Tales of the Mandalorians

[Dieter Schprokets]

"Gentlemen! What an unexpected surprise! What can I do for my three consuls today?"

Luc McCloud, Mandalore had entered the room. His face fell when he saw the demeanour of his three consuls. John Cabot, Dha Piruna, and Ne'tra Verda stood and regarded the Mandalore with grim resolve. This was not a social call.

"Hmm, so, who brought the blaster?"

John Cabot showed a wry smile. "It's not like that, Luc." Actually, it could be precisely like that. Ne'tra Verda had smuggled a blaster past the guards, in case this went badly. And knowing Luc's temper, badly is how it could quite likely go.

"Then what IS it like, John?" He kept his gaze fixed on the Bretonian.

Dha Piruna interjected. "The war with the Union of Gold has the people.. dissatisfied with the current leadership. Specifically, you. We fear our rule is in danger."

"Am I to be a scapegoat, then?"

"Actually, yes." said Ne'tra Verda. "Your harsh words started this war. The fact that the Union of Gold officially declared war first is immaterial. Therefore you are to blame for the disastrous defeat in Dublin, and you will have to pay the price."

"With my life?!? You won't find me so easy to kill!"

"No." Dha Piruna continued. "You will have an opportunity to retire gracefully, now that a suitable replacement has been found."

"One of you, I suppose."

John Cabot smiled grimly. "You're looking at him. Sorry, Luc"

Luc nodded, eyes hardened, "I suppose you gentlemen did not consider me sufficiently.. controllable."

"To say the least!", Dha Piruna snorted. "We cannot continue on the present course. Your rash judgements will ruin our tribe. As it stands, our resources have been depleted enough that our plan to colonize Omega 50 is put off for the forseeable future. It takes money to replace a fleet. Destroyed by Mollys..." His voice trailed off in disgust.

Luc McCloud, Mandalore, settled into a chair, with a tired look on his face. "And if I refuse?"

"Civil War, I suppose.", answered John, eyes narrowed. Or Ne'tra's blaster...

"Well we don't want that, do we? Our people have suffered enough." The Mandalore stood, faced the window, then turned around, grinning. His sudden change in attitude was confusing to the consuls.

"Well, if you aren't going to kill me, what exactly are you going to do with me?"

Ne'tra answered "There is an opportunity available for command within the fleet, if you are interested. It would get you back in the cockpit again. An elite fighter squadron, started by an officer by the name of Heinrich Drechsler, who named it Luftwaffe. A strange name, something to do with his Rheinlander heritage. He was killed in the battle of Dublin. His men need a new leader. Do you suppose you are up to the task?"

John continued "You will no longer be Mandalore, but you will command a squadron of the finest fighter pilots in Sirius, with the rank of Admiral. Can you accept these terms, 'Mandalore'?"

Luc McCloud paused with a grimace on his face. Ne'tra Verda tensed. Luc saw that out of the corner of his eye and smiled at Ne'tra. He knew exactly what that involuntary response had meant.

"So you have the blaster, eh, Ne'tra? Don't worry, you won't have to use it." He laughed, then continued.

"This may go down as the most civil coup in history. Not very Mandalorian of us... Let the age of the Bretonian Mandalore begin! Hell, I miss the cockpit anyway. So what is your first major decision, 'Mandalore John Cabot'?"

Relief showed on all their faces. Even battle hardened warriors do not relish killing friends. John answered:

"Fall back the fleet to Omega 3 and regroup at Freeport 1, out of the range of the UOG. Refit and repair, and strike back at the Mollys, to regain our honour. We are concerned about how our key military clients view us in the aftermath of the Dublin battle. After we are redeemed, we should seek terms with the UOG. We don't have the resources for a long war."

"Excellant decision. Far more prudent than I would have been. But I suppose that is the point of all this, isn't it?"

McCloud left the room, in front of the others. He paused to make one last point, just to keep his usurpers on edge:

"You'll need a new consul. There have always been 3 consuls, to balance the power of the Mandalore. I recommend Aden Cote, John, I think you can trust him."

He turned and gave a small wry smile;

"Though bear in mind, I trusted all three of you..."

With that, he left the room, leaving his consuls to try to read each other's expressions..

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