Sagg looked at his troops, the men were tired because all the fighting.
All the warriors were formed on a line, he walked from the begining of the line, and stopped at Mortimer Baker, the warrior victorius from the Mandalorian Tournament.
"I'm impressed, you've improved a lot since the last time I saw you" Sagg said.
"Thank you Mandalore, I wasn't easy, they all fought well" Baker said shortly.
"I'm glad that you -all- came to try, and give a good fight... as it was told before starting... Gouzen, for becoming second in the tournament, you will be granted with a conference zoner gunboat, it's ready to fly, waiting for you at the barrier's hangar." Sagg looked at Gouzen, and Gouzen bowed mildly.
"Now, for you Baker, I have something... different, a full Trident Gunship waiting at Alpha, you should know we are allowed to fly just two of those, and I have the other one, congratulations" Sagg turned his back to the warriors.
"And another thing... Baker, Gouzen and Merdon... for your accomplishments and constancy among all the warriors, I've promomted the three of you to Alor'ads, which means "leader of men", hopefully, you will encourage the other warriors to follow you." Sagg turned at his troops again.
Well William, to begin with, my real name is not Sagittarii, that's clear. That's the codename I've chosen for working for Bretonia's crown. From my real name, all I'm going to tell you is that it's John, you won't get the last name, not quite yet.
I was born without a father, I never got to know him, he abbanded my mother after she got pregnant, aparently he had another family, some men do that, I don't point my fingers to him. MY mother gave me all what she could, althought we were poor, and Liberty isn't the friendlier place for poor people.
I grew up, as I could, once I got enough age for living by myself, I went to find my father, from what my mother had told me, he was in Bretonia. She said he was some kind of military man, so, that was where I started looking, on the Bretonian Armed Forces, of course, his name didn't show up, not in the way I expected. Turned out, that he was a Mandalorian, I couldn't find much about him, as his records were really secured, so I had to find him old style, by asking around. The best way to get information in this universe, is by force, probably not by using your force to get someone talking, but to be useful for someone. To be more clear, being a mercenary.
This is why I started working for BAF, although, there weren't many mercenaries working for them, with the MM taking them out of business, but in one of my trips I found this gentleman from the Queen's Carina Privateers, he pointed me out in the right direction... "If you want to make yourself valuable for Bretonia, start shooting Kusarians", and so I did. I moved my operations to the Taus, where I started hunting the KNF and Samura.
One day, a weird man came to me at Freeport 6, he was flying an Eagle, I remember because I saw him at the hangars when I docked. He got me at the bar, I was drinking beer as always, a pretty old song was going on the jukebox, the smell from the bathroom was more stinky than usually. This man was tall, big, around 35, he got near me and said "Hey, I know your job". And he got a sit next to me, the bartender came with a beer for him, seems like he always drinked there.
"I know your job, and why you do it" He said.
"Oh really, and what do you think I'm doing it?" I smirked him.
"I can tell from the type of person you are, I know your type, we have plenty on our organization."
The next song was newer, and some drunk bastards started singing the chorus. That pissed me off a little, you know I'm not a good mood person.
"Then what kind of person I am... mister... ?"
"You are a murderer."
"Just another word for a man doing his job if I can say" The bartender said abruptaly. And he gave him a look that froze the bartender... "I'm sorry, I'm leaving you alone now".
"A murderer you say... funny, which pilot flying a space ship has not been in the corridor of life and death. If I'm a murderer for doing for money what other people like to hide behind... nationalism, heroism, pride, family, love... Oh yes, I'm a murderer, but a rich one."
He laughed... he laughed so hard that the drunk bastards started looking at us.
"Oh great, you are just as I thought you were" He said. "You care for nothing, only yourself."
"What do you care?"
"Well, I know why you are here, in Bretonia... You are looking for someone, am I right?"
"Not of your business, you are starting to annoy me."
"Heh, what's the matter, you don't like talking about your past, heh? Kiddo, I know you better than yourself, I told you, I know your kind, and I've been in your place before... yet, you are skilled, coldness, a killing machine... we want you."
"I'm not interested, as you said, I'm looking for someone."
"Yes, but you will never find that person... he's long gone by now."
"I'm sure he is, and I'm sure you know who I am looking for, you know everything, right? Smartass..."
"Oh, but your father, John, he's really dead."
A cold breeze went down my back, how the hell did he know that? That's the first thought crossing my mind.
"You are not so full of yourself now, eh Johnny Junior?" He said.
"I knew your father, he was a member of our organization, I fought along side with him on many battles."
I couldn't believe he was dead, not because I would miss him, but I really wanted to see his face when he sees me, and break all of his bones. The music was still loud, and some of those drunk bastards were starting a argue with eachother.
"How did he die?" I aksed.
"The Mandalore killed him".
"WHAT?!"
"That's right, The Mandalore, our glorious leader, killed him, and many others too."
"Why would the Mandalore kill one of his own men?"
"Own men? I never said your father was a Mandalorian, did I?"
"I heard he was, some drunk BAF officers were talking that freely."
"It's true he was a Mandalorian at some point, but that was not his real self. Like me, your father was a member from another organization, something older and more traditional than the Mandos. While the Mandos look for money, and making proofits out of wars, we are more poetic, we kill for the love of killing, we are considered murderers, sick people, haters... Of course we found an excuse along within the Mandos, they gave us a cover for our killing instincts. And the Mandalore was fine with that, as long as we keep ourselves on the line. But the true is, they couldn't control us, nobody can, and that's why they banished all of us, the bloody Diana Blane, that stupid cow, she betrayed us, helped by Dha Piruna and William Bishop. Your father was killed by her betray, and the Consuls, those who are the eyes and ears of the Mandos."
The drunk bastards took the arguing too far, and a fight started.
"Things are getting hot here... I'll be gone now, if you want to know more, find me, I know you can do that. Later kiddo." He said.
"Hold on! You are not going anywhere!"
"Oh I am, and you have your hands pretty busy now, let's see how you handle it."
And the damn guy throwed me to the drunks, and I had to fought my way out of there. By the time I got rid of them, he was gone. I walked to the bartender, and I asked him, who was him, how could I find him... you know what he told me Billy? You know it, right?
William Bishop stepped nervously on to the deck of the Mhi Motir.
"MY ship!" was the phrase that ran through his mind, making him very angry indeed. Though the only way you would know it is to catch his jaw clenching.
A different door opened at the other end of the ship, and out stepped Diana Blane, who exchanged a look with Billy that said, essentially, "I'm rather be drinking gasoline than dealing with this lot, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same."
Sagg'Tar'Di, the man who had been known to the Mandalorians as Sagitarii, stood from his chair, smiling. He looked like a cat with two mice in hand.
"Greetings! How did I know you'd be coming to visit?" he asked.
Billy grunted. "You indicated that my wife and children would be murdered if I did not meet you here, at this precise time. Pretty sure that makes your question really, really rhetorical."
Diane had been similarly 'encouraged', though she did not say how.
Sagg'Tar'Di waved his hand dismissively, and gestured towards two empty chairs before him. His two 'guests' sat.
Diane looked closely at a man standing behind Sagg'Tar'Di. Her eyes narrowed with hate. "You!", she whispered. The man smiled at her coldly.
Sagg'Tar'Di looked at the two of them, and chuckled. "Ah, you know Dha'wherd Gra, then?"
Diane said nothing. That particular psychopath was reported killed at Omicron Theta. How did he escape her day of knives, when the Dha'wherd were by and large exterminated?
Sagg'Tar'Di provided the answer. It filled her heart with ice.
"Diane, your attempt to terminate the Dha'wherd was, in many instances, a failure. Many of the Dha'wherd survived your assassins' knives, or simply paid them to lie about their fate. They still exist, though not in so great a number as before, and they all report to me, and me alone."
A question then formed in Billy's mind, which his host also anticipated, and answered preemptively.
"So why then, are the two of you still alive? That leads me to why I brought you here." He stood, and began to pace.
"I have found running the Mandalorians.. tedious. I do not have the head for logistics and business that is required to manage it successfully. And such things bore me. I would rather be working with my other 'associates', while you two handle the mundane details and deal with the rank and file pilots. Let me and my men handle the 'wet work' that we always have, and you and yours handle the less subtle matter of blowing target ships out of space."
"I am proposing a Triumvirate."
Diane and Billy were shocked. This was quite a paradigm shift. Like going to a serial killer's house and being given a nice set of porcelain. It simply didn't parse out well in the neurons..
Billy sat and stared, his mind racing. Then he came to a conclusion. The sort of conclusion that lifts the veil of illusion surrounding a situation, and shows reality in vivid detail. The key clue was the fear he could see in the men in front of him.
They were deathly afraid he and Diana would reject their offer. And that could only mean one thing.
And he began to laugh.
"You don't need us because you don't like paperwork! You need us because the rank and file pilots know who you really are now, and unsurprisingly, want to lynch you and your bloody henchmen!"
He stood, and pointed at the 'Mandalore' and his associates.
"You're afraid of another bloody civil war breaking out! You team up with us, you get your legitimacy back! Or tell me I'm wrong?" He knew he sure as hell was not.
Diane was smiling now, also. "How many attempts on your life so far, Sag?", she asked.
Sag sighed and rolled his eyes. "Quite a few. I'm pretty sure that the rank and file are frustrated with covert methods and are going to go to 'Plan B', namely, attack in numbers and blow up this ship with me in it."
"Look", he said, with force, "You don't want a civil war, and neither do I. I see only one way out of this mess now. I had considered killing the two of you, but I know damn well that would just light the fire."
Now he stood and looked William in the eye.
"I need you two to control the rank and file. You need me to control the Dha'wherd. What do you say?"
Diane stood, and she followed Billy in shaking the Dha'wherd's hand, sealing the deal with the devil.
The worst choice. Except for any possible alternative.
Jorsair Hett was very very nervous as he jumped into the Omega 50 system for his appointed rendezvous.
As well he should be. He had been a very bad boy within the last couple of weeks.
Twelve days prior, he had very creatively interpreted his simple instructions to escort a BPA ship containing a significant Coalition prisoner to Newgate prison.
Specifically, he had interpreted the instructions as "kidnap the prisoner, kill the cop, and make up a story about a Corsair patrol." His mom always said he had a great imagination.
Yesterday he had encountered a Coalition warship in the Dublin system, and asked them whether they wanted to part with 10 Million credits in exchange for getting their man back. They seemed very receptive, and Jorsair was looking forward to early retirement.
Once in Omega 50, he set course for the appointed location, turned and spoke to the bound, older man beside him.
"What was your rank, again? I'll bet they'll be glad to get you."
His prisoner looked at him with contempt. "Commissar. And yes, they will."
Jorsair grinned. "And I'll be glad to be rid of you. Can't understand why a Bretonian would join the Reds."
The man snorted. "I am not surprised. I would not expect you to understand why a person would seek to serve the People, and look forward to the day when their chains are just a memory. Mercenaries are not particularly altruistic."
Jorsair, being not a well-read man (to say the least) was not sure if he had just been insulted or complimented. So he just kept his mouth shut.
"Here are your boys, now, Commissar."
Two sleek fighters approached from the Omega 52 jumphole. Jorsair listened to some Russian gibberish for a few seconds till the automatic translator sorted out what to do.
There was a problem.
These boys were just a couple of jet jocks on patrol. They did not have 10 Million credits. They were not expecting him, and were not interested in talking, bartering, or in facilitating Jorsair's early and comfortable retirement.
They were, however, very interested in brute force, and they proceeded to express their interest on the hull of his ship.
Jorsair was terrified now, trying desperately to dodge the Coalition pilots' fire. They were good, and he was in a bomber. It was just a matter of a few minutes.
When they were alone in the pod, being tracked in by one of the Coalition fighters, Norman Bethune smiled at his former captor and chuckled.
"You will be introduced to the Mongolian. You will wish they had killed you here."
The Mhi Motir jumped into Omicron Alpha, escorted by the Dha'Wherd, including Sagg'Tardi, and Je'Karta Sh'Ehn in a bomber.
The Outcast Destroyer could use some refit here. And it was good to shore up relations with the Outcasts. After all, the original reason the Mandalorians were permitted to have her was the implied agreement that she would occasionally return to Alpha to shore up the Outcast forces.
Moreover, with the acquisition of the Carina, defending Barrier Gate, the Mhi Motir could be spared for these other duties, which were as much diplomatic as military.
Mandalore Bishop looked out the viewscreen at the beautiful landscape of the Omicron Alpha system.
He was proud, but nervous. Capital ships were such big bloody targets. He felt like an antimatter magnet.
The approach was allowed. The Dha'wherd had done well, scouting the systems ahead of time to ensure no threats were on the preferred flight path. Billy felt he could almost trust them.
And, as always when he felt that way, he gave his head a shake, and remembered that they were Dha'wherd.
The ship entered the atmosphere at a controlled angle and the heat from the re-entry was well dissipated. The crew were excellant. Many were Outcasts, the original crew who spoke fondly of this aged vessel's former service in the defence of Malta.
"Gentlemen" said the Mandalore, addressing the assembled pilots.
Mac McCreed , Eric "Red" Shinn, Franklin Cobb, Colton Davis, Nyn Ures Adenn, Rufus Blackwell, Slava Petrov, and the one only known as "Silent Threat", sat expectantly.
A few were puzzled. Normally, for a group to be brought together in this way, the reason was typically a mission, but there were no maps or charts of any kind in the room.
Just a small velvet bag on the floor beside each of their desks.
The Mandalore gestured to those bags now.
"Open them."
Hesitantly, a few pilots opened the bags. And found therein a very nice bottle of scotch. And that was a welcome find.
Additionally, another small decorative sealed wooden box was in each bag. William indicated they should also open that.
All the men found an Alor'ad insignia, and many began to chuckle. They also found a key. Mac McCreed picked his up and was about to ask the Mandalore what the key was for. Billy anticipated the question.
"The key is for Samuel Hennesey's Gunboat; The Mandalii Kel'lum. Any of you may fly it."
"You are now all officially Alor'ad, 'Leaders of Men'".
The room was abuzz now, and scotch had already began to pour. Words of thanks were spoken to the Mandalore. He shrugged them off.
"You have all earned it."
He grabbed Slava Petrov's bottle and took a healthy swig.
"Gentlemen, drink the whole 40 ounces if you dare, but anyone who can't fly tomorrow will be cleaning toilets. Alor'ad or not."
And by that threat, at least 4 hangovers were prevented.
Sagg'Tar'di gathered his men at the Mandalorian's hideout in planet Malta. Soon after the last of the fifteen Dha'Wherds arrived, he began the reunion. He stood up in front of that group of cold blooded murderers and said...
"Now, you are all here, you all know me, I'm not of long speeches, neither of long stays, I see no use on the Mandalorians anymore, at first, they were a good and easy way to get something to kill, and even get paid for it.
I know you all feel the same as me, that's why you were chosen, therefore, you will be happy to hear that I've found a new way to satisfy our wishes, we will get to the Nomads, and force them to give us their power."
Rajkal, his second in command, although not so famous as the leader, but a very gopd pilot replied
"The nomads? In theory it looks like a great idea, but how can we force them to do anything, they don't even speak our language, more than that, they kill our race, for what seems to be fun... yes, they are great, but the problem is... we are no god damn nomads! They will slaughter us all!"
Sagg'Tar'di stared at his man.
"Raj, don't be a coward out of sudden, or you will be dead right in that chair, I've met these nomads in Rheinland, while flying with the stupid of Bishop, tricky things they are... they could killed us, easyly, yet, they didn't. Apparently, for what I could understand from their thoughts... yes, the damn things can get into your mind, and that's the good part... they are looking for strong minds, the weak minds get destroyed...
We all have seen their ships in action, their guns... imagine that in our hands... the outcasts overprotect them, they don't let anyone to get too close to them, I believe they are affraid of what someone with a strong will could do is he gets his hands into that technology. Fourtanely, some of the outcasts are idiots, and split everything out if they are encouraged with alcohol, I've found out the location of the Nomad's home. We will fly there, meet them, and endure whatever is needed to get that tech... I won't lie, we will become their hosts, well, those of you who can survive the election process..."
Everyone started to shout Sagg's name.
"The Dha'Wherd will become the ultimate murderous element over Sirius!! Those who oppose to us, shall die!! Those who don't oppose to us, shall die as well!! Until our thirst for blood is satisfied!! To the hangars!"
A diverse wing of sabres, eagles and blossoms departed from planet Malta, to some dark place deep in the space.
The Mandalore looked at the three men in front of his desk. Alor'ads Slava Petrov, "Mac" McCreed, and old hand Anila Tor.
And the three Murcyur on the desk. Ancient blades, curved, 9 inches long, with Ebony sheaths. There were not many left in the universe.
The men looked expectantly, puzzled. They had been told to come here, but not why.
He told them.
"Consul Sagg'Tar'di has left, with all the Dha'wherd. I do not know where. The order of Consuls is crumbling."
Their faces registered their shock, except Anila. He had seen too much before to be surprised by the interplay between the Mandalorians and their Dha'wherd enemies/co-workers/rivals.
"I asked you here to take on the duty of the role of Consul. Those blades before you are not yet yours. They are ancient, but they have never been claimed. By your blood shall they be made yours. Like this."
The Mandalore drew his own blade, and drew it across the back of his hand. He would need stitches. He gestured to the others to do the same. They did so, without grimacing, without flinching. As he'd expected they would.
"The blood is to remain in the scabbard for one day. Then you may clean the weapon. Also.." He reached into his pocket and pulled out 3 signet rings.
"Signet rings of the Consul. Wear them with honour."
He dismissed the surprised (and somewhat bewildered) men to their duties, and as they left, he gave them one simple instruction.
"Oh, by the way, new contract. Blow up Kruger ships. As many as you can find. Good money in it."
Three men left the room, bloodthirsty smiles on their faces.
"Enter", said the Mandalore, not looking up from his desk. He was expecting the guest.
Simon Templar entered the room. The Mandalore waved him to a seat in front of the desk.
"My eyes," he began, "Do they look unusual to you?"
Simon looked a bit bewildered by the question, then answered him, slowly; "No, Mandalore.."
Billy smiled wanly, and continued.
"They are not the ones I was born with. Those, Sagg'Tar'di took from me in a duel for this chair. My new ones are much better though, and my wife never even knew the difference. Luckily. She is nervous about my line of work."
Simon had met Suzanne Bishop. He doubted she was nervous about much. But he kept that opinion to himself.
"What I am trying to say", continued the Mandalore, "is that rising in the Mandalorians can carry certain risks. To yourself, and to those under your command, Alor'ad Templar. Men will die under your command. Accept that now, and move forward."
He smiled and handed the rank insignia to the surprised warrior.
"You have been working hard, and getting results. This is the reward. Now go make more money." He gestured to the door, smiling.
The young man grinned, took the insignia, said his thanks, and left.
That one will go far, thought Bishop, Very far indeed.
He rubbed his "eyes" momentarily.
Best not give that one a blade quite yet. He seems ambitious, and replacement body parts are expensive.
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