Chapter Text
The Defender touches down on the dusty plains of Florrum with a muted roar, huge clouds of dirt billowing from her thrusters. The small fauna of the planet scurry and chitter nervously as the gang plank lowers and figures in painted plastoid armor march down.
“Scanners indicated the settlement is three klicks in that direction, Commander.” Boil points toward the barely visible outline of buildings on the horizon.
Cody steps to the front of Jaig Squad and sighs. “Lets hope our ARC starfighters haven’t been scrapped and sold off for parts.”
Rex claps a hand on his ori’vod’s shoulder with a smirk. “C’mon, Kote, how about staying positive? If the new ARC fighters didn’t have the advanced homing signals, we’d have never tracked them here.”
“Okay, I’m almost positive we’re not going to find them in one piece. Pirates like those that attacked and ran the transport cruiser to ground aren’t going to waste time trying to make a profit.” Cody says.
At least, he thought, we didn't lose any vode in the attack . Cody spent 5 years in battle losing his brothers, losing brothers to the chips that the Sith implanted in them to control them, make them commit... unspeakable horrors. Losing even more vode in the rebellion against the Empire, once they freed themselves from the slavery of the chips.
Their freedom was hard-won, bought and paid for in blood and as the new Manda’lor, he was more protective of his vode now more than ever. Cody spares a glance at his personal squad of 20 handpicked troopers fanned out beside and behind him. He wants his ships back, of course he does, but the pragmatist in Cody sees the wisdom in cutting his losses if need be.
The Commander orders the rest of Jaig Squad to stay with the ship while he, Rex and eight others make their way toward the scrap yard. Cody set an easy pace, fast enough to make time but slow enough to watch for traps or triplines as they moved along the scrub brush terrain.
As they enter the gate, Rex scans the area while Cody keeps an eye on the others on their team. Wolffe peels off with two of the ARCs, Echo and Fives, and moves along the side of the scrap yard. The other ARC, Wooley, takes the opposite side of the yard with the heavy gunner, Hardcase, backing him up.
Cody’s two recon scouts, Waxer and Boil, move ahead scanning the buildings while discreetly taking cover behind some scrap piles. Behind Cody, cautiously pulling his blaster, is their medic Slasher, and since he’s nearly the size of two clones, Cody figures he’s more than enough to bring up the rear.
Beside him, Rex hisses derisively. “ Kriff , this place is one big rust pile.”
“How many you figure are inside?” Cody asks. His second in command has an uncanny knack for estimating numbers of potential hostiles when visual confirmation is unavailable.
“Couple dozen,” Rex shrugs. “Maybe a few more. There are only five speeders parked outside. No sentries outside so clearly they aren’t expecting visitors.”
“Sign says Prices Slashed .” Waxer motions toward the half-lit letters above the entrance to what looked like a derelict cantina. “Maybe the kriffhead in charge will be willing to cut a deal for our ships.”
Cody cuts his eyes at Waxer through his bucket, but his vocoder picks up the snarl in his voice before he thinks better of it.
“I didn’t come here to buy back what rightfully belongs to me.”
Waxer nods and hefts his blaster, but he exchanges a glance with Boil.
Cody isn't looking to lose any of his squad today, but he isn't about to let some pirate shabuir try to intimidate him out of retrieving his own damn ships.
Slowly, the squad forms up at the entrance to the cantina.
“I’ll take the twins and cover the back of this chaavla sa shebs be’striili ,” Wolffe grates out. “I’d rather have these shabuir pirates covered from all sides. Even if I have to deal with these two di’kutes .”
Fives flips him off. “Hey!”
Echo chuckles, resting his hands on his holsters. “Respectfully,” he says, mirroring Fives' crude gesture.
Cody smirks and shakes his head. In Jaig squad, Wolffe is third in command under himself and Rex, but the ARCs get away with a lot. All that extra training with Colt and Alpha 17 on Kamino gives them a bit of an ego; not unwarranted, but sometimes Echo and Fives need a gentle reminder of chain of command. Wolffe usually does this by busting their shebs on the training mats.
After having a look outside, the team moves together through the front door. Inside the building, the lighting is dim. Music is thumping somewhere in the background and there is a smoky haze hanging in the air; making everything seem filthy.
Cody holds his rifle loosely in front of him, Rex mirroring his actions that speak of relaxed readiness. Behind him, Waxer, Boil, Hardcase, and Wooley fan out, subtly covering the rear and flanks, eyeing the doors to the front and the rear of the bar. Slasher, who’s been suspiciously quiet so far about this whole operation, sidles up on Cody’s other side, looming a couple of inches taller than the Commander and the other clones.
“I don’t like this, sir.” Slasher's deep baritone comes through the comms. “Too many nooks and crannies for enemies to hide in this dump, we could find ourselves kicking a bizikian hornet’s nest.”
Wooley wanders up beside the medic, holsters his DC-17 blasters, and nudges Slasher. “Relax, big guy. Not more than a dozen guns in his skughole, we got’ em covered.”
Something niggles the back of Cody’s mind, like anticipating the first salvo blasts of enemy cannons at the beginning of a campaign. There is an odd pressure in the back of his mind, as if tapping for his attention. Although his HUD allows him to see through the dim of the bar better than the naked eye, some part of Cody wants to take his bucket off and look around. Search every corner, as if something far more important than his missing ships is hiding here. For now the intimidating anonymity of the helmets is an advantage.
A Weequay, donning spectacle-style goggles and a smarmy smile, approaches. “Welcome friends,” he says, sweeping his hands out. “All are welcome to Hondo’s Salvage. I am Hondo Ohnaka, at your service. And what can I do for the great Manda’lor and his men?”
Cody frowns, his trigger finger tensing. “How do you know who I am?”
The Weequay - Hondo - crosses his arms over his chest and gestures to Cody casually.
“The sunburst and jaig eyes on your armor is a dead giveaway, my friend. There are not many in the Outer Rim who haven’t heard of the great Marshal Commander Cody, formally of the Galactic Imperial Army, who led his clone brethren to freedom and the creation of a new Mandalore.”
Rex shifts closer to Cody’s shoulder, a protective gesture. Slasher, Hardcase and Wooley tighten ranks around their commander, while Waxer and Boil take up positions as subtly as they can behind Hondo. Hondo’s men are still seated around the bar and at a few tables around the cantina, content to watch their leader go into his spiel for the moment.
That nagging feeling crawls up Cody’s neck again and he rolls his shoulders, like working out a muscle twinge.
Hondo studies him, eyes dropping to his utility belt and he smirks. “The saber of Manda’lor hanging on your belt isn’t exactly subtle either, my friend.”
Cody’s hand moves from his blaster hock to the hilt of the darksaber, half thinking of clipping it behind his back. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has seen that blasted laser sword and thought it a prize to be taken.
Rex is unable to keep silent. “If you know who he is, then you damn well know why we’re here.”
“You have something that belongs to me,” Cody says, squaring his shoulders and letting his tone deepen with intent.
That seems to break Weequay's easy confidence, his expression changing to speculative.
“And what might that be, ‘Alor?” Hondo asks mildly.
“We followed the tracking signal of our two ARC starfighters here,” Rex says. “They were stolen from a Vode transport vessel that was run down and boarded by pirates.”
Rex spits the last word like a curse and Hondo affects an affronted air.
“Pirates?” Hondo gestures widely. “My friends, we are simple businessmen running a small outpost here.”
Cody hears twin snorts through the comms come from Waxer and Boil.
“Back is clear, Commander,” Wolffe’s gravelly tone says over the comms.
“ But there is a large warehouse a few yards behind this building, sir. The ship’s tracking transponders are pinging from that area,” Fives says.
“You three check it out, quietly as you can. Still don’t have any idea how many scrap rats are hiding around this hole,” Cody says.
Hondo regards Cody shrewdly. “If you are in the market for parts, ‘Alor, I can most assuredly help you. But I wouldn’t go wandering around my yard unescorted. My sweet mother always told me, ‘If you aren’t invited, you aren’t welcome.’”
At that, hands start flexing on guns and Hardcase makes a show of swinging his heavy repeater off his shoulder and hefting it on one big arm. Hondo flashes a slick smile, putting his hands up placatingly.
“But, you, my dear Manda’lor, are most welcome. Come, I will take you out back and I will show you that I do not possess your precious ARC ships.”
Cody jerks his head in the affirmative; he and his men start toward the back before Hondo bravely puts a hand on his chest - right in the middle of his Jaig sunburst insignia - and they all pull up short.
His bucket hides the look of disgust that twists Cody’s mouth at the hand touching him - which is quickly removed from his person - and the Weequay it belongs to, but he actually hears Rex growl under his breath.
“Uh, no need for the parade, ‘Alor,” Hondo hedges, eyeing Cody’s men. “Some of your men are welcome to stay here and have a drink, on the house, of course.”
A few of the denizens of the bar have gotten to their feet now, casually pulling their weapons out and holding them at ease as if to punctuate Hondo’s suggestion. Cody eyes them carefully. He’s not trying to start a firefight and he hates close-quarters brawls. Too many things can go wrong. So he gives the hand signal for Waxer and Boil to hang back. Slasher, Hardcase, Wooley and Rex follow him and Hondo out the back. Wolffe and the twins should have already reconned the perimeter of the warehouse by now.
As they move through the scrapyard, Cody realizes that they are, unfortunately, woefully outnumbered. The piles of metal scrap reach several meters in the air on all sides and he counts at least another twenty men loitering around or moving scrap and sorting useful parts. All of them are armed.
“Uh, sir? We seem to have run into a problem,” Echo says over the comms.
“ Report ,” Rex barks, as they near the three story warehouse at the back of the property.
Echo pauses, then murmurs nervously, “ Well we got a look inside the building and the ships are...uh…”
“Scrapped,” Wolffe snaps. “Only saw parts of one of the ARC ships left. The other one is long gone. They must have missed the transponders. Or didn’t give a kriff if they were tracked or not.”
Cody feels a migraine starting.
“And that’s not the only problem,” Fives mutters.
As Cody and Rex near the warehouse, Cody sees Wolffe, Fives and Echo standing with their hands up and surrounded by six more of Hondo’s men holding them at blaster point.
“This is what you call a hospitable welcome?” he rumbles at the Weequay.
“These three were not cleared to be in this area without escort,” Hondo says, but waves his men to lower their weapons.
Rex is practically vibrating with anger beside his commander. “Open the doors. Now.”
Once inside, Hondo doesn’t seem terribly bothered when Fives and Echo confirm the tracking transponders on what's left of the remaining ARC fighter. Cody and Rex look over the remains of the second ARC fighter, trying to decide if it’s worth salvaging, while Hondo and his men watch.
Cody’s distracted, however. His temples throb and that niggling feeling that something is still not right, like the other shoe hasn’t dropped yet, is making his teeth itch.
He glances behind him further into the dim warehouse, noting Slash’s bulky form moving further into the darkness with Wooley and Hardcase flanking him. He glances back at Hondo and gestures toward their surroundings.
“My men want to inspect the rest of your...wares,” he says. “If that’s alright?” Cody figures staying on the Weequay’s good side as long as he can is more advantageous. He even holsters his rifle against his back again, as a show of good faith. Cody trusts that Slasher and Wooley have good reason to be poking around in the dark.
Hondo tilts his head, and gives the retreating troopers a dismissive wave. “Of course, my friend. They, at least, have permission to look. I appreciate the courtesy of asking, ‘Alor.”
Cody grinds his teeth at the false, slimy cheer in Hondo’s voice and watches his three troopers moving away on his HUD indicator.
“Don’t wander too far,” Cody murmurs over the comms. “As soon as we can pull the weapons system chips from this last ship so these shabuirs can’t reverse engineer the tech, we’re gonna blow this joint.”
Wolffe is already subtly reaching into the cockpit to pull the chips while Fives pretends to be looking at something under the hull. He’s attaching the low-yield detonators Hardcase built, especially for small demolition. Just enough to blow the warehouse and nothing else.
Rex has moved to stand next to Wolffe, taking the chips and transponders that have been pulled from the ships and Cody can tell by the way his fists are clenching around the wires and bits of durasteel, he’s not happy.
“ Yes sir ,” comes Slasher’s reply. “I’m just… I thought I heard something back here…”
Cody doesn’t get to ask what his medic means because Hondo is pointing a finger at the tech in Rex’s hand Rex is yelling again.
“This is our ship, you pirate scum! You ran our transport to ground and stole two ARC starfighters and scrapped one already,” he shoves the transponders in Hondo’s face. “These are Vode tracking transponders.”
Hondo is still smiling. “I have no idea what you mean, my friend. I bought this ship off a Trandoshan bounty hunter who came across it during a hunt on-”
“Lies!” Rex hisses and pulls both his deeces.
Cody steps in front of his brother, pulling his DC-15 carbine off his back and holding it at the ready. “Look, we can prove this ship is ours and we’re not about to leave Vode tech in the hands of outsiders like you.”
Hondo puts his hand on his holster casually enough, but his men behind him are already pulling their weapons and snarling. Rex signals Waxer and Boil to join them; he can read the room and things are about to devolve quickly.
TBC...
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If you would like to see my OC Medic Slasher, you can check him out on my tumblr here!