((Rebel/Ordo)) Enemy of My Enemy

[T.J]

Somewhere in the outer rim.


The Dxun star came out of hyperspace with a jolt. She was an older ship, and her age was starting to show. The constant jumps made as a form of misdirection were starting to take their tole on the antiquated hardware, making each one seemingly more and more rough as a result. Unfortunately for its pilot there was not much he could do to remedy it. Finding the appropriate parts for such a ship was difficult, made all the more so by Delmon's newly found lack of resources. He would never trade the vessel for anything though, it was effectively the last piece of his home he had left. The stains of Dxun's foliage and humid weather still apparent by the worn paint job on her hull. The jungle moon had been reduced to a burning husk. His scouts had reported as such at their own peril, desperate to learn the fate of the moon the birthed them. Such was the harsh reality the Alor of what was left of Clan Ordo found himself. Though his people had found themselves a home of sorts, they were still in desperate need of the basic amenities needed for daily life.

Powering down all non-essential systems, Delmon tuned his engines down as low as they would go while still remaining operational to prevent the delay to reignite them if he needed to bug out in a hurry. Even though the system was dead, there was no telling if or when unwanted guests would show. He had arranged the meeting in such a place in the interest of security for both parties involved. It was no secret the Empire had no love for the Rebels, such back water conditions were a must to even facilitate a meeting.

Swiveling in his chair, Delmon fired up the monitor to the side of his ships controls. As soon as his guests showed themselves, he would ping them to begin communication. He wore his full armor, still unwilling to remove such iconic attire in the interest of safety. Though the paint was quite new in relation to the suit, it appeared quite worn. His practice of constantly repainting it to prevent being easily identified falling to the wayside in the interest of more important matters.

He hoped the members of the Rebellion that had agreed to meet him were more welcoming than the Sith during their ill fated Summit meeting. His people couldn't afford another setback, they had nearly nothing left to loose.

 

[Cortan]

"Arrival in three, two, one..."

The helmsman announced the exit from hyperspace, and one could just make out beyond the dimmed transparisteel the shimmering lights of real stars come into view as the Quasar exited the strange realm that served as the foundation of galactic transport. To the rest of the universe, it seemed as if the ship had simply appeared from nowhere into this system. To those aboard it, it seemed as if it were the universe that only now dared to appear, after disappearing into a swirling vortex for several, long hours. Regardless, the long, arrow like shape of the Quasar now lightly drifted through the void of space, casting a shadow as it blocked out the light of the system's star.
"Do we have contact?" And at the heart of its bridge, sat the aging frame of a winged, reptile-like mammal, who today, had decided to wear his uniform. Ten years old without the proper attention of a good tailor, it was well worn and creased in many places, and even with a few patchwork holes.

Yet, its poncho-like design still seemed to hang over him well, the sides still quite open and giving room for his wings as he sat in his command chair, several screens raised up from it by his sides, and he gazed out into the void.
"...Signal detected. Locating the source." Donkur leaned in as the crew got to work, until finally, on one of his nearby screens, a readout began to fill in. StarFury class ship, old but clearly still functional. And given how far they were from Imperium space, the odds of this being their contact was... quite significant.
"Transmit my following message on the same frequency." Donkur's hands flicked across the surface of his screens, sending signals to security teams to prepare themselves, as well as all other members of the crew. There was no knowing how the following events would go, given the current precedent that the leader of Clan Ordo likely had with how well negotiations tended to work out.

Donkur wouldn't have expected - or even desired - much either, at least ten years ago. But things changed, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Both sides had to have some idea of that.

"Delmon Skyblade, I presume?" It was the only name that the Rebels had, through a long list of sources and contacts that Donkur himself couldn't completely follow, been given with regards to this meeting. But a little exploration into current Mandalorian politics and culture - or, current as of a few weeks ago - had shed some light on the matter, and told what they needed to know.
"I am Captain Donkur Ivellok, of the cruiser Quasar. My associates and I have been informed of a desire to enter in negotiations and agreements between our respective parties, and I thus invite you aboard my ship to discuss terms. If, however, you feel uncomfortable..." Donkur depressed a switch on the medicine box beneath his uniform as he spoke, and when he eventually paused, used the gap to simply slip in a small pill into his mouth, saving him the trouble of medical concerns potentially ruining his speech.
"You may remain aboard your vessel, for your personal assurance and security. I... understand this is a difficult time." On one level, Donkur may have been playing to potential sympathies, but on another, there was a genuine twinge of regret in his voice as he spoke.

The Mandalorians were a warrior culture, and one that had fought the Galactic Alliance in the last war, yes. But they were a culture and a society. That meant families. Children. Innocent people, now forced to flee the only homes they knew in terror, or melted into the very earth on which they had stood, forever. It was a horrifying thought, and not something he wish upon anyone to experience in their lifetime.

At the very least, hopefully, he would not have to handle these thoughts alone. He was supposed to have something of a 'team' aboard for this.

 

[Aluminum Falcon]

Cam sat in the security control center aboard the Quasar, surrounded by blue tinted readout screens depicting the status of the areas and individuals aboard the vessel. The SCC was dim, but light did enter through the door into the main corridor as Cam sat quietly next to a few other security personnel. He wore his usual duty attire, his Hermes variant light armor glinted in the light, the scratches and small dents that covered it had not yet smothered its sheen. His rifle was slung on his back, he wore his utility belt, and his datapad was tucked inside the small pack on his back. As he sat examining the various screens, there was a distinct double beep tone that sounded from his datapad. Retrieving it, he activated the screen, and received the message to prepare. Slipping the datapad back into his pack after activating the wireless link to his forearm display, he stood up, giving a nod to the others in the room as he ducked out the door.

The hall was full of personnel with an array of duties. They walked to and fro as Cam headed for the bridge of the Quasar. When he arrived it seemed Donkur was still in the middle of his initial conversation with the Mandalorian vessel, which Cam assumed was drifting nearby. In an effort to avoid causing an interruption in the dialogue, Cam simply stepped to a corner of the bridge, and observed the conversation as he leaned his back against a nearby console, his helmet tucked under one arm.

 

[Ender]

Niles stood at the ready next to the good Captain, standing at parade rest as the world snapped back into real space. It was such an interesting thought, to be in a reality that doesn't exist and to then move back into the real world. "Such a pretty sight, the black." McNamara commented to his comrades. The soft glow of the stars cast light onto his face, illuminating his heavily scarred face, he too stood in his old, faded, Alliance uniform. With a single addition. Over his face, he wore a hood in order to hide his scarred face from his comrades. "What an irony." he spoke softly. "That I may facilitate an alliance with my opponents from the last days of the war." the old officer smirked, as the birdlike Captain gave his opening remarks. This was followed by Niles raising his hands in a gesture of peace and walking forward.

"Delmon Skyblade." he bowed his head slightly in respect before continuing. "I am Niles McNamara, it is a pleasure to meet you and I would rather do it in person. You have my word that no harm will come to you or any of your men." He then put his hands to his hood, and pulled it back.

"Let old wounds fade, let the fires of wars from our past die out. We have both lost so much. Our people. Let us come together in peace."​

 

[Johnnysaurus Rex]

Onoveus Oderyn took no particular place on the ship. He was no particularly vital member of the Quasar's crew nor did he really have any of the naval skills other than the basics he had been trained with or picked up for the times he had been transported by such vessels. Of course those frigates and ships had been much different in make than this hangar he stood in.

They had been Mandalorian.

In a past life this now member of the Rebel Alliance had held the title of Mandalore. Leader of the Mandalorian Clans and member of Clan Oderyn. While not as big or notable as Clan Ordo it was a name just as old. The reason Onoveus was aboard this vessel was to apply a sort of... grease, shall we say. He was of course fluent in Mando'a, well versed in all their customs and cultures, and of course the little fact that for a time he commanded the entirety of the Clans. Those Clans that were now scattered and weakened beyond belief. To say it left Onoveus with a heavy heart would on be far more than slight under-exaggeration. It ticked away at him some times. What if he had not left?

Then as Mandalore he had inherited the title at a certain crux in time where the Clans were disjointed. Hardly a favorable position, but when one compared it to the times they had been shot or nearly maimed it always seemed far less daunting. After a heavy blow being dealt to them via the Sith they had been forced to take up posts deep within the Galactic Alliance, graciously given by the GA and accepted by the desperate Clans. It was the proceeding year when discontent grew. Three sides seemed to emerge within the Clans and neither of the loudest or strongest had been Onoveus' side. In true Mandalorian fashion the two powerful sides clamored for Civil War. Onoveus was challenged for the title of Mandalore and lost the duel and nearly his life if it hadn't been the work of a quick medic crew and the new Mandalore.

Waking up weeks later in a hospital bed he learned the new Mandalore had attempted diplomacy, but again the folly of the Mandalorians reared its head again. Onoveus had been at a loss. Without the title of Mandalore and not agreeing with any notion of a Civil conflict now that they were already so weak he couldn't see any other alternative, but to leave with what support he could muster. Many were reluctant, but there were those who saw the path the Mandalorians were running headlong towards. Ten years of wandering set thing in perspective. While it had hardly been a decade without conflict, Onoveus found peace.

When he had learned of the recent event in the galaxy he knew there was no other option for him. Even before this action by the Empire it is a simple fact that on a galactic stage the Mandalorians had a terminal illness. There was no changing it. Too much changing of the guard, conflict, movement, and shaky allegiances to larger powers had dragged their strength and name through the dirt. There was no hope for the Mandalorians to ever posture themselves into any semblance of sovereign power. They would be extinct. Maybe not in a generation or two, but inevitably Mandalorians would go the way of stories and folk tales.

To Onoveus there was only one sensible course of action. Make them good stories.

Not stories of war or glorious combat. There would be plenty of that had in this Rebellion, but songs of good and heroism. That while the galaxy was under the Empire's foot it was the noble Mandalorians who led the charge into a free galaxy without fear in their eyes, that with their dying breath both on the field and in their culture they chose to strive for a better future than a bloody present. That, to Onoveus, would make a good story.

 

[T.J]

Delmon sat silently for what seemed like hours, his mind lost as his eyes glued to the glowing screen before him from within the confines of his helmet. His knee jerk reaction had been to jump as quickly as he could out of the sector at the sight of the much larger craft slipping back into real space before him. There would be no running if they chose to turn on him, he doubted his old ship would be up to the task of evading enemy fire long enough to facilitate a jump regardless. Snapping back into reality with a slight shake of his head, Delmon responded to the Captain and his subordinates.

" Greetings Captain. I am the one of which you speak. Your... Associates. Would be correct in their intel. I'm sure it's galactic wide knowledge by now of what Sith have done to my people. I thank you for granting me this audience, even in light our two peoples past transgressions. "

He paused slightly at the prospect of boarding the Rebel ship. In his youth he had learned the hard way that the notion of trust was far different in the galaxy at large than what he held within his own moral standards. Many held deceit in their hearts it seemed. The trust he had once freely given was now closely guarded because of this. In part it had been the cause of loosing his home, his arms far to welcoming to those who he should have been wary of.

Nodding slightly at Nile's oath of no harm, he continued to speak.

" I'm afraid ones word means little in these times... Perhaps in time I might board your ship and speak with you in person, but for now I am content with our current standing. "

Looking out the view port of his ship at the large cruiser as it loomed in the distance, he leaned forward slightly in his seat.


" Let us get down to business shall we? I seek to aid you and your people in your campaign against the Sith and all they stand for. I wish for a chance to rain the vengeance I swore down upon them as my home world burned... Will you grant me this if I join you? "

 

[Cortan]

The Captain noted the irony of the situation just as McNamara did, and it did leave a certain unease in both his stomach and his stature, both from his lack of personal conflict with the Mandalorians, set against the uniform he wore. A blessing then that he was sat down then, and thanks to his own species' usual fare with emotions, that he could restrain himself from showing it. The Mandalorian's words were polite, a seemingly better start than what Donkur had heard of the Sith's negotiations regarding the blockade some time ago. There was some curiosity that nagged in the Captain's mind, as to whether Clan Ordo had been of those who - rightfully, but at great risk - showed utter disrespect to the Dark Lord, or if they had paid the price for the contempt of others. But then, these details also failed to matter too much right here or now, so long as Skyblade chose his words wisely here.

"Our actions will also reflect our words then - as promised, you may stay aboard your ship, and you are free to leave this system whenever you are ready." Some part of Donkur, as he leaned in on his chair as well, hoped that Darth Vereor had been less accommodating in his approach. It would certainly help in making this seem a comparatively better atmosphere for the opposite party.
"It would seem though that we are certain in who our common enemy is. And we promise you, there will be a time to make them pay for every crime they had committed over the last thirty years." Sometimes, people forgot that the Sith were neither so recent as the fall of Coruscant, but nor had their hold on the Imperium been centuries old. Donkur did not, and mulled on that as he began to transmit an open document across to the other ship, and even a simple glance would reveal its contents - a myriad of proposals and possible agreements, free to be edited and answered.

"But first I think the safety of your people is what matters most here, at least for one of us. The Imperium will divert resources to hunt you, and though we do not have much, I promise that the Rebellion will grant sanctuary and protection for those who remain, to the best of our ability." Even if the Clan Ordo had worlds on which they currently hid themselves away, the Rebels - and Donkur himself especially - knew that not all hiding spots remained hidden. And both militarily and morally speaking, the Rebellion had interests in making sure these people remained safe.
"What we would like however, is that as part of the military aspects of our alliance, is that you and your men be willing to either enlist and work alongside our current forces under our existing command structure, or that you at least be willing to coordinate strikes and movements alongside us, in order to best utilise both our strengths. I mean no offense to you or your clan personally, but part of what laid the Mandalorians low, after toppling the core of a galactic superpower, was the subsequent conflict and competition between what should have been allies. If we are to win this, especially limited as we currently both are, we must work together on a united front." And then giving time for the clan leader to mull things over - and better read the list in front of him, Donkur disabled the microphone on his side of the line, whilst keeping up the audio from Delmon.

The Vor signaled for several of the crew - McNamara, Antilles, and others - to come close, as they discussed the matter.
"I'm not the best at writing terms, so feel free to criticise, suggest improvements, or otherwise amend what I've written. I don't want this crew or myself to be the ones who made these talks fail." His voice drew hoarse towards the end, and his hand quickly dove beneath his uniform, opening his medicine box to find a pill to shove down his throat.
"Let's hope he feels the same..." And thus, the microphone was back on, enabling the others to speak if they so chose.

 

[Aluminum Falcon]

Cam still leaned against the console behind Captain Ivellok, silently observing the conversation the three individuals were having. He was caught somewhat off guard by how informal the talks seemed to be. He had always imagined these diplomatic talks to take place at grand tables, with both parties sitting on opposite sides and glaring at each other. What was happening here seemed to be a simple conversation between two like-minded parties, or at least like-minded in their enemy. However, Cam did notice that the Mandalorian leader had asked a very simple question, and the captain had not given him a simple answer.

“I wish for a chance to rain the vengeance I swore down upon them as my home world burned... Will you grant me this if I join you?”, said the proud Mandalorian.

The answer to this question was quite clear to Cam, although the captain did try to sound more diplomatic in his answer. He explained to the Mandalorian that the safety of his people was more important, and unfortunately Cam had little way to distinguish the warrior’s reaction because of the helmet that hid his face. Using his own experiences to relate to what the Mandalorian may be feeling, Cam imagined that was not what the warrior wished to hear. After the Imperium had invaded Correllia, Cam was running. After he joined the fight, it was all he wanted to do, and he imagined it was the only thing on this warrior’s mind.

“Alor”, began Cam as he approached and stood near the captain’s chair, his helmet still tucked under his arm. He was no expert on Mandalorians, but he did take time to research how to properly address the Mandalorian. “The straight answer to your question is yes. I promise you that you will have the opportunity to exact your vengeance upon the Imperium, it is only a question of time. I know you would never see a failed attack against the Imperium as part of your vengeance, and this is what the captain is elaborating on. In order for our efforts against the Imperium to be effective, we must first gather our resources and create a plan of attack. By doing this, we can insure that your chance to strike back is as perfect as it can be, giving you an almost sure opportunity.”, finished Cam.

He hoped his addition to the captain’s words aided their efforts, Cam wasn’t an expert in diplomacy.

 

[Ender]

Niles nodded in agreement with those around him, shadows dancing across his ancient, scarred face. "We are at war, and we must understand that. While we must not stoop to the level of the Sith in order to wage this war," Niles trailed off thinking of the brutal tactics employed by the Mandalorians in ancient times, and even some, more modern, ones, "We must do whatever it can to win. Everything depends on it. Our future, and yours."

 

[Johnnysaurus Rex]

*You can skip me since there isn't much fro my guy to do unless the Rebels and Mandos actually make contact*

 

[T.J]

Bringing the document that had been sent to him up on his personal datapad, Delmon looked over the terms and conditions the Rebels were willing to settle and negotiate on. As he read he silently listened to the Captain as he plead his case, and even still as his supporters added their own pieces of advice in the matter. When his people's safety came into question, his gaze broke from the small device and once again fell onto Donkur. His temper flared, but he kept it within his gut. The Rebels he found himself speaking with here ignorant to his true motives, he could not blame them for misinformation.

" You misunderstand Captain. My people are all I have left in this harsh galaxy. I do not see them as pawns to be spent or a means to an end. All that I do now is for their benefit, the vengeance they seek is one and the same with my own. I am merely an advocate for their wishes. "

Setting the datapad down so that he could give his hosts his full attention he continued.

" We are not bloodied beasts. I have no disillusions about the vengeance I seek. It very well might take years, decades until we are able to strike back at the Sith. I may not live to see the deaths of my people and the destruction of my home avenged, but sowing the seeds of the Imperium's destruction seems like a good start. "

Going off of the comment that Niles made pertaining to particular tactics, his helmeted head tilted slightly to face the man as he spoke. His voice grew cold as he did so, evident that his mind had wandered into dangerous waters.

" Then there is little chance of success... The Sith will stoop to any low to maintain their power, nothing is sacred to them. The genocide of my people is testament to that fact. They designated no civilian zones. They gave no quarter, no demands, and no mercy. Millions of innocent women and children were turned to ash, just to prove a show of force. Your Rebellion may have it's morals, but I do not. Such mercy burned away along with my home... You would do well to remove such thoughts if you truly wish to defeat them. "

 

[Cortan]

Donkur pinched the middle of his face yet again, mixed feelings rising in response to the clan leader's words. He supposed he should have been a bit more cautious about enabling the others to speak, for even if diplomacy were not his strong point, simply allowing the others to speechify without concern for the other's side response was risky. The response to the notion of the alliance was the first obvious reason as to why - having been betrayed by one allies who'd reveled in glory together, the clan leader had reason to be suspect of calls to band together. This was why Donkur had tried to present the differing options of directly merger of military forces, or, working alongside each other. But it would appear that more might be needed to ease Skyblade's concerns...

Of course, then came the response to a particular concern that McNamara had raised as well.

"And what would be the legacy of Mandalore then?" Donkur was quick to interject with a response, his voice and expression firm as he looked across at Skyblade.
"You would become in certainty the monsters that the Sith purported you to be. The propaganda they now spread to have justified your execution, would be validated in reality. Noone would speak of the great honour or skill of your warriors, even if we were to win the war that's coming. You would become the boogeymen of the galaxy, the thing parents would speak of to frighten their children. That's not something you can rebuild a society on." Certainly aside of the practical issues in alliances and resources, Donkur was concerned for what it might do to the spirit and intent of the Mandalorians. Naturally, they wanted vengeance now, and likely would for many years, but would the desire for some stability, after years of uncertainty and conflict, not rear its head at some point?

"More to the point... up until ten years ago, many of the territories now held by the Imperium, were part of the Galactic Alliance. And ten years may be a lot of time, but certainly not enough it would convince everyone simply to align themselves with the Empress and her followers. Even in the lowest depths of Coruscant, right under the shadow of the Sith academy, there are protests and riots among survivors." Now footage was transmitted across the void to the small ship before them, footage that he was aware Bastele himself was using to make the point elsewhere. It was as Donkur described, survivors of Coruscant in uproar and protest, even as they were mowed down by blaster fire, whilst some cast fuel upon the ground, which ignited when stray blaster fire fell upon it. Too little fuel to damage or explode, the flames instead simply burned into the pattern that had been spread.

The crest of Defiance Squadron.

"If people there, can show their defiance to the Imperium, then it must be possible on all worlds they now hold claim to. If we gain their support, they can gain the support of others from there. Our Rebellion can grow, move faster, work harder, strike stronger. But these are people wanting not only the downfall of the Imperium, but the restoration of a government that cares for and understands their needs. The Galactic Alliance was not perfect in this, I will admit, but then this would be our chance to rework the entire system from the ground up." Such was part of the terms in fact - that those who took part in this joint effort would have their voices heard and rightly considered in the debate for a new government. Something that Donkur briefly highlighted.
"But that won't happen if the people see more reason to fear us, than to rally behind us. We need to give them hope; an ideal they can strive towards and work for." Then, for somewhat dramatic effect, Donkur gestured via his hologram to the clan leader.

"You and your clan, can give them that. In that, the legacy of Mandalore would be one of redemption, and through that, resurrection. From the fires of turmoil, you would rise as beacons, whose light others should follow. Warriors, proud and strong, but tempered by virtue, and not blinded by fury. You would rise above the kind of warrior whose lust for power, both in the Imperium and in Mandalorian space, led to where your people stand now. Even if you do not live to see the end of the Imperium as we know it, there would be those willing to take up your helm and continue the fight in your stead. You will have your vengeance, and it will be great." With one last, deep breath, he stared upon the distant clan leader...
"...Apologies, I can ramble a bit sometimes. Think the medicine can do some things." Before letting off one small remark, hoping to add some levity to the whole affair.

 

[T.J]

" There is no legacy of Mandalore Captain. He was a fool to trust the Empress, and his hubris lead to our undoing. There will be no songs sang of him should the Mandalorian people live to write them. "

Delmon said bluntly. As the words left his lips he could almost feel something breaking within him. For more than a decade he had poured himself wholly into the service of Mandalore and his cause. Another half decade had been spent trying to rekindle said cause, to bring another worthy Mandalore back into the fold and start the Mandalorian people back on the road to security. Now in that moment he found himself uncaring if another leader would ever be chosen, unwilling to risk the lives of his people in another fruitless man hunt when they already numbered so few. He doubted he would live to see another Mandalore, and for some reason he did not mind.

The images and footage of people trying to rise up against the Sith even in the shattered remains of Coruscant stirred a new vigor within the Mandalorian. From his experiences it had seemed that all had simply rolled over to the Imperials, that they had given up all their freedoms for an ounce of safety. Seeing those men and women willingly risking their lives in open defiance to the Sith gave him a small sliver of hope.

"Perhaps... You are right. Though I could not care less what the galaxy as a whole speaks of us in the future, I would like to see a sense of normality return to my people. We number too few now to continue our war march openly, when this is all said and done we will most assuredly number even fewer. Perhaps disappear completely should this Rebellion of yours fails. Ordo will aide you as best we can Captain. We only ask for the basic provisions required for our survival, and the promise that should the Sith find our home once again we will have a place to flee to. In exchange. We will be your... Boogeymen. "

Delmon ended the sentence with the same word Donkur had used to describe the clan's hypothetical future. He had never heard it prior and he felt it somewhat fitting despite not knowing it's actual meaning.

 

[Cortan]

"...I had meant the planet, Mr Skyblade." After such a tense atmosphere, intercut by a passionate speech, humility, and acceptance from differing sides, Donkur let slip from his usually steady demeanor something that resembled a smile - and probably was, given the different facial anatomies. There was a low chuckling that escaped Donkur, the thought of such a moment underlined by something so simple as a mistake over the intent and meaning of his words.
"For that matter, the 'boogeymen' thing was supposed to be a bad thing... though so long as its their military that quakes in the boots, I think that'll work out just fine. A little paranoia to disturb the Empress' sleep would be acceptable." Donkur leaned back, gradually relaxing as he left out a soft sigh, and even began to lightly spin back and forth in his chair.

"You will have your provisions, and our protection in future. I'm certain that your clan's support will be in turn a great boon as well, given we both need to get up on our feet." Donkur signed off on the deal on his screen, content that they could change anything troublesome in future in mutual agreement - it was mostly just a formality regardless, and he had to imagine much of it would have changed beyond the letters put down anyway.
"If you'd be willing to board, we can take you home, and have some of my men begin assessments of what your people require and what we can currently spare. Our supplies are relatively minimal, but regularly replenished, so there will be things for you to work with soon if you ever run out." In the immediate sense, it'd be mostly the kinds of things that would normally be applied to ship repairs - durasteel, copper, so forth - but could be repurposed for general usage. Donkur gestured in an invitational manner to the clan leader.

"I actually have a bottle of blossom wine, to toast the occasion. Haven't opened it since I got it over ten years ago, so I imagine its... matured a bit."

 

[T.J]

"... My apologies then Captain. In basic the word has a duel meaning. In my native tongue there is Manda'yaim, which is the planet you know as Mandalore. The other is Mand'alor, which is what we call our leader. I'm sure you can see my confusion in the matter. Regardless Manda'yaim will never be what it once was, we can only move on and hope such a tragedy does not befall the Mandalorian people again. "

Delmon breathed a sigh of relief from behind his visored helmet. Too soft to be picked up by the ships audio equipment, he let his shoulders relax slightly as both parties seemed content in the terms that had been set down. A streak of paranoia still shot through his heart at the prospect of bringing outsiders to his clan's newly claimed home. The last time he had opened his arms so willingly a Sith spy had been able to enter into his ranks, which had been the direct cause of the Sith's discovery of his home's location. He would have to force himself to let at least a portion of his guard down, at the very least in an action of good faith to show his cooperation. In his mind there was little reason for the Rebellion to turn Ordo over to the Sith, considering they were amassing forces in an attempt to directly oppose them.

" Your terms seem fair Captain. I will board and show you the way to my home. Though I must abstain from your wine, dulls the senses... "

With that said he engaged his ships controls and began slowly moving towards the cruiser so that he could board the much larger craft.