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Chapter 12

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Part 4

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11 January 2011
Brockton Bay
United States
Earth Bet

If nothing else, having access to possibly the best and safest drugs in two galaxies, was a great selling point about working for the Mandalorians, Lisa decided. The fact that they got Coil and it was almost certain that he wouldn't be darkening her doorstep again but was suffering under a Sith's "tender" mercies, well that was nice, especially after that crazy bastard sent a kill-squad after her. Or a retrieval one, which would have been worse. Right now, her power wasn't too sure about it.

Still, there were a few downsides to the new arrangement, because of course, nothing could come without strings attached. For one, betraying the Mandalorians, or worse, the Sith they all worked for in the end about anything meaningful, or anything at all for that matter, well ending up at Coil's mercy on a very bad day would have been preferable, she was sure. It was a very good thing that the offer they made her was great anyway because it wasn't like she was in a position to refuse it any more than she could Coil's. On the other hand, at least this time she did have decent retirement prospects if, for no other reason, it would be a good PR for the Mandalorians to be seen as not fucking over their people for no good reason. That you were safer working for a Sith in the long run than for Coil was saying something about both that snake bastard, may he burn in hell forever, and Earth Bet, Lisa dearly wanted not to think about and for once her power didn't bombard her with a headache or despair-inducing trivia. Said power was practically giddy, Tattletale was sure of it. There was so much new data at her fingertips, so much to go over and work on, that even with the good drugs and a Medical Droid floating around inoffensively, Lisa should have ended up curled under the bed, blind to the world. Instead, she was working with only the barest tingle of headache.

Did she mention that the Mandalorians had the good drugs, because that needed to be said, and stressed upon, again and again... The retirement plan as well, because otherwise, Lisa would have been tempted to run for it, for a simple reason. You didn't need her smug power, which was a headache-inducing revelation by itself, to figure out that everyone would be sending people or coming to Brockton Bay soon. The place would soon resemble a battleground, with all kinds of crazies trying to push the Mandalorians' buttons, the government in general and PRT, in particular, trying to keep a lid on it, and likely failing miserably, or perhaps succeeding, which was an option this time around…

Lisa looked away from the laptop in her lap, rubbed her temples, and re-focused on her job – trying to figure out who was going to ruin their day next, how, and how to prevent it. As far as the latter was concerned, the US government's plans she could glean hints of and make an educated guess about were probably the best bet that didn't include calling in reinforcements, escalating things further and turning Brockton Bay into a proper war-zone for good sooner rather than later.

"Boss-lady," Lisa called into her communicator. "I've got a few ideas on how to improve our security situation for the foreseeable future. I'm pretty sure the PRT and perhaps even the military will be moving in force to secure Brockton Bay and the surrounding area before our villains, local or otherwise, could provoke you further. If at all possible, we should probably offer them material assistance, that would not only strengthen our position, politically and PR wise, but act as a nice free advertisement of what we can offer them."

The logic was sound, and her power didn't even have to do much work on that front – Protectorate and military troopers outfitted with older, but still fully functional Star Wars armors, blasters with stun settings, perhaps some other surplus equipment before they moved on Brockton Bay in strength, that would be a great show of force, and most importantly, a more likely to be a successful one. Of course, afterward, things would become interesting for everyone involved in a novel and hard to predict ways, which made Lisa's power practically giddy. So giddy in fact, that she had no trouble imagining it like a little girl jumping up and down on the bed beside her in excitement.

It didn't help that somehow, said power felt even smugger at that thought.

"You're pretty sure our hosts are about to finally clean up house, at least locally? Weren't they supposed to be unsure they could win such a confrontation if it sparks unrest all over the country?" Aria asked for clarification.

"I'm sure they aren't happy, however allowing another gang to jump us and face the appropriate consequence is seen as worse for various reasons. I can give you as comprehensive a list as my power could manage with data available, if you so wish, Boss-lady." It never ceased to weird Lisa out that working for a Sith lacked the immediate threat of violence if you didn't answer promptly enough, had all the answers, or if something went wrong, no matter if it was under your control or not.

The same couldn't necessarily be said about her previous employer if you can call him that. She still had to remind herself that her new employers weren't nice people either, just somehow less malicious, something she was still trying to wrap her head around ever since her power agreed with her tentative, disbelieving assessment of them.

"I call it up the chain of command. I'm sure that there are a few warehouses full of vintage early war equipment waiting to be shipped somewhere at the first opportunity in the Mandalore system. Infantry gear, perhaps some medicine and riot control gear if available?"

"Yep." Lisa fought not to grin at the thought of either the ABB or the Nazi facing off Stormtroopers or the next best thing. She had no illusions of what would have happened to her if either of those gangs found and grabbed her first. The last time she thought about it, her power happily supplied her with a vivid description of the most likely outcome, thank you very much. "The sooner the better. I'm reasonably sure that the US government would be moving in to clean up the Bay within the week on the outside, likely faster."

"I'll have another talk with Director Piggot after I've heard from our people on Mandalore. Keep the good work, Lisa, and you might earn yourself a bonus."

"Thanks, Boss-lady!" Tattletale chirped happily and went back to work. The hazard pay she got out of being chased out of her apartment building likely made her one of the most wealthy people on Earth, or it would be once there was a proper exchange set up between Imperial Credits and any Earth currency.

The truth was that by the time she retired, Lisa was going to be one of the wealthiest humans on Earth, especially if she decided to live on Earth Bet… which she was almost certain she wouldn't because ending up somewhere safe and with full access to technology tens of thousands of years more advanced sounded great, even if it meant she should be frugal.

It certainly was going to beat living on the streets, on the run, and in fear almost constantly present at the back of her mind. Her power agreed as well, especially if she found some way to make it work on the other side for good, which would mean she would be set up for life… and possibly never get laid due to a constant influx of too much information…

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Conference room
PRT HQ
Brockton Bay

Director Piggot sat lightly at the head of a long table, experiencing a sense of profound unease. The reasons were multiple. First and most obvious, her city was about to become an all-out battleground unless they did everything right, and the enemy cooperated. Needless to say, neither the Nazi's or Lung's organization would cooperate with their defanging and dismantling.

Second, their resident Sith called just before what should have been one of their last planning sessions before the shit hit the fan at sufficient velocity to cover the whole city and surrounding area in fecal matter and politely promised some surplus equipment for their operation. How the hell the aliens knew about it and were sure enough in their information to make the offer, Piggot dreaded to find out. One thing was certain, it wasn't a coincidence, neither was it a shot in the dark. The alien woman had sounded too sure of herself when she made her gracious offer.

Third and arguably personally most important, later today, Emily was finally going to meet Panacea, get her kidneys fixed and if there was anything good and just left in the world, she could consequently get hammered without the city going up in flames around her…

"Ladies and gentlemen, we just had a new development, one that might justify re-evaluating our plans and time-table…" Director Piggot began once all the resident representatives of the alphabetical soup took their seats, including the DoD people, and ten more officials, civilian, military, and law enforcement, appeared on screens strategically placed on the ceiling and walls. "I was just contacted by the Mandalorians, who are offering material assistance in the form of a battalion worth of small arms, armor, and advanced medicine, with the only catch being, we're to use the equipment for clearing up and securing Brockton Bay first. At a later date, we'll be discussing a contract for the maintenance, delivery of spare parts and munitions for said equipment…" Emily trailed off when predictably, utter chaos replaced the expected stunned disbelief.

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Part 5

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warehouse complex
desert near Sundari
Mandalore

As far as jobs in the post-war galaxy went, this particular one was great, as long as you found it acceptable to be the next best thing to a merchant of death. For a New Mandalorian, this wasn't a particularly happy state of affairs, however, Vergil Ordis was a realist – this was the best paying job he could find, the benefits were decent and he was ready to do anything within reason to provide for his family enough that his children didn't ask too much awkward questions about how being a pacifist on Mandalore affected your standing and weren't particularly good for your income nowadays. The constant propaganda streaming everywhere you turned was bad enough, listening to it all day long at work, was worse.

There it was again, the Sith himself, smiling pleasantly and promising everyone who didn't already have one, an arsenal fit to fight a not so small war, with enough ammo to make law enforcement from before the war looks funny your way and likely put you on a watch-list, traditional Mandalorian or not.

Especially if you were a traditional Mandalorian in fact.

Nowadays? There was the Sith again, offering for those willing to exchange older weapons and armor for discounted new models coming from either Imperial or Mandalorian industrial centers. Naturally, no one was particularly interested in talking about how the Sith, Jedi, and their ilk caused the war in the first place and it was all kinds of power-hungry maniacs and war-mongers that escalated it beyond any reason and led to the hell that were the last years of the conflict. No sire, it was all about discussing the merits of each Clan having enough weaponry and ammunition to conquer a well off the planet and how if that had been the case on Mandalore, then the Confederate invasion wouldn't have fared as well as it did.

Please, conveniently disregard any notions and evidence that the Confederacy first came to Mandalore because of Vizsla's maniacs, who were arguably the embodiment of traditional Mandalorian Warriors, then everything went worse because of the Sith the Clans gleefully elected as the first Mandalore in ages.

Naturally, everything went downhill from there, at least if you were a sane and reasonable being.

There weren't many of those left in the Federated Empire it seemed and those who had the good fortune and sense to secede while they could be now under tremendous pressure to get back into the fold with a smile on their faces or else. Truly, the galaxy was a dark place ran by murderous maniacs nowadays and anyone sensible had to keep their head down and hope to endure until sanity could return. If it returned.

Most importantly, you had to do your best, no matter how distasteful, to keep your family and friends convinced that this warrior nonsense was fit only to either get you killed or turned into a murderous brute. It didn't help any that such people were held in high regard and constantly heralded as heroes, many of them, safely dead heroes, killed in pointless fighting all across the galaxy to no benefit for their worlds and families to speak of.

It was one thing to fight the murderous droids in order to keep people safe. It was another to support the people who led to the Black Rebellion in the first place.

Damn, he was getting winded up, again, Ordis thought. But how could he not, when a party from Mandalore himself arrived not fifteen minutes ago, with all the proper paperwork to empty one of his warehouses and gather enough surplus equipment to fight a war, load it on a couple of small freighters to a destination unknown. It was days like these when Vergil dearly regretted the choices that led him here. Still, it paid a bit more than construction and officially his place of employment did a lot to counteract his known status as unrepentant New Mandalorian.

Bloody warriors and their prejudices…

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Hanscom Air-force Base
United States
Earth Bet

In his long career, Richard Marchinko had gathered a lot of favors to call on, pissed off even more people, but that wasn't relevant right now. Well, it probably was because at least a few of them hoped that he would either fuck up by the numbers, get killed so he wouldn't be around to piss them off, again, or both. He had to call many of the favors he had left, make promises, and well, be one of the people whose heads would be on the chopping block if this coming operation went south.

It was all going to be worth it in the end, especially when this was likely his last opportunity to get his hands dirty before returning to the less than glamorous duties he had to deal with lately. Besides, this was going to be one of the most important jobs anyone wearing the uniform could be doing ever since powers became a thing, and he was glad he would have the opportunity to make sure that as few things went to hell in a hand-basket as possible. Because, Marchinko was sure, there was no way in hell, the op didn't go south in one way or another.

On the bright side, he would get to play with some of the nicest equipment in two universes that weren't a temperamental tinkertech.

Speaking about said equipment, here we go…

A lot of Chair-force brass was around, waiting for the delivery, and more importantly, the opportunity to see for themselves a pair of honest to God spaceships land on US soil. The Mandalorians promised that the ships would touch down shortly, from what he could gather of the excited and disturbed muttering of the Chair-force people, the ships were in contact with the nearby control tower, however, they failed to show on radar, like at all, on most other sensors looking up save for thermal, which was saying a lot because rumor had it that the coming freighters were civilian models, far from state of the art and haven't received any off the shelf military upgrades. Of course, that might be bullshit, but who knew…

Marchinko's first clue that the aliens were here came from an excited junior officer, who was busy speaking in a headset and pointed up and to the left. He looked that way and saw two fast-growing and even faster approaching dark dots. In less than a minute they were above the base, decelerating from almost vertical drop to hover above the tarmac with unreal ease, grace, and most importantly, quietly. The things he could have done with a few transports such as these, the mischief and headaches he could cause… That went both ways, and it was a great demonstration of technological capabilities without being openly threatening.

Did he note how quiet the damn things were even as they landed almost silently and a side hatch opened and slid down to the ground?

Marchinko shook his head and looked closer at the freighters. They were about seventy meters long each, painted dark green and like nothing he recalled seeing in any Star Wars related briefing he had to endure. That made sense really, if there was really a whole galaxy out there teeming with life, countless species and manufacturers, it was a given that a few films and TV series couldn't even scratch the surface and everyone paying attention knew that the available information from the franchise was far from complete or right all the time.

A droid was the first one to disembark, followed by a pair of armored soldiers and what might be the Captain – the man who came behind the trio wore light brown clothes which looked like made of polished leather, reinforcing the impression that the delivery was facilitated by civilian contractors.

The man said something in an unfamiliar language and the droid translated, demonstrating that at least one of its purposes was that of a Protocol droid, like that C-3PO of fame and infamy. If this was planned by Marchinko, the machine would be more than combat capable in case the locals went restless and decided to do something particularly dumb. That was incidentally one of the reasons he was here – to ensure that no one would start an interstellar war either by accident or worse, design.

"Hey, folks, I'm captain Harry Trigol at your services. I've got a delivery for your Planetary Defense types. Who is going to sign up and accept the equipment?" Those words came from the Droid in perfect English with a hint of British accent of all things.

"That would be me, Captain Richard Marchinko, Captain Trigol." He slowly walked towards the ships and the small cluster of people who disembarked, carefully keeping his hands in full view of them at all times just in case.

"Army or Navy?" Trigol inquired while curiously examining the gathered public.

"Naval Special Forces."

"Ah, one of those crazy types." The man grinned after the Droid translated. "I'm afraid that we aren't bringing anything specially designed for your kind of crazy shenanigans, however, when properly sealed those Mark One and Two Clone armors could do in a pinch."

Marchinko smiled and nodded, keeping his eyes and ears wide open. Everything he learned today might come in useful and every off-hand comment about things the alien Captain took for granted could tell a lot.

Needless to say, there was an extensive debriefing waiting for him once this was done, which was of course a small price to pay for getting this job.

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