Jorus Merrill
is mek bote
[member="Onith Trill"]
For the Undergrounders of the Wretched Hive, the next couple of hours were an exercise in collecting grim loose ends. They tended wounds, kept prisoners unconscious, dragged in the third surviving Mando, rebooted systems, took the recon boat's Hulk in tow, retrieved Jorus' lightsaber, collected the dead of both sides, took stock of their new ship, and mourned the fallen one way or another. They also arranged a buyer for the ship.
Kind of.
"Good morning, Captain Schmitt." Jorus' grim voice echoed oddly in the confines of the escape pod. As Schmitt and his men awoke, they would find they'd been stripped down to their bodygloves. Outside the pod's window, the corvette chugged along with the recon boat behind it.
"I never know the right words for Mando concepts. Is it father? Admiral? Commander? Employer? Well, whatever you call him...I called him. It turns out he knew my sister once upon a time. Still carries one of her knives. Nice guy. He's eager to talk with you, so I'm patching you through. Oh, and you can tell him I'll be dropping off his ship shortly. Best of luck, Captain."
The corvette and the recon boat's hulk accelerated into the nebular murk. The lonely escape pod linked with an impossibly distant Mandalorian comm station, advanced enough to punch a signal through the nebula and pick up a reply.
For the Undergrounders of the Wretched Hive, the next couple of hours were an exercise in collecting grim loose ends. They tended wounds, kept prisoners unconscious, dragged in the third surviving Mando, rebooted systems, took the recon boat's Hulk in tow, retrieved Jorus' lightsaber, collected the dead of both sides, took stock of their new ship, and mourned the fallen one way or another. They also arranged a buyer for the ship.
Kind of.
"Good morning, Captain Schmitt." Jorus' grim voice echoed oddly in the confines of the escape pod. As Schmitt and his men awoke, they would find they'd been stripped down to their bodygloves. Outside the pod's window, the corvette chugged along with the recon boat behind it.
"I never know the right words for Mando concepts. Is it father? Admiral? Commander? Employer? Well, whatever you call him...I called him. It turns out he knew my sister once upon a time. Still carries one of her knives. Nice guy. He's eager to talk with you, so I'm patching you through. Oh, and you can tell him I'll be dropping off his ship shortly. Best of luck, Captain."
The corvette and the recon boat's hulk accelerated into the nebular murk. The lonely escape pod linked with an impossibly distant Mandalorian comm station, advanced enough to punch a signal through the nebula and pick up a reply.