Honor, Against All Odds

[Vencu]

... Ori'aran-class Gunship A'den be Prudii, just outside of the D'Astan Sector, Outer Rim Territories ...

Corden stepped through the hatchway and into the dimly lit confines of the ship's bridge, his helmet light filter kicking in almost immediately to compensate for the low lighting. His eyes scanning across the compact bridge from one end to the other out of habit, he made his way toward one of the two pilot stations at the far end, zeroing in on its lone occupant.

"Is it operational?" Corden queried, his voice oddly metallic as it issued through his helmet microphone and rebreather. He stopped just short of the pilot station, "That thing cost me a small fortune. It had better work or I'm paying that dealer another visit."

"No doubt." The pilot's seat spun around slowly, the armored female sitting there offering a smug grin, "It's a decent piece of hardware... and it works alright. I could have made you a better one from scratch, though... and I offer a guarantee... too late now. Who do you want to be?"

Corden considered the question, his own grin fading, "Light freighter. Origin... Ord Trasi. It's deep enough in Imperial territory that it shouldn't attract any unwanted attention. Just make sure we jump in from that direction, elek?"

"Nayc osik... and cargo?"

"It's Serenno. Be creative."

"Lingerie and luxury foodstuffs it is... I'll get to it. The others should be finishing up on the hull, by the way. The scaffolding and plates were the hard part. Keval said all that's left is placing the detonators along the welds."

"Good, let me know when everyone is back aboard."

Corden turned on his heel, his eyes locked on the faint blue light that was now steadily blinking just over the main communications terminal. He pushed a gloved finger down on a button near the corner of the control panel as he scanned over the display screen, opening a secure channel and activating the holo-reciever to accept the incoming transmission. I requested audience with Mand'alor almost four standard days ago. Now I finally get a reply. Probably from a minion, too. He's like kriffing royalty. Ha. Mandalorian royalty. Imagine that.

"This is Vencu. Go ahead."

 

[Livgardist]

Tesla walked through the corridors of the A'den be Prudii restlessly. They were on their way. He was bored on-board the gunship, itching to get thrown into the bloody fray that was battle - where he belonged. His Mandalorian helmet in his hand, he walked towards the bridge, where his new commanding officer would be found.

The Private had been recruited by Commander Vencu only a week before, for a special assignment on Serenno. It was a rescue operation, a captured Mandalorian that needed to be freed from the hands of an Imperial Moff. Rescue operations had never been something that Tesla had specialized in, but that had not stopped him from accepting the offer, both out of loyalty towards a fellow Mandalorian, and because there was a great chance for both personal glory, and glory for Clan Carid, in the mission.

He soon entered the murky bridge, lit up only by the lights of the many buttons and warning lights on the control panels of the two pilot stations. As expected he found the Commander there, talking to the pilot and then proceeding to accept an incoming transmission. Tesla placed his helmet on the dashboard, and leaned against the wall close to the pilot, crossing his arms as he watched the conversation to come between his new commander, and Mandalore's representative. His gut feeling told him it would not be a pleasant one.

"The Commander sounds annoyed." He said to the female pilot. "Trouble?"

 

[Phil]

Prime Roxton Dagger stepped into the communications room that was reserved for Mandalore and his higher ups, wearing his family armor with some Prime attachments to it. Most Primes under his command was allowed to wear nearly any sort of armor they desired so long as it had some Prime identification and wore their Mandalore's colors.

So it seemed that one of his own was captured by Imperials, and judging from the report it may have ended up his own fault. He would see soon enough as the machine scanned him and a holographic image appeared before Corden.

"This is Prime Roxton Dagger, please identify yourself and your business."

 

[Vencu]

"Ni gai Corden, ni cuy alor be aliit Vencu bal al'verde be Te Atiniiryc Kisol." My name is Corden, I am the leader of clan Vencu and commander of The Enduring Few.

Corden paused briefly, considering how readily the Prime chose Basic over Mando'a. He quickly decided to continue on in Basic to accommodate the man. It was quite possible Mando'a wasn't his first language and that he was more comfortable with Galactic Basic. Corden didn't really care either way. He was focused on the task at hand. All else faded and fell to the wayside.

"I had hoped, for Mandalore's sake, that he knew nothing of the Mandalorian held captive on Serenno. That isn't the case, though. Is it? I've been monitoring the situation for quite a while now. No fleet has been dispatched, no task force assembled to extract him. That worries me, Dagger."

------------

The armored female sitting at the pilot station looked up from the control console at the question, glancing over at Corden briefly before answering Tesla in a low whisper, "He doesn't like how things are run. He thinks we're headed in the wrong direction as a people. He wants to see change, but he's the type to be the change that he wants to see, so I don't expect him to sit on his shebs while all goes to haran. He'll do something about it one day. And I plan on being there with him. All the ori'ramikade do... we owe him that much. Besides, I tend to agree with him. Some things really do need to change."

 

[Phil]

The holographic Roxton looked at Corden as he crossed his arms some, listening to his words. Unfortunately, speaking Mando'a was a bit rusty for him, but he understood it perfectly. His words are confusing though, it made Roxton actually question why he was talking to this man.

"A fleet? For one private? Unless this was Mandalore's own family or an admiral, we would not be discussing this, we would be rescuing him. Unfortunately, Mandalore has looked into this manner, and as it pains him he has given the order that no member of his Mandalorians are to attempt a rescue. This is due to the fact we cannot risk angering the Imperials at us now with the current events. Even though you are not an official member, you should understand that sometimes the needs of many outweigh the needs of a few in critical times."

Roxton went on, then unfolded his arms so they were not folded behind him instead of across his chest as his blue ocular lens flickered once, as did the hologram.

"Given that he knows no vital information, the Imperials cannot gain much from him, and he is considered lost. Sad as it is, it is the truth we must accept. And yet I hear that you are still wanting to rescue him, and I must inquire why."

 

[Vencu]

"Rank, status, bloodline... these things mean little to nothing to a Mandalorian." Corden spat vehemently, his anger suddenly flaring at the Prime's words, "He is Mandalorian and that makes him a brother. We don't leave our vode to die. That is all that matters. And you, Dagger? You are starting to sound a lot like a kriffing aruetii."

Corden shook his helmeted head slowly, tempted to end the transmission right then and there.

Sadly, it is believable. I knew this would happen. Somehow I knew.

 

[Phil]

Roxton dropped all politeness for this man who seemed to ignore the majority of what he said. He spoke in a cold tone that held little empathy for Corden.

"You think I enjoy this? Welcome to reality, sometimes things don't go our way and your way of thinking is dangerous. You are thinking of how things were done in the past, where Mandalorians feared nothing, were manipulated by others and nearly destroyed countless times. Mandalore the Indomitable is changing things, for the better of us all in the Mandalorians. If you are so inclined for some change, then all you need to do is find him, not that he would accept a challenge from just anybody."

Roxton controlled his anger, furious as he was about the disrespect this man was showing not to just him, but his people at that.

"If you're so wanting to try to save him, then it's your own death. But it is Mandalore's orders that no Mandalorian under him attempt this. This discussion is over."

With that, Roxton ended the transmission when he was done speaking. Rare was it that someone was so absorbed in the past that they could not see past how things were done today.

 

[Shilan Vencu]

Shilan's lips pressed into a firm line behind her visor in a failed attempt to master her own temper, watching as the transmission flickered into nothingness. The murmuring of the pilot and Tesla wasn't lost on her, but she paid it no mind; she was a lot more concerned with what she could see from her place skulking in the hatchway that led to the bridge, which was to say a conversation she did not like at all. She could understand both sides, she supposed; yes, it was only one man, and she was nothing if not credit-minded. Expending resources always had a bigger cost than anticipated. Still… the idea of leaving a Mando behind did not please her, not even a little. If it was her son, she’d want him back, and she figured whoever his family was wanted him back too.

Well… that, and she was unduly pleased with the chance to go in guns a-blazin’ and battle against the odds. New age for Mando’ade or not, that would never, ever go out of style.

She ducked out from the hatchway she’d been standing in to step properly onto the bridge, now that it didn’t carry the chance of interrupting the transmission. Her gloved fingertips tapped slowly against her thighplate, the only outward giveaway of her own irritation, but she figured that they all were a little agitated anyway. No one would care.

“Mesh’la,” she said dully, her voice distorted by her helmet’s rebreather. Beautiful. Shilan leaned against a nearby console, careful not to nudge any of the buttons, and figured that she’d said all she really needed to. It was amazing how much distaste one could pack into a word.

 

[Livgardist]

Tesla listened in silence as the female pilot told him the situation. She spoke proudly of her service to Commander Corden Vencu of the Enduring Few. Their loyalty to him was admirable. When she was done, the conversation between the Mandalorian hologram and Corden was all but over as well. He thought about what Dagger had said; "It is Mandalore's orders that no Mandalorian under him attempt this."

His thoughts were interrupted by another Mandalorian, a female, speaking through a rebreather. She only made one short remark. Tesla's eyes drifted back to Corden, and he made a disliking face that said more than anything what he felt about the conversation that had just occurred. Instead of saying it, though, he only said: "And so, we stand alone, it seems. But at least, we stand." He added with a shrug. He didn't even take into consideration what the punishment would be for him, a Mandalorian, to have gone against the orders of Mandalore.

 

[Vencu]

Corden let out a long, drawn out breath, the sound muffled only slightly by his rebreather. He glanced first to the armored figure that had entered just a brief moment before, instantly recognizing the armor. It was his wife, Shilan. He nodded ever so slightly in her direction, unsure of what to say. Shilan had summed it up quite nicely, albeit sarcastically. "Bal'ban."

Turning once more, Corden looked to the newest member of his crew, someone that he had recruited at their last resupply stop for this mission in particular.

"Tesla be'aliit Carid." Corden addressed the warrior before him, his tone level and firm, revealing nothing of the anger he had felt just a few standard minutes before, "I keep no secrets from those that serve with me, Carid. You heard the Prime with your own ears. This isn't a decision to be made lightly. We can easily drop you off at the nearest starport and you can pay for transport back to Manda'yaim... or you can join us. You must do what you feel is right, either way."

 

[Shilan Vencu]

Shilan folded her arms loosely beneath her chest, letting one of her hands flex and curl into a fist. She relaxed it, then repeated the motion a few times before she felt calm enough to stop; it was better than betraying herself otherwise. Her helmet inclined in Corden's direction, which was admittedly a fair bit more recognition than she'd given to anyone else on the bridge, before leveling on Tesla instead.

Young. Probably headstrong and reckless. He won't leave, I don't think. It was a snap decision, but one she was relatively pleased with. Fresh blood aboard was always nice anyway. A new set of eyes could sometimes make a situation look like something else entirely.

Her visor fixed more openly on Tesla now, though her eyes flicked between him and Corden as the latter spoke. It concerned her a little that she didn't have any smart comments to add. Well, now I know something's very wrong, she thought sardonically. If she hadn't been one hundred percent behind Corden's crusade for change before... she most certainly was now. And they could start with saving the idiot that got himself holed up by the Empire. That was a very good start.

 

[Livgardist]

Tesla's could feel the woman's eyes on him as his new commander offered to drop him off. After all, joining them, seeing the mission through 'til the end, meant going against the orders of Mandalore himself. Tesla's cheeks grew somewhat hot with indignation, and made worse-so by the thought of accepting such an offer in front of other mandalorians. He muttered:

"No way in Hell, sir. Mandalore may be our leader, but he's not our **** overlord. I, not Mandalore, choose when I am to fight. I'll stand with you and the Ori'ramikade through this, sir. And if it kills me, well then at least I'll die like a Mandalorian, not a ***** coward hiding under his bed while his brothers are in mortal danger..." He added, looking sideways to hide the disappointment in his eyes at the Mandalore's recently spoken orders.

 

[Vencu]

Corden nodded, quite satisfied with the passionate response he had received from the young warrior. "Ori'jate, ner vod. You can drop the sir, though. We're all vode here; all equals. Following a strict rank system is just an excuse for inept leaders to wave around pretty titles and pretend they matter. Actions are what make a warrior and chain of command is there to provide a smooth succession if the poor chakaar ahead of you goes down. That's all."

Corden paused a moment before continuing, hooking his gloved thumbs into his utility belt as he stood there.

"As for Mand'alor... I think he and I will be having a nice, long chat sometime soon."

 

[Shilan Vencu]

Shilan nodded slowly as Tesla spoke. Yes, she liked him well enough. He meant what he said, and someone had raised him right if he was that opposed to leaving a man behind. She wasn't impressed, but impressing her was nigh impossible. The word 'pleased' worked better, she decided, and settled on that.

"I hope by 'chat' you mean you're going to pull his stomach out through his nose," she grumbled, quiet but still perfectly audible. Shilan paused to imagine exactly what that would look like and wound up quite happy with her own imagination. Briefly, she examined Tesla, but couldn't really find anything to say to him that Corden hadn't, and so remained silent.

 

[Livgardist]

Tesla looked sideways at the woman's words, hiding his discomfort. Even if he disliked Mandalore's decision, and had just lost a lot of respect for the man, Mandalore was still Mandalore. Whether it was some lingering sense of loyalty, or his Mandalorian honor, he was uncomfortable talking about murdering Mandalore. It was a whole different matter fighting him to the death in a duel, though. That was the way of the Mandalorians. If Mandalore was weak, another would step up and defeat him, and the Mandalorian people as a whole would be strengthened by his victory.

"How long until we reach Serenno, sir?" He asked to change the subject, conveniently forgetting what Corden had just said about calling him 'sir'. "If there's work to be done, I prefer to get to it as soon as possible." That reminded him of something, and he added: "Do we have a plan for the rescue operation?"

 

[Vencu]

"A standard hour. Maybe less." Corden replied, going along with the sudden change in subject as his eyes locked on Tesla, "We're just a short jump away."

Corden moved further away from the communications console, eventually coming to a stop just in front of the large, rectangular holoprojector platform that sat in the center of the bridge. Most Ori'aran-class Gunships came standard with them, as they could be used to project a detailed representation of the ship itself, its many sectors of fire, and anything else within range of its advanced sensors. Without pause, he extended a gloved hand toward the control panel closest to him and typed a short string of code on the touch screen. The holoprojector flickered to life instantly, showing a detailed close-up of the ship itself, bristling with weaponry.

"This is an accurate hologram representation of A'den be Prudii. It's obvious that we wouldn't get far at all with such a heavily armed vessel." Corden pushed something else on the touch screen with his finger, what appeared to be durasteel pylons and bulky plates suddenly appearing all over the hologram of the ship, completely covering the hull and the numerous laser cannons. It looked like a huge metal brick with engines and half a dozen cargo containers attached to each side. "But with extensive cosmetic modification to the hull, we can easily pass as an old, battered cargo hauler. Combined with the transponder scrambler, we should be able to fool any patrols in the area and get past the defense grid to make our landing rather easily. Once we're planetside, my contact will pass along the coordinates to the castle where the Count of Serenno is most likely to have taken our man. Then we make our own door, go in loud, then bang out. And I have a little surprise for the di'kute watching the security cams... more on that later."