Star Forge - 45 (Patreon)

There was a small issue of actually getting to Mandalore. I honestly couldn't remember where I had set the closest connection Mandalore that didn't raise too many questions. Possibly it was the door on the Zepplin, but I couldn't remember if it was still on Concordia. We had moved to Red Dawn, then the ship we took from Tatooine, and back to Red Dawn.

Thankfully, I hadn't been a complete idiot. There was a Warehouse connection from the closet door from my room in the former Vizsla compound. The place needed a new name. No, that would be disrespectful to their history. They were responsible for the creation of the Darksaber. I wasn't going to insult them due to one idiot. The plan was simple, pop over, grab a ship, and take it to Mandalore. It would help my mystique if I suddenly appeared on the planet. Becoming a warlord would make things so much simpler.

How did I appear in an empty room? I am Mand'alor. Any further questions?

I couldn't think of any better options. The choice may have been influenced by the fact that I wanted to make an entrance. Showing up out of nowhere wearing the Mask of Mand'alor while carrying the Darksaber was the Mandalorian equivalent of the return of King Arthur. That and he was curious how the skill [Theme Song] would work when added to the mix. Would it be an audible thing that anyone could hear? Was it a mental thing? Now was as good a time as any to try it. I had purchased it to be funny and hadn't had the chance to use it yet. I regret not taking that cape now. On second thought I would save the theme music for a time when I wasn't trying to make a big impression. The majestic cape, or whatever it was called, would have been a better option. People wore those here and a theme song coming from invisible speakers attached to him was the wrong kind of funny.

"What do you mean we're not going with you?" Ahsoka glared at me.

I cocked my head to the side, "Which part is confusing you?"

"You can't go alone!" Ahsoka pressed.

I gave a single shake of my head, "Showing up with two bodyguards that are obviously Force Users would cause some issues."

"Poor, tough, Mando doesn't want to be seen with bodyguards?" Asajj teased.

I let out a single chuckle, "Toss on some armor and no one would look twice at you. You look like Jedi."

"I do not!" Asajj snapped.

I gave her a quick glance. Her outfit didn't look like a Jedi. Gone were the flavors of tan and the quasi-monk style. She wore a pair of tight black pants that were stretchier than they looked, a sleeveless white tunic with a blue geometric pattern, and her short hair hung loose coming to a stop just above her ears. Ahsoka wore a familiar outfit of a tight crimson tunic, charcoal-colored leggings, and knee-high boots. The duo could pass as some random spacer at a glance, but nothing more than that.

"It's your attitude," I clarified. "You both move like Jedi, stand like Jedi, and talk like Jedi. A lightsaber on your hip doesn't make you anything special. Mandalorians have a history of killing Force Users to the point it was through skill not luck."

They grumbled but didn't say anything more. I had a suspicion that I could get them both to put on armor eventually. If not to become Mandalorians, then at least some for protection. I was taking steps onto an intergalactic stage.

"Any other time I would ask if you wanted to come," I continued. "To put it bluntly, I'm invading a planet. A Mandalorian invading Mandalore makes sense. Add a couple of Jedi into the mix, or Force User adjacent, and it gets complicated."

Ahsoka glared at me for a long moment before she grumbled under her breath. She stormed off just short of stomping. Asajj shot a glare at him before actually stomping off after Ahsoka. I smiled under my helmet. They went from trying to kill each other to hanging out constantly together even when they weren't sparring.

"Carrie," My exterior speaker was muted. "If they ask, I'm going to get started."

"Understood, Captain," She replied. "I have the Upgraded GECK ready for you by the door."

"You're the best, Carrie," I chuckled.

There was a box the size of a deck of cards floating beside the door just like she said. I snagged it as I continued to the door. She had been working hard. I would need to figure out somehow to reward her. The door opened to reveal my 'penthouse suite' on Concordia.

A little box droid scooted around the room keeping it clean beeping as it went. It squeaked when it saw me before zipping through a little flap in the wall. I had a feeling that people would know I was here in short order. The sound of boots approaching echoed down the hall as I stepped out into the hallway. They came to a sudden stop once they saw me.

I wore the Mask of Mand'alor, carried the Darksaber, and had claimed the title of Mand'alor. The only thing that would have made it better was an epic cape. I think I had that as an option a while ago. Short-sighted on my part. Presentation was important as a Warlord.

"I need a map of Mandalore," I said as I strode toward them. "Where is the communications room?"

"Yes, Mand'alor!" They called in unison.

"Sir," one of the Mandalorians stepped forward. "I can show you the way."

Their armor was green with strips of blue along the arms. I didn't recognize the clan emblem. The fact that they had one was a good sign. They led me away from main hallway into the administration part of the compound.

We made good time once we were off the main walkways. The minimal décor was of good quality. My helmet made notes of each choke-point, potential cover, and area of fire we encountered as we walked. This place would be a bloody battle on foot. Too bad the entire palace could be erased from orbit. Potentially. I hoped that they had some sort of shielding.

The Mandalorians we encountered along the way froze when they saw me. I focused on the path instead of my growing audience. The description had been true; the Mask did grant an aura of a warrior king. I walked with intent and they could feel it.

We stepped into the communications room. A few of the technicians hurriedly put on their helmets. The computers and workstations were charming in an industrial way. It didn't escape my notice that the place was arranged to withstand an assault. In the center of the room was a large holo-projector. I strode over to it before.

"I need a map of Mandalore," I repeated to the room.

A hologram of the planet appeared in the space before me. The major settlements, homesteads, and cities were marked. They provided an easy guide to find the habitable areas of the planet. Mandalore wasn't a garden world. The mountainous regions were the most settled with the forests and fertile land popping up in cleanings and valleys along the ascent. Between the ranges were stretches of arid land that were barely alive.

Perfect for a GECK. I just needed to find the right spot.

I spun the globe with a lazy gesture. It spun away from the settled areas.

<Honored Mand'alor?> One of the nearby

I turned my head to look at them. Their armor was brushed silver noting them as a former Death Watch member. I motioned for them to continue.

<Why would we invade the wasteland?> The Mandalorian asked.

I nodded slightly in understanding, <We're not invading. We're restoring the wasteland for our people to settle.>

<Isn't that invading?> They asked.

I let out a chuckle, <No one lives there or has any claim. It's not invading.>

<Thank you, Mand'alor,> They bowed before shuffling away.

Another technician stood proudly trying to stare me down. Their recently buffed metal armor marked them as former Death Watch as well. It wasn't effective considering we were both wearing helmets. Their body language screamed that they did not like me.

<Why would we settle the wasteland, Mand'alor?> The technician said my title full of contempt.

I took a step toward him. He took a step back. I sighed then continued my approach. The technician was behind a workstation with their back to the wall. They had nowhere to go. I kept my approach as a slow prowl. He pressed himself back against the wall as I stopped just inside arms reach.

<I encourage questions," I said evenly. <They help us learn. We do ourselves a disservice if we do not continue to do so as we live. Does that make sense.>

They nodded.

<What I do not allow,> I plucked the helmet from their head. <Is disrespect. This is your one warning.>

The helmet came off with a pop. A young, human male stared at me in terror. I held it up for them to see, put my hands on the side, and pushed. The metal squealed as it flattened.

<Not even Beskar Alloy?> I shook my head. <What a disgrace.>

The technician tried to bristle at the insult. I tossed the helmet back at him. He caught it, looking from me to his newly crafted bowl.

I turned to the Mandalorian that had guided me here, <Gather a list of Mandalorians that do not have at least Beskar Alloy armor. It is my duty to make sure my people are properly equipped. We will have to do with an alloy until I can secure a viable source of Beskar.>

My crate of Beskar in my Warehouse could outfit a battalion in suits of full armor. Bo had informed me that it was a total of a thousand troops. My [Master Smith] knowledge told me that with the metal I have at my disposal I could stretch the material from one suit to make four alloy with a cutoff at the seventy-thirty blend. That meant four thousand full suits of Beskar Alloy.

I would need access to a lot more.

<I have a way to restore the area,> I said before I tapped my helmet to signal I was busy.

"Captain?" Carrie asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I replied. "Do you know how much Beskar can I get from the Mining Facility in the Warehouse?"

She paused, "A crate of exotic materials will be delivered every three months. Every local metal is considered exotic. Good news, it means one crate per material. There is a request form."

The form popped up on my HUD. It was a very, very long list. I was about to curse whoever designed in when I saw the filter button and a search function. Time to go shopping for rocks.

§

The technician was still staring at the handprints on the sides of his helmet by the time I was finished. I caught him sneaking a couple of looks at my gauntlets for modifications. Even if I did have Crush Gauntlets they were for gripping, which would not be able to squash the helmet.

<Here,> I pointed to a patch of badlands.

The area was nearly on the other side of the planet from Keldabe. Satine could huff and puff all she liked. No one had ever lived in the area. There wasn't even an ancestral claim for some unlucky, forgotten clan. My helmet overlayed the area that the GECK would heal. It was triple the size of Keldabe. There was plenty of space to settle. We would use our ships to mark areas until we could build proper housing. I was not going to go with the knock-off Coruscant that Satine had done to Keldabe. Who wants another mega-city planet?

Carrie did some amazing work upgrading the GECK. She had doubled the area, improved the speed of terra-forming, and adjusted the process so the edges of the restored area were gradual rather than a hard cut. It would take roughly two days once I placed the GECK.

<Yes, Mand'alor,> One of the technicians marked the center of the area.

<Now what?> Another of the technicians asked.

I turned to face them, <Now, I get started and maybe stop in to greet the neighbors.> I shifted my gaze to the Mandalorian that had led me to the communications room. <I need a ship. Practical, functional. Armed for defense, not assault. We can save the shiny ones for later.>

They nodded as they tapped their helmet. I smiled watching them silently converse. They spoke with their hands. Reading body language was a skill that every Mandalorian that wore the armor had to learn. It was the only way to get the full subtext when the helmets were on.

<We have a ship, Mand'alor,> The Mandalorian saluted with a fist to his chest.

I nodded, <Thank you. Your name?"

<Jask,> They caught themselves. <Jask Skoth, of the newly formed Clan Skoth.>

The Mandalorian shifted their stance to show the emblem on the shoulder. It was a shield over a pair of crossed blasters. Their armor made it hard to tell their gender, either a slender male or a petite woman. That was kind of the point. A Mandalorian was a Mandalorian was a Mandalorian.

<A shield is a good choice,> I nodded in appreciation.

Skoth stood straight under my praise.

<Lead on,> I motioned for them to move.

They managed to keep their pace at a walk. I smiled under my helmet. They looked like they wanted to burst into a run.

<You're doing a good job,> I tried to sound soothing. <I'm not going to snap the first time you make a mistake. Like I said, I encourage questions. Learning is important. It helps us stay alive.>

I needed to come up with an intelligence network. My finger tapped the side of my helmet before the thought fully formed.

"Carrie," My exterior speaker muted. "How long would it take for you to get a few dozen intelligence operatives created?"

"The units were created for infiltration and assassination," Carrie explained. "They're ready to go once the paint is dry."

"And how long will that take?" I pressed.

"We can do three hundred in a day," She replied. "Two thousand in a day if we dedicate the entire factory to it."

"Damn," I said without realizing it. "Let's start with one thousand and go from there. Spread them out, all of our potential enemies, allies, and the people that don't fit."

"That's a lot of work for a thousand units," Carrie cautioned.

"Start with the big ones first," I ordered. "Create more as needed as you go."

"Will do, Captain," She replied.

I tapped the side of my helmet once more to signal I was free once more.

<Mand'alor?> Skoth asked. <We're here.>

I focused on the room we stood in. It was a hangar big enough to hold a cluster of smaller ships, or maybe three medium vessels. The ship that stood ready looked like a bigger Slave-One with larger wings and cleaner paint. My helmet identified it as an Aka'jor-class shuttle. It was a good choice. The ship was constructed without weapons but was made specifically to easily accept modifications. A talented shipwright could turn the unassuming shuttle into a ship that could punch well-above its weight-class. It was also the ship that Satine used on diplomatic missions.

Using the shuttle that Satine preferred to visit speak to her? That could work. I personally would have picked a Keldabe-Class Cruiser for the extra irony.

I nodded, <Let's go.>

§

You know that feeling when you're in an elevator with your bosses' boss and you have no idea what to do? Conversation? Stare at the wall? Use your phone to check work emails? The trip from Concordia to Mandalore wasn't long, but everyone was on edge with me as the passenger. I wasn't sure how to cut the tension. The Mask probably didn't help matters. I was giving off the aura of a Warrior King. It didn't lend itself to helping my people relax. Maybe I should get a suit of armor that's a different color and skip wearing the Mask. That way I could mingle with my people without making it odd. There was an influx of Mandalorians on the horizon. One more among them would be easily lost in the shuffle.

Or I could just deal with it and be a Mand'alor that lives on in legend.

<Your armor? Is any of it Beskar?> I asked.

"I'm sorry, Mand'alor," The pilot replied in Galactic Basic. "I'm still learning Mando'a."

I chuckled, "It takes time. I asked if any of you have Beskar armor."

"Oh," The pilot shrunk a little. "No, Mand'alor. It's too expensive."

I nodded, "I will need to remedy that." I turned my attention to Skoth. "Focus on the task of tracking down everyone that needs proper armor."

"That will take a lot of Beskar," The pilot said under their breath.

I probably wasn't supposed to hear them speak. It would be a good idea to keep some of my smaller tricks hidden. They didn't need to know that I could hear them. I could learn a lot from things they thought I would miss.

The ship gave Keldabe and the larger settlements plenty of room. I have no doubt that we were being watched, but there wasn't anything they could do. There was a little light on the control console that lit up as if on cue. We weren't landing anywhere in the area of the city. The light blinked off once we were out of range.

I brought up the exterior view on my HUD. The details of my previous life were lost, but studying the landscape made the words Death Valley come to mind. Chunks of dried salt marked the area where an ocean had once been. The few plants and bushes we came across were dead. They had been for a long, long time. I knew at some point during the rise of the Empire the planet faced an orbital bombardment. A large portion of the place was already wasteland.

"Go to these coordinates," I sent the pilot the numbers.

"Yes, Mand'alor," The pilot replied.

The area only became more desolate as the closer the ship got to its location. We came to a stop directly over the spot.

"Mand'alor," The pilot's voice shook a little. "We cannot land here."

"Open the air lock," I ordered.

They did after a moment. I stepped out. A few quick bursts of my jetpack slowed my descent enough to land without an issue. I placed the GECK on the ground then flew back into the ship.

"Set a course to Keldabe," I said hitting the air lock controls. "Let them know I would like to speak with the Duchess."

+100 FP
Planting the Seed
+100 FP
Get your mind out of the Gutter
[Roll – Shop – Bank]

BANK.

[BALANCE: 300 Forge Points]

NOTE:
Apologies for the wait. I was having technical issues.