Yuri Maji
Sahan did not look at the Basilisk first.
He probably should have. It was sitting there outside the open cargo bay like Yuri had dragged it into the Mythos Fleet purely to make a point, all sharp Mandalorian lines, predatory weight, and the kind of mechanical arrogance that made every forge-brat in the galaxy want to pretend they were not impressed. But Sahan's red eyes, hidden behind his own dark lenses, found something far more offensive.
Yuri's sunglasses.
He stopped at the edge of the freighter's cargo bay and stared. Not at Yuri's face. At the cheap glass perched on it. The silence stretched just long enough to become personal before he pointed at them.
"No." Sahan crossed the deck without waiting for an invitation, one hand tucked into the pocket of his duster while the other reached inside his jacket. A small hard case came out a heartbeat later, thrown underhand toward Yuri with the casual confidence of someone who fully expected him to catch it.
"Put those away before someone thinks I associate with amateurs."
Inside the case was a pair of
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses, but not some untouched stock pair pulled out of a crate. These had been tuned. Adjusted. Built with Yuri in mind instead of simply copied from Sahan's own set. The frame was sturdy and sharp-lined, dark enough to pass for style until someone knew what they were looking at.
Beskadetr lenses sat behind the tint, transparent beskar worked into something that looked far too clean to be as stubborn as it was. The arms carried a subtle industrial accent, less ornamental than practical, the kind of detail only another smith would notice.
The HUD woke with a quiet flicker.
M.I. That part would be familiar.
"Before you start, yes. It's running an M.I. Universal HUD backbone. Your mother's architecture." Sahan folded his arms, his smirk faint beneath the black line of his own glasses.
"I had to tune the lenses, rewrite a few armor-link protocols, add some better glare handling, and keep it from arguing with my own systems, but the bones are hers. Figured if I was replacing whatever tragic things those were, I might as well give you something with family in it."
He nodded toward Yuri's armor.
"They'll pair clean. Temiye comms, optical suite, polarizing filters, translator, holo-imager, the usual anti-Force treatment to keep unwanted fingers out of your skull. Forge glare compensation too. Welding arcs, reactor bloom, cockpit wash, plasma flare. The important things." A beat passed before his smirk sharpened.
"And they make you look slightly less like you bought your old ones from a fuel station on Ord Mantell."
If Yuri let the link handshake through his armor, the system would not feel foreign. Not really. Maji logic still knew how to speak to Maji kit. The diagnostics would stack where they were supposed to: power flow, seal integrity, comms status, ammunition, local atmosphere. A lazy targeting bracket would sweep over Sahan, pause for half a second, and label him in clean little text.
[FRIENDLY / PROBLEM]
Sahan's mouth twitched.
"That part was me."
Only then did he let his attention drift past Yuri, toward the Basilisk waiting outside the freighter. Again, he did not immediately speak. He walked toward the edge of the cargo bay instead, taking in the machine from a better angle. The chair, the cooler, the toolbox, the open bay. The whole setup had Yuri written all over it: half worksite, half camp, half challenge, somehow adding up to more halves than made sense.
The Basilisk itself, though…
Sahan tilted his head slightly.
"Showy." Another long pause followed.
"Loud, too." Then the corner of his mouth pulled upward.
"But impressive."
The word landed without much armor around it. He looked back to Yuri and added,
"Genuinely impressive."
That was not something Sahan gave away often. Not because he was stingy with praise, but because praise meant more when it had teeth behind it, and Sahan liked his words to carry weight when they finally left his mouth.
"You got a late start in this game," he said, the teasing edge thinning into something more honest.
"Later than you should have. Later than she probably would've wanted for you."
He did not need to say Shai's name immediately. It was already there, sitting between them with the old weight of legacy, loss, and unfinished work.
"But you're catching up fast. Faster than most would. This?" Sahan nodded toward the Basilisk.
"This is not amateur work, Yuri." His smirk returned, smaller this time.
"Keep going like this and one day people might start throwing around the word Forgemaster when they talk about you."
A pause.
"Like they did for your mother."
He let that sit for a moment. Not long enough to become sentimental. Sahan had limits, and forcing Yuri to endure too much sincerity all at once felt needlessly cruel. So, he ruined it.
"Don't make me regret saying that by naming the Basilisk something stupid."
He stepped back toward the cargo bay, one hand already dipping beneath the edge of his duster again. This time, what came out was not another case. It was a compact holoprojector, small enough to fit in his palm, heavy enough to have been built by someone who expected it to survive being dropped, kicked, or thrown during an argument. Sahan set it on a crate between them and said,
"Anyway, I did not come here just to save your face from bad eyewear."
His thumb brushed the activation stud.
"You remember back on Kestri, when I told you I was cooking up a little project tied to Vren's announcement?" The holoprojector hummed.
"Turns out I lied."
Blue-white light unfolded above the crate. At first, it was only lines, hard geometry, and rotating framework. Then the scale markers appeared, and the shape of it became harder to mistake. Mobile industrial spines extended outward in layered sections. Drydock berths bloomed along the flanks. Salvage cradles. Repair arrays. Modular foundry decks. Fabrication lines. External docking arms built to embrace wounded capital ships and hold them steady while Mandalorian hands cut, forged, patched, armed, and rebuilt them.
The hologram expanded again, projecting the skeletal silhouettes of warships alongside it for scale. Star Destroyers looked small beside the full structure. Sahan watched the light play over the cargo bay, over the toolbox, over Yuri's new Basilisk, and finally over Yuri himself.
"It wasn't little."
The faint humor in his voice did not vanish, but something heavier moved beneath it now. Purpose. The same thing that had carried them from Kestri to Humbarine, from promises spoken around fires and halls to ships limping home with holes in their armor and dead still waiting to be honored.
"The Mythos Yards," Sahan said.
"Iron Covenant mobile shipyards. Not one station. A network. Repair, refit, salvage, fabrication, munitions, heavy replacement parts, mobile forge capacity. The kind of backbone a fleet needs if it expects to keep fighting after the first glorious charge is over."
He glanced toward the Basilisk again.
"And the kind of thing that needs people who know how Mandalorians actually break things." Then his gaze returned to Yuri.
"And how to put them back together."
Sahan tapped the side of the projector. A few sections of the schematic brightened, isolating different industrial compartments and support modules. Smaller labels crawled into view: munitions storage, component fabrication, armor plating stockpiles, Basilisk service infrastructure, modular weapon housings, field-repair packages, foundry annexes.
"These are the sections I want Maji Ironworks looking at first. Munitions lines. Replacement parts. Weapon housings. Armor sections. Support cradles for Basilisks and assault craft. Small foundry cells we can duplicate across the yards instead of relying on one big heart that fails and takes everything with it."
His expression sharpened behind the dark lenses.
"This is not a shop contract, Yuri. This is the fleet's spine. If a Covenant ship limps home with half its armor slagged and its guns dry, these yards are where it gets made whole again. If our vode need parts, plates, power couplings, fresh barrels, fresh warheads, or some ugly little miracle made from scrap and spite, I want them getting it from people who understand why it matters."
The hologram turned slowly between them while Sahan folded his arms again.
"So." The smirk returned.
"I brought you better sunglasses, admitted your overgrown murder-lizard looks good, compared you to a Forgemaster, and handed you the schematics for the largest industrial project I have ever been stupid enough to start."
He tilted his head.
"Your turn."
A beat.
"Tell me where Maji Ironworks wants to leave its fingerprints."
Sahan Dragr
Kjartan Hammer-Hand
, Yuri immediately got to work on helping out where help was needed. Servicing ships, fixing gear, the Hound was going to earn his keep. But his reasons were far greater than simply wanting to help out. The Ironworks needed a clear lane for transport and with the news of a whole series of shipyards arriving soon, Yuri wanted to get in on that action. 
