Private This Was Not Part of the Plan

[Xian Xiao]

Xian did not answer him immediately.

She remained where she was for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary, the Force still humming faintly around her, not flared or violent, but present in that restrained way that meant she had not yet let go of the moment. Her attention was already on the body before Jerrik finished speaking, eyes tracking the angle of the fall, the way the armor had twisted on impact, and the unmistakable stillness that left no room for doubt about whether the man would rise again.

When she finally moved, it was with deliberate control. She crossed the short distance to Jerrik's side and crouched beside him, careful at first not to touch the body at all, simply taking in the scene as it existed. Blood darkened the durasteel beneath the fallen man. The air felt colder here, heavier. And then there was the symbol.

A Mandalorian.

Her jaw tightened, not in shock or fear, but in quiet calculation.

"That complicates things," Xian said at last, her voice low and even, carrying no accusation and no panic, only the weight of understanding. "Of all the people who could have been placed in our way, this is one of the worst outcomes."

Only then did she reach out, carefully adjusting the fabric at his leg just enough to confirm what they were already looking at without tearing or removing anything. The Mythosaur was clear and unmistakable, its presence echoing far beyond the body it marked.

"The Diarchy and the Mandalorians are already standing on unstable ground," she continued, eyes fixed on the patch as if it might change under scrutiny. "If this is discovered and connected to us, or worse, traced back to who I answer to, it stops being a theft gone wrong. It becomes a political statement, whether anyone intended it to be or not."

She straightened slowly and turned her attention back to Jerrik, studying him with a steadiness that mattered. There was no anger in her expression, nor any judgment, only the acknowledgment of shared responsibility.

"You did what you had to do," Xian said quietly, making sure the words landed. "I am not questioning that choice."

Her gaze drifted back to the body, then beyond it to the corridors and systems that would eventually come looking for answers, her mind already working through possibilities.

"What matters now," she went on, "is what we leave behind."

She raised a hand slightly, indicating the body and the patch together.

"We can leave everything exactly as it is," she said, explaining carefully. "No interference, no tampering. That keeps the scene honest, but it also invites questions about why a Mandalorian was here at all, and who crossed his path."

Her hand shifted subtly.

"Or we remove identifying markers like the patch. That muddies the trail, but it also makes the scene look intentional, as though someone wanted his presence erased rather than explained."

She paused for a moment longer before continuing.

"There is also the option of making this look like an internal failure," Xian added, more quietly now. "An accident, a breakdown in security. But that takes time, and time is something we may not have."

She let out a slow breath, the Force settling with it, grounding her rather than sharpening her.

"Whatever we choose," she said, softer but no less serious, "I will have to answer for it later. That part is unavoidable."

Her eyes met Jerrik's again, steady and open, offering him space rather than direction.

"So," Xian finished calmly, "given what this could become if handled poorly, what do you think we should do with the body and the patch?"

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Jerrik continued to stare upwards at Xian, hoping that she may have an answer for what the hell they have got themselves into. Regardless of the situation they found themselves in, Jerrik knew that this would not end well because the Mandalorians are a clan not to be messed with. Highly trained men and women, covered in nearly impenetrable armor from head to toe. The Mandalorian they had come across was from a clan who did not follow the old ways because the man was missing armor. The only thing that stood out was the insignia of the Mythosaur, which gave away their allegiance right away.

When Xian mentioned the Diarchy and Mandalorians already having conflict, it would mean that the duo would have to come to a solution and fast. They were still carrying something highly sought out after that they stole from a facility that faded in the background of where they were currently located. "Wow, a bloody Mandalorian of all people." He spoke under their breath, reeling in the feeling that something bad would happen to either of them in the near future. This would mean that if they didn’t clean up the scene, the Mandalorians would send out a team to search for whoever killed one of their kind.

Once the explanation was given on what they could possibly do, Jerrik nodded once before looking back down at the lifeless body. "Then we make it look intentional." He spoke with confidence, only to rip the Mythosaur symbol free of the clothing the man wore, then Jerrik looked back to Xian with a slight smile. "The Diarchy are certainly not the only ones the Mandalorians have on their radar. And if they do come after us, I trust that we can take care of ourselves." He added, while slipping the torn clothing into his robe. This situation was something they couldn’t just brush under the rug and step away because the Mandalorians were ruthless, but Jerrik Molten had faith they would slip under the radar.

Jerrik finally stood from the ground and glanced back at the spacecraft, before looking right back to Xian with hopes of them leaving soon. He wanted to put this behind him and move on because they were still not free from being caught, so it would be best if they continued forth and saved the questions for later. "Come, we have to get out of here before anything else is thrown our way. At least we got what we came for, right?" He asked, before turning towards the ship and walking to the back side where the ramp was located.

Xian Xiao​

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[Xian Xiao]

Xian did not answer him right away.

She stayed where she was, eyes on the body, on the way the blood had begun to darken against the durasteel, on the torn edges where the patch had been ripped free. The cold air seemed sharper now, carrying consequences rather than just frost. When she finally looked up at Jerrik, there was no panic in her expression, but there was gravity. The kind that came from understanding how far ripples could travel once they were set in motion.

"A Mandalorian without full armor is still a Mandalorian," she said quietly. "Especially one wearing a Mythosaur." Her gaze flicked briefly to the insignia in his hand, then back to his face. "That symbol does not mean reckless. It means conviction. It means someone believed enough in their cause to walk into danger without every protection they could have had."

She stepped closer to the body, careful not to disturb more than had already been disturbed, and crouched just enough to take in details. Stance. Impact. The angle of the fall. She was already thinking through how this would look to someone trained to read a battlefield the way Mandalorians did.

"You are right about one thing," Xian continued, her voice steady but firm. "If they come looking, it will not be sloppy. It will not be loud. And it will not stop at the first wrong answer."

Her eyes lifted back to Jerrik as he spoke about making it look intentional, about other enemies, about slipping under the radar. She did not outright contradict him, but she did not fully agree either.

"Ripping the patch sends a message," she said slowly. "But it is not one we can control. It could look like misdirection or a trophy. Mandalorians take the second option personally."

She straightened, the weight of the datapack still present at her side, a reminder that they were not done yet, not really.

"If we leave him like this," Xian added, "then the story becomes simple. Someone killed him and wanted him to be known. That draws attention. If we take the patch with us, it ties whoever finds it later into the narrative, whether they deserve it or not."

A pause.

Her jaw tightened just a fraction before she made the decision she had been circling.

"We do not take it," she said finally. "Not with us." Her gaze held his, unyielding but calm. "If we want distance, we give them confusion, not a trail."

She gestured subtly toward the body, toward the facility in the distance, toward the ship waiting behind them. "We make this look like a professional obstruction, not a statement. No trophies. No signatures."

Then, softer, but no less serious, she added, "Because if they decide this was deliberate provocation, it will not matter that the Diarchy was not involved. Someone will bleed for it."

When Jerrik turned toward the ship, ready to leave, Xian followed, but she did not rush. Her eyes lingered one last time on the fallen Mandalorian, on the consequences they were choosing to step away from.

"At least we got what we came for," she echoed quietly, more statement than comfort.

"And now," she said as she moved up the ramp after him, "we live long enough to decide what it costs us."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Just as Jerrik Molten turned to face the ship, Xian’s voice echoed out from behind him. She was worried and had a very good reason to feel such a way, especially with how deadly the Mandalorians tend to be. The young man stopped walking and turned his head slightly to look back at Xian as she spoke. She was right. There was no need to put any suspicion elsewhere, so he glanced down at the Mythosaur symbol, before tossing it near the lifeless body, as if the torn piece of clothing was mere battle damage and nothing more. Jerrik had no interest in stirring more trouble that was already being rattled with.

As Xian stood up and walked past him and made their way up the ramp to the ship, the young man followed behind with feelings of excitement that they made it out alive. "This lifestyle never ends, it just follows us everywhere we go. But that is something I live for." He stated, while continuing up the small ramp. The mission itself was a success, but in order to keep surviving in such a harsh galaxy, both Xian and Jerrik would need to keep food on the table by accepting more missions just as the one they finished moments ago.

Once they were both inside the small spacecraft, Jerrik quickly made their way into the cockpit to fire up the engines. With the flip of a few switches and the press of a single button, the engines roared to life, and the ship slowly began to ascend from the surface of the planet. "Buckle up, this could get a bit wonky." He assured, while guiding the ship into the air high enough so that they could fly off through the dense atmosphere. The ship jerked forward and off they went until the planet was now behind them.

Xian Xiao​

​

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian lingered at the base of the ramp for half a second longer than necessary, her gaze drifting back to the still form on the durasteel and to the discarded patch lying exactly where Jerrik had tossed it. The Mythosaur stared up at nothing now, silent and strangely accusing in a way no living being ever could, as though the symbol itself understood the weight of what had just happened.

She exhaled slowly through her nose, letting the breath steady her, and then turned away.

By the time she stepped onto the ramp, her shoulders had straightened, and her expression had settled into something more controlled, more deliberate. Not cold, not detached, just steadier than she would have been a few years ago, when adrenaline and anger would have still been clawing at her ribs.

Inside the ship, she took her seat without rushing, fastening the harness with the kind of practiced efficiency that came from too many fast exits and too many close calls. The familiar hum of the systems coming online wrapped around her like a thin layer of comfort. Chaos, danger, uncertainty, all of that was unpredictable. But this part, the ship waking beneath her hands, the engines preparing to lift them away, this she understood.

When Jerrik spoke, she glanced toward the cockpit, one brow lifting slightly in a gesture that was half acknowledgment, half weary amusement.

"That is one way to put it," she replied quietly. "Most people collect souvenirs. We collect enemies."

There was no bitterness in her voice, only the dry, earned humor of someone who had long since accepted the shape of her life.

As the engines roared and the ground fell away beneath them, Xian rested her head lightly against the seatback, her eyes half-lidded as she felt the familiar pull in her stomach that came with ascent.

"I do not live for it," she added after a moment, her tone more honest now that the worst of the tension had passed. "But I have learned how to live with it."

Her fingers tightened briefly on the armrest as the ship lurched, then relaxed again once the movement smoothed out.

"And I am glad we did not make it worse," she continued. "Leaving the patch behind. Not trying to be clever about it. That was the right call."

She looked forward now, toward the stars beginning to bleed into view as the atmosphere thinned around them.

"We did what we came to do. We got out. And no one else got dragged into it."

A small pause followed, quieter and more reflective.

"That matters to me," she said, the words simple but sincere.

When he warned her to buckle up, she snorted softly and checked her harness anyway, tugging once at the strap to show she had already secured it.

"Already done," Xian said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "After today, 'wonky' feels pretty manageable."

As the planet shrank behind them and the stars opened ahead, she let herself breathe again, really breathe, and for the first time since the fight, her voice softened in a way she rarely allowed.

"Good flying, Jerrik," she murmured. "And… thank you. For having my back."

She let the silence settle for a moment, warm and unhurried, before adding something even quieter, something that carried the weight of truth rather than impulse.

"We make a good team," Xian said, turning her head just enough to catch his profile in the dim light. "We should do something like this again."

A beat.

"Preferably without another Mandalorian encounter."

The corner of her mouth lifted, small but unmistakably real, and she settled back into her seat as the stars stretched out before them.

Jerrik Molten