Chapter 10.
The Talk of Mankind.
The war had entered a hesitant lull as Republic forces were thrown into a temporary truce, if not a declared one. Both sides reduced to holding ground as the unexpected hesitancy from the CIS continued. Attacks were repelled heavily, forcing the Republic to abandon its probes.
They could feel the CIS chomping at the bit, with Grievous' hands on he reins being held at bay by Dooku's will. The strange lull benefited the Hutts and Zygerrians as they continued to smuggle valuables across the invisible borders. As such it was little surprise to Miraj when a transport, vast and massive as it was, arrived and sent out a signal requesting to land and purchase their more 'exotic' merchandise. The bullet nosed craft did not descend with the calm of repulsorlifts. It dropped like a hulk.
Panicked transmissions were made for the craft to arrest its descent, but they didn't seem to be acknowledging the transmissions. Hundreds of metres from touching down the drives flared like miniature blinding suns, the powerful landing drives screaming in the air. Landing gear emerged and the dropship struck the ground tolling like a great bell.
It's jaws hinged open and a ramp rolled out as walking tanks that superficially resembled Spider Droids marched out, a varied panopoly of weapons to call on. They took up a guard position as an aircraft was drawn out on a conveyor system.
It's wings quivered. Lifting as communication went from it to one of the hidden markets, three more rolled out behind it, two of them apparently being gunships of some kind.
Drives lit and the four strange winged craft took to the skies.
...
His skin crawled. Two of the craft had landed and Vel felt his skin crawl. What emerged from the lead craft wasn't human. It stood far above him and had unfolded itself from its transport. It's lower half seemed to move like an Umbaran Impeding Assault Tank.
The head had far too many mechanical eyes, and it had two pairs of limbs, the lower half definitively ending in weapon. A pair of support staff emerged, much more human in appearance, along with a pair of bodyguards.
From the other transport ten machines emerged, domed heads watching his own guards with a deliberate intensity. Their weapons were held with mechanical precision, and it took only a moment for Vel to decide that they were not Droids.
"Greetings honoured guests to the Grant Market of Zygerria, how can we..."
The glance from the lead thing chilled him to the bone. A feeling that amplified a thousandfold when it spoke.
WE DESIRE A MINIMUM OF FIVE MEMBERS OF EACH SPECIES IN STOCK.
He felt the credits roll in his head at the prospect of securing such a large sale.
"I am sure we can help you, though purchasing so many could prove to be expensive, not to mention the logistics of moving such merchandise without detection. The payment for such..."
Once more he felt a stab of fear, and annoyance, as he was cut off.
IRRELEVANT. BULK PURCHASE FOR BULK RATES. NO REQUIREMENT FOR TOP SHELF ITEMS. ONLY VOLUME. PAYMENT IN RARE WEAPON.
Rare weapon? He wondered what they meant. One of the smaller staff stepped up. "Payment will be in the form of one Vortex Torpedo warhead for study and replication, delivered here, my master expects the merchandise delivered in short order."
"Of course, but I am not sure such a payment is sufficient, what good is one weapon.."
"Our studies have demonstrated that one such warhead is enough to destroy even a Venator class cruiser in one shot. Developing this technology could aid you immeasurably against the Republic." It paused for a moment as its master spoke another language, "Ah, yes sir. In addition to the five of every species you have in stock, my master wishes me to express that we also wish to include in the purchase every human you have in stock at this time. In exchange for the extra difficulty, we will provide a second warhead for study."
Vel felt elated, knowing the power this would bring him. To secure such a valuable advancement? "What proof do you have."
It held up a holo-emitter and footage began to play from a battle, the craft was slightly stranger like a militarised venator, and he wondered i that intelligence would be just as valuable. Then a torpedo struck it and the Vortex reached out and plucked the entire craft from space. Leaving only debris.
"You have a deal!" Vel said, his skepticism gone.
---
The transfer of slaves had taken almost three days, shipping them in containers to the massive landed craft of this Mechanicus.
Even now Vel stood with their lead scientist looking at one of the Warheads in their markets Admin level, the other was still at the Spaceport as the Mechanicus had insisted they should remain apart.
He had learned a little of the Mechanicus in those days, enough to read some of the warnings on the Warhead. This one had been painted with a name, a company that made it.
TR-0J-4N
Alarms were going off. "What is happening?" He asked into his commlink as he turned towards the spaceport, as far as it was all he could see was the blinding light of the mechanicus ships drives as it climbed from the gravity well.
"Massive viral assault. Our computers are fighting something that doesn't make any sense! We're losing data."
He heard the sound of gears turning and a power cell being powered up. Turning he saw the warhead on the table.
It was making a mocking mechanical laughter.
Turning he saw it. The spaceport had been closer to the arming transmission that flooded their networks with a destructive virus. The universe burst into a colour and colourless life as a roiling vortex opened and pulled in the spaceport and everything with it.
He screamed in realisation and it didn't stop until he was engulfed by a vortex of his own.
---------------
Dooku
The stalemate hadn't bought the time he needed. He put down the datapad containing imagery from Zygerria. The foul slavers were trash and deserved what they had gotten, but the limited intel had been horrifying.
Giant space holes opening up and swallowing the main spaceport and a primary trade city, all while their networks were being ravaged by a virus that self-deleted. There was no doubt something significant had occurred. But making matters worse were the rumours of counter-aging technology used by the newcomers and how a large number of aging human senators had already made discreet, private, inquiries.
"Count, this situation cannot continue, we have abstained from offensive action, and now events on Zygerria have tipped their hand. The Republic does not intend to stand down, so why should we!" The harsh rasp of the cyborg did not fall upon deaf ears.
"General Grievous. I will suggest you moderate your tone, not the least of all because I agree with you. Our consolidation did buy us some time, but it also left our allies exposed. The Queen of Zygerria is more hesitant than others, fearful of rogue space hole weapons." The disgraced former Jedi projected imagery recorded by a transport incoming.
The footage didn't show the ship that had delivered the weapons, according to interviews the vortices had been going for nearly twenty minutes when the transports arrived. The whorling rotation of the vortices made them do things that weren't expected, like move from their initial position, but in the end they had collapsed. Either fed to capacity or simply no longer able to sustain their own expenditure.
"How are the enemy taking the news?" Grievous asked as he looked out of the window.
"They deny responsibility and condemn the act. But nobody survived in either the Spaceport or city. And nobody can even point a finger at the culprits." Dooku remarked taking his throne.
He sat, brooding for a minute before turning to Grievous.
"Resume the offensive. All fronts, pressure them now.... deploy the Malevolence."
---
Duchess Satine Kryze
The man was a pompous and highly militant man, and he'd decided to visit them to discuss their neutral stance in the Clone Wars. Powerful, charismatic, and his Battleship in orbit had done little to assuage her feelings as to his real intent.
She had only elected to even receive them due to the visit by Obi Wan Kenobi who had been selected to chaperone them because of his history. "I am sorry Master Maximillian, but the people of Mandalore no longer follow our martial history. WE do not agree with this senseless war of aggression perpetrated by both sides. As such we will not be involving ourselves with it."
He nodded thoughtfully, "I understand," He said and she felt a small smile of victory for a moment, "It must be hard for you, a culture that was so proudly martial, the finest combatants in the galaxy, and now you feel torn. Both sides publicly lead by humans, but motivated by alien ideals, the Confederacy's hyper-aggressive actions driven by equally aggressive cyborg and armies of mass produced machines."
She felt her breath catch, no that wasn't it at all!
"The other led by an aging and failing democratic government with a significant alien representation in votes allowing them to be deceived into a war in which the first act was to purchase an army of clones produced from an alleged Mandalorian and grown en-masse by aliens." His words were like acid on her tongue, they tasted wrong, a wilful twisting of events.
And yet, a part of her could see that he believed it.
"One side using mass produced weapons to spread an alien ideal. The other using mass growned weapons disgracing Mandalorian stylings and fighting to preserve a dying regime. How could you stand for such an anti-human rhetoric?" He smiled slightly an her gut felt sour at the insinuations that they were abstaining from the war for some notion of human supremacy.
Satine didn't notice the look upon Tal Merrik's face. She didn't notice the expressions on several others present at this public hearing. She never realised that she was no longer the ear he was working to capture. "Will your pacifist ways truly allow you to let others dominate?" He paused, and she recognised the dramatic choice for what it was.
He smiled. "Ah, apologies. I allowed myself to get carried away, I did not come here to argue politics my lady, regardless of what you believed. I am but a humble trader and came here to negotiate the possible particulars of trade with you."
She nodded, accepting his apology for to do less would be insulting. "Please feel free to discuss it with my aide, but I have other matters of state to attend to. Please excuse me."
He nodded but she had already begun leaving the room. Obi-wan followed her concerned.
"Duchess, are you alright?" He said, concerned as she peeled off into a sitting room.
She breathed heavily, almost angry. "I thought he was supposed to be a friend of the republic?"
Obi-wan hesitated. "I don't know," He finally admitted, "that dog and pony show... I feel like it wasn't meant for you, he went through all the motions but it felt like he was playing for a different audience."
"And all that about anti-alien rhetoric? Blaming events on alien interests?" She hissed. In what universe could such racism possibly hold favour?
"We knew about their human centrism, it's almost a religion for them, with allusions to some sort of god-emperor they are awaiting, but with their history which they have been free in showing whoever asked, it is almost understandable. Where they come from, every alien is out to commit genocide... but i'm worried Satine."
She turned at his use of her name and smiled a sad wry smile, "My good friend? Worried. Whatever for?"
Obi-wan looked as worried as she felt and that was not a good sign, "Because Satine, whoever that show was for, I could feel the mood in the audience chamber. There were people listening, and hearing what they wanted to hear. And his carriage does not help matters."
She cocked her head. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You saw his bearing, hands behind his back, clasped. Short sharp statements and sentences, his voice clipping the words like he's cutting them from a block. A weapon at each hip. His step regimented and military, but each step on the balls of his feet like a warrior or hunter. Proudly displaying his battle scars." Obi-wan's observations were tempered through his recent experiences as a general. "He is playing at trader and merchant, but he's admitted as much to Amidala that his fortunes were built on the backs of weapons trade."
"We have cast off the shackles of our oppressive militarised past Obi-Wan, you were there." She said shuddering.
"Yes, but how long before some who romanticise that past listen?"
---
Tal heard the mans words and felt a stiff beam of martial pride. How could they sit back and bleat like pufferpigs when a galactic civil war raged on, leaving Mandalore, proud strong Mandalore, cowering under the guise of pacifist ideals.
They should be out there, taking advantage of the time, a time to reclaim their lost glory. Why ally with the Confederacy if there was a third option? "Admiral, may we speak?"
The man nodded and Tal opened a door into a side chamber where they could speak in private. The creepy robed bodyguards that he had arrived with entered and stood by the door. Seemingly noticing nothing, but now and again they twitched. "They hear nothing, see nothing, and say nothing." The Admiral had no difficulties making himself central to the new space and Tal felt a fraction of jealousy at the ease with which he fit in.
"Lord Revian, you words were powerful and touched something important to many Mandalorians, as you apparently know we were a warrior culture, and the peace doesn't sit easily for many," He offered the man a drink and he nodded, "May I ask why you bring it up?"
He nodded and smiled a half smile. "I arrived into this galaxy by misfortune, introduced to a single side of a conflict. I saw an opportunity to curry favour against an enemy that used heretical soulless machines. But I am a trader by nature, and I do not believe it would make sense to tie myself needlessly to the Republic. What I do believe is that I am a trader, one from a culture of unending war."
Tal's breath quickened. He
sensed the words that were to come.
"So Tal Merrik. I come not for the platitudes of a pacifist. I don't come to build allies for the Republic or sway neutral worlds to its cause. I don't come to serve some dark Confederacy secrets. I come to build a new power. And I don't intend to do it with mass produced clones of a bounty hunter, I don't intend to do it with an army of soulless automata. I intend to do it with all the power and guile at my disposal, with smart trades and economic warfare, with carefully meted out secrets and knowledge. And, when push comes to shove. I intend to do it with the finest human warriors the galaxy has to offer." The words twisted and bore into Tal's heart, the mans bionic eye had not left his own.
Tal hissed. "Lord Revian, I believe I need to introduce you to Pre Vizsla."
