He stood in full armor, overlooking the site that they had decided on collectively. Kyr'stad. Death Watch. A militant cell within the Mandalorian ranks, one who still stood on the ceremony of warmongering and crusade, they called for a growth that would benefit all Mandalorians.
Their culture was deeply rooted in war, in armor- it made sense for them to have forges. This outpost would be among the most heavily defended under the banner of the Mando'ade. It would consistently bring in new blood, more vode thirsting for the fulfillment of combat.
The technicians from Balmorran were already below with the construction crew, overseeing the digging and laying of foundation. Circuitry in the duracrete formed both the power grid. They tested the energy pattern intermittently, which would ultimately be powered geothermally. Four pylons were already driven, and initial tests looked good.
Alkor turned his gaze slowly toward the Forge facility proper. "It's dug nearly 500km down," the hologram of Phaygus observed. "And magma from beneath the surface is filtered in safely to provision for heat. It burns hotter than any manmade furnace, so the failsafes and artificial atmosphere will be the best R&D have recently put out."
The Dark Jedi nodded. "The facilities themselves will be mostly constructed in a joint effort with the Mandalorians, so your smiths will be the ones doing the metallurgy in earnest. We're just providing the template and electronics." Alkor glanced sidelong at Phaygus through his HUD.
"So I'm one of them, now?" he asked.
"Well, it's more that we're not. You're the common denominator." The Technarch shrugged. "Political correctness. Forgive me. This contract will be lucrative for both parties, I feel."
"Of course." Alkor expected nothing else from the old man. Businessman before all else. "Give me an idea of what we're looking at in terms of production."
"I'm so glad you asked," Phaygus clapped his hands merrily. "We have our latest line tech in store. You'll be able to produce land weapons from this site- walkers, tanks, speeders-"
"All of that?" Alkor raised a brow. "I thought you were making a forge for armor and weaponsmiths."
"Oh, we are," the man explained. "But the ability to churn out weapons of war will help the Mandalorians rebuild their warmachine, should they choose to take up arms again. And if they don't, selling these machines- with royalties, of course- will help to fund the rebuilding and colonization efforts. We talked this through with the elders, and they seemed very interested."
Alkor shrugged. "As long as they know, and you're not just pulling strings to make the company bigger."
"You wound me with this philanthropist talk, Alkor," Illyns laughed. "You were never quite so interested in how the business was run before."
The drills let out a shrill cry as they powered down. "For now, the workers are going on lunch break." Alkor gestured. "And there is a meeting of the Mandalorians going on. I should probably go talk to them."
"Of course," Phaygus gave a slight bow, and the hologram dissipated.
"Leave it to ironmongers to dip their hands as deep as they can," he chuckled.