The sounds of battle were everywhere in the city of Iziz: the spitting whine of blasterfire; the screams of the dying, the pounding of concussive shockwaves slamming into walls and floors. Smoke drifted through the corridor as a squad of soldiers in white, red and black armor stacked up along the near wall. Deep inside a Mandalorian-held strongpoint, the din was a cadence that gave voice to the grim business of war. “Come on, just around the bend!” the officer yelled in order to be heard over the racket. — — — “Commander Reyolé did everything right, more than we could have asked for.” — — — — — —