Tales of the Mandalorians

[Dieter Schprokets]

Consuls Ranov'la Aran, Kandosii, and William Bishop entered the Mandalore's Office.

It was a bloody mess. The Mandalore, Dha Piruna, was passed out drunk at the desk. Papers, some actually quite important, lay strewn about the floor. A girl was sprawled on the couch. She came to, saw the three men and the looks on their faces, got scared, and left the room, quickly and quietly.

Dha had taken to the previous Mandalore's love of the drink, in a big, big way. But John Cabot, like most Bretonians, could hold their liquor. Mandalorians could not.

"Wake him.", said Ranov'la in disgust.

Billy kicked the Mandalore in the shin. Dha gave a muffled cry, stood partially up, then sat slowly back down. This wasn't a social call, and he'd seen this movie before, but not on the receiving end.

He shook his head, wiped his eyes, and asked groggily, "So who's got the blaster?"

Kandosii sat down, looked Dha in the eye and said, "We all do."

Dha looked alarmed, then poured himself a drink. Cabot's booze was long gone though, but Piruna had acquired the expensive tastes. He offered the bottle to the Consuls, who shook their heads.

"You guys mean business." Down the hatch went his shot. Might as well if they were going to blow him away.

"Our idea", started Billy, without pausing, "is that you would be happier knocked down to Consul. Do you agree? Or did you want us to just shoot you?"

Dha looked thoughtful, then said "Well, its a hell of a pay cut, but corpses make even less, so...."

He continued. "Guess I should have seen this coming. Haven't been the most active Mandalore, to say the least, right?"

Ranov'la shook his head. "Freeport One cut off our fuel privileges. The bill they would like paid, I expect, is on your desk. Has been for three months, they say."

Dha nodded. "Well, I'd rather just be flying anyway. Never did like the paperwork."

Kandosii answered. "Neither do I, but I intend to try."

"Really? You?" Dha looked pretty surprised. "I thought it would be you, Ranov'la, or you, Billy."

Billy smirked, "I'm told its too soon for another Bretonian Mandalore, and Ranov'la here says he doesn't have the time, or inclination. But it seems our young Mr Kandosii here is full of ambition."

The about-to-be former Mandalore Dha Piruna looked at the three men gathered before him. He began chuckling, then outright laughing loudly. The three others looked at him, wondering if this was some sort of breakdown.

Dha waved his hand to reassure them, then wiped tears from his eyes. "Our ancestors would be so disgusted with us.", he said.

Ranov'la asked quizzically, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well", said Dha, still wiping his eyes, "this is the third time the chair of Mandalore has passed on without him being murdered in the process. It's disgraceful, really. Sure you don't want to blow me away? Tradition, you know."

Ranov'la smiled. "No, old friend, just want you to get back in that gunship and start earning your keep. We'll clean up this mess." He glanced at the paperwork, and shuddered.

Dha smiled, nodded, and stood up. Too quickly. He wavered for a bit, then started to leave the room. He faced Kandosii, and asked, "Permission to sober up first sir?" He handed a very significant signet ring to him as he asked the question.

Kandosii took the ring, and put it on and looked at it in mild disbelief. He thought to himself, Mighty Cay'lith, what have I gotten myself into? He didn't give voice to his uncertainty though.

"Sure, Consul. Take your time. But get out there and make us some money, will you?"

Dha smiled wanly, then left the room, muttering something about a girl.

Ranov'la Aran looked like he'd just kicked his own dog.

But business was business.

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