Battle on Hypori

[Kal Doran]

Concord Dawn - Orbital Shipyards

It felt better being in Mandalorian space for a change, even if it was only for work. He had been one of the several mercenaries contracted out by Concord Dawn's security forces to track down and eliminate whoever was raiding their supply lines. It had been going on for months now. Normally, the refined beskar that was mined and processed from the many asteroids that encircled the planet were sent along to Mandalore without incident. Mandalorians were tough, and the combination of former Journeyman Protectors and Deathwatch escorts along the trade routes was more than enough to deter all but the insane from daring to attack the freighters. Whoever was behind the raids in the last few months had to have some insider knowledge, or so the security analysts thought. All of the raids were carried out with precise timing, taking out the freighters during a brief window between escorts. That was all Kal was given during his briefing. Not a lot to go on, but Kal had worked with less.

The Gentle Persuasion, Kal's very own customized YV-929, hummed as she glided through the black, Kal stretching in his seat with a loud groan. No activity for at least three cycles and the deafening silence of space was starting to take its toll. Kal wasn't even getting paid for this, though he insisted that himself. He may be a mercenary by necessity, but he was a patriotic mercenary goddamnit. The silence was finally broken up by some feminine-sounding static from the comms.

"Captain Moore speaking. How's Sector 12 looking, Doran?"

"Clear, like it was 15 minutes ago," Kal retorted, "You sure you aren't just chatting to get friendly with me?"

"Watch it, flyboy. I can still grease you anytime I like."

Kal chuckled to himself. The Captain was a good friend of his from way back. She was tough and mean for a Mandalorian, and that was saying something. She was the one who contacted him in the first place . For Moore to ask anyone for help, Kal knew it must be serious.

"I'm sending a squad over to your sector, so be on the lookout for them. Over and out."

Kal sighed as he reclined in his seat, taking in the star field in front of him. He didn't mind these peaceful moments when he could catch them, but there was something about being in Mandalorian space that just made Kal crave a good fight. Still though, it beat watching brainless holovids.

[Mace Riko]

You knew it was a bad situation when the Mandalorians openly asked the Bounty Hunters' Guild for help. An alliance of sorts existed between them, and there was an unspoken understanding that the Guild repaid the sanctuary that Mandalore provided with unofficial contributions to the protection of Mandalorian Space. Ordinarily, the mere presence of bounty hunter traffic in and out of Mandalorian territory, and the hunters' and mercenaries' inclination to dive into a fight if one presented itself in the hopes of earning a few retroactive credits for it, was enough to deter or subdue most of the opportunistic dangers that Mandalore was forced to confront these days. A year had passed since the Treaty of Ktil, and Mandalore still stood as an independent state within Imperial Space, protected by the Treaty's various sanctions; but while the Empire was held at bay, those fleeing from them were not. Pirates, smugglers, and other assorted criminals had begun to see Mandalore as a potential haven, a neutral zone through which they could flee in order to escape Imperial pursuit. While the Mandalorians had no love for the Empire, they were not fond of being taken advantage of in such a way, either. Those were the kind of threats that Mandalore faced under normal circumstances, and the current status quo addressed them just fine.

Concord Dawn was not normal circumstances, however. It was one thing to cower behind the unsolicted protection of the Mandalorians; but to steal from them was a far deeper sin, and that was what transpired in the skies above Concord Dawn. Mand'alor himself had contributed from his Death Watch personal guard to aid the Journeyman Protectors in their patrols above Dawn, and the High Council had - with some reluctance - submitted an official request to the Guild for additional volunteers. Even if Riko had not been the Guild's de facto representative on the High Council, he still would have offered his services: Concord Dawn was home for Clan Koine, and while it was a home that he himself had never known, he would protect it with the same determination as if it were Kamino.

"Acknowledged," Riko spoke into his helmet's comlink, responding to Captain Moore's orders to redeploy his formation to Sector 12. Were Riko the sentimental type - or rather, were he willing to admit that he was - he would have had to concede a certain sense of satisfaction at the feeling of being inside the Ede-class fighter that the Protectors had loaned him for this patrol. The way the stabiliser blades rotated around the cockpit was a little unnerving at times, far different from anything Riko was accustomed to flying; but it was Mandalorian, from stem to stern, and Riko could not fight the feeling that he belonged, as if the craft were some natural extension of his armour. It wasn't the only craft that Riko had been offered, mind you; but flattering as it was for Mand'alor himself to offer a StarViper from his Death Watch arsenal, but Riko had politely declined. There was only so much unorthodox a weary old clone could take in one day.

Riko's lambda formation peeled away from their previous heading - not quite with perfectly calibrated clone precision, but close enough - onto a new bearing that cut across the remnants of Concord Dawn's southern hemisphere, drifting out in space. Riko wasn't entirely sure what historic war had shattered the planet in such a way, nor did he know how long it's current state of fractured equilibrium would persist before gravity spun the rended surface into planetary rings or brought it all crashing down on the farmlands below; but for now at least, the sight was breathtaking.

Breathtaking and vulnerable, Riko reminded himself. The same beskar ores that the planetary cataclysm exposed to Mandalorian miners was the same resource that someone had been plundering. As if the mere affront of theft were not enough, beskar and its derivitive alloys had more value to the Mandalorian people than ever. The Empire had proven that beskar was worth more than just the tradition and significance that the Mandalorians applied to it, and now Mandalore sought to capitalise on that worth, using beskar as a tradable commodity to help fortify Mandalore's status on the galactic stage. Trade in beskar with the Alliance of Free Planets was an avenue through which the Mandalorians could obtain supplies and resources they desperately needed: anything that placed that at risk, or threatened to undermine the Alliance's faith in Mandalore to hold up their end of the exchange, simply could not be tolerated.

Riko's expression shifted as he peered ahead through the planetary debris, his eyes settling on a familiar shape carving its way through the space ahead of him. A low chuckle escaped from his throat as he flipped open a communications channel, adjusting his course to bring his formation onto an intercept course with the Gentle Persuasion.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Kal Doran of Clan Doran. I'd recognise that ugly flying box of yours anywhere. I guess we must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if we had to ask you for help."