Sisk_Renelo
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In the middle of deep space hung a solitary comm satellite, the burnished metal pitted and scarred from its long vigil in the middle of nowhere. Placed here over a decade before by Clan Orar on Sisk’s order, the satellites had been part of top secret Protector Operation to allow them to maintain a watch on the Galaxy and identify any threats to the Mandalorian people. Long distance arrays were cleverly built into the oblong sphere that allowed the satellite to detect and send transmissions from its quadrant of space. Linked into a massive network the Protector buoy was able to send a message anywhere in the galaxy almost instantaneously to allow the far flung Mandalorians an almost untraceable way of keeping in contact.
Around it hung four members of Dha Werda Verda, armor sealed against the cold dark of space and wearing maneuvering jets attached to hardpoints. Tools were attached to their belts by hooks that kept the hardware close as they pulled panels and repaired the circuits inside before closing the plates and screwing them down. The comm chatter was alive and controlled through the channels as they coordinated their efforts and called for tools and parts and passed them to each other. Sparks jetted away from the satellite as saws cut, arc welders attached disparate parts together, and random tools grated against metal parts. It was almost beautiful in a way.
Sisk stood on the bridge of the Darasuum Gra'tua and watched the work proceed. His buy’ce sat on the plinth next to him, the dark visor staring at nothing. He blinked once as the Mandalorian to the starboard side of the satellite affixed one last panel and then gave the ship a thumbs up. The work was done, the satellite ready. A quick pulse sent by the Gra'tua verified the validity of the work and Sisk moved to the comm panel, snagging his buy’ce as he passed and sliding it over his skull. The Mandalorians needed to know that someone that was not afraid to wear the visor, not afraid of the orders laid against them by their murderers. It was what was needed.
As he moved to the comm panel Marcus moved in front of him, a wary look on his war weathered face. “What are you planning Sisk?” Sisk laid a hand on his old friend’s shoulder and gave him a small nod.
“I’m planning on doing what I should have done long ago. The Mandalorians need a leader, one untainted by the legacy of Vencu and Carien. It will be difficult, but our vode will listen. At least the ones who want to will.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth.” Sisk patted Marcus’ shoulder and moved past him to the waiting console, where a tech was inputting the final code sequence required for the system. A small green light lit up above the transmission plate and the tech slid back silently and took his place at a signal modulator control. He would ensure that the signal broadcast location stayed hidden from prying eyes and ears. There was no way to prevent the Imperials from hearing the message completely even broadcasting on Mandalorian only channels, but they could encrypt and disguise it well enough. “Are we ready?”
“Yes Alor. Encryption is set, scrambling in place, multiple relay system ready. They’ll never be able to find us.” The tech sounded almost smug even through his vocabulator. He had good reason to be.
“They couldn’t get here in time anyway, and we’re far enough away from the Morut to keep any link secret. But the more layers we add the more resources they devote to tracking down nothing but a dead end. That should keep Imperial ‘Intelligence’ busy.” His hands found the sides of the console and he allowed the motion tracking cameras find his helmet. When they established a solid lock the holographic representation that would be sent out popped into view. It showed his head and torso, the distinctive Beskar’gam that he had worn for a decade and a half marking him to his scattered brethren.
“Ready to transmit on your order, Alor.” Sisk took a deep breath and steeled himself. Then he nodded. The tech flipped a switch and Sisk faced the cameras as they began to transmit.
“This is Sisk Renelo with a message for all true Mando’ade. I know that many of you think me dead, but even the iron grip of the Imperials could not hold me. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes I have returned, as shall all of you. “ The words were heavy, laden with emotion and need. “The Empire took everything from us. They reduced our worlds to ash and killed billions. Our families, our Aliit, are gone. Those voices demand justice. Those voices demand Vengeance. I will not allow this blow against our people to go unpunished.”
“For those of you who feel the warrior’s call singing in your veins, the need to spill the blood of those who attacked us like hut’uun in ambush, unwilling to face the true Mandalorian spirit, you can find me at the Heart of the Shadow. In one weeks time all loyal Mando’ade who wish to regain their legacy shall meet at the Shadow, where all will be revealed.” It was cryptic, incredibly vague. Even if the Imperials figured it out the region was vast, unchartable. They would be safe there.
“We shall walk the path again soon, ner vode. Together as one people. Steel your hearts and prepare your arm for the war that is to come. The ground will run red with the blood of the guilty, and our boots will march anew on fresh battlefields. Oya Manda!”
The tech cut the link and Sisk stepped back and breathed. He hated speaking in public, he always had, but he knew what was needed and would do it. The Mandalorians needed a voice, one not tainted by Imperial propaganda and osik. Sisk had been that voice before and he could be that voice again. Some hailed him as hero, others reviled him, but they all could recognize how hard he had fought for his people and their culture. The former Sol’yc Cabur had always been an outspoken proponent of the Mandalorian Spirit and Heart, a warrior that had been at the forefront of every major conflict the Mandalorians had fought for the last 15 years. When the Imperials had invaded, it had been Sisk and his clan that had struck back. When the others cowered in their holes, Sisk and his Clan had dared to stand against the Empire. When the Genocide occurred, Sisk and his Clan, outnumbered and outgunned 100,000 to 1 had fought with all their strength and ferocity and guile to give others a chance to escape. Sisk himself had spent over two years in an Imperial Prison. Despite any reservations, they would come.
Underneath his boots he could feel the ship shift as the transmission completed and it accelerated towards their new base. The stars in front of him were mere pinpricks against the dark canvas, not even a nearby sun to cast light. Sisk removed his helmet and turned to the bridge crew. “Erase the logs. Both on the ship and the buoy. No evidence that we were here. Set the message to repeat on rotating channels for the next 12 hours, at which point it is to erase itself. No trace.” The Mando around him nodded and set to work as Sisk moved from the bridge into the corridor behind. His walk was not far, and his feet led him with surety to the observation deck on the top of the ship. Several harsh lights lit the space, and Sisk settled his frame into the chair situated in the middle of the small half sphere. “Lights off.”
Around him the lights winked out, leaving Sisk alone in the blackness. It was the perfect place to contemplate on possible futures. He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes, covering himself completely in shadows.
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