Author’s Note: This story is set in
early 3963 B.B.Y., a few weeks after the surprise attack by the Mandalorians on
the Republic. It takes place between Volumes 4 and 5 of Dark Horse’s Star Wars:
Knights of the Old Republic series
Attention Mandalorians! Stay tuned to
this frequency for an announcement of vital importance!
* * *
Attention Mandalorians!! This is your
friend from the Republic, Captain Goodvalor calling!
I’m busy shaking down my new warship,
the Serroco, but my colleagues at the Admiralty have asked me to make an appeal
to the forces fighting for Mandalore. I’m speaking on a frequency your helmet
transceivers can pick up. It’s a trick we learned from your fellow warriors who
have already seen the light and crossed the lines to defend the Republic!
You’ve had a lucky little run — though
not a surprising one, following the sucker punches you’ve thrown. But the easy
times are over, let me tell you!
In fact, I will tell you. Make sure
you and all your Basic-speaking friends are listening for my next broadcast —
your lives may depend on it!
* * *
Su’cuy, warriors! Conquest of the
south polar area of the planet is nearly complete. Attend to your rally masters
for further instructions.
Some of you have reported hearing
increased gabble on the Neo helmet’s Z-band. Just ignore it.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Captain Goodvalor
calling again, as promised.
You survived long enough to hear me —
good! Not all of you were so lucky, or so I hear. Your forces tried hard, they
did — but the Taris Resistance got away to fight another day. And fight they
will. Because while they may not have been in the Republic long, they’ve got what
it takes, where it counts.
They do. We do. But what about you?
That’s right: We’ve been taking your
measure in these first weeks since you barged into Republic territory — just as
you were taking ours with your little provocations before that. The difference
is, we’re able to do something about it.
It’s all about the numbers, my
friends. There are more of us than there are of you — and we don’t have to
build shipyards and armories on the fly. We’ve already got them. How long do
you really think it takes to refit a landspeeder factory to produce armored
attack craft? And how many landspeeder factories do you imagine there are in the
whole Galactic Republic, hmm?
You won’t have to imagine for long.
You’ll be seeing what we can do up close and personal soon enough.
This is Goodvalor, signing off. Cue
the slogan, Lieutenant.
The Republic. Here today, here
tomorrow.
* * *
Ke’sush, warriors! This is Sornell,
again, with the Taris signal post.
Yes, you do have to stay on the
Z-band. The heavies are still coming in. You want to be standing in the wrong
place when the bombs drop, it’s fine by me.
Just stay focused.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Goodvalor,
again. While you’re waiting for the end to come — and brother, is it on its
way! — I thought we’d have a talk about you. You know, the Mando’ade — the
“sons and daughters of Mandalore.” That sounds nice, but I hate to break it to
most of you: You’re adopted.
They’ve told us many of you were once
upstanding, peace-loving residents of worlds invaded by Mandalore and his thug,
Cassus Fett. And that many of you were lured, by threat or trickery, into
donning armor and joining his mad cause! But do you really know what that cause
is? Do you know what you’re fighting for? It’s ego. Bruised ego is all it is —
not worth putting your skin (or scales, or whatever) on the line for.
Let old Goodvalor fill you in: A
generation ago, in the Great Sith War, the Mandalorian clans were made to serve
a single rogue Jedi, after he defeated your leader in combat. And to this day,
nobody in metal shoulder pads has been able to get over it. So now, the current
Mandalore — the name your current scoundrel gave himself, how’s that for cheek?
— is throwing your lives away in a galactic war. Just to repair — what? His
bruised ego, buddy! With your neck!
I know — it’s not the kind of thing
they tell you about in armor class. Maybe there’s a reason for that. Think
about it: It only took one Jedi to humiliate you before — and we’ve got a lot
more where that came from! True, the Jedi Order remains officially neutral. But
perhaps you’ve heard of The Revanchist — a Jedi who’s lobbying to change that
even as I speak! That sound you hear is lightsabers igniting?
Things look good to you today,
pillaging dress shops and fruit stands on rimworlds like Taris and Suurja. But
the tide is turning. Which side will you be on? All you have to do is drop the
helmet and walk away. Or better yet — return to the service of the Republic
that has given you so much!
Only the gloom of the grave awaits
Mandalore. Don’t join him. Join us!
The Republic. No gloom. Just glory.
* * *
Sornell here. We need to know what
utreekov parked the Davaab fighter on top of the — what is this? The Highport
Banking Tower. We need the space for the new receiver platform.
Get up here and get your ship before
we push it over the side.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! This is
Commander True, first officer to Captain Goodvalor.
The captain apologizes, but he is not
going to be able to broadcast today. There were so many Mandalorians who
crossed the lines and joined the Republic after his last message, he’s just
been too busy.
He sends his regards.
The Republic. It sends its regards.
* * *
Signal post. Okay, now, we’ve just
seen it. I don’t care what Jetiise nonsense is in the air, you can’t go around
switching off your transceivers!
We absolutely made a call — what was
it, Gorrga, ten seconds? Ten seconds after we shoved the fighter over the side
of the building. There was plenty of time, if you were listening. You guys in
the Lower City need to stay on top of things.
Oh, and — ah, “we’ll remember them, so
they are eternal.”
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! It’s your
captain speaking — you know the one. I’m just sitting down to a delicious dish
of Bilovi Tempari, here in my beautifully appointed climate-controlled ship’s
lounge. And that was when — no, sweetheart, no more wine, thanks — I got to
thinking about you.
You, you valiant, daring creatures —
toughing it out there in the field for Old Rustface. Tell me, how’s life?
Don’t answer that — I think I know!
Those friends of yours I’ve told you about have described the vile conditions
you’re forced to endure. “Nomadic lifestyle,” indeed. No style to that life,
brothers and sisters — slogging through one Outer Rim mudhole after another for
weeks at a time. Tell the truth: How often do you get to clean that armor? I
mean — inside, where it counts? No wonder you like your camps spread out!
Sorry to go on about this, but,
really, your ex-comrades-in-arms can’t quit talking about how much better it is
over here. Actually, a few of our recent arrivals will be over a little later.
They’re dropping by for drinks after the floor show. Come to think of it, I
need to find out if they’re bringing their dates — we’ll need to set up some
more chairs by the pool.
The Republic. Real beds. Running water.
* * *
Su’cuy, Cassus Fett, and all honor to
your family’s dead. Sornell here, at the listening post.
Yes, we’ve all been hearing it.
No, I don’t know what “Bivoli Tempari”
is. We’re asking around.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Let me tell
you about my day — it’s been an exciting one. This is Captain Goodvalor, of
course — but today, I am an Okyaabi!
Today, I stood with the proud people
of Okyaab 6 as they threw off the shackles of their Mandalorian slavers and
rose to join the Republic. A small frontier system, to be sure — but proof of
the pettiness of Mandalore, as no peaceful farming community, no collection of
artisans is too small to merit one of his cowardly attacks. But after less than
a week under the illegitimate rule of the costume fetishist Mandalore and his
cronies, the Okyaabi have retaken their world.
They’re free, my Mandalorian friends —
free to participate in Republic commerce again and enjoy the prosperity so many
of us have come to know. Free to go where they wish and live where they choose,
without being driven ever onward in some futile quest for someone else’s
revenge. Free to be the kind of people you can be. If, that is, you choose to
avoid the fate of the Mandalorian forces that once enslaved Okyaab. I’d put one
of their survivors on the air to speak with you — but blast it, we just haven’t
been able to find any…
The Republic. Freedom now, freedom
forever!
* * *
This is Sornell, for the team at
SoroSuub Landing, or whatever they call it. See if you can get that big
viewscreen down without totally trashing the electronics. I’d like to have just
one piece of equipment this trip I don’t have to build myself, for a change.
And, no, I’ve never heard of a planet
named Okyaab. Does it have to do with getting me the parts I asked for? Because
I know none of you wants to waste my time.
And for you new recruits: “Cui
ogir’olar” is Mando’a for “it’s irrelevant.” Or, in my clan, “You will bleed a
lot if you ask again.” So don’t say you didn’t know.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Goodvalor
calling. They tell me you Mandalorians are a superstitious lot. (Like you couldn’t
tell from the weird stuff you carry around. And so much of it! Haven’t you
people ever heard of apartments? Houses? Storage units?)
Anyway, this may interest you. We’ve
learned from our many informants in your ranks that a batch of your forces in
the Taris system is angling for Zongorlu next. What you may not know is that
those weren’t all military camps on Serroco that Mandalore so callously and
criminally nuked. There were vacation camps for Zongorlu younglings — nine
camps, representing every major warrior-tribe on the planet!
Since then, we haven’t seen people
from Zongorlu out and about in the Republic much. They’ve become stay-at-home
types — and, well, they’re more than a little touchy. Even their Senator just
asked for a leave of absence — and a heavy assault cannon.
I don’t think I’d come to Zongorlu if
I were you.
The Republic. Just looking out for
you.
* * *
Sornell here. Everybody forming up in
the camp up here, the signal station is not the place to bring your questions
about alien biology. If you really want to know what a Zongorlu looks like, you
can wait until we get there.
I don’t care if you just joined us.
Next guy who bothers me gets beaten to death.
* * *
Captain Goodvalor will return shortly.
In the meantime, this Republic weather report for Zongorlu:
Hurricane-force winds across much of
the planet, with magnetic storms throughout the ionosphere. Searing heat at the
surface, with intermittent pyroclastic flows from some of the larger volcanic
ranges. Atmospheric sulfur content remains high, with acidic rains in the polar
regions.
Essentially, for Zongorlu, a temperate
day.
* * *
We’ll need another couple of days on
the mobile signal station, Cassus. We were able to scrounge most of the
equipment from the shops here on Taris, but we’re pretty sure on Zongorlu we’ll
need some kind of heavy-duty shielding for the transmitter. We’re forging
something now. I’ll shout when we’re ready.
No, we’re still getting the broadcasts
— and yeah, they’re a problem. Not for the real Mando’ade — “kaysh
mirsh’kyramud” is all you hear from them. They couldn’t care less. But I don’t
know about some of these guys that put on a Neo-Crusader helmet five minutes
ago to join the fun.
They’re always asking why we don’t jam
the Republic broadcasts, like we did when we were landing. I tell them that a
siege is one thing — then, an attack on an enemy comm system is like an attack
on an enemy army — but an occupation is something else. Jamming serves no
purpose now. We’re wrapping up anybody the Republic might want to talk to here
— and as for ourselves, no warrior worth the name ought to pay it any mind. That’s
what they ought to do, but…
… well, let me tell you. My cousin’s a
rally master running a bunch of these newbies as a demo team, clearing out the
Undercity. Yesterday they were supposed to be minding the detonators when
another one of these stupid broadcasts came on, and some mindless di’kut got
preoccupied and brought a city block down on top of everyone, my cousin and
all.
Thanks — but no. Actually, we never
thought that much of him.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Captain
Goodvalor here — pardon me for being out of breath. I was just taking another
walk around the decks of the Serroco, and I’m winded. I haven’t had that much
exercise since training at the Academy.
I haven’t spoken much about my fine
ship, have I? For shame — I’m such a terrible host. Well, some of you may have
seen some of our larger vessels, valiantly defending and delaying your forces
at places with names such as Vanquo, Tarnith, and — yes — Serroco. Well, they’d
all fit nicely into the landing bay of this beauty. With room to spare!
Only we don’t spare much room, because
we need it. Yes, every bit of space (not devoted to the many entertainments
I’ve mentioned previously) is currently committed to housing troops for
landing; their munitions; and our own more-than-healthy complement of precision
guided missiles. Those Republic naval designers don’t skimp on anything! And if
you Mandies think you know armor, you should take a look at our shielding! Why,
I’ll bet there were a few less asteroids in the Deep Core once they got done
with this miracle!
And this fleet! I know this is audio,
but let me paint the picture for you. Right now, I’m looking out my window at a
sky so thick with ships, you could walk from here to the next system.
Hammerhead cruisers! Conductor-class transports! Military droid carriers! I’ve
never seen so many in one place. It’s like an old Academy reunion — only it’s
no party. No, everyone here has a very important mission. A very important,
very secret mission.
So many ships! So many troops! I’m not
sure if Zongorlu has nearly enough space for all of us.
Oops! I gave something away, there,
didn’t I?
The Republic. Just imagine what we can
do.
* * *
Sornell here. Everybody on this duty,
hurry up and get this junk loaded. The planet’s not going to invade itself.
* * *
Attention, all Republic civilian
vessels in the Zongorlu system! This is Captain Goodvalor of the Serroco, advising
you to depart the area.
It isn’t that we cannot guarantee your
safety against the Mandalorians — we’re here to protect the entire system,
after all. But with so many warships here, now, traffic in the area is a bit
congested.
Come back next week — once we get all
the armored bodies carted away, Zongorlu should be open for business again.
* * *
This is Sornell, aboard Shaadlar
troopship Nehutyc. Inform Cassus Fett that we’re well underway.
No word from up ahead on Zongorlu yet.
We haven’t been able to confirm much of anything — we can’t even find anyone
who’s ever seen a ship like this “Serroco,” not even any of the Republic guys
who came over. But whatever’s there, we’re ready for it.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Captain
Goodvalor, and… pardon my yawn. Yes, I’m up late. Always hard to sleep the
night before the battle, isn’t it? It’s night where we are, on guard, orbiting
above the largest citadel on Zongorlu. But for our visitors soon to arrive, the
night will never end. And that’s why I wanted to speak to you: not as enemy
captain to enemy footsoldier, but as one sentient being to another.
There’s still time to change your
minds, to change your paths. To take control of your transport ships — and your
lives, and in so doing, save them.
Whatever strategic importance you may
have been told Zongorlu has in some wider scheme of Mandalore’s — consider the
cost. I’ve told you what’s waiting for you, here. That’s all I can do.
No snappy slogan tonight. This is Captain
Goodvalor, signing off.
* * *
This is it — Zongorlu, dead ahead.
Will call when the signal station is in place. Happy hunting.
Oya!
* * *
This is Koblus Sornell on Zongorlu.
Give me Cassus.
Well, have him contact me, right away.
This is … strange.
* * *
Cassus, the signal post is
operational. Your marshal’s still in the field, but I can give you the view
from here.
First, the planet. Those reports we
were getting were full of gas. The planet’s decent enough — good weather, no
problem getting down at all. And the shock troops were a waste. The Zongorlu
are a plant species. They’re sentient, all right, but they’re big and lumpy and
they move about a meter a day. They kind of blinked when we landed. I don’t
think they had camps of younglings on Serroco — unless they had them out in the
garden somewhere!
And the fleet amounted to even less.
There were a couple of abandoned ships floating around in orbit — Mandalore the
Indomitable might have seen them when he went past a generation ago, from the
looks of them.
But the most dini’la, the most insane,
the most crazy thing is right where I’m at. I’m talking to you from a
transmission station, all right — but it’s not the one we brought. From the
logs, as best as I can tell — this was where that guy was talking to us from.
Captain Goodhaven, or whatever his name is!
They’ve got a directional transmitter
here, which we’re guessing they were using to target points on the Outer Rim.
All the time this so-called “Captain” was talking about his big ship, he’s been
sitting in a little room you couldn’t fit a basilisk in, gnawing on dried dreeka
fish and running his mouth!
No, he’s not here — it looks like he
dropped everything when we came out of hyperspace. The trackers have found marks
where a little ship took off.
Like I said, strange. But a good
lesson for the new guys. This is the way a Mandalorian jams a broadcast — we
take out the source!
Sornell out.
* * *
Sornell, to the camp — Cassus tells us
we need to hold station for a week or so. This operation was supposed to take a
lot longer.
Haili cetare! Have a drink, enjoy the
weather.
* * *
Sornell, to the camp. Look, Cassus
will call us when it’s our turn to move again. He’s got some other things going
on.
And if you’ve got to entertain
yourselves, don’t set fire to the Zongorlu. It hasn’t rained all week. The
whole camp could go up.
* * *
Warriors, there’s no use being on the
Z-band at all. There’s no bombing traffic to worry about, and that Republic
fraud won’t be there, either.
Every day can’t be a battle — I think
someone said that once. Find something to do, or I’ll find something for you to
do.
* * *
Status report from Zongorlu. It’s
quiet, here.
Very quiet.
I can’t believe we’re actually missing
that stupid thing.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! Stay tuned to
this frequency for an announcement of vital importance!
* * *
Haar’chak! Haar’chak! Haar’chak!
I take it back.
* * *
Attention Mandalorians! This is
Captain Goodvalor speaking!
Yes, as you’ve seen, our forces were
called away unexpectedly from Zongorlu — and I, myself, was summoned to
Coruscant for an important session with the Admiralty and representatives of
the Senate! And as part of our long-standing commitment to the environment, my
forces made sure to leave Zongorlu looking even more peaceful than it did when
we arrived. We hope you’ll do the same.
Now, I’m signaling to you from a
position further in Republic space with a message that we hope you’ll find of
interest. It is, in fact, the very reason I was recalled — as the Republic’s
representative to the Mandalorians these last weeks, I’m sure you’ll recognize
my offer as an official one.
And it is an offer. They say that
Mandalorians deal with things in a Mandalorian way. Well, the same is true of
the Republic. And what is the Republic at heart, if not first and foremost, a
vehicle for the enrichment of all peoples? There isn’t any reason at all why
the forces of Mandalore can’t have a seat at the table like anyone else.
And so the offer is this: The Republic
would welcome a cessation of hostilities with the Mando’ade. In return, the
Senate would be willing to commit a share of all taxation from Republic planets
and hyperspace lanes currently under Mandalorian occupation to go to the
occupiers. That’s right: the spoils of war, to stop the war.
It is a fair price, and one that
should more than satisfy all your requirements. With your victories in these
weeks, your honor has been restored. The galaxy knows it. The Jedi did nothing
to stop you; they know it. And you will have the prize — part of the wealth of
these stars, without having to continue to enforce your will on them. You’ll be
free to explore your options elsewhere, in directions away from the Republic —
and you’ll be better funded to be able to do it.
This is a one-time offer, made only on
this channel and directed to the Mandalorian representative on Zongorlu for
delivery to his or her superiors. It will not be repeated or acknowledged in
the future; if rejected, it will not be part of any official history. We’ll
return to as it was, with the Republic readying to run you out — and with
Captain Goodvalor’s words preparing the way. Me, talking to you — every day, on
every frequency we can find to reach you, until one of us capitulates.
The choice is yours. Consider it well.
We await your response.
The Republic. Square deals for one and
all.
* * *
Yes, Cassus, I responded already. I
used the transmitter here on Zongorlu.
I know I should have waited. Who is
Koblus Sornell, anyway? Just a warrior. A signals expert, but a warrior. A
Mandalorian warrior…
… and as a Mandalorian warrior, their
“choice” was really no choice at all. I spoke for all of us: Their “bargain”
was ridiculous.
Think about it: They could have a
glorious battle, a true measure of what we’re worth. That’s a bargain. Instead,
they’re trying to choose — a bribe? To buy peace like a peasant at a shop? All
it costs is whatever guts they ever had.
And they thought we might agree to it!
Whatever gave them that idea?
Just like with this “Captain
Goodvalor” business. Pretending to be the victor of great battles — that’s
insulting enough all on its own. But big talk about what they can do, how big
their forces are? Lies about people leaving our side? Did they really think any
true Mandalorian would listen?
Do they really fear us so little?
They’ll find out. Whatever kind of
enemies the Republic is used to, they’ll find out we’re something different.
I don’t understand them. And I don’t
think they understand us.
No comments:
Post a Comment