They clearly hadn't expected to see a mercenary and two droids on the platform, as they moved slowly and relaxed, their hands off their holstered weapons.
"What the Hutt?!" one of them managed to yell before he was hit by a charge from the handheld stunner fired by Tira.
The second guard managed to grab the shock baton from his belt—not the most logical choice in this situation. The result was the same as his partner's: a stunning shock and loss of consciousness.
The Mandalorian kept her weapon raised, covering the still-open doorway. HK-47, having taken his blaster off safety, went over to the unconscious bodies and checked them.
"Conclusion: Not dangerous," he commented, accompanying his words with a light kick to the ribs of the closest security officer.
"I don't miss," Nomad said self-satisfactorily, returning the blasters to her belt.
At that moment, the guard lying closer to the door, a shock baton clenched in his hand, stirred and let out a faint moan.
"Observation: The stun charge was insufficient. There are weak Force-sensitives among the guards. While they don't reach the level of a Jedi, these meatbags are much tougher than their relatives," HK explained, walking toward the groaning trooper. "Recommendation: Increase weapon power or use other neutralization methods."
With these words, the assassin droid delivered a blow with his metallic foot, sending the unfortunate man into a deep and prolonged sleep.
"Hey, what's going on here?" a voice called from the open doorway.
Apparently, someone heard the commotion and decided to check. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a Jedi. Tira realized this as soon as the edge of a brown robe appeared around the corner and prepared for a drawn-out fight. To her surprise, however, HK fearlessly stepped in front of the young Order member.
The Jedi, noticing the weapon in the droid's hands, immediately activated his lightsaber and assumed a stance.
"Who are you, and what happened here?" the Force-sensitive asked sternly.
HK instantly dropped his carbine.
"Frightened remark: It's not mine!" the assassin droid stammered, mimicking the stuttering speech pattern of many protocol droids.
The carbine clattered onto the stone surface of the landing platform. The Jedi was distracted, and the droid took a wide step toward him. When the Force-sensitive looked up again, HK slightly turned sideways, revealing a view of the mercenary and R2.
"Surprised remark: Look, Mandalorians are here!" the metallic psychopath shouted, simulating panic.
"What?!" the Jedi stared at Tira.
And in the next moment, the Light Side adept, who had decided to check the strange noise on the landing platform, received a powerful electric shock from the stunner installed on HK's forearm. The power was enough to instantly render the man unconscious. HK knew perfectly well how and what to use to neutralize Jedi.
"Contemptuous commentary: Thinking even slower than they did four thousand years ago."
Turning around, HK saw Tira Nomad clutching a flash-and-sonic grenade in her hand. She carefully took her finger off the detonator and returned the dangerous sphere to the pouch on her thigh. Despite all the animosity that HK-47 was capable of feeling, he noted the correct choice of weapon for an encounter with a Force-sensitive.
"I thought your master was just praising you in vain to talk himself up," the mercenary said slowly, carefully examining the droid as if she were seeing him for the first time. "But I see you have indeed faced Jedi before."
"Statement of fact: As have you. As have many mercenaries in the galaxy."
"But few remain alive to tell of such encounters, correct?"
"Condescendingly: Life is worthless if the Master's order is not executed."
They looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Mocking question: What, are you just going to keep staring at me,meatbag? Or will you help me tie up these three?"
"May the Jawas sell you to farmers," Nomad growled maliciously, pulling out flexible, self-locking binders.
"Sincere wish: Right after you are sold into slavery to the Colicoids."
Vaguely bickering, the pair of assassins, forced to act with utmost humanity, ensured that the guards and the overly curious Jedi would stay quiet and make no noise for the next hour. By this time, R2 announced that the lock had finally surrendered. The passage to the service channels was open.
"I'm going inside," Tira notified her allies.
"Confirmation: R2 and I are staying by the ship," the assassin droid replied.
The astromech chirped something about how he would continue to sabotage the Temple's security system and conceal the mercenary's presence.
Nomad nodded and slipped into the hatch.
"Instruction: Turn left at the junction," HK transmitted over the encrypted channel.
A moment later, a cry and a vicious hiss from the Mandalorian, punctuated by curses in Mando'a, echoed back.
"Clarification: Left relative to the ship's current position," the droid clarified with barely concealed mockery in his voice, to which he received a fresh torrent of curses in response.
Revisiting her opinion of the brazen, red droid and assigning him the personal status of a "malevolent tin can," Tira began moving through the tunnels located between the Temple's residential levels, listening closely to what the inhabitants were saying.
R2 had cracked the records of new students and found information about Skywalker, which he immediately reported.
Vaner was right. The boy was being kept in the guest wing. However, the room number was not specified, so the search area was still too large.
Signaling her employer that she was inside, Nomad continued moving toward the central hall, through which she could access any part of the Temple.
On the way, through the aperture of one of the service hatches, the mercenary saw the escort accompanying Vaner. Seeing how the Jedi treated him, the girl smirked. The scene, in which a dozen Guards with lightsaber pikes in hand, backed up by a couple of Masters, followed the boy with obvious apprehension, seemed utterly amusing to her. Fear was palpable in the guards' movements; they were following the escortee, not leading him. Vaner's proud stride made it clear who was setting the pace of the procession.
"Show-off," the mercenary good-naturedly snorted.
Deciding to follow her employer in the hope of discovering the main target's location, Nomad climbed out of the service channel and, activating a personal optical camouflage device, continued her journey across the ceiling supports. Her route was well-hidden by steel and stone beams and supports, which were also unlit, so she didn't have to worry about being discovered. After all, the optical camouflage system, unlike a cloaking generator, did not provide one hundred percent invisibility, leaving a blurry silhouette in space.
Then, luck smiled upon the mercenary. In one of the halls, she overheard a conversation between two Padawans discussing Skywalker's location.
In response to a signal from Vaner, Tira followed the Padawans, making sure her employer noticed her movement. Catching up to the two students was easy, but finding a moment when they would be alone proved problematic. But after a few minutes, the mercenary got her chance to obtain more precise target information.
Jumping from the ceiling onto the surprised teenagers, Tira delivered a precise strike to the back of one's head, knocking him unconscious, and then wrestled the second one to the floor, pressing the shock baton she had borrowed from the guards on the landing platform against his neck. A short blast sufficiently disoriented the Padawan, preventing him from concentrating and using the Force. Interrogating older members of the Order in this manner would have been dangerous, but these were still just children who hadn't been properly trained.
"Where is Skywalker?" the mercenary quietly asked, bringing her helmet's visor almost flush with the paralyzed teenager's ear.
"What?" the frightened student stammered.
A gloved hand clamped over the victim's mouth, and another shock baton discharge followed. The Mandalorian armor's insulators performed well, preventing the charge from harming the executioner.
"Where is Skywalker? The boy who flew in from Naboo," Nomad repeated the question.
"I don't…"
Another, longer discharge.
"No, please…" the teenager whined pitifully.
"Tell me what I need, and the pain will stop."
It took a few more sessions of persuasion, but the boy finally gave in. He lacked both the knowledge and the fortitude to withstand interrogation from an experienced bounty hunter.
Having obtained the target's coordinates, Nomad returned to the service tunnels to minimize risk. Especially since the interrogation took up valuable time, and concealing the traces entirely would be impossible. Those blasted Jedi can sense the pain of those around them. The corridor where she interrogated the Padawan would soon be crowded with guards and worried Masters.
She was fortunate that the Masters and strongest fighters capable of sensing her very presence within the Temple walls were either on missions or preoccupied with the meeting with Vaner. Otherwise, the mercenary would not have reached Anakin's room so easily.
"Who are you?!" the blond boy, who perfectly matched the target's description, cried out in fear when the Mandalorian jumped to the floor directly in front of him.
A wave of the Force washed out from the child, making Nomad stagger and jump back to maintain her balance.
The boy looked at the stranger suspiciously and was clearly contemplating whether to call for help.
"Calm down, Skywalker!" she raised her hands, demonstrating peaceful intent. "I'm a friend. Vaner sent me."
"Vaner?!" Anakin repeated happily, instantly forgetting caution as soon as he heard the name of his friend and mentor. "Where is he?"
"Not far. He asked me to lead you out of here," Tira replied, simultaneously transmitting a signal via her headset that the target had been found.
The boy was about to rejoice but instantly grew wary.
"How do I know you're really a friend?"
Tira offered a kind chuckle at the question. Her employer had anticipated it.
"He asked me to give you this." Nomad pulled a small, curved cylinder, covered in soot and oil smears, from her pouch.
A part the boy couldn't fail to recognize, as he and his friend had installed it themselves the evening before the Boonta Eve Classic race on Tatooine.
"My podracer's connector!" Skywalker exclaimed in surprise. "It's definitely it! You really are from Vaner!"
Remaining with R2 on the landing platform, HK-47 also received the signal that the target had been located.
"R2, let's go," the assassin droid ordered, proceeding to the next part of the plan.
He and the astromech were supposed to fly the Dawn's Eagle to the rendezvous point and pick up the mercenary and Anakin, after which they would help the Master escape.
The freighter, as if by 'magic,' ceased smoking and pretending to be a wreck, swiftly lifted into the air and began smoothly circling the Temple at a low altitude.
Suddenly, R2, who was remotely tracking the mercenary's movements via an open channel to the Temple's video surveillance systems, let out an anxious whistle, attracting the attention of his elder counterpart.
"Irritably: What do you want, bolt bucket?"
A new series of beeps and clicks in binary language.
"Anticipatorily: Oh, is that so? Take the controls."
With these words, HK rose from the pilot's seat and, grabbing the carbine, walked to the hatch on the starboard side. Opening the hatch and activating the magnetic grips on his feet so as not to worry about the strong wind gusts characteristic of Coruscant's atmosphere, the assassin droid raised his weapon and aimed somewhere at the Temple wall. From the outside, it looked as if he was about to shoot the central pyramid's stone cladding, but his intentions were far more elaborate.
Tira Nomad, having run face-to-face with a pair of Jedi in the corridor, cursed everything under the sun, especially the moment she agreed to this insane gamble.
Anakin couldn't move through the overhead crawlspaces, and the route through the service channels would have taken too much time. And time was exactly what Vaner didn't have at all, judging by the commotion in his headset. The attempt to take a shortcut resulted in an unexpected and extremely unwelcome encounter.
The odds against two Force-sensitives at once, especially in a confined space, were already not in her favor, and with the constraint of "no killing," they plummeted toward zero.
"Surrender," one of the Jedi said in a calm tone, aiming a glowing blue blade toward the mercenary.
"Hutt's twice-over," Nomad replied just as calmly, trying to find a way to quickly escape. The burden of the boy made the situation as bad as it could be.
But just as the mercenary was ready to make a desperate dash for the nearest service hatch, something entirely unexpected happened. From the direction of the open observation platform, a charge from a blaster carbine flashed like a crimson arrow, striking the thin cable suspending a heavy light fixture from the ceiling. Forced to scramble away from the falling light source, the Jedi missed the moment the Mandalorian threw a pair of grenades in their direction.
Shielding the boy and waiting for the detonation, Nomad turned back to the disoriented Knights and, for good measure, hit each of them with three bursts from her stunner.
"Mockingly: Do not thank me," the voice she had previously hated, which now sounded like music, rang out in her helmet's speakers.
"We'll settle up, tin can," she replied on the run, scooping up Anakin.
And literally around the next corner, she got the chance to help her employer, who was fighting his way clear of the Council chamber.
When a quarter of an hour later Tira, accompanied by Vaner and Anakin, stepped aboard the Dawn's Eagle, all she could manage to utter before heading to her assigned cabin and passing out right in her armor were the words, "Don't forget your promise."
"I remember," Revan replied to her back. "A favor for a favor."
The mercenary fell asleep with the feeling that she had made the right decision by aligning herself with this strange Jedi. If anyone could help her clan, it was him. The descendants of Clan Ordo would reclaim their former glory.
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