Finishing Touches

[Darth Metus]

Location: Hyperspace
Objective: Survive the Cramped Space
​

The "Fall"

Although many months had passed since the turbulent event, the after-effects of its occurrence were still being felt. For the most part, the most turbulent of these effects were focused on the Southern Systems; where the Confederacy's bastardized form continued to operate and "thrive." However, there was another who was affected by the Fall; and not so much in a positive manner either. Having been the "notorious" man labeled as responsible for the Confederacy's internal collapse, the vast majority of Isley Verd's wordly possessions were seized. His home, Castle Ne'tra, was razed to the ground and the Mandalorian found himself lacking a large sum of his personal effects.

And, most importantly, he lacked a ship.

Oh, how he missed the Blue Krait. 'Twas a very simple corvette, but at the same time it was elegance personified. It was, for the most part, a home away from home. Now, while his financial assets were stable and an effort to recover was characterizing his daily life, the Mandalorian still required a reliable means of traversing the stars. After all, warfare in the name of the Mandalorian people would require him to visit exotic peoples far away (and slay them). Furthermore, Isley was growing rather tired of relying upon "public" transportation in order to get from point a to point b.

He needed a ship. A ship of that would be suitable to be called "home".

As such, the Mandalorian decided to venture forth on an expedition. His employment under Akure Executive Interstellar would see that he had the facilities to have the design floating about his head fulfilled...and for the most part the grunt work was accomplished. Purchases had been made in preparation for the creation of a new vessel; and all that was required was a final touch. A security measure, so to speak, that would allow the Mandalorian some degree of freedom to traverse the Galaxy as he saw fit. After all, security was important for those with entire nations of enemies.

To this end, the durasteel-clad warrior found himself huddled in a cargo compartment...much to his chagrin.

 

[Darth Metus]

For the most part, the journey occurred in relative silence.

Today, the Mandalorian had commissioned a ride from a simple merchant of Rodian descent. He, originally, had planned on traveling from Keldabe back to his homeworld; having concluded his business on the Mandalorian capital. However, with a little bit of persuasion on Isley's part, the Rodian was more than happy to take a lengthy detour. Now, there was a small...miniscule...incredibly tiny...part of the Mandalorian that felt bad about mental domination. After all, this simple merchant was not an opponent on a battlefield; nor did he mean Isley any harm.

He was just simply the closest being at the Starport.

However, that miniscule shred of remorse was smothered by ambition. The Mandalorian could almost taste the freedom which came from having one's own ship; and it was a freedom that he was willing to do wrong to obtain. As such, when the dirty deed of dominating the Rodian's mind was done, Isley made himself "comfortable" in the rear of his freighter. His only company for the duration of the ride were a selection of crates, adjacent to crates, stacked on top of (you guessed it) crates.

Furthermore, since the Rodian was practically dead the world (save for the objective of traveling to where Isley demanded), conversation was not going to happen. As such, Isley simply sat in the rear of the vessel with only the hum of the engines to keep him company. After a small eternity of travel via hyperspace, however, a pronounced lurch signaled that they had arrived at their destination. Fortunately, for the design that Isley had in mind, there would be no need to depart from Mandalorian space.

"Master," came the deadpan tone of the dominated Rodian, "we are on final approach. Welcome to Garos IV."

With a pronounced grunt, the Mandalorian freed himself from the cramped company of the crates. He then made his way forward until his head protruded into the cockpit. "Excellent." he said. "When we land, see about ditching this cargo will you? We're going to need room for what I have to purchase." Again, there was a shred of remorse, for Isley was ordering this man to ditch his wares. However, with ambition at the forefront of his mind, the little diathim on his shoulder was being wholly ignored.

"By your orders, Master." said the Rodian.

And with that, descension gripped the vessel.

 

[Darth Metus]

As the vessel dipped down into the orbit of Garos IV, the Rodian busied himself on the comm.

This was Mandalorian space after all, and as such the worlds were a touch more secure than elsewhere in the Galaxy. In fact, Isley wagered that their neck of the woods had some of the more trigger-happy defenses than the rest of the Galaxy. As such, merchant spent the next few minutes informing the ground control of who he was, what his cargo consisted of, and what his business was on the world. Of course, a small portion of this information was fabricated, for what Thrall willingly said: "I'm under mind control, help!"

When the credentials checked out, clearance was given to the merchant vessel to breach the atmosphere of the planet. From here, they were given a small sum of freedom; for it was up to them to select where they would land. Obviously, Isley would have it that they touched down closest to where his objective could be fulfilled. To this end, he took a moment to refer to his helmet for said information. With but a few, verbal commands, the Mandalorian activated his helmet's connection to the HoloNet.

From here, he had countless bytes of data at his fingertips.

A simple search was then input, one revolving around the closest facility that dealt in that which the Mandalorian sought. After a grand total of thirty seconds, for the HoloNet connection was not exactly flawless on this particular world, results manifested themselves before Isley's eyes. From there, he relayed the coordinates to his faithful Thrall before settling himself down upon a crate once more. Isley did not have any doubt in his mind that he would be able to secure the particular element that he required; for he was a Rally Master of the Mando'ade.

If that didn't qualify him to buy a Mandalorian product, he didn't know what would.

 

[Darth Metus]

At once, the heading of the merchant ship was adjusted.

The Rodian carefully guided his vessel over the landscape of Garos IV, steadily descending all the while. He, like any good Thrall, obeyed the commands of his master to the letter. The coordinates provided to him lead to a simple mining facility. In times old, such facilities were once owned and operated by the Galactic Empire. The intent was to harvest a precious resource that could, hopefully, compete with Stygium. However, as history soon demonstrated, the fruits of Garos IV were inferior in a variety of ways.

However, this did not stop the Mandalorians from seeing the value in this resource; for the Children of Manda'yaim were the definition of resourceful. In their creative hands, the element could prove to be an exceptional asset. Isley, who now sought out the fruits of Garos IV, was no stranger to this "competitor of Stygium". In fact, he had been around this element since the days of his youth. When first instructed on how to fly a starfighter, 'twas a fighter equipped with this element that he received tutelage within.

As such, to say that Isley was well aware of the strengths, weaknesses, and potential applications of the element was an understatement.

After a few minutes of quiet travel, the merchant vessel made its final approach to the mining facility. Stablizers were initiated, landing gear was lowered, and the engines slowly lulled to a crawl. There was a light "thunk" as the ship finally came to a halt. At once, the rearmost exit was extended and the Mandalorian made his departure from the merchant vessel. There was no need for him to repeat his order to his Rodian Thrall, for once he uttered a command it was obeyed to the letter. As such, once his feet were on solid ground, the durasteel-clad warrior began to make his way over to the mining facility.

 

[Darth Metus]

As the Mandalorian made his way over to the relatively modest mining facility, the Entralled Rodian set about fulfilling his master's wishes.

Once he had finalized the landing procedures, complete with turning off the engines and securing the ship, the merchant rose from his seat. With haste, he made his way to the rear of the cargo hold and began the process of unloading his wares. One by one, he put his needly arms to work hoisting the crates and ferrying them down to the landing platform. Now, if the Thrall were in control of his mind, he might have had some serious reservations about dropping his wares so "willy nilly"...but that was not the case.

Oh the perks of mentalism.

Whilst the Rodian worked, the Durasteel-clad warrior made his way over to the mining facility's entrance. It was staffed by only a handful of armed guards who were more than eager to inquire as to who Isley was and what he wanted. "Greetings friends." came his response in flawless Mando'a. "My name is Isley Verd, Rally Master. I have come to make a purchase of the product your company mines at this location." In an effort to further solidify his statement, the Mandalorian motioned to one of the markings upon his sub-par armor.

Twas an insignia denoting the Rally Master rank. Bonafide.

The "leader" of the guardsmen then stepped forward and regarded the rank insignia with a closer look. After a moment or so, he was satisfied and rendered a polite nod to the new customer. "Right away Rally Master." he said. From there, he motioned to two of his subordinates who promptly snapped at attention. "These two will escort you into the facility." he said, before directly addressing the duo. "Take him to the Foreman. He'll want to handle this order personally."

Affirmation was sounded in the form of a "yes sir!" in unison.

 

[Darth Metus]

With the orders given, the duo of guards pulled a neat about face and promptly headed forward.

The Mandalorian took a moment to regard the commanding officer with a respectful nod before following his escort. After a few paces, the pair took their positions at either side of Isley before briefly coming to a halt before the entrance. The rightmost of the two then reached out, opened the door, and awaited Isley's stepping within. "Many thanks." he said, once more utilizing Mando'a, before stepping inside. Almost immediately, the Mandalorian was met with a rush of air that denoted the presence of climate control.

So, Isley reached up and liberated himself from his helmet.

Long, finely-groomed dreadlocks then fell freely down his back; before slightly billowing in response to the flow of cool air. It was a nice change compared to the stifling cargo hold that he had spent hours inside. Not to waste any time, however, Isley was quick to stow his helmet underneath his arm and proceed forward. It only took three paces for his escort to resume their places at either side of him; and once again silence came to characterize the journey. Nothing save the symphony of boots sounding off against polished floors filled the entrance hall.

After a few moments, the duo led the Mandalorian down an adjacent corridor and continued along until a flight of stairs obstructed their path. The stairwell was not steep, certainly not enough to warrant the installation of an elevator, and Isley took them at a brisk pace. Once at the top, the leftmost of the guards quickly stepped forward and took his place before the subsequent door. Judging by its construction of glass, Isley assumed that someone important utilized the room behind it. Perhaps the Foreman mentioned before?

"Pardon me for one moment, sir." said the guard, before he stepped inside.

This left the other escort and Isley, who then folded his arms and began the waiting game.

 

[Darth Metus]

After a few moments had passed, the guard made his return from within the office.

Upon stepping out, he then held the door open so that the Mandalorian could proceed. To this he added: "The Foreman will see you now. Go on in." Rendering a polite nod once more, the durasteel-clad warrior stepped briskly within the office. Upon crossing the threshold, there was a light "clink" as the glass door was closed behind him. Privacy was obtained; which was good. "Welcome! Welcome! Come on in!" came a deep, boisterous voice. A look forward greeted Isley with the sight of the Foreman, who was...a rather portly man.

Garbed in a business casual attire, the Human male rose from behind his desk in order to greet his customer. Isley was quite surprised that some of the trinkets upon said desk were not knocked over in the process, for the man had quite the "impressive" stomach. Of course, such thoughts would never be voiced; lest he be refused service for having a loose, uncivil tongue. "Greetings," he said, striding forward. "I trust you are informed as to who I am?" Upon coming to a halt, the Mandalorian extended his hand in greeting.

Meaty, clammy fingers then wrapped about it and rendered a firm shake.

"Most certainly, Rally Master. I am Foreman Sovak, by the way. A pleasure!"

Once Isley's hand had been freed from the Foreman's grasp, he continued. "The pleasure is all mine, Foreman. he said, lowering his hand. "I have come today to make a purchase. Hibridium. Enough to cloak a...large freighter. Would you be able to accommodate such an order?" Mirth spread upon the portly executive's face before he motioned for the Mandalorian to join him at his desk. Turning, he then returned to his seat and motioned to one of the two chairs before him.

"Absolutely! This facility is ready and willing to serve the United Clans. Let me just calculate just how much you'll need and...pricing..."

 

[Darth Metus]

Credits made the Galaxy go 'round, and this transaction was but one small example of this trend.

Upon being extended an invitation to sit, the Mandalorian eased himself into the chair in question. It was...comfortable...to say the very least; but the "view" needed a lot of work. Of course, Isley was mindful of where his eyes wandered; for his helmet was not atop his head. Under normal circumstances, he might have stared at the Foreman's jiggling chins until their conversation was concluded. However, now that his face was in the open, he had to be mindful of where his gaze was placed.

As such, Isley kept his focus directly on the beady eyes of the executive, who now busied himself with the calculation process. This began with the delving of his hands into his desk's lower drawer in order to procure an object. For several seconds, Isley did not know what the item the Foreman sought was, for he fumbled blindly about...but eventually raised an eyebrow when the item was retrieved. 'Twas a very archaic calculation tool, complete with a roll of paper. If Isley had to venture a guess, that tool was better off in a museum rather than being used to calculate the order.

Nonetheless, it would do.

"Alrighty, so you want enough to cloak a large freighter...I'll go ahead and estimate the tonnage...Add in our labor and service fees...." murmured the executive. As the words escaped his lips, his fingers danced upon the calculation device; and with each touch, ink clicked upon the parchment. The Mandalorian simply watched the process in silence until the Foreman reached the end of his calculations. He then turned the device so that Isley could see the total; beaming all the while.

"And this is our total!"

Rumor had it that Hibridium was expensive, and indeed it was. But for a place to call home...No price was too high.

 

[Darth Metus]

Once the price had been revealed, the Mandalorian promptly reached for his utility belt.

In the second to last pouch, there laid a micro-datapad. This was, for the most part, the means by which Isley made the majority of his purchases. It took a moment to fish the damned thing out of the belt, for large fingers did not exactly mix well with small pouches. However, once the item was secured in his grasp, Isley held it aloft and promptly awakened it with but a tap upon its screen. The price seems more than agreeable to me." he began, once more tapping upon the screen in order to unlock the device.

"If you could provide me the appropriate account number, I'll transfer the funds right now."

Immediate payment. Cold hard credits. Nothing ensured quality service like money. With the prospect of being paid in full, upfront, on the table, the Foreman only grinned all the more. Reaching across his desk, he plucked forth a business card and slid it across for Isley to see. On the front was listed a variety of contact information with the account information provided on the very bottom. Now, Isley could very well have abused his powers and walked away with a free heap of Hibridium, for he could have Enthralled the Foreman just like the Rodian...

...But, for once, his "conscience" had a victory.

With a series of swift taps, the Mandalorian promptly transferred the requested funds into the facility's account. When this was complete, Isley rendered a nod; which prompted the Foreman to verify the transfer on his own datapad. Once the portly man saw for himself that the transfer had been made, his smile only brightened. "Pardon me for just a moment. I'll have your order crated up and delivered to your vessel." he said. Then, he tapped upon a comm-link located upon his ear and spoke in a rather firm tone. "Got an order for you to crate up. Details being sent now boys. Make it snappy!"

Isley took this as his queue to stand.

 

[Darth Metus]

When the Mandalorian ascended to his feet, so too did the Foreman.

There was yet another, clammy handshake before Isley bid his farewell. His business was concluded, so there was no reason to linger for the sake of pleasantries. After all, he had yet another order to put in...on the other side of the Galaxy. "Many thanks for your assistance, Foreman. Until we meet again." he said, rendering a final nod before departing. Long, confident strides bore the durasteel-clad man out of the office. Upon stepping into the hall, his escort snapped to attention and resumed their duties immediately.

The journey to the landing pad was relatively brief, for there was a new pep in the Mandalorian's step. After all, who wouldn't be excited over gaining a new home? If not for restraint, Isley would have practically jogged to the landing pad and dove into the merchant's ship...but that was well outside of the realm of tact. Upon arrival at the ship, Isley was greeted with the sight of a relatively large stack of crates with an even larger one being loaded into the cargo hold. This sight caused the Mandalorian's "conscience" to rear its head once more.

"I need a favor, gentlemen, and you'll be rewarded for it." he began, switching to the Basic tongue. "Put these crates somewhere safe, will you? In a storehouse or something? My ride will be looking for them in a few days' time. For your trouble..." As the words escaped his lips, the Mandalorian reached into his utility belt once more. This time, he produced a few credit "coins" of large denominations. To each were given an even share of that which Isley produced, so much so that an eagerness to serve was instilled in the guards.

"Yes sir! We'll get that taken care of right away!" said the leftmost guard.

"Excellent. I bid you farewell, gentlemen." came Isley's response.

With that said, the Mandalorian promptly boarded the merchant vessel once more. The Entralled Rodian, already in the pilot's seat, greeted his "Master" with a respectful nod before inquiring as to where they would be headed. "Take me to Fringe Space." he began, "I need to ask a favor of my boss."

- Fin -​