Nine months later.

The Broken Horn touched down outside the home of Hallor Sargantin, a moderately wealthy Twi'lek nobleman who lived in the highlands of Ryloth. The well-kept manor estate seemed rather defenseless to Tempest's eyes, but she did suppose that not everyone liked living behind walls and laser turrets; then again, she thought, if he had lived behind walls and laser turrets, there wouldn't have been reason for him to hire her for the mission she'd just completed.

Before the landing ramp even dropped down, she could see the man and his wife running towards the pad with anxious looks on their faces. As Blinky finished the touchdown and began lowering the ramp, Tempest stood from her seat and turned to address her guests behind her.

"C'mon, girls. Go to mom and dad."

The two Sargantin children, one around 14 or 15, the other only seven or so, stood and began to disembark. The older one paused to thank Tempest, to which she merely nodded.

Mr. and Mrs. Sargantin exclaimed in both relief and joy as their daughters ran down the ramp and into their arms. The mother dropped to her knees and clutched the little one for all she was worth, while the older girl threw her arms around her father's midsection and did the same. Tempest walked slowly down the ramp, silently watching the display. As soon as she was visible to him, Hallor threw up an arm towards her in gratitude.

"Thank you, thank you, master huntress, for rescuing my daughters!" He said, his emotion making his accented Basic harder to understand. "If it weren't for you, I-I don't know what we would have done... and my children would still be..."

"They'd still be on a slave ship." Tempest finished his sentence. "Hate to interrupt a family reunion, but do you have my money?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" said Hallor, before shouting back over his shoulder in his native tongue. A shiny, chrome-plated protocol droid waddled towards them holding an attaché case. It had to stoop somewhat awkwardly for Tempest to take it in her hooves, but she didn't mind the temporary embarrassment; after all, she'd almost certainly never see these people again.

"Everything is there, I assure you, plus perhaps a little extra for your trouble." Hallor said, still holding his daughters close. His red-orange skin seemed to flush with emotion as he searched for more words. "You have... no idea how much this means to us... thank you, again."

Tempest tucked the case under her foreleg and bowed slightly. "I appreciate your patronage." she said.

Without another word, she re-entered her ship and took off.

As she departed, Tempest thought about how smoothly that rescue mission had gone; though the Twi'leks often found themselves abducted into slavery, they were a proud people with a fighting spirit. The slave ship she'd raided contained almost entirely Twi'leks, and once she'd killed a few guards and rescued the sisters, the rest of the chattel were inspired to rebellion and quickly took over the ship. Though Tempest knew she couldn't eliminate every injustice in the galaxy, let alone see to it personally, she was more than happy to occasionally ruin a slaver's day.

Now that it was all said and done, though, Tempest was kind of glad to have the two children off her ship. The rescue itself had been physically tiring, but the younger child asking endless questions and arguing with her sister over why she couldn't push all those buttons on the consoles was even more mentally taxing. Tempest decided that she didn't particularly like children, or at least other people's children, and jokingly wondered why she'd ever been one.

"Blinky, do you have the coordinates for our next hyperspace jump?"

The little grey astromech chittered an affirmative string of noises.

"Go ahead and take over whenever you're ready." Tempest said, rising from her seat and removing her helmet. "I'm going to get some rest." As the pinpoints of starlight streaked around them and turned to bluish light, Tempest trotted back to her quarters for some much-needed shuteye.

The sleek blue craft with pronged wings swooped about over their heads, chattering amongst each other in droidspeak. Tempest wanted to get up and move away from them, but her body hurt too much. Various storm guards grabbed their weapons in case an attack was imminent.

"Uhh..." said Grubber, taking slow steps backwards as he looked up. "This doesn't look good..."

Before the flock of vultures could decide what to do with their newfound quarry, suddenly, a bolt of green energy seared through the sky and blasted one of them to pieces. On the ground, everyone's attention turned to locate the source: coming in from the opposite direction were four boxy-looking ships, atmospheric craft, that seemed to belong to the opposing army. The droid fighters scrambled into an attack formation, engaging the gunships in a brief skirmish above the survivors of the Storm King's zeppelin. The prong-winged craft were quickly dispatched by an assortment of deadly lasers, their wreckage strewn about the crash site, and one of their scorched chassis even falling into the flaming wreckage of the airship nearby.

Afterwards, the boxy craft landed in a circle around the survivors, their side doors opening to disgorge several tall bipeds in white armor. Accompanying them were some in cloth uniforms, pushing what appeared to be hovering gurneys with various lifesaving equipment attached. They spoke in a language Tempest couldn't understand; in fact, no one seemed able to communicate effectively until a white-coated unicorn medic hopped out of one of the craft. His horn glowed brightly for a moment, and then the strange babbling of the bipeds made sense.

"Wha--now? Now. Okay." said one of the medics in a gruff, accented voice. He turned to the group of survivors at large. "We're a medical corps with the Grand Army of the Republic. Who among you is the most injured?"

Various storm guards moved quickly about, indicating the most mangled of their number, including the Storm King himself. The biped who seemed to be the lead medic waved his arms to his fellows, who rushed forward with stretchers, while the armored ones, likely soldiers, guarded the perimeter. Along with the unicorn doctor was a white earth pony mare with a pink mane; her strength and the doctor's telekinesis helped get the bulkier primates up onto the gurneys.

"Grubber, help me up." Tempest muttered in his direction. "Take me over there."

With some effort, Grubber helped Tempest onto his shoulder and assisted her in standing. The two of them carefully hobbled over towards the bipedal medics, all of whom seemed to share the same face and voice. Despite her painkillers, each step was still mildly agonizing, but Tempest grit her teeth and continued with careful steps. By the time she reached the medic who'd addressed them, he was looking over the Storm King's injuries. As Grubber had said, he seemed in very poor shape.

"Get some bacta patches on him to stop the bleeding and see if you can get an IV in. We'll have to do more once we get back to base camp."

"E-Excuse me..." said Tempest through her clenched jaw. The medic turned around, at first expecting someone at eye level, before looking down to find the pony who'd addressed him.

"That's our leader. Is he going to be alright?"

"He's not conscious right now and he's lost a lot of blood, but once we rush him back and get him hooked up to our machines, he'll probably be fine. Are you in need of help?"

Tempest winced as her side flared up. Grubber spoke in her stead.

"She broke some ribs and has a concussion. I think I'm alright though."

Two of the gunships took off, loaded up with the most severe of the injuries. "Our last two are going to be full up soon, but we'll be back." said the medic. "Do you think you can wait until then?"

Tempest glanced around at her injured crewmates. Normally, she wouldn't trust strangers, and would encourage her allies to do the same, but currently, she didn't feel she had much choice. Plus, she was worried about the Storm King--but not in any personal capacity, of course; he had promised to restore her horn, and once he'd recovered, she still intended to hold him to his word.

"I'll go now."

"Alright." He turned to call to another medic over his shoulder; the only way to tell them apart was by rank insignia. "Hey, Rio, do you think you can fit this one on your ship?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage." He jaunted over to Grubber's side and extended his arms, carefully allowing Tempest to rest herself against them as the superior officer informed him of her injuries. Supporting her rear half under one arm and resting her forelegs on the other, the clone carefully lifted the equine up off the ground and carried her over to a waiting gunship. He sat down with her carefully, and Grubber waved goodbye from a distance as the craft pushed away from the ground.

"Excuse the close quarters, miss." said the clone. Before Tempest could reply, another one had come over to assess her situation.

"What's wrong with this one?"

"Broken or otherwise injured ribs, a concussion, and various lesions."

"What about this horn?"

"Oh, no, no..." Tempest spoke up. "That's... been like that..."

Tempest found her dream interrupted by a series of beeps and whistles.

She rolled over in bed to find Blinky sitting nearby, rocking back and forth happily on his wheeled legs. Checking the chrono, it had been a little over two hours.

"We're there already?" Tempest said with an impressed snort. "This hunk o' junk makes pretty good time."

The Mandalorian donned her armor and took to the cockpit once again, this time back in realspace and looking out over the crystal-studded planet of Christophsis. She brought her ship into the atmosphere, transmitting the number on her hunter's license when asked for identification. The Empire may have been oppressively rigorous with its rules and regulations, but being recognized as an official "peacekeeper" allowed her access to most Imperial airspace. That said, they didn't pay for fuel, repairs, weapons, or food--that's what hunting bounties was for, and after this next job, she was confident she'd have the credits she needed to upgrade the Broken Horn with a couple of concussion missile banks, and as long as she continued to stay on the Empire's good side, they might not care that they'd been installed by an illegal outfitter.

She cruised through the clouds until the ship's sensors pinged with an alert that she was near her destination, a small tavern in a seedier settlement away from Imperial overwatch. The old man who gave her the assignment assured her that it would be a simple job and perfectly safe, despite the fact that Tatooine was a nigh-lawless planet firmly within Hutt Space. Tempest knew by now that no job was "perfectly safe," but danger wouldn't stop her from earning a living in this galaxy. She'd grown plenty accustomed to dealing with the armed and dangerous during her career as a huntress.

After spending a day planetside to familiarize herself with the blistering twin suns, copious amounts of sand, the frequently dangerous wildlife, and the occasionally dangerous populace, Tempest set out into the vast, rolling dunes in search of her quarry. A certain Ithorian had missed his bond payments big-time after getting out of jail, and he'd foolishly decided it was best to kill the last bondsman that had been sent after him. But now, it was Tempest's turn, and she didn't intend to die on the scorched sands of Tatooine.

She'd heard tell from the local bar crawlers of a little smuggler's den in the wastes just south of Anchorhead where a lot of folks went to lay low from the law; she'd been watching the place from about 200 meters for several hours now, taking shelter beneath a small rocky outcrop. She kept her macrobinoculars trained on the doors and windows, looking for any sign of life inside. From the speeders parked outside, it was evident that someone was there, and she occasionally saw a droid puttering around a garage area performing maintenance, but aside from potential shadows inside the main building, Tempest hadn't seen any sign of her mark yet...

...Until something small and furry was angrily flung out of the door, followed by the angry Ithorian that had thrown it.

The sudden commotion almost made Tempest jump a little. She continued her quiet observation as the small furry creature, wearing some kind of cloak, scurried away from the grasping hands of its assailant and tried to hide among the various outbuildings as the hulking alien pursued it. A couple of sabacc cards were left fluttering on the wind, leaving Tempest with no doubt that inside was a gambling bout gone wrong. Taking one last swig from her canteen, she set her blaster to stun and slowly crept across the desert floor towards the scuffle.

Upon drawing closer to the small arrangement of buildings, she could hear several other beings laughing loudly and clinking glasses from within the gambling den--clearly, the Ithorian's companions were content to let him deal with his grudge on his own. Tempest was careful to keep low as she passed by, following the footprints of the two aliens through the coarse sand.

"Wonder what that thing was he was chasing?" She thought to herself. "Probably a Jawa. If so, that's the fattest Jawa I've ever seen."

Eventually, the trail went cold, the two having lost each other somewhere within the old outbuildings and storage sheds that lay behind the garage. Tempest kept her blaster level, trying not to exert too much magical strength from her temperamental horn as she stepped quietly through the yard. The wind occasionally rustled some ratty tarps that covered old machinery, but other than that, all was quiet.

Suddenly, the huntress' ears perked up, swiveling in the direction of a minute sound. Something had moved up ahead; casting her eyes that way, Tempest thought she saw something go behind a large, dingy cloth draped over an old starship engine.

"Gotcha." she thought.

Slowly, the unicorn approached the metal cylinder, laid on its side and pitted with sand and rust. She readied her blaster as well as her nerves for anything that might happen next. With a forehoof, she slowly reached for the "curtain" that separated her from her quarry and pulled it back with one quick move.

Much to her surprise, however, she wasn't greeting by a hulking, sand brown Ithorian. Instead, she found herself looking down towards a small furry being in a cloak... and as the light of the twin suns invaded the chamber of the old engine, a face from her past emerged.

"...Tempest...?"

Tempest's ears couldn't help but cock to the side in confusion.

"...Grubber?"

The same toothy grin from years past crept across his face.

"I recognize that horn! It is you!"

The mohawked honey badger leapt forward and threw his arms around Tempest, catching her off guard. She quickly pushed him away with a foreleg and pointed her blaster skyward for safety's sake. She barely had enough sense about her to speak at all.

"Wha... G... Grubber? What are you even doing here?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story!" He said, fiddling with his claws before launching into a rapid-fire, almost panicked explanation. "I left Equus not very long after you did, spent some time hitchhiking around the galaxy, built a little reputation as a partier, maybe sort of a gambler--of course, you need money for that, and I wound up here and met this big guy named Jabba who let me organize some events for him, but now I kinda owe him money, and I was trying to win some from that big guy with the weird head, and I probably shouldn't be talking so loud since I think he's still looking for me."

There was an awkward silence as the two long-lost former allies eyed each other.

"So what have you been doing?"

If Tempest's eyes could have been seen, the roll they produced could have knocked the planet out of orbit.

"You might say I'm here looking for the big guy with the weird--"

Suddenly, the enraged Ithorian leapt out from behind the ship engine, growling and making a lunge for Grubber with his leathery hand. With her horn crackling, Tempest quickly leveled her blaster and squeezed off a stun blast into his chest; he gave a pained shout and collapsed to the sand below. She was glad she hadn't dropped the thing, as she'd been levitating it for so long her head was starting to hurt. She turned back to look at the honey badger, who was staring up at her with wide eyes and pursed lips.

Sighing, Tempest holstered her weapon.

"Help me tie him up and bring him into town, and I'll give you some of my time."

After turning the Ithorian in to collect her bounty, Tempest decided to spare a few credits and buy Grubber something to drink. During their sojourn in a corner booth, she took time to explain her profession, her new life, and why the helmet doesn't come off.

"Wow... so like... you really have quite the job, don't you? Zipping around the galaxy, catching the bad guys..."

"It's not so much about good and bad, Grubber. I'm considered a law enforcer, yes, but I do whatever I need to do to put food on the table. I've done things that most wouldn't consider 'heroic,' but they did pay well."

"Yeah, I guess I get what you're saying." Grubber replied, watching the ice swirl in his glass. "I mean, hey, when we worked for the Storm King, we did some pretty unsavory stuff too."

Tempest felt a sour feeling creep up from her stomach. She leaned in close, glaring at Grubber through her visor.

"Don't say that name in front of me ever again."

Grubber awkwardly drummed his claws on the table. Tempest sat upright against the wall, watching the rest of the cantina out of the side of her vision.

"I was a fool to think that that bumbling cretin could ever follow through on his promises... just like I was a fool to think that my friends were ever loyal to me... but, I've moved on from that pony I was. I've let the past die... and if you hope to make anything of yourself in this big, strange galaxy, I'd recommend you do the same."

Slowly, Tempest maneuvered out of her seat at the table and onto all fours. She glanced back at her old companion once more.

"Goodbye, Grubber. Watch out for yourself."

However, Tempest had barely made it out the door when she heard clawed feet scrabbling to catch up. She ignored his protests as she walked towards the docking bay.

"Wait! Tempest!" Grubber called, his stubby legs finally managing to close some distance. "We were friends, weren't we?"

"We relied on each other for survival. That's different." She replied. "Besides, I told you, I put that life behind me."

"Still, that's got to be worth something!" He said, trailing along. "I mean, you know you can trust me. Heck, I saved your life once!"

Tempest had a brief flashback to that fiery day when war came to Equestria, when Grubber helped her to her hooves to escape the destroyed airship, but quickly shook it out of her head.

"And I thanked you then." she replied. "Now leave me be. Equestria is just a memory for me now, nothing more."

"Come on, Tempest! Nobody can make it through life completely on their own." Grubber continued to plead as he kept pace with her.

"I've done perfectly well for myself so far."

"But you weren't completely alone. You had us! And look at you -- surely someone helped you get to where you are now?"

That remark stopped Tempest in her tracks. The bustling crowds around the two of them faded away as she thought about Sheryl, about Orar the armorer, about everyone back on Mandalore who had helped her join their vaunted ranks. Sheryl, especially, she realized she considered her friend, perhaps the first true one she'd had since childhood.

Reminded of all this, Tempest sighed loudly. Slowly, she looked over at Grubber. "What is it you want?"

"Just let me tag along with you for a bit. I promise I'll be useful! I... kind of, sort of know my way around a ship!"

"You just want to get away from Jabba and the people here who want you dead."

"Even so, I think you'll find that I can be an acceptable, if not exemplary first mate."

Tempest felt her eyebrows arch. "Big words, Grubber, did you pick those up from Jabba?"

"Nope, but I did pick up--" Grubber then proceeded to enunciate a somewhat lengthy Huttese word rather poorly, though in a fairly accurate imitation of Jabba's booming voice. Tempest had become mildly proficient in Huttese in the past nine months or so, and felt the need to correct the clueless badger.

"Grubber, that's the name of a venereal disease."

Now it was Grubber's turn to stop in his tracks, allowing Tempest to get a few steps ahead of him.

"I thought he sounded like he was insulting me when he said it..."

As Tempest walked further away, she called back over her shoulder. "I already have a perfectly serviceable first mate, Grubber. But if you absolutely insist, I can spare enough fuel to get you off this rock, at least. Though, I'm dropping you off where I see fit -- and you'll have to wait until I take care of some business first."

Grubber quickly picked up the pace again. "Yep! Yep, no problem! I can accept that, thank you! Thank you very much, Comman-- I mean, Miss Tempest."

"Miss Tempest?" She scoffed. "And since when did you learn manners, Grubber?"

"Believe it or not, that was also from when I was at Jabba's. Clearly, I didn't learn enough to not make myself some enemies..."

"That's another thing;" Tempest added, "you are not to disembark from my ship until I tell you to do so, and you'll keep your chattering to a minimum, got it? You're not here to reminisce with me, I'm saving your skin."

"Got it, got it, stay on the ship... don't make more enemies..." Mentally, however, Grubber was sure he could somehow wheedle Tempest into a few good conversations along the way. If he really played his cards right (perhaps a poor metaphor given his recent streak of bad luck), maybe he could even convince her to let him stay longer.

Tempest, meanwhile, just silently hoped that she wasn't making a mistake by bringing her past this close to her present again.

Author's Note

This chapter has been a very long time in the making.