The stories of the Mad Knight of Manda'yaim had grown more prevalent on every outing it seemed. From Sithly origins, to warmonger Knight of the Sith, to a wandering Mad Man beholden to none, to a Mandalorian berserker ... The man had collected quite the reputation. Even during his time with the CIS her had begun to gain attention for his ruthlessness and ferocity.
Chuckling lightly he shifted in the chair and tapped the armrest bringing up the planet that the small fleet was traveling to. Manda'yaim, commonly called Mandalore, stood before him emulating from a Holo projector. The sphere slowly rotated before him, it's surface war torn and scarred. The desolation and ruin brought to his yaim erased the mirth he had felt moments before. The destruction that befell the planet was not due to invaders, attackers, or the countless enemies of the mando'ade. It had been caused by their own. By vode.
A snarl twisted his features, a low growl replacing the chuckle. He wasn't here when she fell, when there destruction destroyed cities and homesteads, when whole clans were eradicated. The thought that perhaps if he was there he could have done something to stop the cataclysm that had claimed so much from his people was ever on his mind. But alas, he was not.
Looking at the countdown on the console he sighed and stood. Looking over the bridge he watched the captain slowly stroking among the officers at their stations. He was a tall, lean man with sharp features. Thin, black hair greying at the temples went well with the sharp, black uniform he wore. Captain Harkness was not a jovial man. He wore a perpetual scowl under a hooked nose making him appear like a bird of prey, constantly on the lookout for weakness so he could strike. Muad liked him. Nodding at the man the Mandalorian moved to the turbolift.
"Captain, the bridge is yours."
As the lift doors shut he watched Captain Harkness nod in understanding and acceptance. While the lift traveled to the main hanger bay Muad listened to the music playing. He never understood the fascination with music in the turbolifts. Always some disturbingly uplifting time that somehow wormed itself into your head so that hours later you felt yourself still nodding along to the tune. Ingeniously evil.
The lift doors slid open and he stepped off into the hanger bay. Shuttles were being loaded and the bustle of activity was amusing to watch. Beings of several different species worked side by side with droid. It was the way of the Confederacy. It took some getting used to, working with droids. It was somewhat difficult to trust a group of droids when you couldn't eat with them, sweat with them, bleed with them. That feeling of commraderie was lost on the machines. But forward progress and progressive thinking and the like.
As he strode across the hanger bay heads turned to look in his direction. He had gained their respect with his shrewd and unorthodox maneuvers above Shimia. Instead of a slugging match he had used misdirection and a devious plan carefully crafted that not only assisted in the CIS victory over Gath which liberated the subjugated people but also minimalized loss of life. And that in itself gained the fleet he commanded their respect and loyalty.
Nearing an old lambda class shuttle that had been retrofitted Muad lightly posted the hull. It had seen him through many years. As he climbed aboard he nodded at his vode similarly outfitted in their own beskar'gam. Feeling the slight change in vibration he nodded as he moved to the cockpit to stand in the doorway. The pilot looked over his shoulder, "We have exited hyperspace and the fleet is transmitting that they are friendly. Permission to take off sir?"
Muad nodded his consent. The shuttle rose on repulsors and slowly moved through the magcom field before activating thrusters to gain a little distance before fully powering on the engines to take the shuttle planet bound. Tapping the communication officer lightly on the shoulder he nodded for a message to be sent.
"This is mando'ad Muad Dib, Alor of Clan Farr. We are here to assist Manda'yaim and our vode. Please transmit location coordinates for my shuttle to land so I can discuss prospective team work for our people to restore our yaim."
Rianna Ar'klim-Organa Briika Tor
Sitting in the command chair of the 'Charlie' the Unicorn heavy cruiser the man known as Muad Dib watched the states flash by as the fleet he was leading traveled through hyperspace. The crew were efficient in their duties and none looked at their commander. It wasn't that he was a task master but rather that the madness within the glowing blue eyes scared the osik out of the crew.