Edge of Hutt Space Silver Fang Vessel "Guiding Light"
Vorax Tezar stared out into the endless night and watched as the last of the of the four transport vessels of the Silver Fang fleet began positioning themselves for a group jump into hyperspace. The Trandoshan hoped that he had made the correct decision in instructing them to seek refuge among the Republic of Mandalore. The galaxy was a very dangerous place these days and although he knew many of the factions currently fighting for control considered him a pirate and an outlaw, he hoped they would at least give the families that had sought refuge among the Silver Fangs the benefit of the doubt. Those four transports contained the last civilians and rescued slaves of the Silver Fang fleet.
They cannot be allowed to come to harm. The Trandoshan thought. The Hutts would simply take them as slaves once again or worse yet, execute them to show the costs of defying the Hutt Cartel. As the Trandoshan stared out the window, he saw the rest of the fleet begin positioning themselves to cover the retreating transport vessels in the event the Hutts found them again. I should have called for us to leave Hutt space sooner. Vorax thought as he saw the battle damage on the remaining vessels. Where he had once had a fleet nearly forty vessels strong, now only seventeen remained and many of them had taken heavy damage in the last engagement.
The trandoshan felt his blood begin to boil at the thought of his lost friends and those he considered close enough to be family. He had lost many in the past week. Many of the Hutts had thrown everything they could spare at the Silver Fangs and one Hutt in particular had made it his mission to wipe the Silver Fangs out to the last man.
Obadah the Hutt.
Figures the old slug would be first in line to try and kill us. In truth, Vorax could understand why the Hutt hated them so much. He had been one of the largest slavers in Hutt space and he had been raided by the Silver Fangs more than a few times. His musings were interrupted when his towering first mate approached him and stood at attention. The Trandoshan looked over at him and smiled a tooth filled grin. "At ease, Torro." He told the towering Wookiee. The former freedom fighter had been one of the first to answer Vorax's call to arms and although the two didn't always see eye to eye, there was no one Vorax trusted more. The wookiee looked out the window before turning back to Vorax. "We've received word from one of our operatives in the Cartel: The Hutts are en route. They will be here in ten minutes give or take." The wookie's voice was flat and mechanical, his original vocal cords had been badly damaged years before which had force the wookiee to replace them with mechanical ones.
Vorax looked out the window. "How large a force?" He asked quietly as to not alarm the rest of the bridge crew.
"More than we can handle. At least twenty vessels."
Vorax looked at the transport vessels as they jumped into hyperspace and turned to look at his first mate. "Open a channel to the fleet. I wish to speak with those who remain." The wookie nodded and moved to the communications console before signaling that the channel was open.
"My fellow freedom fighterssss...The last of our transport vessels have managed to flee into hyperspace. As you know, those transport vesselsss are full of innocentssss, those who simply wished to live their livessss free from slavery and oppression as all beingsss wish. We will make sure they will not once again be crushed under the fist of the cartel. The Huttsss have whittled our fleet to a sliver of our former numberssss and we can assume that they wish to finish what they have started, but I know in my heart they will not succeed. The Silver Fangs have freed thousands of slaves across Hutt Space and now we will do what must be done. We have received intelligence that a large Hutt force is closing in on us."
The Trandoshan sighed.
"The Silver Fangs have never retreated. We have always stood and fought even when the odds are against ussss, but this time is different. This time we are being faced with capture or worse yet: complete annihilation. I am ordering all vesselsss to disperse. The Guiding Light will stay behind and buy time while the rest of you escape into hyperspace. The fight against the Hutts must not die here. The fight against intergalactic slavery will not die here! One day, the slaves of the Hutt Cartel will know freedom!"
Vorax took a deep breath as the rest of the fleet began to maneuver into position for a group hyperspace jump. Moments later, klaxons began to sound across the bridge of the Guiding Light as multiple vessels emerged from hyperspace in front of the Guiding Light. The ships were in an attack formation.
Imperial Security Bureau Dark Space Listening Post 4546-Osk // Imperial Dark Space
The dark of space quietly spun around the matte-black painted Golan-II, flecks of white across the hull to give the visual impression of an uninterrupted star field, and a single Imperator sat docked with the same stealth paint. Only the faint red lights in simple patterns even indicated the warship and station were there, and only for the approach of a Lambda class shuttle slowly drifting towards the open hangar. Dassan Sevo, Sector Chief for Eastern Six, watched the approach patiently as he went over the classified mission 4546-Osk was undertaking. There was an attitude among the lower ranks of the ISB that surveillance was a "lesser" task, busywork or punishment for something or another, but Dassan felt otherwise and impressed upon those under his command the importance of such tasks. It was a watchful and knowing Empire that was able to most effectively react to a hostile galaxy, and he believed fully in the importance of knowing who was doing what at all times. Even if some may be rather displeased with such observations.
That was what brought him to 4546-Osk, as well as checking in on the refitments for Galatea under the new stealth programs. With a subtle thud and hiss of landing gears, he was moving down the loading ramp with the white cape billowing behind him. All before him a series of officers stood flanking the ramp dressed the same as him, in the white uniform of the Imperial Security Bureau and awaiting orders. He simply gave a nod to the officers and they dispersed to return to their tasks at hand, leaving only one to escort him to the command center. "Sector Chief Sevo." The man said, his uniform denoting him as an Officer Darucal Piege. "We have Commander Iless Omsat in the command center with the report on her vessel's refitment status, and I've instructed our sensor technicians to collate their reports for more efficient review." Excellence in efficiency, Officer Piege had taken to heart his ethos on making sure that even the smallest task was done as if the Empire itself depended upon its success. Which, in his mind it did. The smallest most benign tasks, if left unattended could see the unraveling of order and peace within the Empire, and the galaxy to follow. He accepted the first binder and began to work his way through the first few pages, mostly just a review of the station's region of surveillance. "The Mandalorians have been busy it seems." He noted the shifting of the Banners to take over most security roles within GRM space, Keldau the majority with their rather impressive fleets, but a few smaller clans over more than just their holdings.
"This data on the Mandalorian patrol fleets accurate?" Piege took hold of the binder when offered, going over the information quickly and noting the stamps. "As of a day ago, sir." A full day had passed since those readings, which could in any other circumstance put a war fleet on the other side of the galaxy. He expressed his dissatisfaction with the rather distinct lapse, but did not fault the technicians or officer Piege for providing him the information. "Have the sensor tech observing sector forty-three recalibrate the hyperspace sensors and give me a new reading." An affirmative had the officer moving ahead to relay the orders, and within a few moments both were in the command center where a bustle of activity greeted him. "Sector Chief on station." The command came out and everyone took a moment to offer a brief salute to him, then knowing how he did business, immediately returned to their duties. Dassan was not the kind of man to have his people stand needlessly on ceremony, especially when there was work to be done.
Which on that point, he was presented with a Mossak Sek, the technician watching over much of Mandalorian space and with the most experience in their movements. "Report Officer Sek." The man took a moment to ensure all of the information they had was up on the holotable between them, motioning towards a series of fleets. "Here are Banners Koteyc Yaim'ol, Keldau. Akaa'nar, Rengh. Aden'laka, Nera. And finally Cetar'narir, Syrhangh." Keldau was the largest, almost rivaling independent nations with the size of their fleet and the quality of their marine forces. Most notable was the presence of their Assertor and twin Bellators in the orbit of Mandalore and multiple capitals separating the CIS representatives from the rest of the visiting fleets. There were a few other large formations around each of the major worlds in Mandalorian space, but he was most curious about their actual military forces.
"This is my concern, Sector Chief." Mossak drew up their readings of the Mandalorian Navy and their movements over the last twelve hours. For a moment he studied the information, as usual giving no indication on his thoughts, but finally he connected the points. "They have a dozen fleets that haven't moved." The technician nodded, drawing up a series of recorded fleet movements that 4546-Osk had observed before. "As you see here, this is the usual rotation we've observed. Fleets eight through seventeen tend to rotate through the outer cordon, while the first through seven the interior. In previous Founding celebrations the Banners did assist in security, but the majority of the Mandalorian Navy still patrolled the borders. From what we've observed, there has been no movement since early this morning when most of them came to simultaneous mooring."
Dassan considered the possibilities before him, neither too appealing. There was the idea that the Mandalorians had in actuality brought their fleets to a halt, to indulge in the Founding's celebrations. This led him to believe in the readiness of their military to be significantly more lax than assumed, and thus doubting the idea of their Republic being capable of enforcing their protections across the galaxy. And if the Empire was observing their movements, then it also meant others such as Corellia were doing the same and would make the same assumptions. But Dassan disliked assumptions and preferred fact and logic, something he impressed upon those under his command. "Is there a possibility that our instruments are either being jammed in some way, or that the Mandalorians have found a way to misdirect them?" It was a curious question that had Mossak turning from him for a moment to consult a few panels opposite and going over some data. "I can have the engineering department boost power to the sensors for a moment to get real time hyperspace readings, but we would briefly be illuminated for anyone watching."
A curious conundrum. More reliable and actionable information, but the recon station would be vulnerable to observation itself, a dangerous possibility for what was supposed to be a covert station. In the end, he gave the nod and within a moment there was a surge in power and the active display in the center of the command center flickered and adjusted. And there he saw the truth of the matter as each of the Mandalorian fleets disappeared from where they had been stationary until the only fleets active and observed were the Banner fleets. Something was happening, the Mandalorian military was on the move and in force not seen since their founding. He was quick to order the disconnect, and the techs around the room swiftly enacted countermeasures to keep the station from being discovered after executing the equivalent of shooting a flare off in a dark room.
"Officer Piege" His command was sharp and quick, the officer standing at attention with Iless Omsat behind him and offering a curt nod. "Send a short burst to the Ascendancy class warship Endurance, they are being reassigned. They are to immediately suspend all operations and proceed at flank speed to this station. Commander Omsat, put the Galatea on war footing and I need a private console to send a short burst to Ord Mantell and to the Empress on Mandalore." His sense of urgency was palpable, not once did he raise his voice but the importance of his commands were clear. Immediately the station went on alert and personnel hustled to get their tasks done. Dassan stared at the table before him, feeling a grim sense of foreboding settling over him…
Cin Vhetinla'braar // The Hall of Kings // Mandalore - Afternoon
The question lingered in her mind, wondering about how to answer it as well as how it was quite the easy deflection from the conversation prior. Of course the Empress would not want too much prying into the New Imperial program, as someone like her tended to make a living off discerning secrets and leveraging them against allies and enemies alike. Despite their friendly disposition at the moment, anything could shift that within the coming hours, days or years. So she took the opportunity and inclined her head ever so slightly in respect and considered the question. "Being Mandalorian is a complicated matter, Elara." She began, a chuckle up ahead from their Deathwatch escort. "Those formerly known as the New Mandalorians had some quite controversial opinions on that, and were very much opposed to more traditional elements. Yet opposite them are those like Cedthos, a man belonging to the Children of the Watch, and other more isolationist sects." Now the man turned to regard them, giving a slight bow of respect to the Empress as he took the opportunity to explain that one.
"My clan is one of very few who adhere to some of the more religious aspects of our Taung traditions, the Resol'nare is absolute in our minds above even the strict adherence to never removing our helmets except in the presence of family, and the respect of the Fallen Kings." That drew a curious look from the Empress between Solace and Cedthos, wondering for a moment on that and realizing that the Mandalorians were a lot less unified than first thought. "Ultimately," The Arkanian continued, gesturing to a mural of Mand'alor the Uniter. "There is only the Resol'nare that determines who is Mandalorian and who is not. Firstly is that we speak Mando'a and swear to teach our children to be Mandalorian. As it is the spoken and written language in our Republic, this is something that all of our people adhere to without effort. Those who join into our clans can have trouble with it though, but it becomes easier with each passing year as Mando'a becomes second to Basic in many systems."
"Then there is the wearing of the armor, but that one becomes quite open to interpretation with the inclusion of not only the New Mandalorians but also the Jedi." The Empress paused a moment as they lingered before an icon of Mand'alor the Vindicated, one of the former Mand'alors notable for representing that even the Mand'alor was to be held accountable. He had killed the prior holder of the title for failing to uphold his word, and then took over command to rally his people. She scowled as she read further, but kept her opinions to herself as her Arkanian guide continued. "The armor is a choice, but we all keep beskar on us. For me, that is a medallion I keep along with my family's traditional one." She tugged on the delicate threads running down her neckline, pulling up a pair of medallions one silver and made of songsteel, the other a bronzey steel depicting the mythosaur skull with the traditional Jedi stars and wings behind it. "Beskar, more than the armor itself, represents what it is to be Mandalorian above all else. Like our people it will take countless strikes, endure the most intense heat and still remain intact. It is the indomitable spirit of the Mandalorian people made manifest." Once more they started walking through the halls as Vaem San received a communication and had to lag behind. "And as I understand it, another of your tenets is defending oneself and your family? Which the Iron Truce complicates a fair bit I imagine, especially considering the number of incursions the CIS has made on clan holdings, and the attacks on Banners as they return to Mandalorian space. I would imagine any one of these would have merited some kind of reprisal, but from what I understand the most the Paladin has given to the CIS is a very stern warning, which you'll forgive me if I say that feels a bit trite when compared to Mandalorian lives lost in these attacks."
Silence followed the bold remarks, only broken up by their footsteps through the hall on approach to the doors just ahead. Solace considered them carefully, thinking through the incidents in particular and what she was and was not permitted to speak on, and finally coming to a decision as they reached the entrance to the great hall. The doors opened to give way to a large communal space already set with numerous long tables and staff bustling about to work through who was seated where and why. With so many affluent and influential people attending this particular feast, it was important not to slight anyone, but to also ensure those of importance were appropriately seated. There up on a slightly raised platform was another table where she knew the Empress would be and Jaessih as well when the time came, but that was still a few hours away and for now… "If you'll excuse me your grace, this is where we must part ways for now. There is still much to do and Secretary Jaessih has requested my presence to make a few finalizations. However, to answer your question… Understand that every enemy of Mandalore has fallen one way or another, and that we do not forgive, nor do we forget."
A slight bow, and she departed with her Deathwatch escort, disappearing into the bustle of attendants getting the space ready for the evening's festivities. Elara scowled as she turned, reading over the messages that Vaem san Skaer had received on her behalf. "Your grace, I feel as though we have stumbled into the Krayt's den…" The Empress nodded slowly, considering that something was happening behind the scenes, and there was a rather uncomfortable lack of information as to what. "And the beast is stirring."
Aboard the 'Endurance' // Deep Space // Imperial Territory
The pilots sat in the briefing room. There was quiet chatter from the command pits where officers exchanged data chits and idle conversation as they reviewed the latest information provided by the fighters running exercises, drills and patrols in the space around the ship. A holoprojector in the middle of the room was showing the battle as it had unfolded between the two training squadrons. Rae was only half watching, in the downtime after she had seen to her ship she had done nothing but pour over the attack. Two kills, twelve deaths. It was unheard of by an Imperial Squadron.
Colonel Tynrons voice sounded disappointed more than anything. As if he had been hoping for a different outcome. "Now we all know what went wrong in this fight." He nodded at the Major who hit a couple of keys on the holoprojector as it displayed a hologram of what was called the TIE Defender. "Lets see that this doesn't happen again.
A file was then transmitted to all their datapads.
Rae poured over the information as the Colonel spoke, while the Interceptor and standard TIE had basic shields the lack of space and power generation meant it lapsed the stronger shields of the GRM or Alaskan fighters. The hyperdrive was also only a class five and only really capable of aiding in retreat if the command ship was destroyed, or short hops in combat. Meanwhile, the Defender had strong shields and a Class 2.0 hyperdrive.
"This is the TIE Defender, it is better than anything else we have faced before and the pilots aren't like anything else we've seen before. It's slower than an Interceptor but it makes up for it in strength. Heavy cannons, shields, more concussion missiles."
A hologram of the Interceptor appeared beside the defender. "We need to lead into the advantage the Interceptor gives us. You're all more seasoned pilots than those in the Defender wing-"
Well obviously, considering the fact they're literally teeneagers. Thought Rae. Interceptors flashed round the hologram.
"-we need to play into that. I expect you to all take the time until our next drill to analyse their flight patterns."
The ships moved in the hologram, and Rae watched as it panned outwards from the Endeavour.
"This time around we're going to be the aggressors. Your squadron will be supplemented by a wing of bombers. He turned to Major Thrace. "The Major will fill you in with the plan." As the Colonel stepped back the Major stepped forward.
"Everybody listen up." The pilots stood a little straighter. "We're going to operate in two groups-" The Hologram shifted, following everything he said. ""One and Two will swoop in fast to engage the Defenders, with any hope this will split their number in two. Six on Three is a lot more manageable." He grimaced as if he didn't believe what he was saying.
Rae wasn't sure if she believed him either. "We're going to target one Defender at a time-
Attacking the Endeavour // Deep Space // Imperial Territory
Raes fighter wing hung behind the bombers. Hugging as closely behind the fighters as they possibly could in an effort to mask their sensor shadow. The biggest issue is while this made them blind to the enemy, they were also blind. She sent a double click on the comms through to her wing, who gave her two chirps in confirmation. They didn't dare risk full comms due to the risk of being detected.
The four bombers swung through space lazily in pre-determined manoeuvres that had been agreed upon beforehand. Her finger hovered over the trigger, while the adrenaline coursed through her veins. It took all her restraint not to hit the throttle. Laser bolts raced over her head, several of them bouncing off the bombers shields. Come on. Come on.
The communication came through from Lieutenant Ert, number eight. "Now Ten!
Pulling the stuck up and around her and her TIEs spun up and around. As soon as they were clear of the bombers her sensors screamed to life. Flights one and two had already engaged three defenders, she couldn't focus on them at the moment. Green laser bolts lanced out towards the Defender wing, clipping one as it spun off wildly. The other two broke off.
"Eight, I'm left."
"Copy, I'm right."
"Eleven hard, twelve soft. I'll keep peppering."
"Copy."
"Copy."
Rae watched as Eleven pulled up and did a hard burn in a loop to lead him ahead of the Defender, meanwhile, Twelve was going so that if the Defender turned hard he would have it covered. Peppering its shields, she saw as the bolts sparked out harmlessly against the back shields. She watched as Eleven came back down around, as soon as he was above the Defender he switched to target lock.
"One out." Rae smirked as she continued to keep her finger down on the trigger finger. Peppering it, it ducked and weaved as the missile streamed in from above before shooting past harmlessly.
It turned, and was instantly facing twelves laser fire. Rae had to suppress a whoop as it was disabled. Their plan worked, in singling out individual targets they could overwhelm them- then the moment of celebration was ruined when a missile 'collided' with eleven knocking it out. "Sithspit." She banked hard to the right, twisting in a roll. The entire ship shook as the Defender rocked past in a near miss. Twisting and banking hard she watched as Eleven was knocked out. Giving her a keen sense of Deja-Vu.
It was almost as if with the more pilots the Defenders lost the more bold and effective the remaining vessels became. "So that's how its going to be is it."
Pushing her engines to full she twisted rocking against her crash harness. Targetting computer beeping as it honed in to lock in on the target vessel. It narrowed in, the tone quickened before it became constant indicating a lock. Switching to missiles, she swung in behind the defender. Finger on the trigger ready to fire.
Rae winced as the comm silence broke. "All units, all units. Stand down and prepare for hyperspace jump. 3-5 form up on the Endurance in escort formation, all other units are to dock immediately and secure for hyperspace launch." Rae swore and threw her helmet off in frustration, as it bounced harmlessly off the cockpit wall. Right when she had the shot.
That said, as the frustration rubbed off and the adrenaline lapsed as she swung back in towards the Endurance goosebumps formed. They were supposed to be in training, as part of a top secret mission and they were being called away at the last minute?
He simply nodded as Talnel was a bit vague about his exact reasons for being on Mandalore; everyone was entitled to their secrets and it wasn’t Elam’s place to pry…at least when he wasn’t ‘on the clock’ as it were.
”I’ve been living here on Mandalore for about a decade now, and this place always finds a way to keep you on your toes; even more so on Founding Day.” Taking a mouthful of ne'tra gal, he then poured the last bit of mando papuur'gal from his one cup and into the other before taking a drink. By this point he was starting to get TOX warnings as his various cybernetics noticed the increasing alcohol. A mental command shut down his filters temporarily so he could actually get drunk, though he was careful to make sure they’d automatically reactivate in at least twelve hours.
”Honestly forgot it was Founding Day though; I’m an ‘independent contractor’ and just wrapped up a long term job that turned to sithspit at the last moment so I decided I deserved a few days off…” Shifting in his seat, he laughed a bit and shook his head. ”Though after those Argies, I’m thinking I should take the whole month.”
Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector Interacting with @Webboysurf
"Of course, I am trying to avoid my obligations to entertain a few of my aristocratic colleagues... so I would not mind accompanying you for a while longer, your highness."
Koren nodded along to everything that Ro said, taking the time to mull it over. "I will take all this under consideration. It is-" Koren took a moment to weigh his words. "-a difficult and complicated situation to be in."
Ro joked about trying to avoid responsibilities and Koren just smiled. "Avoiding important diplomatic and societal duties?" He placed a hand on Ros shoulder. "Just consider me an expert."
Koren used his shoulder touch to guide Ro into a walk down the corridor. "How about a viewing of a Hapan cruiser? We can say you're doing important diplomatic work. It will only cost you one favour."
Koren turned to face Ro with a hint of challenge and cheek in his eyes.
Lorn finished shaking Cel’s hand and withdrew his arm back into his overcoat. He had barely acknowledged the young woman scream out at the blaster shot, as he was too absorbed with his own amazement at the stupidity of his underlings at the time. It is not a sin to be a civilian, so he would not blame his rescuer for being a foreigner to such violence. “Thankfully I don’t need to see quite that much of Keldabe, I only need to find my way to the next round of diplomatic talks that are supposed to be held later tonight.”
<What happened here?>
Lorn turned to face the robotic voice and had to stop for a moment and think about what he saw. Two Tuskens were standing on Mandalore, talking to him in basic. Lorn had never heard of a Tusken leaving Tatooine, much less travelling across the galaxy to attend a festival. Lorn was honestly so surprised he was left speechless for a moment.
Cel would stare for a moment at the Tuskens after they approached, she seemed almost flabbergasted at the sight of the two. “I….Uh… You are Tusken… and… don’t you usually live on Tatooine.” She seemed completely taken aback that she seemed to almost forget what Lorn had asked. How did they get here… why are they here? Oh man… they probably smell, I haven’t tried to see if they have.
Rask wasn’t as taken aback by the Tuskens as his compatriots, having met their kind before years ago, and spotted them in the crowd earlier. Then one produced a translator droid and he was just as confused. Rask studied the Sand People with new eyes. He looked into the narrow pinholes, windows into what might be a Tusken's soul. He found nothing. A fetid miasma hung over the pair of robed silhouettes, either them or something they carried with them. Perhaps both, Rask considered.
They were curious, though, and Rask indulged them. If only so they wouldn't bring their war clubs down on his head.
"Just some drunk children, playin at soldiering. Nothin you need to concern yourself with. No, I'm sure they'll shape up now that he's here." Rask tilted his chin towards Lorn. People hadn't scattered at the gunfire. If Mandalorians ran every time a blaster was discharged, there'd be no one left on the planet. But the crowd thinned, perhaps sensing there were better places to be in case the Deathwatch made an appearance. Rask thought they had the right idea.
”Why don’t we get a move on? Given the choice, I’d rather not have to explain this mess. Maybe we can take your new friend there to his party,” Rask said sidelong to Cel. A meeting of diplomats was just the right place to begin his hunt for Zi’Aii, and he wasn’t eager to tell the Deathwatch why he’d scrapped a droid in broad daylight and kickstarted a cantina brawl. Lawman or not.
Cel’s eyes were moving over the Tuskens and their devices and examining if they are actually a threat or not. She nodded to herself. About a 15% chance of them being a threat later on… of course you can’t put a probability on savagery…though it does seem that they have advanced technology that make them less savage…Or is it more their culture that could be considered the savagery. That’s interesting, I could probably write a paper on that.
“Hey, can I interview you guys later?” Cel would ask curiously with a slight smile on her face showing curiosity and interest in the Tuskens before she registered what they asked and what was finally going on.
Her voice would go back to its cheery sound as she looked at Lorn. “Oh I can lead you there, most likely it’ll be the Mandalore tower, you’ll have to excuse me though I don’t have my ship and I’m not too interested in flying so we can take the back streets and roads.” She looked around at everything that had transpired. “If you told me this morning that I was going to watch a bar fight, meet a vice admiral and then promptly meet a couple of Tuskens… then I would have told you that you are insane. This truly is an interesting day!”
Cel would look up at Rask almost like she was making sure he was close to her, these other two she didn’t trust fully, but he seemed to be honest in all that he has said and done around her. “Come on everyone!” she said as she led the entourage. What a scene it must be to have this ragtag group following behind her.
Urh’otrr’kur listened intently as the translator droid worked furiously to deliver what they had said, to transmit it to the little earpiece he wore. He could feel it slowly get hotter in his hand, too, something that made the Tusken want to groan in annoyance but he knew the translator would try to deliver that, too. So instead Roh'okr and he listened in silence to the foreigners through their little sphere.
Drunk children playing soldier, that was the reason given. Were they on Tatooine, there the children knew their place and knew their elders. There they'd have respect for the rites that would make them into warriors. It seems that these people…one of them, at least, had no such respect. And they called Tuskens savages. He snorted in derision. It seemed the man swallowed by a coat was some sort of leader among them…though not enough to chase after the children who were so disrespectful. Not enough to force them to stay, either. The Tusken chieftain looked the young man up and down with a critical eye. He didn't seem particularly upset by their disrespect…in fact, he seemed surprised.
Of course, then the girl offered up…a talk? After being amazed by the mere existence of them, and vocally too, she wanted a talk? Urh’otrr’kur could tell the word she had used bore no equal in the Tusken tongue, the translator briefly grating in contemplation of how it would deliver such strange news. What did she want to talk about? Why did it have to be later? He could feel the droid heat up more in his hand, through the gloves, as it frantically worked. Roh'okr's eyes drew down to it as well, staring. He turned it off.
<Is it meant to do that?>
<No, I don’t think so.>
<Did he say this one is a leader? Another chieftain?>
<Seems to be that, yes.>
<Where are his people? To deal with these disrespectful young?>
<He doesn't seem to care enough to stop them.>
<And the female? Was that…what was she asking?>
<I am unsure.>
<They make humans strangely here.>
Urh’otrr’kur struggled to not laugh, merely shaking his head again as he waited for the translator droid to cool down for more use. Normally it wasn't like this, but of course these humans had to use strange and different words the translator droid struggled to interpret. Why, why, he was not sure. Of course, then they got moving down and away to a…party? A celebration? Something of that sort. A meeting involving the strange chieftain.
Well, might as well. Maybe Ro Nuul would be there. The pair promptly followed as well, though lagging some little ways behind.
Rask heard the familiar low whine of jetpacks behind them as Deathwatch troopers touched down. He didn’t turn around to see as Cel led them through the increasingly narrow streets of Keldabe. He fell in with the Tuskens, leaving Cel to deal with the Imperial officer.
They walked in silence for a time. As they exited the Refugee District and entered the city proper through an ancient gate, the architecture grew taller around them, the streets even busier. Celebrants roamed from place to place, all under the increasingly watchful eye of the Deathwatch, perched on balconies above them like some metal gargoyle. Not as much mischief here. Rask watched himself limp along in the glass reflection of buildings they passed.
Finally he spoke. He wasn’t sure how much they could even hope to understand; as far as he knew, the Tusken language wasn’t extensively studied. Hard to study it, when everyone who speaks it tries to kill you. Still, he tried.
”You two are a long way from home. Same as me, I guess. What brings ye this far out?”
Did Urh'otrr'kur really want to tell them of Ambria, of their exit from home by those made beings? Did he really want to give too much information about the clan, and maybe leave them open to attack? Urh’otrr’kur gave a long pause before he tersely replied, a simple response that likely left much to be desired as they strode on.
<Patronage. Just meeting our patron, and looking for more patrons.>
Rask raised an eyebrow at this and looked the Tuskens over again, but found nothing he hadn’t seen before. Patrons. Strange word for a Tusken to use. The Tuskens he’d met before wouldn’t have ever sought out a patron, but he supposed they weren’t a monolithic people.
”Patrons, huh? I’d bet you might have some luck with the Mandos. There’s always some new clan or ally with them, and you could do worse for friends,” Rask said. ”I’m bettin there’s a trial you’d undertake, ritual or some such thing, but nothin you Tuskens couldn’t handle.” A little flattery never hurt, in Rask’s experience. He wondered if his words were true; would the Mandalorians accept Tuskens into their ranks?
”How you two enjoyin city life? Me, I don’t like it worth a damn so far.” Rask asked. He couldn’t imagine they were keen on it either, but the Tuskens already surprised him twice and he was ready for any answer.
Roh'okr spoke-up instead, braying out his disappointment in quick enough order. One hand clasped the handle of his gaderffii, gihaal long forgotten and discarded in a trash can. <The dunes are better than this. I miss home. I miss the brothers.>
The chieftain gave a long sigh, shaking his head. He missed it too, but wouldn't have been so eager to state that. It was an easy thing to state, complaints and whines for home. The man's first comments intrigued Urh’otrr’kur though, suggestions that there was some ritual or trial they could take, that they would be able to overcome it. The implications there weren't hard to see, seeing as rituals with the Mandalorians meant they would also be Mandalorians. It made him bristle. His tones, while in the Tusken tongue, were harsh and confrontational in more ways than one, sharp and fast.
<Patrons are not brothers, merely friends. We are Tusken, they are Mandalorian. That is a line neither cross.>
Between the Tusken’s harsh language and the droid’s flattened speech pattern, Rask could hardly tell if he’d given offence, but erred on the side of caution. He held up his slender hands as if in surrender. ”Alright, alright, my mistake. Sure, Mandos’ll be your friends. They’re a friendly lot,” Rask replied, knowing the translator wouldn’t pick up on sarcasm. Tuskens joining Mandos? Drinks gotten to your head, old man? You’re short on ears and long on mouth. Think before you open that slack jaw of yours. Rask fell silent, letting the ambient street din fill the void between them instead. Cel would continue to guide them along the different paths of Mandalore, never seeming to stop and never seeming to have any second thought where she was going. In fact she was almost skipping and humming as she continued to move on. If anyone saw her eyes though they seemed to be darting all over the place. “Upon reflection, it is truly remarkable to witness the convergence of diverse nations and people groups congregating here on Mandalore, united in celebration. The irony lies in the fact that this harmonious assembly is a fleeting moment in time, as these same individuals will soon become diametrically opposed adversaries, engaged in conflict and strife..” She’d say so gleefully and with a hint of a giggle. She smiled at the group before leading them down a dark alleyway.
“Don’t worry this is a shortcut.” She’d say as she led them through the rotten-smelling alley to the other end. At the end of the Alley, you could see the Mandalore tower. It wasn’t in front of them, but it sure was closer than they had been.
“Okay shouldn’t be far, maybe a 20-minute walk from here. So… anyone got any great stories?!” She half-joked.
Lorn stealthily groaned as he was told the walk back would at least be another 20 minutes, shocked he had managed to absent-mindedly wander his way so far from his captors. He would likely be torn a new one after all this time, doubly so if he was late to the diplomatic dinner. As his guide suggested some storytelling, Lorn stayed quiet and let one of the others talk. Basically growing up a child soldier does not lend itself to having fun stories to share on a leisurely walk. The young admiral merely attempted to stay focused on the long walk that was now beginning to wear on him.
As the silence grew, Rask decided to speak up. ”Shore, I’ve got one for ye, if you don’t mind old war stories.” He’d told it a thousand times to a thousand audiences. It hardly felt like something that actually happened to him anymore, as if the truth faded each time with the retelling, but those who heard it still enjoyed it.
I used to ride with an… Unsavory lot of rebels, I don’t care to tell ye. But they fought the Seps, and that was enough for me at the time.
We was out on the Rim, some backwater hellhole with no name. Lookin to knock out this CIS listening post. Whole planet had a kinder gravitational interference field or some such thing, and anything with a repulsorlift wouldn't run. No speederbikes, no nothin. Well, we done what we come to do. Blew that place sky high, real pretty sight. That was the easy part. So us and this squad of clones, we were hoofin it to the rendezvous point. Bout a day of easy walkin.
Course, it didn’t work out like that. See, the Confederacy, they didn’t much care for us smashin their toys. Can’t imagine why. So they came after us, and hard, ridin on those Hellfire droids and snail tanks and every other damn thing in their arsenal without a repulsor lift. We cut up into some hard country, hopin they wouldn’t follow. Of course, they did follow.
The thing about droids is, you ain’t gonna outrun’em. I don’t care how quick ye are. Them bastards are slow, sure, clumsy even, but they don’t sleep. We’d march ahead of’em all day, only to wake up with them nearly on top of us when the sun come up.
We fought’em at a ridge, thinkin we could maybe just scrap the whole lot. Well, we fought and fought till we were about all dried up, only six or seven shots per man left. Stupid. That weren’t enough, and they just kept comin. So we kept runnin. Those of us that was left. Clones didn’t make it. Brave bastards, them.
Pretty soon we found ourselves scalin a damn mountain, full of switchbacks and rockslides. We could see the droids right below us sometimes, and we’d commence to hollerin and cussin and throwin rocks for all the good it done. We came to the top and thought our luck’d finally run out. We’d have to go down the other side now, and then those droids would pick us off like womprats now they had the high ground.
But we weren’t alone up on that mountaintop. I saw this woman, a Twi’lek. And there she set. No ride, nothin. Just her and her legs crossed, smilin as we walked up. Like she'd been expectin us. She’d an old canvas kitbag over the one shoulder. In the bag was a brace of blasters and a good assortment of thermal detonators. She didn’t even have a canteen. It was like... You couldn't tell where she'd come from. Said she heard we was in a spot of trouble and dropped by to help. Don’t rightly know where she heard that from, but we weren’t about to turn her away.
That woman, she told us if we listened to her, we might live to see another sunrise. That sounded fine to us. She collected all our blasters and power cells, save mine. Piled’em up in a big stack at the rim of the mountain, long with her gear too, like some battlefield cairn. Hardly said a word. I looked over the cliff below. I saw no more of the droids, for they were come under the lee of the mountain and were somewhere on the slopes below us. Close.
This woman, she had the rest of the survivors run down the other side of the mountain. Run, she said, run for your lives. Don’t wait. Not me, though. I was to stay with her. We sat up by that meager pile of ordinance all night, listenin as the droids got closer and closer. Come sunrise, we saw’em. Hundreds. I seen what she had planned. It was a stand, what it was. I weren’t too keen on it, but them folks we was buyin time for were like family. So it was alright by me. Our lives for theirs. A fair trade.
She turned to me with this smile, and she says: get to work. I didn’t need no second invitation. I rained hellfire on them down there, blaster in either hand. I was a deadeye back then, and they must’ve thought there was forty men shootin at’em the way I carried on. Didn’t do much good. All the meanwhile she just set there, crosslegged, calm-like. Reloadin blasters and handin’em to me as need be. I weren’t sure why she stayed behind in the first place, seein as I was doin all the shootin.
They was almost ontop of us when this Twi’lek, she pulled me back and started yellin out to the droids. All dead! All dead save me, she called. Have mercy on me. It set them yappin on the slope. They were scramblin up double time and she told me to turn and run. Didn’t see the point in it, but we ran the both of us. We come to the other side of the mountain, only a few meters away, and saw the first of the droids peakin those narrow little heads over the rim. She stopped and her face got kinda calm, like she were thinkin real hard. Weren’t half a moment later, the whole rim of the mountain the droids were climbin up started fallin over, crumblin. Then the thermal detonators and all that ordinance piled up went off. Woulda brought a tear to your eye. Seemed like half the damn mountain collapsed right ontop of them droids, all crushed in one big avalanche, and we had front row seats. When all was said and done, there weren’t a single droid intact at the foot of the mountain among the gravels.
That woman, she saved the whole sorry lot of us. Got the hell out of there and never saw her again. Didn’t even get to say thank ye ma’am. Weren’t until years later I learned who she was. Aayla Secura. Don’t know how she came to us that day, and don’t think I ever will. Heard she ain't been seen since Knightfall. But if I ever find that woman again, first round’s on me.
Cel smiled as she listened to Rask’s story, she began to giggle at the end as she turned and spoke. “Rest assured, I will hold you accountable for your promise. My exceptional memory ensures that I never forget important commitments, so you can trust that I will always remember this.” Cel said, giving Rask a wink before giving this band of misfits a smile and turning back around to lead her rather strange entourage.
Rask laughed. ”I don’t doubt that you will, ma’am.”
By the time his tale ended, the group was swallowed by the shadow of the Mand'alor's Tower in the afternoon sun. The streets surrounding the tower were filled with minor nobles, diplomats, wealthy merchants, and every other person from throughout the galaxy trying to scrape their way to the levers of power. Deathwatch guards patrolled the streets relentlessly, ensuring there would be no trouble in this opulent part of Keldabe. City workers were still setting up the final preparations for the festival to take place that night.
Cel would look up at the large tower and smile as they got closer and closer. She would turn to the group, “Well, here we are! Try not to upset anyone while you’re here! I’ve had so much fun! But this may be it for our merry band of misfits!” she would twirl around and start heading for the front doors as if to show them inside, there was a guard who held up his hand for her to stop but she held up a badge and he immediately dropped his hand as she walked to the front doors and opened them. “Perks of being a bureaucrat.”
Rask let the other two enter as Cel held the door and paused. “I believe this is where we part ways for now, Ms. O’Royal; I got a few things to do before wandering into this krayt’s nest,” he said, idly thumbing H1-VOK’s ruined memory chip in his pocket. ”I’ll catch up, sooner or later.” Rask tipped his wide-brimmed hat as the heavy doors swung shut.
"Okay, I see Elam." So he is a mercenary, he thought, not judging him, but it made him curious as to why and how a merc has a lightsaber and is hated by the Argent. Today is my first day on Mandalore, and it has proved to be an interesting day. Talnel goes to take another sip but decides not to as his hand reaches the cup. This stuff may be good, but he does not want to get drunk, especially after what has happened today. "Founding Day sure is something with all of the people coming for the festivities. I have never been in a place more crowded than Mandalore right now."
Well, that is unfortunate you got screwed right when your job ended." Talnel sounding sympathetic, "I guess you can say I am also an ‘independent contractor’ too, or I just do some odd jobs to get by." He sighed and hesitantly looked at his cup.You can say I am a wanderer, and I have ended up here on Mandalore."
Talnel, after a moment, took a large sip and emptied his cup. He started to feel a little buzzed and decided now that he was done. "I can understand wanting a break, and maybe I should too after today."
Part of Talnel wished to ask him about his lightsaber since he does not seem like a Jedi or from any of the orders he has heard of. He can sense Elam is force-sensitive, so he must have been trained by someone, right? But should he ask Elam this and would he even talk about it to a stranger? Granted, they did fight together against those Argents assassins. So there is some trust there.
"Though I have a question if you are willing to answer. You have a lightsaber, but you are an ‘independent contractor’ and I have not heard of a Jedi like that before. Do you care if I inquire about it? At least how you got the lightsaber."
Battle in progress Edge of Hutt Space Silver Fang Vessel "Guiding Light"
Alarms wailed across the bridge of the Guiding Light as the heavily modified attack vessel unleashed a barrage of turbolaser fire at one of the smaller Hutt vessels which took out it's engineering section. The light from it's engines flickered once before going dark as a moment later it slammed into one of the other Hutt vessels. A massive explosion engulfed both vessels a moment later. "Status report!" The Trandoshan shouted as the pilot of the Guiding Light continued to do it's best to evade the worst of the enemy fire.
"We've lost the Liberator and the Dragon's tooth!" Torro's mechanical voice filled the bridge. "We have destroyed or heavily damaged four of the Hutt vessels." Vorax hissed angrily. The Liberator had held a crew of nearly fifty with the Dragon's Tooth holding twenty. He turned to look at the Weequay pilot. "Keep them from catching us in a cross-fire!" He shouted as the ship shook violently. "Bring us around and open a channel to the fleet! We may have a way out of this!" He turned to look at the human tactical officer. "Coordinate with the Radiance's weapons officer and begin targeting the larger vessels. Target weapons and engines, once they are disabled, move on to the next one.
The Radiance was one of the largest vessels in his fleet and was heavily armed and shielded but had the maneuverability of a block of carbonite.
"Captain! All outgoing communications between ships are being jammed. Incoming transmission on all frequencies to all Silver Fang vessels. I am attempting to block it but I'm not having much luck." Torro snarled.
"I am disappointed, Vorax. I expected much more of a fight from the lizard that stole so many of my slaves." Each of the bridge crew looked up quickly as the familiar and unwelcome voice of Obadah the Hutt filled the bridge. "I am here to see that you and your little mercenary group are removed from my side." Vorax smiled a toothy grin as he looked up. "What's the matter, Obadah? Are you afraid to bring your worm-ridden self into the fray?"
The Hutt slaver's laughter filled the bridge as Vorax looked up sharply as a very unwelcome alarm began to sound. "Kark!" The human tactical officer swore. "Captain, they somehow managed to sneak some sort of assault craft through our lines! We've been boarded!" Obadah's booming voice filled the bridge. "Foolish lizard, I'm already here. Those who surrender will be given a quick death or will be taken back to Nal Hutta in chains. But you...you are different. I'm going to see how many limbs we can remove before you finally die. Rest assured, I will make sure they will not grow back this time."
System displays began to flicker as did control consoles. "They must have brought slicers with them." Vorax growled. "Try and get a distress signal out. Break through the jamming field, whatever it takes!" A few moments passed as before the communications officer reported her progress. "I think I got a distress call out but I'm not positive. I'll keep transmitting it, sir!"
Vorax opened a ship wide communications signal. "All handssss! We've been boarded! Arm yourselves and make them regret setting foot on this ship! Five thousand credits to the one that kills or captures the Hutt!"
Nodding along to Talnel, he chuckled into his cup as the other man asked about his lightsaber and such. ”Na, I don’t mind; I mean I asked you some stuff, only fair you get to do the same.” Transferring his cup to his left hand, he waved his right hand over his hip, his lightsaber snapping from its hanger into his hand.
Shifting slightly, he set it in front of Talnel. ”Have a look…just don’t turn it on, folks tend to get nervous if you start waving those about.” For most who carried them, a lightsaber was a piece of art or a personal expression of themselves; Elam’s however was more akin to a workman’s tool, simple and utilitarian. The hard wearing black paint it’d originally been coated in was worn in places by his hand or where it rubbed and banged against him on his belt.
”But yeah, I’m not a Jedi; that’s one of the reasons why the Argent don’t like me.” He smiled and resumed sipping on his drink. "I think the closest you’d find here to me, would be the Jetii'ramikad and even then…" He shrugged. ”I actually grew up outside the Republic, largely taught by a tutor, and my dad when he had the time. As for your own saber? Honestly, I’d help if I could, but the Orders tend to keep their kybers to themselves; I use a synth one, but I don’t know where around here where you’d get one of those.”
Cel stood there watching everyone walk in and depart from her. She didn't quite mind as she turned to Rask as he spoke. She gave him a smile as he said goodbye and she waved at him. "See ya around, space cowboy" she would say teasingly as she watched him walk away. That was strange, that wasn't just strange that was a little fun. I haven't had that much fun since I was in Chandrilla. She watched Rask walk away as the door slowly closed behind her. She had no interest or need to go into the Mandalore Tower, she had just brought everyone here in hope that they'd bring about a bit of excitement in her life, something to make her feel more alive.
Don't be so shocked Cel, of course they just all left you. You merely were a person for them to get what and where they wanted. Everyone leaves, this isn't new. She began to walk again, this time almost absent mindedly. After walking down the streets of Mandalore, she noticed a window to a messy apartment where two children were throwing clothes at each other while their parent laughed. She seemed to start to space out for a moment as she wasn't focused on the kids but rather the clothes everywhere.
------------------- 20 years ago
"CLEAN IT UP! CLEAN IT UP! YOU FILTHY LITTLE BRAT!"
Cel stood I the middle of her room as her nanny, Esmeralda stood at the door screaming at her. She had just been playing with her dolls and hadn't cleaned her room like she was supposed to... by 10 am exactly. Esmeralda stormed into the room as Cel was grabbed by her hair and shoved against the post of her big luxurious bed. "I promise you if you don't clean it up, I will burn everything you have. Then I'll tell your dad that you did it, and guess what? He will believe me! Filthy, filthy child." She would slam young Cel's head against the post, the already tearing up child now was in a full-out sob as her head was hurting. "Stop your crying, you don't know hardship, you don't know a reason to cry," Esmeralda said as she threw Cel to the ground by her hair. Cel would hit the carpeted ground with a thud as she continued to sob uncontrollably but slowly started picking up her things, her room was by no means a mess. In fact, it just looked like a kid's room, with a few toys here and there. A couple of dirty clothes on the ground and maybe the occasional clean clothes folded and put in the wrong area.
"Good, now you clean you dirty rotten brat and hear me when I say this. I know your type, growing up rich and without worry. You just leave everywhere else a mess for others to deal with. Just know that at the end of the day you deserve this. And you'll deserve it when everyone leaves you and you find yourself all alone. And you'll have nothing other than your absolute filth to blame"
----------------- Current day Mandalore
Cel realized she had been staring into this apartment for some time when the mom walked over to the curtains staring a death glare at Cel and closed the blinds. Be more careful, you are on Mandalore, it wouldn't be insane to think that anyone could be armed and ready to fire and kill you. She sighed as she continued to walk as she slowly went back into her thoughts.
---------------- 10 years ago, Coruscant Cel quickly ran up the flights of stairs as she had just heard the news about what happened. She swung open a door to see her friend, a trandoshan, packing a bag. "Claire, I'm so happy for you!! It's your dream job, right?! A junior diplomat for Corellia! " Cel ran over and gave her a hug and her friend hugged her back. "Cel, I'm so happy and excited, I leave literally tonight!"
"Tonight?! But that's so soon!
"Yes, but Cel, listen, when I become a full-fledged diplomat I will finally get to travel the universe going to all the awesome and unique planets that are out there. Meeting so many people! It's going to be a blast!" Claire hugged Cel back tightly before looking at the ground. "But, I hear the training program is pretty intense. It's three weeks without contact with anyone outside of the class."
"That's okay Claire! Let's go out and paint the town then!"
"Cel, I don't think we can, especially with The Night Stalker still at large"
Cel frowned, she had forgotten about that. She had forgotten that there was someone going around and preying on people late at night, it made her sick to her stomach just hiking about it. "Listen, we will stay in, watch a movie and then how about you take me to the jump station tomorrow morning, and when I get to Corellia I'll let you know!" -------------------- Current day, Mandalore Claire had definitely made it to the jump station but she never did call, or call back. In fact, the one time she finally got a hold of Claire, Claire had told her to leave her alone and let go of the past. "They always leave.
Cel began to think about the last time she saw Claire, and Claire acted like she hardly even knew her. She began to wring her hands a little as she thought about it.
Cel continued to walk now as she found herself going in a circle, not really sure where to go. She seemed to look down at her hands as she looked at how smooth they looked. She thought about how hard it was at times to keep them looking that smooth and keep herself sane. ------------------- 17 Years ago Eschann "Oh you think you are so smart, don't you? Then tell me how do you plan to fix this?" Esmerelda would hold up a broken tiny droid that seemed to be powered down. Cel walked over and looked at it. "Oh... Its operating capacitor is just low if you take a screwdriver and direct energy from its ability to speak to it's operating system, it should be able to work and then you can take it to a repair shop! She smiled as she began to walk away.
"You think your so smart don't you, did you c-"
"Yes Esmerelda, I cleaned my room, washed the dishes, watered the flowers and mopped the floor all before 10. My homework is completely finished and has been notated and turned in, I have waxed the floors and bleached the bathroom as well as re-painted the outside wall. All before 2pm as you requested." She turned back away with a grin, she had finally gotten one over on her.
"You think you are so smart don't you, you brat?" Esmeralda said as she crossed her arms. Cel would turn around feeling a little brave.
"Permit me to assert that I possess an exceptional level of intellectual acuity, surpassing mere intelligence, thereby prompting your apparent misconception, for it seems that the profound disparity in our cognitive capacities eludes your comprehension." Esmeralda looked at her confused as she spoke "What?" she said.
"Oh let me simplify, I said: Smart? No, I think I'm brilliant, you just think I'm smart because you can't grasp the gap in our intellect." Cel turned back around defiant and feeling like she had just taken down a giant.
"YOU BRAT!" Esmeralda yelled as she stood there not sure what to do. She looked around and grabbed the pan of heating water, she was going to boil the water to make some tea. The water had yet to start boiling but was already steaming and obviously hot. She walked briskly and grabbed Cel by the hair and threw her on the ground. "You want to insult me?!"
"I didn't do anything wrong, I did everything you asked before you even expected me to finish it! Cel said looking at the ground before looking up to see the pan in Esmeralda's hand and her eyes widened. Her head screaming at her she was in danger. As she got up to run Esmaralda grabbed her again this time by her throat. Cel brought a fist back before Esmerlada started yelling.
"Remember what happened last time you fought back! Remember how your father believed me and not you?! Remember how you left a mark and I never do!?" Cel stopped and lowered her fist in defeat as she was shoved against a cabinet. Esmaralda set the pan down and grabbed a hanging mug nearby that was hanging from a hook next to the cabinet and dipped it into the pan before pushing the hot water at the lips of Cel. "You want to talk back, you want to rebel! I'll teach you really quickly why you don't talk back to me!" ----------------- Modern Day, Mandalore Cel grabbed at her throat as she made a frustrated face. She was so happy to be out of that position and out of that abuse. She thought about how wonderful the day was that Esmaralda got what was coming to her. She smiled to herself as she continued to walk, her life hasn't been all bad though. She has made quite a few friends between the planets that she's worked and now she's working ON Mandalore. Certainly it was a dream for many bureaucrats. She walked back up to the tower, she had gone in a full circle and sat on a bench nearby. Giving a soft smile to a mother and her daughter as they walked by.
She remembered what her dad said "Everyone deserves a second chance, if you can pull someone out of a bad position you should." She smiled, she missed her dad as she looked up and thought about how he ought to be proud of her if he was still alive. "What a journey, I shouldn't act like I'm alone. After all, I often get tired of being around people too much. They just don't usually get me or understand me... that space cowboy though, he read me pretty well. I should keep an eye on that and be careful. She would think about it for a moment and chuckle to herself.
Well if I do see him again, I hope he's not so hard on himself, after all, he seemed nice, and so did the Tuskens oddly enough... and the imperial, it's odd, I almost feel like I miss them. I wonder if we will ever get to see each other again. She shrugged and pulled out her book, she looked at it and once more began reading. But there was a hope inside of her that someone, anyone, that was interesting would interrupt her.
Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector Interacting with @Sep
"How about a viewing of a Hapan cruiser? We can say you're doing important diplomatic work. It will only cost you one favour. "
"A sparring match."
Some of the color in Ro Nuul's cheeks flushed in an instant, and he turned his gaze away towards Koren's guards. He was taken aback by the suggestion, though unsurprised. Spars and duels were commonplace among many of the Jedi even before the fall of the temple. It was a way of testing one's limits and weaknesses, so that they may become known before a more fatal encounter. And yet here, in this moment, Koren's proposition had fallen upon the worst subject he could have chosen. The Kel Dor looked back to Koren for a moment, and he silently weighed his options. Ultimately, some vows were not worth breaking: no matter the cost. "While a closer inspection of the fabled Hapan technology is an enticing offer, Prince Consort... I fear that specific favor is one I cannot offer personally."
"The last time I ignited my saber was nearly twenty years ago, and when the Jedi Orders fractured and I spent time living among the common folk of Mandalore... I made a personal vow to never activate this saber unless it is in the defense or protection of another life. So it stands, I believe you would find my dueling to be inadequate even if I were to spar with you, Prince Omi-Ren. But perhaps I could make for you a counter-offer."
Ro Nuul reached into the folds of his robe, and removed a small datapad, typing and cycling through the database until he came across the desired file. He opened it, and handed a small file on Solace's professional background with the Enclaves over to Koren. "Miravera Alleron... though I would recommend just referring to her as 'Solace.' If you are looking for true entertainment, my friend... I can put you in touch with our esteemed dueling diplomat. She would also be a most illuminating connection to have if your queen desires an alliance with any of the prominent galactic factions." Ro Nuul gave a slight formal bow. "I hope I have not offended you in my refusal, and that my proposed... alternate would be to your satisfaction."
"I will be careful not to turn it on." Talnel, true to his word as he delicately grabbed and inspected the lightsaber. Noticing how rather simple and not as elegant Elam's as he has heard about lightsabers. However, it seemed to suit Elam regardless and was in good condition. He figured not everyone's lightsaber was what he had heard. A fact that fits with ELam. A force user but not a Jedi and growing up outside of the Republic, just like him. Only the Argent Order is aware of Elam and seeks to kill him for being a non Jedi. While he remains under their radar.
Still, Elam suggests helping Talnel make his own lightsaber. He was conflicted, as while he did wish to have a lightsaber. He also wished to keep his force sensitivity a secret, but since the Argent wished to kill Elam. That means he could trust him and getting a kyber crystal, synthetic or not, will be a challenge. So, the question that formed in his mind was whether he should trust Elam or not.
After Elam finished speaking, Talenl handed back his lightsaber and, after making his mind up. He spoke, "It seems we are alike in some ways. I too grew up outside of the Republic and... I have been thinking of getting a lightsaber. I am just not sure where to get the parts for it, and like you said. Getting a kyber crystal, synthetic or not will not be easy." Talenl chuckled to himself. This better not come back to haunt me. He thought as he looked at Elam's lightsaber.
Still, having a non jedi mercenary as an ally might be good for him since how many of those are there in the galaxy? "But I would like to continue that conversation elsewhere, given what happened today with Argent, if that is all right with you. Otherwise, it has been nice relaxing here with you."
Rorwoorr walked out of the abandoned building, Ishtil's presence still weighing heavily on his mind. The two of them hadn't seen each other for years. He couldn't believe how much the formerly wide-eyed, cheery Padawan had changed. Into a hardened and cynical man, there was still hope there. Underneath. The old Wookiee just hoped that it would last through the days to come, the war wasn't over. Things were moving, you could feel it in the Force if you just stopped and paid attention to it. The push and pull were less, rhythmic, than usual. Chaos chewed at the edges, nagging at his mind like a great shadow.
He allowed his mind to drift back into the present. Rorwoorr threw a toothy smile at a youth, who tucked behind their mother. They weren't sure whether to be excited or scared, when their mother noticed the interaction she turned to see Rorwoorr, then laughed as she tousled the hair of her child. Who in turn beamed at the Wookiee.
As he moved to the Wealthier more kept-together districts the footpath beneath him became more solid and consistent. The clunk-clunk-clunk of his stave on the path alerting those before him to his presence in contrast to his muffled furred footfall. Pausing at the corner of the street he had to look twice as in the distance he noticed what looked like an Imperial Admiral walking with two Tuskens. He knew Mandalore welcomed everyone, but even he was surprised at the presence of Tuskens and their being with a member of the Imperial Admiralty.
Shaking it off he walked with a singular purpose, to the same place that the Force had guided him to several years ago when he had several broken droids in need of refurbishment. He smiled to himself as he noticed the shop was still open. Walking into the organised chaos that Kaura would find herself totally at home in. Nearly stumbling as he noticed a Tusken sat in the corner working on some form of speeder bike. He walked squarely up to the counter, trying to smile and seem as non-threatening as possible. Probing her aura gently with his mind she seemed more settled than she had been before, but no less broken, or suspicious.
Despite the distinct lack of droid present for translation, he decided not to stand there awkwardly. <Greetings, it is good to see you well. I have come for some parts.>
Battle in progress Edge of Hutt Space Silver Fang Vessel "Guiding Light"
Vorax snarled at one of the mercenaries who had boarded the Guiding Light and pulled his blaster pistol out and shot the mercenary at point blank range just as the towering nikto was pulling out a vibro-axe. The mercenary hit the ground with a thud as more of them came running down the corridor. Vorax turned to look at Torro who was currently in the process of slamming one of the mercenaries against a wall with enough force to leave a dent with one hand and crushing one of the other mercenaries windpipe with the other.
"Sir! Radiance is reporting that they have taken heavy damage! A couple more hits and they'll be done for." Vorax snarled again as he responded to the intercom. "Instruct them to withdraw and jump to hyperspace. We'll try to meet up with the-" A massive explosion shook the Guiding Light and Vorax closed his eyes for a brief moment as he silently wished the crew of the Radiance a safe journey to the afterlife.
"How many ships are left?"
The wookiee roared as he finished off the two mercenaries and turned to look at Vorax. "All remaining Silver Fang vessels have managed to escape into Hyperspace. Five of them made it. They managed to disperse so hopefully the Hutts won't be able to track them. Seven Hutt vessels remain. They are taking up position surrounding the Guiding Light." Vorax looked back and could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching. "It seems we are down to our final option. We need to get back to the bridge and see if we can get past them."
The intercom blared for a moment. "Captain! Slicers are trying to override the lock down protocols for the bridge! You and Torro have about two minutes to get to the bridge before we'll have to physically seal the bridge off." Vorax and Torro looked at one another as a group of mercenaries came running down the hall. Let's go, Torro!" Vorax snarled. The Trandoshan had already been wounded during the fight and Torro had taken a blaster shot to the back which at the time had simply pissed him off but now it was starting to slow him down.
The two ran down the hall as Torro unleashed a series of blaster bolts at their pursuers. A number of stun bolts were hitting the sides of the corridors. "They're trying to take us alive." Torro growled as they approached the bridge. Vorax hissed. "They will not succeed." The two managed to get to the bridge and Vorax began inputting coordinates to the helm as Torro and the rest of the bridge crew watched. "Seal the doors!"
Torro approached Vorax and shook his head as he looked at the coordinates. "It's a dangerous plan, captain." Vorax nodded. "You are correct, my friend but I think it's our only option at this point. What are we going to do about the mercenaries still aboard?" Torro shook his head. "I scanned the decks. Those of us on the bridge are the only ones still alive. I recommend venting the decks, once that's done we have enough power for one hyperspace jump."
"Agreed."
A few moments later, the badly damaged Guiding Light shot into Hyperspace.
The one time I get to go to a festival, it is for business and on Mandalore of all places. Kzaye thought as he walked through the crowds of the city. He is wearing his standard CIS General uniform but with a black cloak. An addition suggested by his second in command that will help him keep a low profile. Granted, being escorted by two guards, both apart of the Wraiths and wearing semi-conspicuous clothing with body armor underneath. However, people expect droids like the other CIS officials here and not flesh and blood guards. So he has got that going for him with keeping a low profile. Since Kzaye knows how the CIS is viewed here and something he has to deal with while he is here. Still, at least the festivities will keep people preoccupied.
Still, he can at least try to enjoy himself while he is here. The last cantina he went to only gave him a weak stink eye and accepted his credits. Though reluctantly and well, it is hard to relax when the galaxy hates you for being apart of the CIS. Reasons he can understand why and agree with. Though he can never say that out loud or risk a certain someone may start watching him.
Either way, as Kzaye navigated through the crowds. He spotted a semi-empty spot that had a great overlook of the city. So tired of the crowds, he made his way to the location, and once he was there. He leaned on the barrier as he looked at the sights. His bodyguards stood in position close by, just in case. "I have to admit this city sure is something." He sighed, "If only I could have brought Zera here," he said quietly to himself in a sad tone. But, the CIS leadership asked for the General of the Wraiths to attend without his high-ranking subordinates. So he has to tell her about this when he gets back to the Shadow.
But Zera would want him to enjoy things regardless, and who knows, maybe he can while pretending that the people here do not hate him for being with the CIS. Kzaye could only sigh at the thought as he continued to look at the sights, such as a beautiful city. It's a shame that Grievous would probably want to burn this place to the ground. He thought bitterly at the thought of Grievous. He should not be thinking of him right now. Kzaye does not want to think of him or the other CIS officials right now. Right now, he just wants to relax or at least try to.
Minah Saden almost seemed to emerge from the shadows onto the balcony overlooking the city, a half-full glass of an unknown liquor swirling around in her offhand. Not one to let a chance to flaunt a little go to waste, she'd dressed to the nines for this little excursion of hers, wearing jewelry on her ear as well as her Imperial formal dress, silver and white to contrast the red and black cloak and armor plating shared with her usual Guardian armor. Compared to Kzaye keeping a low profile, Minah was all but shouting what colors she wore today.
While Kzaye was considering her, she paused to look over one of the bodyguards with a puzzling expression, before brushing a bit of dust off the guard's coat where armor was hidden and moving next to the general. "And to think these cities were built from necessity, when their wars made their home planet uninhabitable. Perhaps we do not give the Mandalorians enough credit outside of their skills with the gun..." Her eyes flitted over to the far end of the Cantina, where an inconspicuous twi'lek met her gaze and returned to the datapad she was reading. "So what brings you to this splendid view, then?" she continued, sipping from the glass, "You and your entourage are curiously subtle to be out in such revelry."
Leaning against the balcony, her cloak billows out in such a way that a sharp eye could catch the handle of a lightsaber hanging on the back of her belt. @Theyra
Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector Interacting with @Webboysurf
"I hope I have not offended you in my refusal, and that my proposed... alternate would be to your satisfaction."
Koren laughed and placed a hand on Ro Nuuls shoulder. "Noted, I'll need to visit the Enclaves eventually." He indicated towards his guards. "Really I was just wondering if you'd be willing to spar with my guards, they've only ever sparred with me and each other. I'm curious to see how they'd fare against another sabre wielder, but not to worry." He started to walk along the promenade intending to head back to the diplomat hangers where his shuttle was parked.
He sighed as he noticed the setting sun. He hadn't realised the time pass as him and Ro Nuul had been talking.
"I'm afraid we might have to postpone the tour of the cruiser."
Koren looked out to the city. "There's some form of state-function party going on that I'm expected to attend."
He composed his robes around himself. "Are you attending?
”Elsewhere, eh?” Elam replied, finishing his cup. Taking a moment, he activated his bio-stabilizer and between that and a bit for Force assistance, he purged the alcohol from his system; the pleasant tastes remained, but the mental fuzziness was gone. ”If you want to ‘talk shop’ as it were my office isn’t too far away.”
After a nod of agreement from Talnel, Elam stood taking the partially empty bottle with him. Another hand motion pulled his sabre from the table top, letting him clip it back on his belt. With a nod of thanks to the bartender, he set out into the crowds with Talnel. While he was taking a much more direct route back to the Tuk’ata than what he’d taken to get to the bar, the Founding Day traffic slowed things up considerably. Other than occasionally turning to make sure that they hadn’t been separated, there was basically no chance for the pair to even engage in ‘small talk’ before they finally cleared the throngs.
Now clear of the worst of the crowds, he waved Talnel towards the access door of the landing pad. Once they were both through the doors, he activated the remote access to his ship and dropped the boarding ramp. ”My office.” Leading his new companion, they entered up into the ship's cargo area.
The ship chimed in greeting as the lights came up, illuminating the wroshyr panelled walls and cargo crates of personal supplies. The centre of the cargo area had a small mat laid out on the durasteel decking as a small practice space. Heading towards the bow of the ship they reached to lounge, which like the rest of the ship was panelled in wroshyr wood, though this time on the deck as well. Ducking into the galley to drop off the bottle, Elam then racked his helmet and hung his cloak, inviting Talnel to grab a seat wherever. ”Alright,” He said finally, dropping into a nearby spot. ”Now that we’re away from prying eyes and ears, what’s on your mind?”
"It is a nice view," Kzaye said after a long moment, sounding a bit cautious after catching a glance at her lightsaber. So, an imperial shadow and one that clearly not hiding it. It almost made him jealous. Being able to walk around without worrying about how people view them. Almost, but being subtle is in his nature after being with the Wraiths for so long a time to see how this imperial deals with a CIS official.
"One thing I will say about Mandalorians, is that they are more than fighters than what people think." He half smiled, "just take a look at this city." Kzaye motioned to the commanding sight of the city while subtlely showing off his CIS General uniform to her. "Say what you want about them, but they know how to thrive on wherever world they live on. Even battered Mandalore. He signed after saying that. It felt weird to talk about the Mandalorians like that, but it is true. They do more than just fight people and are stubborn enough to stick to living on a world as battered as Mandalore.
"Well, I just wanted to get away from the busy crowds, and this spot seemed free of them." Kzaye chuckled to himself, "A simple reason, but if you knew me, you might understand." He looked back at his guards and gave a subtle hand signal, and they seemed to relax but stood ready just in case. "But, what about you? You taking time out of the revelry to talk to a stranger and I can tell you are no ordinary person."
Once they had arrived at Elam's ship and stepped into his "office." Talnel walked inside while noting how the ship looked. He sat down on a chair and started to talk. "Nice ship you have here, Elam, and it looks as nice as mine." He said as he tried to get comfortable but, would failed to and would pull down his hood. Revealing his tattooed head.
"Well, we were talking about getting me a lightsaber, and since we were on that topic." I hope I am not making a mistake, he thought nervously. I guess you can say I am... hesitant to talk about this when someone could overhear when dealing with anything related to the force, like lightsabers. He once again tried to laid back in the chair and managed to do so. " Since I feel that Argent may find me somehow since I think they would not like me as they do with you."
Talnel signed, should he be doing this? But Argent does want to kill Elam. That is a proven fact, so maybe he can do this. "So about getting a lightsaber, you say it will not be easy, and I am not sure where to begin. But I would like to try, at some point, to get one." Talnel gave a deep breath."So any ideas, and do you want payment for this? I am unsure what to offer if so since I am not made of credits."
Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector Mentioned:@Bastian
The sun faded in the west like an evil dream, its departure from this world hastened by the jumbled skyline that sliced off the sunlight like a ragged scythe. It was something Rask never quite grew used to in bigger cities. Early sunsets and perpetual twilight. Back home, when the sun went down, that was it. You turned in.
Home.
Rask turned his focus to the task at hand. The Mand'alor's Tower. There was little doubt in his mind that his quarry was inside. The fulcrum of power in this volatile world, an obelisk of dark stone that pierced the cyanic blue sky past pale clouds. No better place for a traitor.
Zi’Aii.
A Republic commando, once his gang’s lifeline so many years ago. She’d come to them during the Irregular’s heyday, when they were at their strongest. Sent by the Republic, she said, to provide assistance and intelligence. Apparently, Jak’s Raiders were getting noticed by Republic High Command. Zi’Aii, young as she was, certainly proved her worth. The Twi’lek had been a deadeye with a blaster, but her real skill was with explosives. With her, they’d probably blown up a system's worth of Sep supplies. The young woman also provided them with Republic intelligence, which, in the early stages of the war, was always accurate and actionable. Later, not so much.
As far as Rask was concerned, she’d only slipped up once. She sided with Jak. Gunned Rask's mutineers down, left him for dead, and went rogue with the rest of the Raiders. For that, she earned herself a hefty bounty in nearly every system. Then, like so many Raiders, she just disappeared.
But Rask had her now. She was working with the Separatists, some sort of diplomat for Ryloth. Last Rask had heard, Ryloth was engulfed in civil war, so she was likely trying to curry favor with Mandalore. Trying to stop them from shipping supplies to the rebels, maybe. It didn’t matter to him. He wondered if she was ever true to the Irregular's cause, or if she was just in it for the money. As he got older, Rask suspected most of them were.
Rask worked his way through the throngs of revelers, studying the Mand'alor's Tower. He needed to know the building’s layout in case things went south. Rask looked for entrances and exits, windows and balconies, of which there were few. He looked for guards, of which there were many. There must have been a landing pad at the upper levels, judging from the whine of starship engines powering up from above the clouds. The front entrance was certainly an option, since he could just walk right through. But access to higher levels, where the important folks were? Not likely. Rask wouldn’t be granted landing privileges if he hopped in his ship, nor could he scale the sheer building even if he had the gear or inclination. They’d just gun him down. No, he’d have to figure something else out.
More than one way to skin a womprat.
Rask ordered caf from a stand and paid the vendor and idly stirred his drink with a small plastic spoon, although there was nothing to stir for he took it black. His sharp eyes remained on the tower, as if to unlock its secrets and will his way inside. Rask knew he’d find a way in. He always did. It might not be elegant, it might not be pretty, but he’d find a way. The celebrations were picking up in energy now as the sun faded, and he was offered drinks and food and company by carousers, but he just smiled and politely declined. Rask knew he would need his wits about him now.
Rask peeled his eyes away from the tower long enough to spot a familiar face in the crowd. A strange one, at that. One he’d not expect to see ever again, and one he wasn’t sure he’d like to. Scarred green skin. More tattoos than he remembered. Gleaming white beskar. The last time their paths crossed was over 20 years ago, and it had not ended pleasantly. The Irregulars hired him and several other mercenaries for what was supposed to be a big blow to the Separatists out on the Rim. It didn’t work out like that.
Still, Rask had no choice. Cel, though helpful, was just a low-ranking bureaucrat, and an outsider on Mandalore at that. The mercenary, though, was a true Mandalorian. Perhaps he’d have enough pull to get Rask where he needed to be. The Mirialan was currently choking down some food, an embarrassing position for such a strong fighter. Rask opened, as he always did, with a joke.
“Sometimes, I think starving would be preferable to Mandalore’s food. Ain’t never developed the taste for it, myself,” Rask said as he approached, armed with an easy smile, unsure of how the mercenary would respond. “Ain't seen you in some time, Tybren. How you been?”
