Divide

Koska strolled through the warped remnants of the bridge portal. Lady Kryze and Cara were there, just as she had expected. The dropper was stationed at the helm - her boots crossed over the console as she reclined. She looked briefly to see who had entered and offered a shallow yet courteous nod. Lady Kryze was nearly as far from Cara as she could be. The Mandalorian woman sat at one of the monitoring terminals, her elbows on the surface with her chin resting atop laced fingers. She was staring intensely at a wall, so lost in thought as to not even have the curiosity to see who had just walked in.

As her lieutenant, Koska felt some responsibility to be there for her. If Bo-Katan had not yet come up with a plan on her own, then it was best that Koska try to jog some ideas before she drove herself mad. Koska sat beside the other woman. She said nothing, but made it clear with her body language that she was ready to speak with Bo-Katan. Entire minutes rolled by before she seemed to register Koska's presence, but the lieutenant was patient. Bo-Katan just gave her a look, not a harsh one, but one that said If you want to say something, then say it.

"What's the next step?" Koska inquired. She was well aware that if Lady Kryze had one figured out yet, she would have told her by now, but to say so would have been disrespectful.

Bo-Katan did not respond at first. Her eyes swivelled, landing on Cara's back. The ex-Rebel was still enjoying the view of hyperspace, seemingly tuning out anything the Mandalorians might say to one another. They knew better than to believe that. Bo-Katan's eyes returned to Koska and she gave a small jerk of the head toward the door. Wordlessly, Koska followed her as she stood and walked out.

They only walked a short way down the hall before entering a room - a supply closet, by the look of it - and closing the door behind them. The inside was spacious enough for them to speak without feeling cramped.

"You're thinking about challenging him for it then?" Koska took a guess at what the other woman was going to say.

"No," Bo-Katan said decisively. "You already saw how that would go. He would insist on not putting up a fight, and if that's the case, I might as well take it off him now.

"No, we need to go about this a different way. He doesn't have the heart, nor the interest to rule Mandalore. He can't just give me the sabre or else they'll call me a pretender."

"But you've already won it once before," Koska reminded her. "Surely if you were worthy once, you can be worthy again."

"They won't see it that way." Bo-Katan shook her head, she was pacing back and forth now. It was awkward given that the closet was spacious but not that spacious. "They'll say that losing it invalidated that. I need to win it again."

"Then let's send someone after him. Hm?" Koska cocked an eyebrow, asking if Bo-Katan was understanding what she was getting at. "We hire someone - anonymously, of course - to take it off him. We pay them explicitly to just rob him, he doesn't even have to get hurt. Then, once they have it, we swoop in and you take it. Din's claim to it is invalidated when it's stolen by an outsider, and you're the heroine that put the Darksabre back in Mandalorian hands where it belongs."

Bo-Katan paused her pacing. She stared at Koska with a scrutinizing look. It was mostly blank, but what little Koska could make out seemed to be Bo-Katan trying to figure out if she was joking or not.

"That's an obscenely convoluted plan," Lady Kryze shot her down.

Koska could not help but take some offense to this. "I'm sorry, what's your plan for simply and harmlessly winning back your throne?"

"I don't have one yet." Bo-Katan's teeth were very nearly gritted when she spoke. Having this discussion with Koska was so much worse than doing so in her own head. At least in her head there was no live interlocutor that demanded an answer.

Not yet finished, Koska went on. "So that's it then? All this time and effort spent trying to get our home back, and you're going to live the rest of your days scheming about what to do, all because some feckless mercenary with paternal impulses got in the way?"

"What then?" Bo-Katan's voice rose. It was made even louder than she had intended on account of the close walls. "What is this alternative option that is so obvious that I can't even be allowed one day to come up with it for myself?"

"Just take the blasted throne!" Koska shouted. By then the energy in the closet was such that speaking at a conversational tone just would not cut it. "Who cares if you have the sabre? It's just a sword! Mandalorians need someone to lead them and you're off running across the galaxy seeking some damned trophy!" Koska had never raised her voice at her mistress like this before but all the frustration that had built up watching Bo-Katan dance around the obvious choice finally came boiling over.

"And who would follow me? Without the Darksabre they'd call me a pretender!"

"Who are they? You speak of all these traditionalists that are just waiting for the chance to rip the throne out from under you. Where are they?" Koska looked left and right in a mocking search. "Stake your claim and let them be the ones to challenge you. If any of them think themselves more suitable to lead, then let them show it!"

"It would not matter to them," Bo-Katan insisted. "Tradition is everything to our people!"

"WHY!" Koska practically screamed. "Why are people so dead set on preserving archaic practices? What have the old ways brought but trouble?"

Bo-Katan lashed out. With a viselike grip, she took hold of Koska's shoulder and slammed her back against a wall. She did not raise her other hand to hit Koska, but instead she drew uncomfortably close and locked eyes with her subordinate. It was deathly quiet for a moment.

When Bo-Katan spoke, her voice was ominously low and hushed. "What the 'old ways brought' was understanding and order. An understanding of what it meant to be Mand'alor, and an order that kept underlings like yourself from stepping out of line and having to be shoved back."

Koska should have kept silent, but she could not help herself. "Order like the Imperials brought?" she said stoically. She would not have thought it possible, but Bo-Katan's expression darkened even further.

Before anyone could do anything to make the situation worse, the door to the closet slid back and Cara stood beyond. "I'm going to check on the prisoner, so if you want to..." She trailed off at the sight of the Mandalorians standing there, faces centimetres apart, breathing heavy, and one pinning the other to the wall. "Uh-hm... you know what? I think I'll just go ask someone else." With a forced smile, the dropper left; a certain eagerness to get away in her pace.

Koska and Bo-Katan were silent as Cara's footsteps receded. When it was quiet again, they looked back at each other. Bo-Katan released Koska's shoulder and slowly returned her arm to her side. She took a step back.

"Mandalorians weathered thousands of years before you or I came along. Think about why we might have lasted that long." Only calmer on the outside, Bo-Katan strode away, leaving Koska alone in the closet doorway.

She waited until well after her mistress was out of earshot before taking out her frustration with a punch to the wall. The impact left the metal plate dented. "Maybe it wouldn't have been 'weathering' if we had been smarter about it." She stepped out of the closet and proceeded down the corridor. She was not sure where she was going.