Mando Mission: Delivery, It's Mandorno's/Mando Express.

[SoloWing]

Coruscant, Early Morning​

The ringing of armored boots across metal marked time to Nyloke's journey across the cargo hold. His eyes flicked back and forth between the datapad in his hands and the mound of containers and boxes that grew around him. Behind him, two scruffy transport droids were constantly weaving in and out of the storage facility, bringing boxes to his attention and securing them to the freighter's floor. With each delivery, Nyloke clicked off the item from his list and then proceeded to triple check his inventory list. Not a single box would escape his thorough examinations!

It was a most important task that had been placed in the hands of Cyrus and himself. The recent ousting of the Mandalorian clans had left them scattered and broken across the galaxy. Supplies were scarce and distribution was still being organized. And thus, the two had been chosen to cover a most vexing gaffe and oversight in the past evacuation. Several colonies and refugee camps were alarmingly low on edible supplies and facilities. It was Nyloke and Cyrus' task to make a delivery run and ease the burden of their fellow warriors.

If things continued as they were, then the pair should be ready to launch their cargo transport ship into the atmosphere within the hour. Just as that thought entered his head, Nyloke found himself distracted by a whirring pop and muffled explosion. He turned towards the source of the disturbance to find that one of the cargo droids had... experienced a malfunction of some sort. The abused droid was sitting at the cargo hold's entrance in a limp pile of parts and servos, with smoke issuing from several of its mechanical joints.

Nyloke frowned at this development. He approached the droid, cautiously, to examine it and harbored the vague hope that he might be able to initiate a repair. Doubt filled his heart on the matter. His abilities with computers was, indeed, rather infamous...

 

[Niner]

Cyrus walked in to the cargo bay just in time to see the droid explode.
"Osiik" he muttered to himself. His helmet was clipped onto his belt and he had a sniper rifle slung across his shoulder. Each of his armored boots had a large curved knife strapped to them. He walked over to his fellow mandalorian and the busted droid.
"Well, nothing we can do for this one. Maybe the quartermaster can fix him but we gotta keep moving." Cyrus pulled a flask from his belt and took a long swig from it.
"well that makes me feel better about the loss of our dear droid friend....er.....X3540630?"

 

[SoloWing]

"Yes, truly his presence shall be felt." Nyloke allowed himself to sigh at the droid's fate. "For now our take-off shall be delayed a short while longer."

The overall situation was hardly one conductive to imagining the quartermaster gracing them with another droid; with only one droid to ferry their goods and supplies it would take twice as long to finish stocking the cargo hold. But, there was nothing good to come from weeping over spoiled liquids. Action was required, not mourning.

He bent over the disabled droid, grasped it firmly about the torso and lifted. The machine came easily off the ground and he hefted it over one shoulder. It sputtered and cranked, but otherwise held silent.

"I shall return the quartermaster's highly defective property to him. I beg of thee to watch the hold until I return." Nyloke explained his actions and then set off on his journey.

 

[Niner]

Cyrus watched the other man walk off with a raised eyebrow, "I beg of thee to watch the hold" he mocked under his breath. He sat down on a nearby crate and kept drinking out of his flask, "It was just a fracking droid.....I was kidding when I said I'll miss him."

He saw a handful of screws laying on the crate next to him. He picked on up and chucked it at a droid carrying the cargo.
"HAHA! HEADSHOT!" he cheered as the screw connected solidly with the droids head.
He took another swig from his flask and found it empty.

"Osiik" he cursed under his breath. He hopped off the crate and started looking around for some more booze to fill it up.

 

[SoloWing]

The journey to the quartermaster's lodging was shot-lived and unremarkable. What happened after Nyloke arrived, deposited the droid at the feet of the dwelling's doorway, and rose to knock on the door, however, was much more interesting to note. The door retracted with a hiss and the quartermaster, a burly man with more weight than good sense, looked out the front door and growled.

"I expect you to pay for that." The man, Oswald Wiggins by name, said.

"I expect otherwise." Nyloke countered smoothly. "The droid was obviously malfunctioning before it was logged for our service. We have no intention of paying for broken equipment."

What followed was a scathing argument of witty rejoinders, heated remarks and cunning arguments. Yet, in the end, Nyloke prevailed. The quartermaster accepted fault for the damages and they parted over a handshake-- if for no other reason than to get Nyloke out of the office.

Blissfully unaware of this, Nyloke returned to the hanger and the transport ship that had been given to them for the purpose of their deliveries. He mounted the boarding ramp and clambered back into the hold.

"Greetings, Cyrus." Nyloke began as his head entered the hold. "I trust everything went well during my absence?"

 

[Niner]

Cyrus had his head in a crate when Nyloke spoke to him, "Osiik!" his head hit the top of the crate as he tried to get out of it quickly, a bottle of liquid in each hand. He gripped the cork of one of the bottles with his teeth and pulled it out, taking a long swig from it.

"Uhhhh yeah.....everythings great here. Should be ready to leave in a few minutes......I'm thinking you should fly though."
He took the open bottle and filled up his hip flask then continued to drink from it.
"So.....let's go" He said as he walked up the boarding ramp.

 

[Matt]

Nero entered the cargo hold with his head feeling as if a bantha had done tap dancing on it. Despite being turfed out of there homes the clans had a few thigns to keep them entertained. The Mandalorians weren't normally welcome on world's like Coruscant but they were welcome now.

Nero being the enterprising gentlemen he was sampled the majority of Coruscant's seedy bars looking for drink, women or a fight in that particular order.

Last night had been a night where only two had come about, one was most certainly drink and judging by where he woke up, the second had gone to plan rather well. Despite the draped figure across him as he woke up this morning the girl was not worth the hang over.

He always got a bit of joy when he spoke to those he hadn't met before, he looked every bit the hardened Mandalorian but sounding like an Grand Moff, a by product of his birth parents early teachers.

Two of his partners on this humanitarian mission were coming into Nero's rather hazy vision now.

''Su'cuy''

 

[SoloWing]

"Su'cuy." Nyloke opted to greet the newcomer before undertaking any other tasks. Given his comrade's rather worrying disposition, another calmer head would be an undoubtedly excellent addition to the crew.

"You arrived just in time, my good man. I was beginning to worry that some foul incident had befallen you." His arm went wide to gesture at the gangplank; he fixed their new companion with a comradely smile. A simple shift allowed him to address Cyrus' retreating back. He could not help but be alarmed at the sway in the man's steps. "Assuming that the last of our supplies have been safely secured to our humble vessel, let us, indeed, be off."

 

[Niner]

Cyrus heard the newcomer address them. He spun around, almost loosing his balance, "Su'cuy mate!" He lifted the bottle up, "Care for a drink before we take off?" He asked, there were indeed benefits to these kind of missions....low risk of any conflict meant drinking on the job was a-okay.

He walked backwards up the ramp and then went straight to the cockpit, strapping himself in to the co-pilots chair. He set his sniper rifle down next to him and kicked his feet up onto the dashboard.

"LET'S ROLL BROTHERS!" He yelled following it up with a whoop of excitement.

 

[Matt]

''No, I don't want a drink and will both you both keep the noise down. I had a rather heavy evening and thankfully I was given this rather easy assignment over anything to taxing''

With a grimace he strolled up the gang plank of the ship before a brief look around showed him a rather comfortable looking seat. He collapsed onto it, did up the safety restraints and closed his eyes, thinking of home....and not throwing up.

 

[SoloWing]

Ah. It appeared that he was the only member of this crew not to be intoxicated on some level. That was... less than re-assuring. Nevertheless, these minor trials could be overcome and their mission completed successfully. Nyloke would accept nothing less!

Leaving Nero and Cyrus to their devices, and trying to tune out the loudly proclaimed euphemisms of his co-pilot, Nyloke settled into the role that had become his by default. He seated himself behind the vast controls and operations, called in for clearance to depart, and, upon receiving it, undertook the task of bringing their transport ship into the air.

"Yes," Nyloke commented. "As you have said, 'let's roll'."

He engaged the forward thrusters and their transport began the long climb away from the planet's surface and into the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

 

[Niner]

Cyrus leaned back in his seat, "Well I'm gonna get some sleep. Wake me up if something important happens....and by important I mean we are in danger of dying..........or you stumble across booze floating through space.....something like that."
With that said he put his head back and promptly passed out, perfectly comfortable in the cushy chair.

 

[Matt]

''Is he all there?''

Nero had the good graces to keep his voice down but he never particularly found it pleasing to have what seemed to be the nutter of the group flying the ship.

This mission however was clearly another one in Mandalore's grand plan, just a shame it didn't involve killing or fighting or making credits....Oh well.

 

[SoloWing]

Nyloke passed Cyrus a less than encouraging look. He then proceeded to respond with the only answer that was fitting for the situation: "I hardly find the notion of alcohol loosely floating in space to be a plausible scenario. But if, perchance, we discover any such anomaly, I shall be sure to wake you."

His attention then returned to the consoles and controls. As their proud vessel passed from the clutches of gravity and into the cold grip of space, Nyloke began laying out the coordinates and calculations required for their jump to hyperspace. Such figures were then triple-checked for accuracy and sustainability.

Finally, the time arrived to make their glorious jump to hyperspace. His hand pressed down on the appropriate switch and the stars blurred before them into a neon display of insanity. They were now safely on their way to deliver the boxed goods.

Once he was certain that they were on the correct course and that the controls were thoroughly secured (it would not end well for their snoozing companion to enact his dreams and fantasy upon an unsuspecting control board, Nyloke unfastened his restraints and rose from his seat. There would be a fair amount of time before they arrived at their destination. Such time would be well spent.

 

[Matt]

Nero was first and foremost like 95% of Mandalorians a soldier. He had fought for many different courses across the galaxy during his 28 years but the most important rule in the galaxy for any soldier no matter who they fought for was this.

Always get some sleep when you can.

He had enjoyed a good few hours sleep onboard the transport and was feeling suitably refreshed with the remnants of the night before begin to exit his system.

He looked around the transport and the scene was still familiar form when he fell asleep. Another rule of soldiers, check your surroundings...

He moved his sight onto Nyloke, a small smile playing across the corner of his mouth.

''So burc'ya, tell me about yourself.''

 

[SoloWing]

Upon arriving at the cargo hold, Nyloke was both greeted and questioned. He returned his comrade's easy grin with a friendly smile of his own. Then his attention turned to selecting a proper container upon which to sit. Upon choosing one and using it for its intended purpose, Nyloke's attention drifted to his weaponry. He began disassembling, cleaning and calibrating his vast arsenal as he spoke.

Just because there was conversation afloat did not mean that one could neglect his weaponry. Heavens, no. These were the tools of battle, and Nyloke always opted to treat them with great respect. A blaster that was well maintained was a most reliable friend indeed.

"I would hardly find my own exploits unique, as attention-riveting as they are." Nyloke began. "As I, Nyloke the Dragon Slayer, am but a Mandalorian as were my fathers before me. I have won battles and lost wars; adventured far and wide; amassed fortunes and lost a king's ransom many times over; slain dragons and battled fiends. Such is the life that we lead.

"And what of yourself, might I ask?"

 

[Matt]

''So your a modest one then?''

Nero grinned light heartedly at his little jab but then Mandalorians were the worst in the galaxy for what many called banter. Friendly jabs designed to wind up ones brother's was always in abundance whenever Mando'ade were around.

''Me? My one and only goal in life is to reach the beautiful round number of 50'000. Whenever I hit that number I can die an old man. If of course in my journey I manage to make huge amounts of money and have sex with hundreds of beautiful women in the process then I won't be complaining''

Nero laughed as he patted his assault canon that was stood against the bulk head next to him, it was a heavy thing and brand new but he hadn't named it yet....Every Mandalorian had to name his weapon, first lesson his Buir had taught him.

 

[Niner]

A voice came from the direction of the copilots chair, "Amen mate. Me and Serenity here plan to make a lot of widows across the galaxy.....and of course break alot of hearts of all the beautiful women. And boy if I could tell you who I've slept with.......well.....if it weren't for the fact that at least one of them could kill me I'd tell you."

Despite talking Cyrus hadn't moved at all, the he promptly sat up and took his helmet off, taking a swig from his flask.
"Are we there yet?"

 

[SoloWing]

Nyloke digested these tidbits for a rudimentary second, pondered them within the recesses of his mind, and then opted to share his verdict. "That is... quite the unusual goal that you have, my good man. While I could never quite bring myself to wish anyone success in the venture of breaking a fair maiden's heart, I can wish you success towards your eventual goal."

He had his weapon, a trusty Hettyc'bev "Burning Spike" Launcher, almost completely disassembled by now. The task of recalibrating the mechanisms and re-aligning the delicate instruments was now upon him.

A quick pause allotted him the time to answer Cyrus: "No, we are not quite there yet. T'will be a short while longer before we arrive at our destination." His attention turned back to Nero. "Perchance, do you have an estimate of your success towards reaching that number?"

 

[Matt]

Nero thought of the rounded number in his head and he always did the calculations in his head every other night just to keep it there, he hadn't added to the list in far to long, something that annoyed him profusely.1

''Not doing as well as I'd like, there was a few border disputes where I got some good numbers but I really need the empire to start kicking off, hopefully next time they come calling we will stick it to the chakaars rather then legging it''