The Mandalorian Flagship, the Mhi Motir, was a Royal Liner bought in the days when the Mandalorians were based entirely in Bretonia (as opposed to simply being incorporated there, for specific tax reasons.) It had had it's purpose; entertaining clients, conducting business, and the like.
It was a stunningly attractive and luxurious vessel, and was now a stunningly useless one. Why?
Coronado was not Bretonia. The ship was simply not safe in open space, and if it was left in drydock, that defeated it's raison d'etre.
For the purpose of doing hardnosed business, the offices on Barrier Gate sufficed nicely. They were not too spartan, and were suited for the task.
For the purpose of entertaining clients, Curacao was very close by. The Mhi Motir would often head to Curacao, unload clients for some R and R on the surface, then shuttle them back. But that made it a very expensive bus, and only that. Why would anyone in their right mind stay on a starship in orbit around a resort planet, when the planet itself beckoned?
So William was forced to reckon with the fact that the old girl was superfluous. An operating expense which could no longer be justified.
The Consuls were united in support of the decision he had to make, and that made it easier.
The Mhi Motir would be stripped, sold.
And then reborn. Into something that projected power.
The opportunity was there; all that was neccessary was to accept an offer which was already on the table.
The Mandalore poured himself a scotch, went to the viewscreen, and he spoke quietly.
"Get me Dennis Jameson, please."
There was a pause of a minute and a half while subspace ether was channeled appropriately, and then, more mundanely, when the Administrative Assistant on the other end spilled, then cleaned up, her coffee. Coffee went well with Cardi, or so it was said.
A voice at the other end gave acknowledgement.
"Minister, the arrangement we had discussed before. It is still possible?"