Tales of the Mandalorians

[Dieter Schprokets]

Console William Bishop was unloading several crates from his Templar onto the tarmac, and humming a strange tune.

"Sur le Pont d'Avignon, l'on y danse..."

Mandalore Blaine approached warily...

"What is that?"

Billy stood up, pointed at one crate, then another; "That's a Cabernet Sauvignon, that's a Pinot Noir, and over there is a Mer.."

"No..", interrupted Diane. "I mean, that noise you're making."

"Oh!", exclaimed Billy. "Its French, the language of Gallia. It's not too hard to pick up, actually."

The Mandalore sat down on a crate. "Is wine ALL you brought back?"

Billy grinned, and handed Diane a piece of parchment in French, with the seal of the Council on it. She handed it back. "I have no idea what that says." It might as well have been in Latin.

"Licence to defend traders in Orkney. Some restrictions apply, but it's a contract. We just can't kill Brigands. Seem the Council is soft on 'em. Dunno what we do when a Brigand threatens a trader. Whistle and walk away? I love how our clients just want us to duck and weave that sort of thing. Easy to do, unless YOU'RE the one up there in a bomber.."

Diane looked at the numbers. They were understandable, at least. "Not bad payments." She drifted off in thought, then asked, "Who should we send?"

Billy shrugged. "How about Atiniir Cuir and Trach Taraych? One fighter jock, and one bomber driver. Should do. They've made a good team before."

Diane nodded. "Sounds good. I'll draft the orders this afternoon. Are they likely to spend their entire time drinking that Gallian stuff on Reunion station?"

Billy laughed, "I hope so, they both fly better drunk!" He handed her a case of Merlot to carry, and beckoned to the waiting taxi.

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