Private For the Clan

[Brent Warnel]

BES'ULIIK
LOCATION: GORSE​

"Query: Why do we believe a trader on Gorse, of all places, has what we need?"

"It's the only lead we have so far, K," Brent replied as they navigated the city streets on the dark side of the planet.

"Observation: Maybe it is because you have not inquired enough?"

"Possibly, but this information came to me some time ago. I figured I'd just start here and see how this played out."

"Mockery: Not having a Plan B seems like a lack of planning."

Brent's eyes almost dislodged from his head as he heard HK's computerized laugh come barking from his grill plate. "I mean, Plan B is just to inquire more among the grey and black markets," Brent replied, sighing. It was going to be like this the whole time, he knew it.

"Statement: I will enact Plan B."

"No, K, you really don't-" Brent said, holding up a hand as HK-93 walked away from him into the city. "K! K! Don't kill anyone!" Brent yelled at the slowly fading droid.

A nearby passerby looked askew at Brent after his outburst. Brent raised a hand at him in greeting, throwing on a fake smile, before gesturing between himself and HK, "It's just how we say goodbye." A look of disgust crossed the individual's face as they walked away from Brent.

He sighed again, shoulders dropping as he ran his hands through his hair, staring at the now-empty city street where K had been. They were going to have to rethink building the HK droids. Whatever software Devon had used in their construction made them wildly chaotic and unpredictable. He couldn't fault them in a fight, though. The things were kriffing tough, but he knew he was going to hear about HK on the police scanners within the hour.

Brent shook his head and continued to the appropriate place, some cantina a few klicks from the spaceport.

Brent, or more accurately, Clan Warnel, was in the market for new, or in this case, old, tech. They held council meetings on where to direct the Clan's manufacturing now that the Hawk-class runner was in production, and the consensus was something a little more purpose-built for the defense of their world. Or if needed, something they could use for offense as well.

Ideas were thrown around of simple fighters, another class of gunship, and a myriad of other ideas. However, the one idea that was offered and later eventually agreed upon was the Bes'uliik. Not only was the companion steeped in Mandalorian culture and history, but the Hawk-class runner with a few modifications could also hold them in the cargo bay. It was a next to no-brainer. The only issues were procurement. And logistics. And the software. And a plethora of other issues that came with something as sophisticated as the Bes'uliik.

The Iron Covenant had some designs already in production, but Brent didn't want to rely on an outside entity to develop and build something for his own Clan's defense, so they began plans to build their own. Over the last several months, Clan Warnel had a steady influx of recruits from the war-torn galaxy. It wasn't hard to find workers, and Foundlings displaced from the terrors of the Sith were a dime a dozen. New manufacturing areas had been built within their Clan's territory for their upcoming project, and raw materials were stored for the initial development.

The only thing missing was the designs and the sophisticated software that would allow a bond between a Mandalorian and his mount. They had considered purchasing pre-existing designs, but then Brent got word of something, and he and HK-93 left the Clan to go in search of what was probably a wild bantha chase. Brent told his Clan to begin design and development under Devon's lead. If Brent found what he was looking for, they would use it to finish the design; if they didn't, they would purchase or steal whatever they needed to make their own version of the Bes'uliik.

The rain pattering against his armor drew him back to the present. Neon signs illuminated the street he was walking down, throwing deep shadows across the buildings as speeders and pedestrians walked along.

One Neon sign was in the telltale shape of a Star Destroyer, and the words "The Empire Drinks Back" were blinking in the window.

Horrible name for a bar, Brent thought to himself as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Where he was expecting to be greeted by loud noise and debauchery, he instead was greeted by dim lights and a thick cloud of smoke.

Brent nearly choked on the fumes blanketing the air. He wasn't a fan of smoke dens, and this was one of the more toxic ones he had come across.

"Mando!" a voice called out to him from somewhere on his right. Brent glanced over and saw a vague shape waving his arm in the air, beckoning Brent over.

Brent walked to the table and pulled out a chair, the thin durasteel looking like it would crumple under his weight as he sat down.

"Straight to business or....?" the man asked Brent.

"Drinks first, I need to clear my head from this damn smoke," Brent replied.

"Ha, I can agree with that," the man replied. He pushed a button next to a cylindrical pipe that ran from the top of the table to the ceiling and then to the bar. A vacuuming sound could be heard before a carrier dropped through the tube, stopping at the base of what Brent could now see was a pneumatic pipe containing two ice-cold glasses. The man opened a small sliding door, grabbed the glasses from the carrier, and handed one to Brent.

Brent noticed the bottom of the glass had a slight indentation and was made of metal, but he wasn't sure why.

"Ale comes from the bottom, Mando," the man said again, pushing his beer onto a small cylindrical piece of metal on the table. The indentation at the bottom of the ale glass popped up, and Ale began to flow from the bottom to the top.

"Pretty nifty," the man continued, "You don't even have to go to the bar anymore. So no tipping!"

Brent placed his glass on the piece of metal, filling it, the thick foam settling near the top. He took a drink, the cold liquid pouring down his throat. Refreshing, even if it was going to dehydrate him.

"Alright," Brent finally said, "Down to business."