Author - I know I did a little fucky wucky I made big Paell a grand admiral in 10 BBY when he is not supposed to be that. Whatever, he got a fast track promotion from big man emperor himself for good behaviour.
Also as for the timeline:
After the Empire was formed they made a new calendar going back 3 years before its founding so - 3BFE (Before Forming Empire) which is 22 BBY which is when the clone wars start. Then after the empire was created they use AFE (After Forming Empire) so 0/1 AFE is end of clone wars 19 AFE is Battle of Yavin.
Kael was born in 25BBY (22 BFE but I will mostly be using BBY/ABY for internal Kael monolgues and the imperial calendar when he is talking/interacting with the world, I will still write what date it equivalates to in BBY terms.) which makes him 15 in 10 BBY (We are here currently in the story as of chapter 12/13 now) the main story of Andor season 1 and rebels season 1 starts around 5 BBY so we still got plenty of room for growth before shit hits the fan. Meaning he is 6 years older than the skywalker twins. So when the first movie begins he will be 25. When the 2nd death star gets destroyed in 4 ABY (After battle of Yavin so after 1st death star gets destroyed) he will be 29, with plenty more time for after canon events if the story is set up for it.
Also this story will not be a harem as some people wanted, I can barley write 1 on 1 romance relationship not to mention 1 on many, also as for smut? Fuck that I would probably write something cringe and then be embarrassed to post it.
As for those that asked how my bannerlord campaign is going. I am currently a prisoner to fucking Vlandians after they sieged down my castle with 3000 troops, all my homies hate fucking Vlandians fucking absolute abhumans they are.
Anywho, sorry for the long ass fucking author note. Back to the story
***
I found Elara in the palace's quiet gardens, I can see a few blaster scrotch marks on the barks of the trees, but not like we can just wipe and polish them away so they will stay here as a reminder I guess.
Elara was kneeling near a low bed of native flowers deep purple petals with silver veins, the kind that only bloomed at dusk, they also smell amazing and have quite a few around the palace. Its like someone mixed vanilla and cinnamon with a hint of that earthy fresh smell, absolute peak.
She didn't look up when I approached; she just kept gently brushing dirt from the leaves with her fingers.
I cleared my throat making her glance over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifting in that way she did when she knew I was about to ask something weird, stupid or both.
"Governor," she said, voice dry. "You're interrupting my very important flower therapy session."
I snorted despite myself. "I'll try to be quick."
She stood, brushing her hands on her tunic, and turned to face me fully. "What's on your mind? You look like you're about to ask me to explain the meaning of life."
I sigh as I answer "Close, I need help with… cultural artifacts. Something distinctively Elyrian, something meaningful."
Elara blinked, then blinked again. "For… what exactly?"
Despite everything I did keep a straight face as I continue. "A certain contact in the Core that was good friends with my parents suggested I send some to begin correspondence with a friend of my parents that could become an ally, he is fond of history and studying different cultures like: artifacts, carvings, textiles, books anything that represents the culture or people."
She stared at me for a long second, then her lips twitched. "A contact," she repeated slowly. "In the Core. Who wants Elyrian cultural artifacts, and you're asking me this because…?"
"Because you're native and are still my liaison with anything pertaining to all things Elyrian," I said. "And you know what actually matters here. Not whatever tourist trinket I would find in a shop near the starport."
Elara crossed her arms, but the twitch at her lips became a full smile small, amused, a little teasing, something I have rarely seen in my months here now.
"You're sending art to a mystery Imperial who was a friend of your parents that and you want it to be meaningful." She tilted her head. "This isn't some elaborate prank, is it?"
"No prank," I said.
"Alright, meaningful Elyrian artifacts." She started walking slowly along the path, motioning for me to follow.
"Woven clan tapestries," she said. "The ones the elders make during long winters. Each thread tells a story battles, births, losses, They're not just cloth they're memory. If your mystery Imperial likes patterns and meaning, he'll appreciate that."
"Pottery," she continued. "Not the decorative kind. The ritual kind fired with mineral glazes from the eastern mountains. Used in naming ceremonies and title bestowal rituals. The swirls represent continuity, hierarchy, and each individual clan has different patterns, they're small, easy to ship, but heavy with significance."
"Music recordings," she added. "Not the polished stuff the offworlders sell. Raw recordings of the old songs drum and voice."
She stopped at a small stone bench and sat, patting the spot beside her, I sat.
"And mineral carvings," she finished. "The black opal from the deep caves, not used for jewelry. They are small figures animals, symbols, ancestors and the stories that are now forgotten but live on in the carvings. The craftsmanship is older than the Empire, it is said that Elyrians are not native to this world but came from the North East of the galaxy where we were part of a bigger culture but were driven down to this corner after a massive devastating war thousands of years ago. If he values beauty, history and rarity, that'll do it."
I nodded slowly, trying to picture it. "Anything else?"
"No, but my advice is to send him something honest. Something that says 'This is Elyria, something to intrigue him and to ask for more, and if he does your correspondence is as good as open to him." She remarks casually.
"Thanks, Elara."
She chuckled lightly.
"Don't thank me yet you are the one who will have to convince the elders to part with their best work."
I groaned. "I was afraid you'd say that."
She laughed short and bright. 'You'll manage," she said. "You always do, come on," she said. "Let's go find some tapestries before you overthink this into oblivion. "I stood too and followed her.
***
Three weeks later the landing pads at the eastern spaceport were busier than they'd been since the battle, I stood on the observation platform with Jaster at my side, Torv a step behind us, arms crossed.
Sigh
He has a new toy slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing, I swear he changes blasters faster than people change their socks at this point, what is it this time? Another rocket launcher sniper? Perhaps one of those laser shotguns that bounce around 3 times off of surfaces? If he is using the planetary funds for this I will have him on latrine duty for a year I swear.
I then turned to look out in front of me, the wind today was sharp carrying dust from the plains and the faint smell of hot engines. Below us, the pads were cleared and marked with fresh white lines while security teams stood at every approach, rifles at low ready.
No one was taking chances, even if the supposed approaching people were meant to be allies, all the anti air batteries are up and running and squadrons of Headhunters along with TIEs are already in the air circling around the Gozanti and the city.
After a few seconds the first ship appeared on the horizon a battered C90 that seen better days, its engines whining like they were on their last legs right behind it came a pair of civilian freighters, patched and scarred, hulls painted in mismatched grays and browns with maybe 2 light cannons on top of each of them.
Then a single Kom'rk dropped in low, thrusters kicking up dust clouds as it settled beside them. Another Kom'rk followed, then a third smaller, older, one with visible hull patches that looked like they'd been welded on in a hurry proceeded by other ships.
All three clans arrived together.
The ramp of the C90 dropped first, Clan Beviin disembarked around forty total, mostly technicians and pilots by the look of them. They moved with quiet efficiency, carrying toolkits, diagnostic scanners, and a few crates marked with faded forge symbols. The clan leader a wiry human woman in her late thirties named Mira Beviin walked forward first. She stopped a respectful distance away, helmet under her arm, eyes scanning the platform.
Jaster stepped forward to greet her with me following behind ."Mira," Jaster said, voice low. "Good to see you again."
She gave a small nod. "Jaster. You weren't lying about the landing pads, they sure do look brand new and shiny." Her gaze shifted to me. "Governor Kael," she said casually.
I extended a hand. "Welcome to Elyria. I'm glad you came. "She took it firm grip.
Haha, I was prepared this time for the famous mandalorian handshake of doom, but it still hurts quite a bit. Fuck mandalorians with their stupid strength and stupid beskar, even with a reinforced gloves I felt my hand crack.
"We're here to see if the words match the reality."
"Fair," I said. "Let's show you."We moved down to the pad level. The rest of Beviin were already unloading tools, family belongings, children clinging to legs, not a lot of warriors in full armour, mostly just people.
Next ramp: Clan Vhett with less than eighty total. Silent and fast.
Their Kom'rk settled with a hiss of hydraulics, ramp dropping. The clan leader a lean, dark-haired man named Toren Vhett stepped out first. He carried no visible weapon except the blaster at his hip and. Wait, is that 5 vibro knives that I can see? How many does he have hidden? Holy.
His people followed small groups, moving like they were still expecting an ambush, quick and making as little noise as possible.
Toren stopped in front of me. "Governor," he said, voice soft while his eyes were sharp. Kind of reminds me of Roose Bolton from Game of Thrones, hopefully this one does not have a habit of skinning people and knifing his lord during his own wedding.
"Toren," I replied. He doesn't say anything else, his eyes are cold and calculation, he watches for any hidden attack on his people, he might seem relaxed but after a few fights and lessons from Atii I can tell even with my inexperienced eyes that he is on guard.
Last: Clan Ordo a splinter from the much larger and more renowned clan, they are the smallest, with less than 50 with 20 of them being random strays that they picked up. Their badly damaged Kom'rk limped in, engines coughing, one stabilizer clearly jury-rigged. The civilian freighter behind it looked like it had seen better decades.
A broad-shouldered woman named Kaelin Ordo stepped out last, supporting a limping elder, seems he was the leader but since he can no longer lead in a fight she was chosen probably because of her blood and skill. Her face was lined with exhaustion as I can see fresh scar adorning the side of her head, though her eyes were steady as she looked around.
Then, she looked at me and Jaster, then back at me.
"You're younger than I expected," she said.
"I get that a lot." She studied me for a long moment. Then nodded once.
I gestured to the many waiting transports, landspeeders, equivalent to a bus from earth, there is around 10 lined up, with each having space for people to bring their belongings. They are already all lined up with native drivers inside and waiting. "Let's get you all settled."
The landing pads were still warm from the engines when I led the three clans toward the eastern district. The sun was high now, turning the dust golden and making the brand new buildings gleam in the light.
We disembarked in the eastern district after a few minutes I started walking keeping my pace steady, letting them all take in the view without rushing. The eastern district had been mostly cleared after the battle rubble hauled away, streets repaved, power lines restrung. Prefab barracks lined the main road simple, sturdy, two-story units with fresh plumbing and solar panels on the roofs. Behind them stretched open land plots marked with white stakes, each large enough for small gardens or training yards.
Not palaces or fortresses, just space that could make them settle for now before more permanent place can be built since they don't have the capabilities or manpower like Jasters clan does, they should be living here for around a month or two, I know they don't want to live too far away from the capital, there are some hilly forests to the north and north east to south is fully plains and west is the mountain range where Jaster already is but theres space enough there.
I stopped at the first cluster of barracks. "This is for Clan Beviin," I said, turning to Mira. "Repair yards are two kilometers west fully equipped bays, spare parts from the captured cruisers, fuel depot. You'll have priority access." Mira looked around slowly. Her technicians were already eyeing the nearest building pointing at the roof panels, murmuring about efficiency.
"Looks solid," she said. "We'll take it, though we would want to construct our permanent base somewhere out of the city, but not too far."
I nodded. "Can be done, I will send you all maps of surrounding areas and you can pick and choose where you want to make your homes. You start tomorrow, you will help us get the ships flight-ready while your warriors will help with security around the system. In return you will get credits, food, medical and roof over your head"
She gave a small nod. "Deal."
We moved on to the next cluster slightly farther out, "Clan Vhett," I said to Toren, He studied the barracks with a critical eyes. "Same as with Mira, though your people are more adept at information gathering so you will be scouting and watching the system for any threats, possibly go into other systems for a quick scan."
I continued. "You will also train our native scouts." Toren's gaze flicked to me, with cold eyes that had a hint of approval for a second, he stayed silent as he nodded.
Last stop, closest to the engineering zones, near the old mining warehouses we'd converted into repair shops. I moved to Kaelin Ordo and the elder beside her, she looked completely exhausted, bags around her eyes, favouring one side.
Her people were already unloading what little they had left: damaged tools, patched crates. I need to send them some supplies, from what I am seeing they dont even have enough food for 2 days.
"Engineering and machinery repair," I said. "We've got damaged haulers, speeders, power systems. Medics on call, for now your warriors will only be helping with training up the militia and stormtroopers." Kaelin looked at the pristine barracks that are the opposite of what they look like, she then at the repair yards in the distance.
She exhaled and the tension in her shoulders disappeared.
"We'll take it."
We spent the next few hours walking them through the details about laws and how to get things and where.
Power is hooked up, water is running medical checks for the wounded and the young and any supplies they might need till they can start earning their own.
I watched them all settle in and start unpacking, some went back to the ships to get more stuff and get the rest of those who stayed behind to come over.
1 small girl was clinging to Kaelin's leg as she was forced to take a break since she was still visibly injured and her bandage on her leg was starting to stain red again
The girl was staring at me with wide unafraid but shy eyes.
I knelt down to her level. "Hello," I said with a light smile.
She stared, then hid her face in Kaelin's leg. Making Kaelin suck in a breath, as she gave a tired and slightly pained smile. "She's shy. But she'll warm up."
I stood and patted the girls head, "Take your time," I said. "You're home now."
Home.
***
Four hours later the eastern district looked different with more activity and noise.
The sun had shifted lower, turning the dust gold and casting long shadows across the barracks and open plots. The landing pads were quiet now, engines cooled, ramps up, the ships from the clans parked in neat rows like tired animals finally allowed to rest for the first time in a while.
Security teams had thinned out, leaving only a few militia patrols walking the perimeter, no longer on edge like before.
The mandalorian district as some people started to call it already, the air smelled of hot metal, cooking fires, and the faint, sharp scent of new duracrete still curing. I walked the main road alone no entourage this time just a few trailing palace guards.
Jaster had stayed at the outpost to coordinate training schedules while Torv was running drills with the new militia recruits.
The barracks were alive clan Beviin had already claimed their section fully with their technicians already mostly done unpacking crates near the repair bays diagnostic scanners, welding torches, spare parts spilling out onto tarps. Mira was in the middle of it, sleeves rolled up, arguing with one of her pilots about power coupling tolerances.
She saw me approaching and straightened. "Governor," she said.
I nodded. "Settling in?"
She glanced at the chaos around her tools, crates, children running between legs carrying small toolkits like toys. "Better than a ship hold," she said. "We're already running diagnostics on one of damaged ships, engines are a mess, but fixable. Give us a week."
I smiled faintly. "Take two. No rush." There absolutely is a rush but I can really say that, I dont want her to think I am a slave driver.
She gave a small nod grateful, but still wary. These people had spent years running, and now there I am their saviour who told them to take an extra week to work on something, truly I am an angel.
Toren Vhett was standing near one of the crates made into a makeshift table, even though there is one right beside him not even 5 meters away, his arms crossed, watching two of his scouts test a speeder bike's range finder. He saw me and walked over.
"Governor," he said quietly so much so I had to strain my hearing to actually make out what he said.
"Toren. How's it going? How do you like the view of the plains from here? "Clear," Ah yes, for a scout like him and his people everything is either clear or not clear.
"We'll start work tomorrow." God man, speak up, use your man voice I can't hear you.
The splinter is already done unpacking, because well. They had jack shit with them. Their damaged Kom'rk was parked half-off the pad, one stabilizer still smoking faintly while the civilian freighter looked like it might collapse if someone sneezed too hard, they requested to bring it here and fix it since they only had 2 they were allowed, funny thing a part of the Kom'rk actually fell off in middle of the city and they had to trot back to find it.
Kaelin was directing her people to set up everything and to start some food up, she saw me and walked over, wiping sweat from her brow. "Governor," she said.
"Kaelin. Need anything?" She looked around barracks assigned, power hooked up, medics already checking the wounded." More than we've had in years," she said quietly. "We chose the name 'Ordo splinter' to separate from the main clan, Ordo's too big a name, they are proud but so to are they hunted by shadows of their past that interfered with us. We're just… remnants of a splinter. We needed something smaller. A different name, something ours so we have been thinking for a while."
I nodded. "You're not remnants here anymore. You're people with a home." I chuckle "Your Elyrian mandalorians now."
She exhaled slowly, like she was testing the word, then she looked at me directly. "On our way here… we heard news. Black Sun is pulling back support from the confederacy. Word's spreading about the Battle of Elyria. They know you won and are looking for blood and that the Moff in charge of this sector was reprimanded and that possible imperial reinforcements are on their way here. They're rethinking their alliances and partnerships."
I felt a small, cold spark of opportunity. "Rethinking how?"
"They're restricting weapons sales and other things, not fully out, but stepping back. Enough to make the confederation weaker in long run if they don't find a supplier soon."
"Thank you for telling me."Kaelin gave a small nod. "We're here now," she said. "We'll help you keep it."I stayed another hour walking the plots, talking to families, watching children play in the dust, warriors checking perimeters, technicians already working on speeders.
They were settling in and for the first time they could breathe in peace.
Two days later the eastern district had already started to feel different.
The sun was lower in the sky now, casting shadows across the barracks and the open plots. The air smelled of cooking fires someone had started a communal meal between all 3 clans and some of their native neighbours, the scent of roasted meat and native spices drifting between the buildings.
Children ran around screaming and their laughter sharp and bright against the low hum of machinery.
Tools clinked and engines idled while voices called back and forth in mostly Mando'a and some in Basic and I recognise a few voices having a local Elyrian dialect.
From the side I saw Kaelin Ordo was directing a few people in bringing in more ingredients for the impromptu party, she saw me and walked over."Kaelin," I said.
"Governor." She paused. "Good timing, we chose a different name. 'Ordo splinter' was temporary. We're calling ourselves Clan Torvyn now in honour of Torvyn who first led us before he passed away a year ago. "
I nodded. "Clan Torvyn. It suits you." She just gave a small, tired smile.
I stayed for around 2 hours eating food, talking with the people and sharing and listening to some stories around the fire. It is peaceful life.
Life I will give my all to protect now.
At all costs.
I looked around
Some small tensions existed some natives were watching the newcomers warily, some mandalorians keeping to themselves but overall it was positive. Shared meals, shared joy. Shared purpose.
I then heard that some of the natives convinced some mandalorians to greet others with "Peace through power."
And I just facepalmed hard, making the smack reverberate throughout but immediately being drowned out by the noise of the party around me.
***
Black Market Run Crew Member – Malgus (native Elyrian, 29, pilot/smuggler)
The cantina on the edge of Black Sun space was the same as always dim, smoky, loud with the clatter of glasses and the low hum of too many species talking at once in too many different dialects and languages.
I sat at the corner table with the part of the crew that I was the friendlies with: Kael who funnily enough has the same name as the governor, two other pilots by the name of Ashla and Karzim, and a twitchy mechanic who's name is Glenhar, he is paranoid about every shadow.
We'd just offloaded the latest shipments from Elyria, some captured pirate disruptors, a few crates of local spices, timber and minerals and were waiting for the payout.
Kael was counting credits under the table, muttering about docking fees stealing his drink money.
I was nursing a cheap lum, trying not to think about the fact that we'd almost lost the skiff to a pirate ship two days earlier.
The cantina door hissed open and a group of pirates walked in. 1 human 2 Togruta and a Weequay, all wearing mismatched armour, blasters prominent. They didn't look happy at all, they looked like people who'd just lost something valuable.
As they took the table next to ours. We moved our heads down to our drinks as our hands slid to our blasters we strained our hearing to hear what they are talking about.
"...fucking idiots," the Weequay growled, slamming a glass down. "They're tearing each other apart over the supply run from the shipyard. Two factions already shot it out three dead. The main boss is losing control. "
1 of the Togrutas (Togrutae? Togruti?) laughed bitterly. "Good. Let them kill each other. Less competition."
The second one leaned in. "Not good. The confederation's stretched thin, If they fracture more, the whole operation collapses and we might be picked off one by one by others, or worse the blood thirsty maniac governor will skin us alive or worse. Even if we dont die, we wont get easy access to things we did before, weapons, slaves, credits."
The Weequay snorted. "They're fighting over territory over who gets the next shipment and to see who's got the bigger dick. Fucking morons fighting over who gets to lead the next raid. They're short sighted idiots. All of them."
The human shook his head. "The cursed battle of Elyria did it, word spread how they got fucked over and how the governor there executed the strike group leaders publicly and broadcast it everywhere his holonet could reach. The clans are arming up and there are talks the empire is reinforcing the region, which would explain why the Black Sun's pulling back support. They're scared of getting caught in the middle."
I felt my grip tighten on the glass and the blaster at the same time.
The Weequay leaned back. "So what? Let the confederation fall apart. More room for us."
The human gave a short, humourless laugh. "You think the governor's stopping at Elyria? He's got mandalorians now and possibly reinforcements they are all fucked, and if he hits all the outposts next regardless if they were in confederation or not… we're all fucked."
They kept talking low, angry, worried as we kept listening.
They're tearing themselves apart infighting with fractured leadership, everything that is going wrong for them is.
This will make it easier to hit heir positions. The governor needs to know, I glanced at Kael.
His jaw was tight, eyes on the table, but I knew that look, he is one wrong word from starting a gun fight deep in Black Sun territory.
We finished our drinks in silence. Paid and left.
The skiff was waiting, we had news to deliver, as we approached where all the skiffs are we were stopped by someone.
***
Black Market Run Leader – Gavren Tahl (human, 38, captain of the skiff convoy)
The loading docks on the Black Sun moon were as chaotic as ever crates slamming onto repulsor sleds, droids beeping warnings, enforcers in dark Armor watching from elevated platforms with carbines resting on hips. The air smelled of burnt coolant, cheap spice, and the faint ozone tang of too many blasters being shot in close proximity with a frequency that would be a concern on a normal planet.
Our 5 skiffs sat in a tight line at Bay 17 sleek, patched, and low to the ground. Two months ago we'd had only two. Now we had five, each crewed by 10–15 people depending on the run. More hands, more eyes and equally more blasters and it showed.
I stood on the ramp of the lead skiff, Nightfang, watching the last crates get loaded: medical-grade kolto canisters, power cells, a few crates of some spices, and a sealed container of salvaged disruptor parts we'd "acquired" from a pirate wreck on the way in.
Baelin was double-checking the seals on the kolto crates while Rhen (one of the new pilots) ran final diagnostics on the navicomputer.
I leaned against the ramp railing and called down to the deck crew. "What did we sell?"Rhen didn't look up from the console. "The usual, excess we had, salvaged and patched up, some of the pirate armour we stripped , those half working fixed up power cells we didn't need. Got good trades for it all. and other things"
I gave a small nod. "Keep it moving, I want us up and about in 2 hours."
Two months ago we'd been dodging customs enforcers and petty thieves every time we docked here. Now? The enforcers barely glanced at our skiffs, recognising they cant shake us for easy credits while the thieves stayed away.
No one tried to cut our mooring lines or lift cargo when we weren't looking.
Black Suns probably knew who we flew for now, they didn't say it outright, but they didn't need to. The word had spread: Elyria wasn't just another backwater anymore, the governor had teeth and was not afraid to tear them into the necks of his enemies and pull their throats out, and we were his, or people think we are working for him but they dont have much evidence.
I was about to step inside when one of the crew that went for some liquid refreshment, a guy named Malgus shouted up from the ramp. "Captain! People from the Black Suns are here. They want to meet you. On the Nightfang."
I felt the shift in the air instantly, not enforcers their enforcers or customs mooks they pay to do their job. But the actual shot callers, I took a slow breath.
"Tell them I'm coming." I turned to Rhen. "Secure the last crates. Prep the ships, call everyone who is out to go back. Keep your blasters at the ready." He nodded once, no questions.
I walked down the ramp.
The Black Sun representatives were waiting at the bottom 2 Falleens in dark tailored coats, flanked by four enforcers in matte-black armour. The lead one gave me a small nod. "Captain Tahl," he said. Voice smooth. "We'd like to talk. On your ship."
I kept my face neutral. "Please follow me."
They boarded the Nightfang as they followed.
The hatch sealed behind us.
***
The hatch of the Nightfang sealed behind the Black Sun representatives with a heavy pneumatic hiss. The sound echoed in the narrow corridor like a warning.
I led them past the main hold where the last of the crates were still being secured and into the small captain's mess. It wasn't much: a scratched metal table bolted to the deck, four mismatched chairs, a flickering overhead light, and a single viewport showing the loading docks outside.
The air recyclers were working overtime to keep the smell of coolant and spilled lum from becoming unbearable.
The two Falleens stepped inside first, they moved with that deliberate, almost liquid grace their species always had long fingers trailing along the doorframe as if tasting the air, pale-green skin catching the dim light in subtle iridescent shifts. The taller one wore a tailored charcoal coat with silver piping; the shorter one had a darker, almost obsidian robe that seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it.
Both had the same cold, calculating eyes pupils vertical slits, unblinking. Behind them came the four enforcers in matte-black armour, carbines held low but ready.
I gestured to the chairs. "Please."
The taller Falleen his name was Thalornator Xixrzan took the seat across from me without hesitation. The shorter one Lyrin Kasandor sat beside him. The enforcers remained standing, two on each side of the door like statues.
Thalornator folded his long fingers on the table and regarded me with that slow, predatory smile Falleens do so well. "Captain Tahl," he said, voice smooth as oil. "You've been busy."
I sat straight keeping my hands visible as they are laced together on the table, I didn't reach for the blaster on my hip even though every instinct screamed to do so."We do what we can," I replied. "Keeps the ships flying."
Lyrin gave a soft, amused sound almost a hiss. "Indeed. Five skiffs now, along with larger crews. No more incidents with customs. No more petty theft on the docks. Word spreads quickly, though I wonder where the previous captain is?."
Thalornator leaned forward slightly. "We know who you fly for," he said. "The Elyrian governor. Kael. The boy who turned a backwater into a thorn in the mismatch pirate group that calls itself the confederation." Ah, so they do know for certain.
I didn't flinch or try to deny it. No point. "We fly for who pays," I said. "And who doesn't shoot at us."
Thalornator smile widened a fraction. "Wise. And profitable." He reached into his coat and placed a small datachip on the table between us with no flourish or exaggerated movements.
"A gesture of friendship," he said. "From the Black Sun to the Elyrian governor's… partners." I looked at the chip but didn't touch it.
"What kind of friendship?" Lyrin leaned back, steepling his fingers. "We have decided to restrict the weapons the confederation can buy from us. No more heavy repeaters. No more disruptors. No more thermal detonators or heavy weapons for the ships or torpedo's, light arms only. And even those will be… delayed. Quality control issues, shipping complications. You understand how it goes in a busy planet starport such as this."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Why?"
Lyrins voice was low and amused. "Because the Battle of Elyria made people pay attention. They lost, governor showed he has a spine, the pirates are fighting again while there are rumours of the imperials mobilising. Black Sun does not back losing sides, and we prefer partners who win and can give us access to profitable ventures as well as friends who can... talk to their fellow imperials and close a blind eye to some of our activities."
Thalornator nodded once. "Consider it a sign of good faith. We would like our trade with Elyria to increase in volume and frequency. More runs, more cargo. More… mutual benefit."
I looked at the datachip again. "What's on it?"
Thalornator smile didn't reach his eyes. "Updated trade routes, safe corridors. Names of confederation buyers who are no longer welcome at our esteemed tables and a list of items we would be very interested in acquiring from Elyria: Spices, textiles and minerals. Anything your governor can spare, and of course most importantly, his friendship and his continued patronage."
I finally picked up the chip and turned it over in my fingers. "You know this goes both ways," I said. "If the confederacy finds out you're starving them, they'll come for you too."
Thalornator gave a small laugh. "They can try, but as you well know, us Black Suns are not only on this one small planet, we have enough money, power and political pull to scramble a few star destroyers from some friends of ours to wipe them out."
Lyrin leaned forward slightly. "We are not asking for loyalty, only preference. More trade, more profit. More… friendship with the rising governor."
I looked between them, they were calm and professional. Predatory in the way only Falleens could be never raising their voices, never showing anger, just waiting for the other side to fold.
I kept my own voice level. "I'll deliver the chip. And the message."
Thalornator nodded. "That is all we ask." He stood and Lyrin followed. The enforcers moved as one silent and precise.
Thalornator paused at the hatch. "Tell your governor," he said, "that Black Sun remembers its friends. And its enemies."The hatch opened and they left.
I waited until the sound of their footsteps faded away then I let out a long, slow breath. The mechanic appeared in the doorway, wiping grease from his hands."Captain?"I looked at him. "Get us ready to leave. We've got news for the governor."
She nodded.
I slipped the datachip into my pocket.
Friendship with the Black Suns? I didn't trust it, but I trusted the opportunity it represented.