Chapter 43 : The First Vehicle Sale
Pre Vizsla's summons arrives at 0630 hours via encrypted channel. "Command center. Now. Vehicle discussion."
The walk through Concordia's passages feels longer than usual. Since the armory raid, Death Watch warriors regard me differently—not just supplier but someone who understands operations firsthand. The acknowledgment is uncomfortable. I preferred distance.
Bo-Katan waits outside command center. "He's excited. Try to keep price reasonable—we've liquidated significant assets already."
"He's paying market rates. This isn't charity operation."
"I know. Just warning you that he'll negotiate aggressively." She kisses me quickly. "Good luck."
Inside, Vizsla stands before holographic display showing Mandalore's surface with tactical overlays. Multiple Death Watch positions marked, Satine's government territories highlighted, Shadow Collective influence spreading like infection through lower districts.
"Varro." He gestures to display. "Your Pelican dropship. I've reviewed specifications. Seventy-millimeter autocannon, missile pods, troop capacity for fifteen warriors in full armor. This is exactly what Death Watch needs."
I approach the display, studying deployment scenarios he's already planned. "It's formidable craft. UNSC design—versatile, durable, combat-proven."
"How much?"
Direct. No negotiation preamble. Mandalorian efficiency.
"One million two hundred thousand credits. That's 850,000 base cost plus my margins and System fees." I don't mention "System" usually but the term slips out. Vizsla doesn't question—assumes it's my supply network terminology.
"Expensive."
"It's dropship that changes tactical balance. Your strike teams can deploy anywhere on Mandalore within minutes. Satine's police can't counter aerial mobility. Maul's criminal forces lack anti-air capabilities. This is strategic asset, not standard equipment."
He studies me. "You understand military strategy."
"I understand what my products enable. Selling without comprehension is bad business."
That gets approving nod. "One million two hundred thousand. Acceptable." He transfers payment without further discussion. "When can you deliver?"
I check System interface mentally:
[ VEHICLE PURCHASE PROCESSING ]
[ HALO PELICAN DROPSHIP: 850000 CREDITS ]
[ DELIVERY TIME: 48 HOURS ]
[ LANDING COORDINATES REQUIRED ]
[ WARNING: ORBITAL DELIVERY SIGNATURE VISIBLE TO SENSOR NETWORKS ]
The warning is new. Vehicles materialize differently than weapons—spatial manipulation on larger scale. Republic satellites might detect the energy signature.
"Forty-eight hours. Need landing coordinates and clear airspace—delivery process is... unusual."
"Unusual how?"
Can't explain interdimensional materialization to Death Watch leader. "My suppliers use advanced delivery system. Transport appears at designated coordinates. Requires open landing pad and clear security perimeter."
Vizsla accepts explanation. "Concordia pad seven—military installation, restricted airspace, no civilian observation. Coordinate with my logistics officers."
[ VEHICLE PURCHASE CONFIRMED ]
[ HALO PELICAN DROPSHIP - DELIVERY: 48 HOURS ]
[ CURRENT BALANCE: 1,511,245 CREDITS ]
[ SALES COMPLETED: 51 ]
[ MONTHLY VEHICLE ORDERS: 1/2 USED ]
One and a half million credits. The number feels surreal—eight weeks ago I had 900 credits and desperation. Now I'm millionaire arms dealer selling military aircraft to insurgents.
"One more thing," Vizsla says. "Your delivery system. How visible is it?"
"Extremely. Energy signature, visual distortion, brief portal effect. Stealth is not feature."
"Good. I want Satine to know we have advanced capabilities. Psychological warfare." He dismisses me with gesture. "Deliver in 48 hours. Bo-Katan will coordinate logistics."
Outside, Bo-Katan is waiting. "He looked pleased. You got full asking price?"
"Didn't negotiate. Military necessity outweighed cost concerns."
"That's Pre Vizsla—pragmatic when stakes are clear." We walk back toward my base. "You're nervous about delivery process."
Not question. Observation.
"Never delivered vehicle before. Weapons materialize through Smuggler's Hold—personal process, controlled environment. Vehicles appear at landing coordinates through different mechanism. Less control, more visibility."
"Mandalore will notice?"
"Everyone will notice. Republic sensor networks, Satine's government, Maul's intelligence operations. Pelican appears from nowhere, Death Watch suddenly has dropship capability. Signals that someone with extraordinary supply access is operating on Concordia."
She considers implications. "You're compromising operational security for this sale."
"Already compromised. The moment I sold Titan to Red Spire on Coruscant, I became visible. Vehicles are next escalation. At least Death Watch protection is substantial."
"True. Still worrying though." She squeezes my hand. "I'll make sure security is maximum during delivery. If someone tries interfering, they'll regret it."
Forty-eight hours pass in tense anticipation. I coordinate with Death Watch logistics, establishing security perimeter around pad seven. Bo-Katan positions strike team as protection detail. The setup is military operation for simple delivery.
System notification appears at designated time:
[ VEHICLE READY FOR DELIVERY ]
[ CONFIRM COORDINATES: PAD 7, CONCORDIA MILITARY INSTALLATION ]
[ WARNING: DELIVERY SIGNATURE VISIBLE TO ORBITAL SENSORS ]
[ NEURAL FEEDBACK: MODERATE ]
[ PROCEED? ]
I confirm mentally. The System activates with sensation completely different from Smuggler's Hold materializations.
The sky tears open.
Not metaphorically—actual spatial distortion visible to everyone present. Energy crackles across tears in reality, blue-white lightning that doesn't quite obey physics. Portal forms approximately 200 meters above pad, circular gateway showing different space beyond.
Death Watch warriors stare upward, weapons raised instinctively. Bo-Katan's voice crackles over comms: "Hold positions! This is expected delivery!"
The Pelican emerges through portal. Massive dropship—over 30 meters long, bristling with weapons, UNSC markings visible on hull. It descends smoothly under autopilot, antigravity systems engaging to control descent.
Neural feedback hits. Not materialization through my body but witnessing dimensional manipulation on vehicle scale. My head explodes with pain—pressure building behind eyes, sensation of reality bending around the process. Blood drips from nose.
R4's alarm systems trigger. "Master's neural activity: critical spike! Delivery process causing severe feedback despite being external materialization!"
"It's fine," I manage through gritted teeth. "Just... more intense than expected."
The Pelican touches down with mechanical precision. Landing gear extends, weight settles onto pad, engines cycle to standby. The portal above closes gradually—spatial tear sealing itself until sky returns to normal.
Silence. Then chaos of warriors examining dropship with professional awe.
Pre Vizsla approaches, circling Pelican with predator's assessment. "Magnificent. Better than specifications suggested." He turns to me. "How do we fly it?"
"Ah. Hadn't considered that detail."
"Pelican has basic AI flight systems but requires trained pilot. UNSC craft are designed for specific operator protocols."
"Can you teach us?"
"I'm merchant, not flight instructor. But..." I gesture to R4. "My droid has technical expertise. Can provide documentation and training materials."
Eight's voice whispers: "This unit can interface with Pelican's systems, extract flight protocols, compile training documentation. Process requires approximately four hours."
"Four hours to prepare materials. Your pilots need actual flight time after that."
Vizsla nods. "Acceptable. Get started immediately."
The next six hours are intensive technical training. Eight interfaces with Pelican's computer, downloading UNSC flight manuals, translating military jargon into formats Death Watch pilots can understand. The Forerunner AI is frighteningly competent—translating alien military doctrine into Mandalorian tactical framework seamlessly.
Death Watch's senior pilot—veteran named Kast—absorbs information quickly. "Similar to Republic Gunship design but more robust. Heavier armor, better firepower, simpler systems."
"UNSC prioritizes durability over sophistication," I explain. "Pelican is designed to take damage and keep flying."
"Mandalorian philosophy. We'll get along well." Kast begins pre-flight checks with competence that suggests decades of military aviation experience.
The test flight happens at sunset. Pelican lifts off smoothly, Kast demonstrating basic maneuvers—forward flight, hovering, evasive rolls. The dropship handles beautifully despite size, responding to controls with precision that speaks to excellent engineering.
Weapon systems test next. The 70mm autocannon fires into designated target zone—explosive rounds tearing through mock fortifications with devastating efficiency. Missile pods launch practice warheads that obliterate targets half-kilometer away.
Vizsla watches from observation deck with expression approaching genuine joy. "This changes everything. We can deploy strike teams anywhere on Mandalore now. Hit government positions before they mobilize response. Extract before reinforcements arrive."
Bo-Katan stands beside him. "Satine's police have nothing comparable. Her pacifist philosophy means Mandalore defense relies on negotiation rather than military capability. This Pelican gives us overwhelming tactical advantage."
"Exactly." Vizsla turns to me. "You're not just supplier anymore, Varro. You're military advisor. Strategic asset. Death Watch values you accordingly."
The weight of that statement settles uncomfortably. I'm no longer arm's length from operations—I'm embedded in command structure as essential component.
That night, news spreads across Mandalore:
DUCHESS SATINE CONDEMNS DEATH WATCH'S ACQUISITION OF ADVANCED MILITARY TRANSPORT
CALLS FOR REPUBLIC INTERVENTION IN MANDALORE CIVIL WAR
ORBITAL SENSORS DETECTED MASSIVE ENERGY SIGNATURE DURING DELIVERY
SOURCE: UNKNOWN OFF-WORLD SUPPLIER WITH EXTRAORDINARY CAPABILITIES
Eight projects analysis: "Master's location is compromised. Orbital delivery was visible to multiple sensor networks. Republic intelligence will identify master's presence on Concordia within 72 hours maximum. Jedi investigation will resume with knowledge of current whereabouts."
"Can we relocate again?"
"Negative. Death Watch alliance requires physical presence. Fleeing compromises strategic positioning and loses protection. Additionally, master's pattern of escalation-then-flight is becoming unsustainable."
R4 adds concern: "Master's trajectory shows consistent pattern: establish operations, gain visibility through escalating sales, flee when authorities respond. Concordia represents potential endpoint—no further retreat available without losing all accumulated advantages."
"Then I stop fleeing. Death Watch protection is real. Let Republic come—they can't operate on Mandalore without Satine's approval, and she won't authorize military action that escalates civil war."
Bo-Katan enters my quarters during this analysis. "Talking to yourself?"
"Talking to AI advisors. They think I'm visible to Republic again."
"You are. That delivery portal lit up every sensor network in system. Satine's already screaming about Republic intervention." She sits beside me. "But you're ours now. Death Watch protects its own. Anyone tries taking you, they fight all of us."
"That's comforting and concerning simultaneously."
"That's reality. You're not independent merchant anymore—you're Death Watch asset, my partner, embedded in organization that's preparing for major offensive against government." She takes my hand. "No more running. We stand together or fall together."
The commitment is both security and trap. Safety through alliance that demands loyalty unto death. Very Mandalorian. Very permanent.
Forward momentum that feels increasingly like controlled falling.
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