Brief Synopsis: The last piece of resistance against the Empire ends on Mandalore, and a new leader is needed.
XXX
Fifteen Years Before The Battle of Yavin
The four-legged All Terrain-Armored Transport's foot smashed into the street again as it took a simple step forward, creating a jagged star in the millennia old street created by his distant ancestors. He twisted his head up at the behemoth, disgruntled with the thought that he would later be responsible for its repair.
Three figures flew past the head of the walker, small sparks of flame coming from their backs. The pro-Empire Mandalorians fired with their smaller blasters at the final holdout in the city of Mandalore itself, where the enemy had encamped themselves in the former citadel of the disgustingly pacifist Duchess Satine.
Pre Viszla would have been proud.
With a ruthless smile no one could see beneath his mask, he shot again with his own blaster towards a small clump of insurgents in a sniper alcove. He saw one of them drop with his helmet's enhanced visor, but the fallen rebel's comrades saw him and shot back, their snipers better adapted for longer-range.
One of the shots clipped him as his fingers danced across the jetback controls on his wrist. The armor took the brunt of the blow, but it blackened. The old blood red color was now tainted, and he felt strong disgust to the rebels. They, who couldn't just accept they were going to lose. Why were they even fighting anymore?
He took the air as the trio of AT-ATs stomped towards the citadel. Their main blaster cannons were not firing, on his own personal request to the Imperial commander who had reluctantly accepted it.
Not that he cared at all for the insurgents. No, Gar Saxon simply wanted the citadel intact for when he claimed it for himself.
Pre Vizsla was dead, executed by Darth Maul. Maul in turn had vanished, abandoning Death Watch as the Clone Wars ended. Bo Katan had opposed them, she no longer held any right to rule.
That left him. And he was more than glad to take control. He had whipped his men into shape, sworn allegiance when the Empire had been birthed. There was no sense in going against such an overwhelming, clearly more ruthless force. He was thrilled, in fact, when the Lord Darth Vader had offered help in reclaiming the planet for the Empire, against the insurgents who looked to Bo Katan as an idol-
Keep your mind on the battlefield. The armor stung with the heat of the sniper rifle blast, but he ignored it. The sniper rifle blasts attempted to track him through the air, the high whine of the energy hurting his ears.
He fired back blindly, unable to properly aim while dodging. They were certainly nowhere near as good as his own Death Watch soldiers- not without a leader like me - but they were good enough to keep him on his toes.
A thunderous whine shattered his ear drums, almost causing him to fall out the sky. With fury, he realized the AT-AT's main cannons had fired on the snipers, completely destroying the alcove. As if galvanized by the first, the other two walkers also fired their cannons, blowing apart other alcoves of snipers or turrets. The citadel began to spit flame and debris, down upon the mingled clone soldiers and Mandalorian fighters of both sides.
Saxon keyed the comm on his helmet. "Commander, I said not to fire your cannons!"
"There's been a revision of order from High Command," the other said shortly. "Be grateful, Mandalorian, looks like I personally saved your hide."
Saxon bit back a retort as he glared at the head of the middle walker. The three metal giants continued to stamp forward as the resisting fighters shot uselessly at their armored hides.
High Command my boot, he thought darkly. You pig-fed Imperials, you don't like things the warrior way, do you? You like the easy-
The walkers suddenly fired a terrific, repeated salvo that tore the landscape apart like a lightning strike. Saxon landed on the ground, shocked by the display of firepower.
And then silence. The giant white structure, now blackened and cracked, was silent.
He hesitantly approached, taking off his helmet as he did so. Some of his own warriors, as well as a few surviving clone troopers, also cautiously approached. Saxon kept going until he stopped right at the front entrance of the tallest building in Mandalore.
No shot came at him. Instead, a figure stumbled forward from the wreckage. A blue-colored man in Mandalorian armor, a pistol held in one hand, the other held to his head in a dizzying state.
Saxon looked at him for a moment, then pointed his own blaster and shot him in the head. The visor on the other cracked as the energy met it and he went down without a second thought.
At last. Mandalore is ours once more. He gazed up at the structure, and lip twisted. However battered it may be. He whirled around; a shuttle was landing in front of the middle AT-AT walker, who's hull had opened and the imperial commander was no exiting.
The Mandalorian leader pushed his way past the clones while his own men filed up behind him, the crimson armor seemingly glowing in the thick cloud of smoke around them.
The commander was the foot of the ramp of the shuttle as the Mandalorians approached, and Saxon grabbed him by the back of his smooth, clean uniform and pulled him around to face him. "I said to hold back your main cannons, damn you!" Saxon snarled, drawing the other in within an inch of his face. "Do you understand how many centuries this structure has been here? Do you understand what this building meant to Mandalore?"
"Orders are orders, Mandalorian," the other hissed, pushing his wiry arms up and unhooking Saxon's grip off him. "Get your filthy hands off me."
Saxon reared back, his fist drawn to strike the other. The Imperial flinched, unlike how the true warrior would have worked-
The Imperial Commander froze, his hand going to his throat. He began to gag, and Saxon realized with disbelief he was suspended as well, frozen in place with his fist unable to go further.
"I understand there has been so controversy over the orders issued, Gar Saxon." Deep, menacing, and covered in black, Darth Vader slowly descended from the ramp, one hand clenched before him.
He looks like a reaper, from the old children's stories, Saxon thought darkly.
"Your childhood trauma has no place in the mind of a warrior," Vader said. The gaze of the mask shifted to the choking Commander. "I was told you and Commander Selv have had some disagreements in the jointed effort to crush the resistance to Imperial rule here. You sought the slow, brutal way traditional to the Mandalorians, whilst Selv favored the quick onslaught with military vehicles."
Saxon remained silent. Behind him, his warriors stood as still as statues. Saxon's eyes remained glued to Vader's other hand, which dipped to his waist and withdrew a lightsaber. With a start, he realized the scene was becoming all to like when Maul had executed Viszla-
The lightsaber ignited, making his red armor pale as if in fright. Saxon's heart pounded within the armor-
The glowing red blade cleaved through the Imperial as if he were bread, and he flopped to the ground in two pieces. "I had originally sought to be doing this to you, Saxon," Vader said emotionlessly. "Leaving an Imperial in charge of such an unstable planet would have pleased the Emperor greatly."
The invisible hold on Saxon suddenly faded, and he stumbled forward, catching himself before he fell. He drew himself up and found himself face to face with the black death mask of the other.
"But I see a different use for you. The resistance on Mandalore is crushed. You have bred powerful warriors who did more work than three battalions I sent here. You have become quite an impressive leader, Gar Saxon."
"Powerful warriors who could be used to serve the Empire," Saxon said uncertainly, merely wishing to please the other.
"My thoughts exactly." Vader's body turned towards the shuttle, and Saxon followed his gaze. Clone troopers were pushing out large brown chests, rolling them down the ramp.
One stopped at their side. "Open it," the Dark Lord commanded. Saxon did so, fingers fumbling with the lid. They found the edge, and unhinged it. Inside was a creamy white armor, not unlike that of the stormtroopers. He took it out, and realized the resemblance ended there. It looked very much like their own, complete with the classical Mandalorian design. A white helmet accompanied it, with the classic Mandalorian style visor built into it.
He noticed a small insignia etched onto the armor. "What is this?" he asked.
"Your new uniform," Vader breathed. "As well as your promotion. I am appointing you Viceroy of Mandalore, with full control over the system and planet. A deposit of twenty-million credits will be given to you to rebuild the economy and infrastructure damage, as well as begin a new program for exporting Mandalorian Supercommandos across the galaxy for Imperial use."
It was all coming so fast Saxon did not have very much to say. It was more than he could've hoped for, so much more! Control of the planet, with the Empire keepings its distance? The chance for Mandalorians to once more make a name for themselves in galactic history, as their ancestors had done before?
He no longer cared about the citadel damage. Here, he was about go create a new history.
"Remember you serve the Empire, Viceroy," Vader said chillingly, his mask gazing pointedly to the halved former Commander. "I would hate to have to give you a true warrior's lesson."
"You will not have to worry about that, Lord Vader," Saxon said primly, even snapping a salute to his forehead. "Mandalore knows it's place in the Imperial war machine, as do I."
Vader looked at from the depths of the mask, the nodded. "Do not fail me, Viceroy Saxon." He reentered the shuttle as the last chests of armor were placed around them. The glow of the shuttles engines washed over them, painting them in a blue halo as it took to the skies, leaving the Mandalorians to rebuild the rubble of their lives.