Tales of the Mandalorians

[Dieter Schprokets]

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap....

John Cabot, Mandalore, kept hitting the pen on the desk, praying for something, ANYTHING, to relieve the monontony of paperwork.

Paperwork. The job of Mandalore was 90% paperwork. Had he but known...

To make matters worse, Luc had never kept up with the paperwork. Hell, Luc had not done ANY paperwork. Outstanding invoices for ship repairs, dated over a year ago!

Here I am authorizing invoices for shield batteries for two ships blown apart in Dublin by the bloody Union of Gold! Suppose thats a Warranty item? Obviously the shields were no hell...

He pushed back from the table, rubbing his eyes, then started rummaging through the desk drawers.

"Luc, where did you hide the whisky?" Bottom right drawer. Bingo!

John popped the top of and took a swig. Forehead was throbbing. Piece of metal under the scar there. Never taken out. Might want to finally get that done.

"Sir?" Functionary at the door, with a report. Another. Bloody. Report.

John stood to greet the man. "Come in"

"May be important sir. Our UOG mole."

Cabot opened the seal, and read for about 5 seconds before falling back into his chair.

"My God!"

"Sir?"

"Get Dha in here, now!"

The functionary ran out the room, face drawn. Impatient Mandalores can be bad for your health.

Dha Piruna was there within minutes. He'd obviously ran, knew something big was up.

"What is it? John. What?!?"

Cabot had been staring at the wall, stroking his chin, and paused before saying, rather softly, "Kearney O'Sullivan is dead."

Union of Gold Commander. Leader of the enemy.

Dha sat on a long bench on the adjacent wall.

John continued. "Quite the opportunity, don't you think? Dha, you didn't.."

Piruna interrupted. "No, no. I wouldn't assassinate anyone without your permission. You know that."

Cabot nodded slowly, then rose and began pacing.

Dha spoke after some thought. "Question is, what is this an opportunity for? Do we attack? Or do we make amends?"

John gestured violently at his desk. "We owe about 360 million credits for repairs made a year ago on ships that are Dublin space junk now! I'm begging for lines of credit to pay for fuel! I've sold three ships from the fleet to pay for parts for the others! We have no resources for war!"

John sighed, then continued. "The reality is that even if we win this thing, it will destroy us. We will have nothing left. And if we lose..."

"No. We need jobs, paying jobs, long term contracts with well off clients. Not..." He gestured at nothing in particular in frustration.. "Luc's wretched leftover blood feuds!"

"No. We end this bloody, pointless business. Now."

He sat at his desk, then looked Dha Piruna in the eyes and smiled.

"You have command for a while, Dha. I have a funeral in Londonderry to attend."

He frowned, then spoke again. "They ARE Irish. Better get to the wake before they're all drunk, or they'll just bloody well kill me..."

---