A month had passed since Jango Fett left Sundari.
Kurt was out on another routine sweep for scattered bounty hunters when it happened.
In a narrow alley, a Fondan crouched in hiding — the last of his companions, all lost in earlier sweeps, leaving him alone and scrambling for cover.
Death Watch had gone quiet on him too; no new orders in days, just standing instructions to stay hidden and not leave Sundari, as though something bigger was already in motion.
“I can feel your fear, Fondan.
Come out.
Fighting this out just means dying uglier.
So come out, and I’ll make it quick.” Kurt turned a stun grenade over in his hand as he spoke.
A heavy silence stretched for several seconds.
Finally, rustling behind a trash bin, and the tall, lanky Fondan rose stiffly to his feet, his oddly long arms held out, blaster raised high, the barrel trembling faintly.
“You win, Mandalorian.” His voice came hoarse.
“Take me.”
“Good attitude.
I’ll let you live.” Kurt started forward to disarm him.
He’d just reached the middle of the alley, only a few steps from the Fondan, when—
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM—!!!
A chain of deafening explosions tore through the air with no warning at all.
The shockwave swept the narrow alley like an invisible hammer.
Rubble, shrapnel, and superheated air burst outward in the same instant.
Kurt’s body was hurled backward by the sheer force, slamming into the wall, his helmet cracking against metal before he crumpled to the ground, motionless.
“Run—” His last shout before he lost consciousness was swallowed whole by the explosion.
“Commander Kurt!” His escort’s terrified shouts warped under the blast’s aftershock — half of them threw themselves toward where he’d fallen on instinct, the rest raising weapons and firing blind into the smoke ahead.
In the chaos, something sharp and calculating flickered through the Fondan’s eyes.
Bracing against the shockwave’s tail, he wrenched a small spherical device from his belt and hurled it at the ground.
Fwoom—!
Thick white smoke exploded outward, swelling fast, swallowing the entire alley whole.
Under its cover, the Fondan bolted, black and quick, vanishing deeper into the alley’s twisting ruin.
“He’s there!
After him!” the guards shouted, firing blind bolts into the smoke, chasing the blurred shape as it fled.
A few pained grunts confirmed at least two hits landed on the Fondan’s long arms, but it didn’t slow him down.
He staggered on and disappeared entirely into the maze of smoke and rubble.
“Command!
Emergency, this is command!
Sending coordinates, we need medical and support immediately!
Repeat, Commander Kurt is—” The remaining guard fumbled to check on Kurt, screaming into his comm, one side of the helmet pulled away to reveal Kurt’s pale, unconscious face — breathing, but barely.
Only static answered him.
Sharp, useless static.
BOOM—!!!
Almost the same instant, a massive column of fire erupted from the direction of the city center, an earth-shaking explosion rolling out beneath it, thick black smoke unfurling across the dusk sky like a banner announcing death.
It was the joint Mandalorian-New Mandalorian command headquarters.
In the sky, engines shrieked where silence had been.
Several Kom’rk fighters painted in Death Watch colors, and a swarm of jetpack-equipped Death Watch troopers, dropped like a plague of locusts out of the low cloud cover.
A relentless rain of red laser fire poured down onto the poorly defended ground positions below.
The command building shuddered violently under the bombardment, its outer walls cracking apart, flame gushing out through shattered windows.
“It’s a trap!” Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice rang out steady and grim through the chaos of the wrecked command center, his green saber carving reassuring arcs through the dim, flame-lit smoke, deflecting scattered bolts pouring in through the broken windows, shielding Satine behind him.
“They used the bounty hunters as bait, drawing every patrol we had away!
The command center’s a shell right now!”
“Master, the firepower’s too much!
They’re coming from every direction!” Young Obi-Wan held a defensive position up front, saber sweeping aside lethal bolts while directing what was left of the guard — thirty, maybe forty — into whatever fragile line of defense they could manage, blaster fire and shrieking metal drowning out nearly everything else.
“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s voice cut through the noise.
“Get the Duchess out, now!
Head for the spaceport — she has to leave Sundari!
Go!”
“No!
My people are still here!
I won’t run and leave them!” Satine’s eyes burned with refusal, golden hair whipping in the blast winds, both hands locked around her blaster, firing stubbornly at the enemy fighters overhead, futile as it was.
“This isn’t the time to argue!
Go!” Qui-Gon’s tone left no room for debate.
Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate — he knew every second mattered now — turning sharply and seizing Satine’s arm with enough force to nearly lift her off her feet.
“Let go of me, Obi-Wan!
I have to stay!” Satine fought against his grip, eyes blazing with her devotion to her home and her people.
Smoke and firelight turned the command center into something out of hell.
Qui-Gon’s silhouette moved fast through the wreckage, his green saber weaving an unbroken shield, deflecting or absorbing every bolt aimed at the core of the building, sparks bursting with every precise block.
“Obi-Wan, go, now!” Qui-Gon’s voice stayed clear even through the roar of explosions, edged with authority, and beneath it, something quieter — concern he didn’t have time to show.
He pushed hard, a wave of Force surging out, throwing the still-struggling Satine toward his apprentice.
Obi-Wan clenched his jaw.
He knew what every second here cost.
He stopped trying to reason with her, and instead used the opening Qui-Gon had bought them, half-dragging, half-carrying Satine toward a relatively intact emergency corridor.
“Forgive me, Your Grace!
Satine stumbled forward, carried by that overwhelming strength, glancing back over her shoulder — the sky had gone completely dark with Death Watch forces, energy bolts reaping the ground like a scythe.
She saw smoke rising from blocks away, heard the cries of civilians closer still.
In that instant, the fury burning in her eyes gave way to something deeper — grief, threaded through with resolve.
Obi-Wan’s words landed like a hammer against her chest.
Live…
for them.
Her resistance broke, and she let him pull her into the dark corridor.
“Trying to run?” A squad overhead spotted them, weapons swinging around.
Qui-Gon’s eyes went hard.
He didn’t turn.
He simply threw his saber, skewering the lead trooper in a single motion, deflecting the remaining incoming fire in the same breath.
“Master!” Obi-Wan caught one last glimpse from the corridor entrance — Qui-Gon standing alone amid smoke and firelight, unmoving.
“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s voice carried through the smoke, and then he turned to meet the Death Watch ground forces closing in from several directions at once, his saber’s hum rising to something fiercer.
Obi-Wan and Satine ran flat out through the narrow emergency corridor, the sound of fierce fighting and explosions trailing behind them — Qui-Gon and the remaining guards buying them time to escape.
The corridor lights flickered erratically, emergency red throwing their shadows long, then short, then long again.
“Comms are completely down.” Obi-Wan tried his wrist comm several times, met only with harsh static.
“Death Watch is jamming us.
We’re on our own now.” He kept his senses sharp, alert for any ambush ahead.
Satine, breathing hard, gold hair thick with dust, her fine dress torn, had lost the wildness in her eyes — replaced now by something steadier.
“The spaceport.
It’s our only real chance.
If we can get Omen’s forces moving, we still have a shot.”
“Let’s hope so.” Obi-Wan’s face stayed grim.
“But Death Watch won’t have missed the chance to seal the spaceport off.
We need to plan for the worst.” He paused, listening — something like footsteps, fast and close, somewhere deeper in the corridor.
“This way.
Move!”
They’d barely rounded a corner when a violent explosion tore through the passage ahead.
The blast and flying debris threw them both hard to the ground, and through the smoke, several figures in Death Watch armor emerged through the breach, DC-15A blaster rifles raised.
“Target acquired!
Open fire!” a cold voice barked.
Obi-Wan reacted instantly, his saber already lit as he hit the ground, blue light flaring in the dim passage.
He rolled back to his feet in one motion, saber sweeping through the incoming bolts with precision, deflecting them back into the Death Watch line, sparks bursting off armor plating, buying just enough of a lull to hold them off.
“This way!” Satine pointed toward a maintenance duct blown open by the explosion.
Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate, covering her as she scrambled in, following close behind.
The duct was cramped, thick with the smell of engine oil and coolant, forcing them to crawl on their stomachs, Death Watch troopers shouting and cursing as they tried to force their way in after them.