Tales of the Mandalorians

[Dieter Schprokets]

They were almost at the beach. It was dark, but he could hear the waves.

Bishop, and the man he knew only as "Hitachi" had precisely 12 minutes to get to the skiff. With that, they could get off this little island, and 20 minutes later, be at another nearby island where a Junker salvager was concealed.

In short, within three quarters of an hour, if all went well, he could be in space, well away from this prison camp, and within a day, out of Kusari itself.

One thing left to do. And Hitachi did not want to take the time to do it. Even if all this was going to make him very rich.

"There is another Mandalorian in the north hut, and we are going to get him. As agreed."

Hitachi shook his head violently. "NO! We are already late. You do not even know who that man is, nor even if he is still alive."

Bishop closed his eyes, giving the impression of resignation. Suddenly he grabbed Hitachi, threw him to the ground and pinned him there.

"Hitachi", he asked, like he was discussing the weather, "Do you have a family?"

The grunt he received in response confirmed that, yes indeed, the short skinny Blood Dragon did.

"Let me explain this to you,", continued Bishop. "You back out of this deal now; the ENTIRE deal, understand; and I will take a personal interest in exterminating your entire damn gene pool, when I do eventually get out of here."

The little man nodded, and Bishop let him up.

They slowly and cautiously made their way to the hut, about 100 metres north of their position. There were no guards posted at that location; such security was considered redundant, considering the locks on the hut, and especially the sharks in the waters surrounding the island.

Hitachi picked the locks with the motivation given by the knowledge that further delay amounted to a death sentence. Bishop entered the hut, and it took a good little while for his eyes to become adjusted to the reduced light in the hut. Eventually he made out a figure huddled in the corner, who sat up startled when he awoke.

"Who's there?" the figure croaked. Then the prisoner leaned forward into the moonlight.

Bishop's breath escaped him. The man was guant, and had clearly been mistreated, but there was no mistaking who he was.

Ranov'la Aran.

Former Bloody Mandalore Ranov'la Aran.

Who made it very clear in barracks language that he wanted nothing better, weakened state or not, than to put that hut, and that island, well behind him. His chosen phrase rhymed with "Get me the truck out of here!"

And so they did. And a certain Blood Dragon's bank account went up by three orders of magnitude.

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