Warren
Gathering the group and equipment for the assignment, I didn't think I'd encounter such a problem as us simply having nowhere to load the Basilisks. The holds of many ships are simply not adapted for transporting tanks. And even if you stuff it in, no more than one. Taking a large ship didn't make sense, as too few of us were going on the assignment. The machines didn't fit into small ships.
A way out was found quickly. Taking Shade's CIM, we simply attached six Basilisks to the hull and loaded ourselves inside. Six pilots and eighteen drop troopers. I didn't take additional forces; to arrange a branch of chaos—this is enough.
The transition to Nal Hutta itself passed in preparation for the drop. Studying the terrain and enemy forces, distributing targets. Thanks to the data received, we had a full understanding of what we'd have to face. The Besadii had built a whole fortified area around them, and for their dear selves had erected a small fortress. After the Pykes' citadel I'd call it pocket-sized. Such precautionary measures are ordinary business for Hutts; they constantly have someone trying to cut, frame, or kill someone, and it's not uncommon for small scuffles to happen right on their home planet.
The cities on the planet are quite strange. There is the capital, and in it the Hutt Council. And... that's it. Otherwise—each kajidic built itself a personal city, settlement, village. On one hand, storming such a thing—is more expensive than it's worth. Law-abiding citizens, in the general representation, aren't there in principle. All self-respecting individuals have weapons and have long since integrated into society. Those who don't have weapons are usually considered slaves or simply a lower link. Because of this, the number of armed population—is simply off the charts. However, having a crowd with guns doesn't mean that crowd will fight for you.
Upon more detailed examination it could be understood that the fortress represents nothing special. Hutts don't have that Shade-level paranoia to put a heavy anti-aircraft gun on the roof, calculated for cruisers. I wouldn't be surprised if Shade deployed planetary defense over his head altogether, although, given the new funds, I won't be surprised if such barrels actually appear.
Gathered in the lounge, I began to explain the plan to the group members:
"Alright then. With the onset of darkness, fortunately at night on Nal Hutta it's pitch black, a sabotage group enters the territory. Quietly, carefully; if you've made noise, make it as loud as possible attracting all attention to yourselves, but if pressed—retreat. Ayana, you lead the group, another two go with you. All clear?"
"Yes."
"The main task—mark the defense towers, barracks, and equipment hangars for a subsequent airstrike. As soon as you fulfill your task, immediately after the strike the main Basilisk group enters the battle. Nerra, Kaut, you and the drop troops follow me to the main building. Hanharr, on you—taking control of the kajidic bank located on the territory. The rest—set the perimeter. Whoever runs, let them run; the main task—eliminate the kajidic's Hutts and carry out their money. Questions?"
"Can reinforcements reach the opponent?"
"No. Other Hutts won't intercede in the squabbles, and the kajidic itself doesn't keep substantial military forces near it. More questions?"
"Backup plan?"
"Withdraw and drop a heavy space mine on them... a couple."
"Maybe drop a couple of mines first?"
"No. First we'll try carefully. And you can carry a mine yourselves, and more than one at that."
"Besides, it might be a fortress, but there's unlikely to be many mercenaries there," Kaut added. "Trade shops, drug labs, workshops... It's not a military base after all, like the Pykes had."
"Exactly. More questions?"
"No."
"Then prepare. We'll arrive just by evening."
Having handed out instructions, I go over the plan once more—surprises can still happen. From incorrect intelligence data to the kajidic having managed to prepare for our visit.
***
A little later
Three dark silhouettes at low altitude quickly flew to the outer perimeter of the town. Wide-spreading plantations of special spices grew on the approaches to the settlement, lit by the light of lanterns. Between the rows, waist-deep in water, walked workers, at whom the guards watched from the town walls.
Settled in the undergrowth, the three saboteurs surveyed the approach paths. Like a minefield, the plantation surrounded the city and was well lit. Working slaves and overseers didn't give a chance to pass unnoticed.
Having waited a bit, the Mandalorians finally calculated a window. Passing on foot through such a "window" is unrealistic, but they didn't need to. Soaring, the three silhouettes at full speed raced over the lanterns. A pair of sentries passing along the wall at that moment managed to notice the threat, but didn't manage to raise the alarm. It's difficult to shout with a knife in the throat; at most one can gurgle quietly. Having taken the bodies, the saboteurs landed already inside the city.
Hiding the dead bodies among containers that smelled of something, the trio dispersed in different directions, looking around and checking for noise. A jetpack doesn't work silently and could attract attention. However, it doesn't noise so loudly as to drown out the workers' many voices and the swamp's gurgling.
Ensuring everything was quiet, the Mandalorians again jumped up with the help of jetpacks and, landing on the roof of one of the houses, looked around. A short exchange of phrases over the internal comms, and the trio disperses in different directions.
Using the darkness of this planet and the light curtains left by the lanterns' lights, the saboteurs went to their targets. It reached the point of being funny; sometimes patrols didn't notice a "guest" lurking a meter from them.
True, sometimes the guard turned out to be too observant. So, one such attentive Zabrak, to whom it seemed something was moving, went to check what it was. Having approached within arm's length, the alien received a knife in the throat from one hand, while the other grabbed his lapels and pulled him into the darkness.
Three partners who noticed the loss of their fellow soldier went to find the missing one and, passing the same corner, received three poisonous darts. The fourth hit the street lamp. Like a blanket, the darkness covered all three bodies.
Sizing up the corpses with a contemptuous look, the killer lifted her head, surveying the passages to the equipment depot. Ensuring there were no guards, the girl jumped over the fence and took out a charge from its case.
"Well, what do we have here?" a quiet whisper sounded in the darkness.
***
The same time. Besadii Fortress
Despite the hidden sun, life in the small town of "Hanchappa" was not going to stop. On the plantation silhouettes of laboring beings continued to flash, the windows of workshops flared with flashes of light, and in a small spaceport with three berths a transport ship was being loaded with special cargo.
Rare patrols passed through the streets; sentries suffering from annoying and ubiquitous gnats stood on the watchtowers. Many didn't understand how one could get used to such a thing, but the Hutts considered this stuffy and foul-smelling atmosphere a veritable paradise.
Day after day performing service in this cursed place, the mercenaries forgot why they had come here at all. Everyone had roughly the same desire—to get the money faster, gather savings faster, and clear out of here as far as possible. Unlike the capital, where it's much easier with this, in such towns there was simply no breathing.
The Hutts themselves rested calmly in their fortress, surrounded by mercenaries. The message received from Aero gave them food for thought. They hadn't expected such a reaction from a young dealer who had only just entered the big game. And all the more they hadn't expected that this nameless newcomer would dare to lift a sword against a member of the kajidic.
Given how easily Jabba had settled on Tatooine, one could immediately understand who was to blame for such insolence, but it wasn't possible to call the Desilijic clan to account. The kajidic refused to take responsibility for Aero's actions, which was strange. But since that was the case, it meant they wouldn't interfere when the Besadii were putting the arrogant brat in his place.
In order to bring the kajidic's wrath down on the upstart's head, the Hutts began to gather forces. Ships were being prepared in orbit; mercenaries were being gathered in the capital. Even their own hirelings were sent, for as practice showed, Aero might be an upstart, but a wealthy upstart, capable of hiring Mandalorians.
True, confidence was spoiled by recent rumors. News had reached Nal Hutta that RAVEN had invaded Oba Diah and compelled the Pykes to cooperate. Such a setup spoke of much more serious forces being gathered in their hands than the Hutts had assumed, which in turn undermined confidence in the simplicity of the venture. If RAVEN has strength, one needs to know what kind. Therefore the kajidic members preferred not to hurry, sit it out, and gather more data.
But what they didn't expect was to wake up one quiet night from a whole series of explosions. It boomed so that the earth shook and dust showered from the ceiling.
Coming to their senses, the slugs tried to make contact, find out what was happening, but the connection wasn't working. Armed under the wail of the alarm, the Hutts headed for the central balcony to personally survey what was happening in their city. Crawling in the company of personal guards, they listened to the growing noise of battle. Single shots were joined by others, followed by explosions beginning to ring out.
Having made it outside and seeing the city in flames, the Hutts were dumbfounded. Some of them were around nine hundred years old; they had seen much, but seeing the legendary Mandalorian Basilisks was beyond any, even the boldest expectations.
The Mandalorian Basilisks turned out to be exactly beasts. These creations crashed into close combat and fired while flying. Upon closing—claws came into play. Even their armor, the beast's mass, was their weapon, especially when they broke through the defenders' covers like a ram.
There turned out to be very few Mandalorians themselves. They were scattered throughout the city. As the Hutts noticed, there were no direct clashes; as soon as the guards moved in, their opponent immediately flew away, and a Basilisk literally fell in their place.
It seemed that the Mandalorians weren't so much fighting as biting the enemy, reducing numbers, not allowing them to regroup, and just as surely not letting themselves be driven into a corner.
But fairly quickly the Hutts realized that everything wasn't so bad. As long as the force field emitter covering the palace and the nearest part of the city worked, they didn't have to fear the use of heavy weaponry, which meant their mercenaries, having handled the element of surprise, could give a rebuff. The Besadii kajidic didn't skimp on its safety. And the fact that the enemy had blown up the outer depots didn't mean anything yet.
Alas, as if answering their thoughts, the towers with the silvery spheres of the force field projectors, set apart from the palace, were shaken by explosions, and the shadow of an approaching Corellian small cruiser appeared from behind the clouds. The ship immediately opened fire, destroying clusters of mercenaries who had begun to give a rebuff.
In the fortress itself was a hangar with a wing. Armored doors opened and machines tried to burst into the battle. The first fighter was caught by an iron beast, the second ship's wing was torn off by a sweeping blow of a paw, and a squall of fire descended into the hangar.
At that moment it finally dawned on the Hutts.
"We're leaving. This is a lost battle," came the voice of Aruk Besadii Aora, head of the Besadii kajidic.
Naturally, no one told the doomed mercenaries what awaited them. Some kind of saving on payments, anyway...
Turning around, the Hutts quickly crawled to the passage to the lower levels, not forgetting to close the hermetic door behind them. They hadn't managed to crawl far before an iron paw broke through that very door. Another couple of seconds, and the doors are forced outward, and a couple of grenades fly inside, stuffing two Hutts who hadn't managed to crawl away and their guards with shrapnel. The storming of the palace began.
Quickly crawling through the palace corridors to the basement, the Hutts tried to reach the lower hangar where fast personal yachts were parked. The crashing reaching the fugitives drove them better than a whip.
But here the last corridor remains, and there will be the saving hangar, when suddenly a short chain of explosions rings out right along the door's seam, after which it crashes toward the Hutts. In the dim flickering lighting, surrounded by smoke, a Black Mandalorian came out to the Hutts. Another two stood behind him.
"Tabucha, tabucha," the kajidic leader raised his hands, showing they surrendered, but the Mandalorian only aimed a hand clenched into a fist at the Hutts.
"There will be no mercy," the warrior's voice rang out, and in the next moment the whole corridor was engulfed in flame from a wrist flamethrower.
***
Hanharr
By a coincidence of circumstances, the kajidic bank turned out to be in their own fortress, but on the front side. Blowing up the main passage, a group of Mandalorians burst inside. Wide passages where a Basilisk can easily pass; here and there Hutts were depicted right on the walls. Inside, the fortress completely failed to correspond to what was outside. If outwardly this place resembled a neatly piled and upward-reaching heap of earth with a sloping roof, inside it was a quite high-tech, sector-divided complex.
Deploying the shield secured on his left arm and shifting the vibro-ax in his right, Hanharr went straight through the corridors, suppressing the fire of defending droids and mercenaries. Encountering a large security droid blocking the way, the Mandalorians only smirked. A large three-legged machine with massive arms in which blasters were built. In common parlance this junk was called a "debt collector," as it was often used by Hutts for precisely those purposes.
Closing with the machine and pushing it away, the Wookiee with a sweeping blow severed the first leg, kicked the machine, and finished the apparatus by piercing the control module with the back side of the ax. Shifting the weapon and stepping over the machine, he went further, paving the way for the squad.
In one of the transitions, when a single rush remained to the main vault, mercenaries tried to stop them, using a heavy repeating blaster for that. Hiding in cover, the Wookiee gave a nod to the nearest partner for him to act. Taking out a flash-bang grenade, the Mandalorian threw it into the corridor.
An explosion boomed, a flash sparkled, and the Wookiee immediately jumped out from around the corner. Tilting his torso, Hanharr launched a fragmentation rocket. A meter before the target, the projectile explodes, directing shrapnel in a cone and simply sweeping away the barrier.
Running, the Wookiee bursts into the room, scattering the encountered mercenaries, not giving them even a chance to regroup. Flying in different directions like dolls, the defenders died one by one, and when the other Mandalorians ran up, there was, in general, no one left to finish off.
"So, what do we have here?" the question of one of the Mandalorians sounded unusually loud in the silence that had fallen. "Oh... we've dropped in luckily."
***
Shade Aero
Mon Gazza. A planet in the Mid Rim, a known shadow port and a place for podracing. Due to its location, passing ships not infrequently make a stop on the planet for refueling. Despite this, the planet enjoyed a dubious popularity, gathering the cream of a certain layer of society.
Podracing, those same races in which a pilot sits in a small pod pulled by two engines, brought huge profit, almost greater than the spice mines located here too. And yet these races were prohibited in the Republic, primarily due to the low survival rate of pilots. Here you usually either reached the finish line or remained on the track forever.
A certain Groff Zugga led all this. Four breasts, horns on the skull, large hands with four fingers and feet with three. Orange-yellow skin covered with chestnut hair and orange eyes. A cute alien, in general, almost a furball, with the exception of this type's disposition. For his character was... excellent. Even Mandalorians looked askance at him, as a... anyway. And this type had a thing about humans. They were oppressed on the planet. All slaves were exclusively humans... and those were the only humans on the planet, not counting those flying past. Also humans weren't allowed to responsible work. Damn, they weren't even allowed on pods, exclusively respected and proven representatives of all other races! Right.
Gathering data on the planet during the attack planning, I wrap up all the schemes proposed by the clans.
"No, it's all crap," I cut them off, ending all disputes. "No drop, no bombardment, there are too many outsiders there."
"Bandits," Fett finishes.
"Well you know, even bandits want to eat, and the Trade Federation doesn't care who it carries what to or sells. So," pressing a couple of keys, I remove all the drop plans from the hologram, "we don't need all that.
"And what do you propose then?" Khan crossed his arms on his chest. Respected sir, I've already wiped your nose twice, when will you learn to keep quiet?
"Ahem. Well, in general, this planet has a free flight zone. Land, unload, and disperse. Why scare the people? I'll visit Zugga, Ordo—his treasury, Fett, for example, can hijack the equipment. By the way, these comrades have very expensive mining droids at their disposal, which could be very useful to us. You guys can steal his ships, especially since there aren't that many of them. Ideally, we should do everything without extra noise and dust, just come, just cut them down and take what we need."
Stopping on this concept, I deployed a hologram of the capital city and began to explain my plan, dividing the Mandalorians into groups and zones of responsibility. As soon as all questions were resolved, we proceeded to the active phase.
Taking a traditionally small squad of ten heads with me, we descended to the planet without problems. But after that...
"Stop!" the guards came out to meet us. "Humans are prohibited from leaving the spaceport," a Trandoshan said threateningly. "Remove your helmets and show your faces."
Instead of an answer, three clusters of blaster charges fly from behind my back, one for each guard. Turning my head, I look at the dispatch point windows facing us, which a rocket immediately hits.
"Kel, Narissa, occupy the central dispatch. Announce a ban on landings and takeoffs."
A pair of Mandalorians nodded and soared into the sky, while the rest followed me.
A small mess reigned in the city, but not yet chaos. The situation could be called controlled. Our people had already managed to cut off electricity and communication, which is why the few local security forces simply didn't know what to do or where to run.
As such there were no skirmishes on the city streets either. We didn't try to capture it or loot it; the strikes went for specific objects, be it a factory or a money vault. And so that the few defenders didn't interfere with carrying off the goods, special maniacs and lovers of war entertained them right near the barracks. Not killing, not storming, but just lazily trading fire, not letting them out.
Reaching Groff Zugga's villa, I look at a good three-story house. Thick walls, a large house plot, a high fence. Forcing the gates open with the Force, we pass inside.
"And where is everyone?" a question sounds over the internal comms.
"Inside. Waiting for us. Enter through the roof and windows."
"Accepted."
Aiming, each of the Mandalorians fired a rocket into the windows. A series of explosions boomed and following the rockets the Mandalorians themselves flew into the house.
Approaching the doors, I blow them inward with the Force and, extending my hands, hit the guard gathered behind the doors with Force Lightning.
The house hall corresponded to the master's wealth and his tastes. Holo-paintings with podracing were everywhere; figurines stood, again with pods. Here mother appears next to me, nodding at the stairs. Turning my head, I see one of the Mandalorians kicking a Mon Calamari down the stairs.
Turning, I pass the corpse with the snapped neck and go up to the second floor. Here the resisting and swearing body of the master of the house is already being dragged to meet me.
Throwing Zugga on the floor at my feet, the left Mandalorian aimed his rifle barrel at him.
"Hello, Zugga," I lean slightly.
"You! What the abyss are you doing in my house?" the alien tried to rise, but...
"Stay down!" the second Mandalorian barked and gave the alien a good blow to the back of the head with the butt.
"Nothing personal, Zugga, just business," I lean in. "You'd better tell me where your savings are? You want to tell me about them, don't you, I see that you very, very much want to. Come on, I'm listening to you carefully..."
Cracking the alien for his stash, we finish the sparky. Upon returning to the Lucrehulk, I only had to watch our people loading the trophies, and then, having designated the next target, give the command: "Fetch." The next target—a bandit base on "Ierra," a small uninhabited planet on our path. Raids on passing ships are conducted from it. We, of course, hadn't been robbed yet, but now we won't be.
***
Switching from one planet to another and having cleaned the area near Tatooine, we returned to Concord Dawn. We could have flown more, but all the holds were packed to the top, even the Lucrehulk's.
Upon arrival home the hype was high. I didn't consider this a campaign, just a small trial raid, but the Mandalorians had a different opinion. For them it was a real campaign, and the joy from the result—was overflowing.
Not counting the money, we brought back a lot of value. Industrial equipment, droids, cars, weapons, rare elements, just some personal trophies... Yes, the reward was large. But the most valuable, in my view, was the unification of the sides. Flying together from one system to another, fighting side by side, the different factions if they didn't forget, then clearly set aside their disagreements.
To seal the effect, I proposed holding a holiday in the central square. The idea was picked up and carried to the masses; after that my participation in its realization was not required. I only had to stand and watch as these reckless guys, not even having unloaded the Lucrehulk yet, lugged everything needed for the feast.
"You know, Mom," I say to the void, observing the square on which the holiday will take place this evening. Hearing me, she immediately appears nearby, "everything seems fine, we've returned, but something gives me no peace. It seems to me that something bad is about to happen. Don't you think so?" turning, I look at her serious expression and see a nod. "Maybe this was a mistake? What if I'm wrong? And instead of helping, I'll bury them all instead?" In response, Mom shook her head confidently. "No?"
"Everything is going as it should."
"Did you see the future?"
"No."
"Then why are you so sure?"
"You haven't fulfilled your destiny yet."
"Des... tiny?"
"The Force preserves you, son. Something is constantly circling around you, I see it. It wants something from you and won't just let go. You just need to understand what you must do."
"Maybe. But then why does anxiety torment me so? I don't understand..."
"Calm down. Meditate. Look around. Perhaps you'll understand what it's connected with."
"Hm..." I tap my helmet thoughtfully. "Perhaps because of my actions. I brought the Mandalorians out of the underground where everyone who could was trying to drive them. I think we should expect the arrival of Jedi or Judicial Department members soon," and, after a small pause, I finish: "or their fleet. I think they've already had enough reasons to make that move."
"If so, you know what to do. You insured yourself."
"That's true..."
"Aero!" someone called to me from below. Leaning over, I look at Fett. "Need your advice!"
"Not a minute of peace," I sigh.
"Heh-heh-heh-heh..." Mom laughed, vanishing.
Jumping down, I inquire what else they needed from me. As it turned out, since I was the instigator of this event, I had to participate in its organization. Damn, and I was already hoping I'd dodged it...
So, by the will of my left heel, our people organized a small stage, set out tables and benches in rows right on the street, and lugged various treats. And after that I didn't stop trying to dodge, and simply handed out instructions, something in the spirit of: "Let each clan come up with something of its own." And they did! The Fetts organized a place for target shooting, the Vizsla for duels, the Skirata were busy with fireworks, and the Ordo went to raise archives for staging short scenes from the past.
Yes... definitely, one can look endlessly at three things. How fire burns, how water flows, and how someone does all the work for you. I only had to put on a smart face, walk around the square and "check" the execution, not forgetting to periodically "take a sample" of various treats. Though, I'm afraid that by the holiday, at this rate, I'll have sampled so much I won't be able to eat anymore. But no matter, it's no big deal.
Suddenly I feel a threat and with a pivot I catch a child's leg flying at the back of my head.
"Tch. Jessa, is that how one meets clan friends?" I say indignantly, putting the girl on the ground.
"Exactly so!" this sprout shouted loudly. "Shade! Why haven't you visited us?" the girl flared up, stamping her foot and flaring with righteous anger. Oh, how cute...
"Much business, Jessa, what can you do."
After standing a bit and drilling me with her gaze, she begins to smile.
"I'm glad to see you."
"Likewise. Om!" I take another sample, having grabbed a treat from the table.
"Stop eating, that's for the holiday!"
"I don't know anything, heh-heh-heh. I'm taking a sample."
"Oh, whatever," she tucked her bangs behind her ear. "When are you gathering ours next time?"
"Hopefully not soon. We've gathered enough to sit in place for a while and digest what we've gotten. And I have to sort through the staff on Tatooine," I sigh.
"When you gather them, will you take me with you?"
"Grow up a bit first," I hum, and lightly pushing the little one with my hand, I pass by.
"Hey! I'm thirteen, actually!"
"Tell that to your parents."
"E-e-ey, where are you going, I'm not finished yet," I was caught up. "No, seriously, Shade. Let's fight, I'll show you what I've learned?"
"What's with you guys having only fighting on your minds," I look askance at the little one.
"But it's fun!"
"Yes, fun to be left without teeth, to acquire an extra hole in your body, or more than one, or lose a limb."
"But when you come out the winner, you get so many impressions and money!"
"If you come out," I finish.
"In what sense?"
"In a conflict there is a winner, and there is a loser. You can always end up in second place. Your adult brothers and sisters understand that and know what they're going for. It's time for you to understand it too."
"Hm..."
"Anyway, run along, I still have business," I say and take the next treat from the table, which Jessa immediately intercepts and, sticking out her tongue, goes to her friends.
"I wonder how much they bet that the little one would catch me off guard?" the thought flashes as I look at the teenagers.
So, in small minor chores time flew by until evening. And the closer the holiday was, the more anxious I felt in my soul. When less than half an hour remained to the celebration, I stopped slacking and seriously went around the area, checking everything possible. Poisons, bombs, ambushes, whatever! Visited the pyrotechnicians, checked every charge. Went to the gunsmiths, but everything was in order there too, I'd just wound the guys up for nothing. But then what the f*ck?!
And then the holiday itself comes. Sitting in the first row among the clan heads, I observe the people. Everyone gave themselves to the celebration, everyone except one. Vizsla. Khan might have been smiling, but inside the man had completely different emotions. Anger, irritation, and malice.
Because of this bastard I almost didn't look at the stage. Small improvised performances passed me by, as did the launched fireworks. Somewhere behind my back children played with a Basilisk; joyful laughter flew over the entire square. On the other side Warren in the company of Zer, Kaut, and the arrived Dis told the latter what he had missed. The holiday was in full swing when I was called:
"Shade!"
"Hm?" and I turn to Raiden. Warren's father was glowing with fun and... a trick, or what? Wait, I don't understand, why are the others turning to me?
"Don't you want to go out and say a speech?"
"Not really..."
"Go on, go on. Or do you not respect us?" Raiden leaned toward me, applying the most serious argument in his arsenal. Yes, with such a formulation, I simply cannot refuse, especially sitting at the table with the heads of other clans.
"Alright... you convinced me," I reluctantly rise and go to the stage.
Having gone up the steps, I stand near the microphone. Oh... I've already forgotten how I hate public speaking. Surveying the gathered crowd, I sigh. Right... since I've been pushed out, I have to push something on the pathos. Hm... Oh!
"Friends. This day—is not just a holiday. This day marks a new turn in your people's life. It divides what was before and what will be after. You are growing stronger, becoming more powerful. And I want it to be so henceforth. Remember, you are one people. Yes, you have disagreements, whole clans have different views, but you must not forget that in this galaxy, in this world, there is no one closer than your brother or sister. No one needs you; many fear you. And they fear you deservedly, for they are weaker than you, both in body and in spirit. They are not capable of passing through the crucible through which you have passed," the people buzzed approvingly, so much so that I had to pause until silence reigned again. "I am not calling on you to throw yourselves into battle. I am not calling on you to go on campaigns and return the old times. I am not saying for us to show everyone our strength again. No. I call on you to build the new. To build your future. All together. The galaxy already knows we are strong, but at the same time it doesn't know who we are. It doesn't know what you are capable of building. Just as it doesn't know what you are capable of going for for the sake of your people. Let's show the other side? Show that a Mandalorian is not a savage, but a warrior of a kind to be sought, who has the strength to protect not only his interests but those of his neighbor? Hurrah!"
The people exploded, supporting my short but fiery speech. And then, a cry rang out:
"Mandalore!"
Those standing nearby supported it, and now the audience in unison was shouting the same word:
"Man-da-lore! Man-da-lore! Man-da-lore! Man-da-lore!" the Mandalorians chanted.
Mentally smirking, I survey the audience. To keep from being swept away by the emotional inspiration, I had to set a barrier, but even through it echoes reached me.
Rising to me, the head of Clan Ordo nodded to me and stood beside me.
"Well, Shade? So you are the new Mandalore."
"Aha... wait. What?!" I look askance at the man. "Could you repeat that please?"
"The whole square is chanting to you, don't you hear?"
"Wait, in what sense, the new Mandalore? They are shouting the name of their world, and people."
"No. They are shouting the title."
"In what sense?! For what f*cking reason???" I turn the man toward me and lead him away from the microphone.
"You've already shown that you're striving for our benefit. Moreover, you've united the clans in a new campaign. We believed you and believe in you. No one has doubts in your right to this title."
"And I do!"
"If so, let me ask?"
Showing "go ahead" with a gesture, I cross my arms on my chest.
"Brothers! Sisters! Does anyone have doubts that Aero has not earned the right to bear the title 'Mandalore the Resurrector'?"
"Yes!" Khan Vizsla shouted out, and that cry turned out to be at the moment when the audience fell silent. "I say that you have gone blind and forgotten that Aero isn't even a Mandalorian!" Khan blurted out, and threw a mug with a drink under his feet. A fighting old man. The man is sixty years old, and look at that, he gets into a fight and is ready to throw a challenge.
"Yes, yes, that too," I chime in from behind Ordo's back.
"Who thinks so?" Ordo asked, surveying the people. A few hands went up, but in the general crowd they barely amounted to a couple of dozen. "The majority will not agree with you, Khan. Nor will I, for I will call Aero brother."
"If so, then I contest his right. I throw a challenge! Here and now," Khan stood on the table. At that moment my jaw went down. "With any weapons and means, a fight to the death!"
"Do you want to die, idiot?!"
"So be it."
"Where?! Where???"
"And won't I be asked?" I join the conversation. When the people looked at me, I realize how I've BEEN HAD. They simply left me no way back. The Mandalorians would take it as a spit in their direction and traditions and all my efforts would go down the drain. On the other hand, I don't need this fight. I had already even thought of how to carefully get rid of Vizsla, and now? And the gut is howling f*cking bloody murder.
Khan himself was in seventh heaven of happiness and malice, which I didn't understand. He knows who I am, what is he counting on, especially setting such terms? Though... if the gut is howling, it means everything isn't so simple.
"He's without a helmet," I remind of such a small detail, dodging.
"Not a problem. His son will give him a helmet."
"Oh f*ck..."
Quietly cursing, I go down. Even before the holiday began, the Vizsla had prepared a place for duels. Noticing the shield emitter, I realize this bastard had prepared in advance, fencing off the audience from lethal weapons. Но I still don't understand, what have you planned? You said yourself, use everything there is, what are you counting on?
"Shade, be careful," Warren stopped me by the hand before I entered the arena.
"?"
"I asked ours; while we were away some stirrings were going on in the clan, a whole squad flew somewhere, but definitely not on an assignment."
"I understand you."
Entering the arena, I look at the smirking Khan. Putting on the helmet, he snaps his fingers and the shield generators turn on.
"Well, Aero? Ready to die?"
I didn't answer. At that moment something strange happened; it was as if I were undercut. Shaking my head, I feel weakness... What is happening?! It was as if I were... going blind?
Staggering, I take a step back, holding my support. Such weakness rolled over me that I wanted to sink to the ground. The Force... I didn't hear it. It was as if I had gone blind and deaf simultaneously. No sense of space. The fence, the people, the earth surrounding me, everything disappeared... only emptiness.
The signal to start the fight boomed. Slowly taking the sword from behind my back, I try to activate it, but it doesn't work... the Force didn't hear me.
Lifting my head, I look at Vizsla. In his right hand the man already held an activated Darksaber, and in his left a pistol aimed at me.
"Ran out of luck..." a belated thought comes. Now it's clear why this bastard was so malicious. But how did he manage it?!
Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter now. A shot boomed, hitting exactly in the chest. Feeling a burning on my chest, I stagger and sink to my knee, dropping the sword. Feeling the hit site with my hand, I activate the med-block.
Out of the corner of my eye I see how the people were stunned, especially my companions. Warren, Kaut, Dis, and Zer simply didn't believe their eyes.
"Shade, what's with you?!" I hear Warren's voice in the helmet.
"The Force... it's gone... I don't know why. Cough..."
"Brother, with the Force or without, but you must stand up! Do you hear me?"
"Sorry Worr..." lifting my head, I look at the blade of an unusual lightsaber aimed at my face. A flat black blade with running white lightnings.
Shifting my gaze from the sword to Vizsla, understanding suddenly dawns on me. Scum... just scum. That's what you've planned. He knew where my actions were leading, knew I'd be named Mandalore... and if this brute defeats me, he'll take that title for himself. Muck... waited, specifically waited and remained inactive.
Clenching my teeth, I quietly go wild. I don't know from where, but strength fills my body, driving away the weakness.
"Do not retreat," my mother's quiet, quiet voice sounded in my head, as if breaking through from under a layer of water.
A sword swing went out, but at that moment I parry the blade with my fist in a beskar glove and, throwing out my hand, burn the bastard at point-blank range with the flamethrower. Jumping back, Khan tried to cope with the fire, but the stuck fire-mix is not so easy to extinguish.
Not letting him recover, I jump to my feet and, using the enemy's disorientation, deliver a series of crushgaunt blows exactly to the chest. Maybe crushgaunts didn't break the armor, but the owner doesn't find it any easier; everything under it—is beaten completely!
Trying to complete the series with a blow to the head, I miss. My hand is intercepted, pulled toward him, and he hits my face mask with his elbow. Reeling back, I see him make a sword swing, because of which I have to take a step back and evade, then again, and again. No, scum, I've wielded a sword from birth and even if I'm without the Force, you won't cut me down! No matter how pretentious your shiv is.
Intercepting the hand, I try to disarm him, as the blaster built into his hand activates. A shot at point-blank range pierces my chest, making my left lung burn, but there's no pain shock. I've already taken enough, and eaten enough chemistry, to maintain control.
Then the shot repeats, and again, but I don't let him continue further. Wrenching the Darksaber from the Mandalorian's hands, I pull him toward me, bracing my knee against his chest. Intercepting the sword, I try to cut the joint on his arm, but Vizsla protects himself with a beskar bracer. Pressing the bastard, I push him from me, forcing him to back away and parallelly heating the armor.
A second... a second... a third... a fourth...
BOOM! An explosion boomed, throwing us in different directions. Smiling crookedly, I cough up blood. I managed to set fire to the fire-mix canister in his hand; now we'll deal with the blaster.
Rising to my feet, I see a fragmentation grenade already flying at my face. Reflexes worked faster than brains; an attempt to throw the threat away with the Force led to this junk blowing up right in front of me, throwing me back further and piercing the hardsuit in several places, including the helmet in the left cheek area.
For the first time in my memory the emergency first aid kit built into the armor made itself known, pumping the body with all the chemistry there was in it. Rising slightly, I look at Khan picking the sword up from the ground. Oh! And I took out his second bracer too, it turns out, heh-heh...
Rolling from my back onto my stomach, I rise—and notice something is missing from my belt. An attempt to feel the mask failed; in its place was only a dangling fragment. Rising to my feet, I run my eyes briefly over the battlefield. The mask is nowhere to be seen, only fragments...
"Well scum... you definitely aren't leaving here alive," I growl, having coughed and spat blood through the broken helmet. The cracked visor continued to work properly despite everything, determining the target's state.
Walking in a circle, we looked at each other. I managed to deprive Khan of long-range weapons, with the exception that he still has a couple of grenades and a rocket. I have both my blasters in place, but what use are they against beskar? Especially since without the Force I don't differ in accuracy from a back-alley thug.
Vizsla himself was in no hurry to fight. The advantage still remained on his side; a little more and I'll start losing consciousness, and no chemistry will help anymore. Clenching my fists, I extend the vibroblades and throw myself at the enemy.
Parrying the sword, I lose the blades on my left hand, but with the right I manage to sink the vibroblade exactly into the joint on the hardsuit, in the shoulder area. Using the fact that I didn't have time to pull the blade out, Khan hits my stomach with crushgaunts with all his might, turning the remains of my armor into crumbs.
"Cough-cough-cough..."
Pushing me away, I see Khan bend slightly. F*ck! That's a fragmentation!
Falling onto my back, I let the rocket pass right over me. Following the rocket another grenade flies at me, but no way! Turning on the jetpack, I slide along the ground evading the explosion. Only I didn't calculate the speed, because of which I hit the barrier boundary.
"F*ck... can't..." I growl at myself, feeling the body become cottony with every moment, and consciousness begin to swim.
The crap news didn't end there. Noticing Khan aim my own blaster at me, I turn on the jetpack and move aside, and fire the remaining vibro-knives right at him. While the Mandalorian was evading, I land and activate my rocket. A baradium core—is not something one can blow up in a closed space, but whatever.
The rocket went out, but I couldn't aim it directly at Khan anymore, and didn't aim. Hitting the barrier behind his back, the rocket exploded so that it threw the man in my direction for several meters. While he hasn't come to his senses, with the last of my strength I throw my jetpack right under his face.
"See you in the Force, scum..." I growl, falling to my knees and, somehow having pulled out the second blaster, fire exactly at the unprotected internal segment on the jetpack, causing detonation.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan