XTRA Star_Knight47 THZ
🛡️ This is the Way.
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║ ⚔️ MANDALORIAN CONTRACT BOARD ⚔️ ║
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║ Objective: Launch the story into hyperspace ║
║ Reward: Extra chapters for the crew ║
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║ Review Bounties: ║
║ • ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ = +1 bonus chapter ║
║ • ⭐⭐⭐⭐ + ⭐⭐⭐⭐ = +1 bonus chapter ║
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║ 2–3 lines is enough: ║
║ • "I loved ___ because…" ║
║ • "Best scene so far was…" ║
║ • "My theory is…" ║
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║ Thank you for backing Max Vizsla and the ║
║ rise of Mandalore. ║
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"Auntie Auntie" Boba Fett flailed his arms and legs, practically dancing.
"Teaching clone troopers?" Jango Fett froze, nearly shaking baby food onto the table. "How old are they? They're starting training already?"
"Boba~"
Taun We glanced at little Boba waving at her, her large eyes full of tenderness. She rubbed his chubby cheek, then turned back to Jango and continued calmly.
"The first batch are the same age as little Boba—about a year and a half. The difference is their growth rate is twice his. In other words, their physiological metrics match those of a three-year-old human."
"Three?" Jango set down the bowl and spoon, his expression turning serious. "Even for Mandalorians, learning to kill at three is… too early."
"Training has to start early." Taun We's voice was gentle, but unshakably firm. "Master Sifo-Dyas and Master Tyrallus both said the galaxy is about to face an unprecedented crisis. If these clones don't have the power to resolve it, then they're failed products—and that will damage your reputation, and Kamino's."
"I… understand." Jango dipped his head. "Please tell Prime Minister Lama Su: within one week, I'll draft an initial training plan. After that, I'll adjust as we go—train them, observe, refine."
"Then I'll leave it to you." Taun We offered a flawless, formal salute, smiled, and took her leave.
"Auntie bye-bye"
…
"So, Brother Jango—made your decision yet?" Hondo Ohnaka asked.
"Your offer is generous. I don't want to refuse it," Jango said frankly. "But I really am tied up right now. I can't get away. So… sorry. I have to decline."
"No problem, no problem." Hondo waved both hands. He'd always respected talent. "As long as you're interested, that's enough. This is long-term work—my door's always open. When you're not so busy, remember to ping your big brother here. Ohnaka Gang will always keep a spot for you."
"Understood. I'll think about it seriously." Jango nodded. "Goodbye."
…
Galactic Standard Calendar Year 4, September 1st, 08:00. Planet Rishi. Black Mountain—where the Black Feather Nest was located—was packed wall-to-wall, a sea of bodies and wings. The sheer scale gave the transmigrator a strong sense of déjà vu, like being back in his old world at an absurdly overcrowded holiday landmark.
The founding ceremony of the Rishi United Chieftaincy was about to begin.
"A1 grid requesting reinforcements! Repeat, A1 grid requesting reinforcements!"
"C4 grid requesting reinforcements! Repeat, C4 grid requesting reinforcements!"
…
Inside the command center, every channel was calling for manpower. Max had dispersed three hundred Mandalorian warriors across Black Mountain to maintain order, but judging from the live reports, it wasn't nearly enough.
"Chief, pull more personnel from the ships to assist," Fleet Commander Tracy Reeves suggested. "Our ships are highly automated. Formation flight takes very few hands, we can—"
"No." Max raised a hand to cut her off. "The fleet must remain combat-ready. We're not pulling more people off the ships. Order: deploy the 352 personnel assigned to the parade formation to Black Mountain to help stabilize the scene. Once the parade begins, they'll lift off from the mountain and form up in the air."
"Yes, Chief."
…
On September 1st, Year 4, the founding ceremony drew over eighty thousand Rishii to Black Mountain to witness it in person. The sky-blotting fleet—especially the two LH-3210-class interstellar cargo haulers with diameters exceeding three thousand meters—shattered the stone-age natives' understanding of what "large" meant.
Over the next three days, Max recruited 9,216 Rishii new soldiers on-site at Black Mountain. And those 9,216 weren't just "anyone who signed up"—they were selected from the best of the best using the Rishii physical standards provided by Chief Black Lightning. Even so, the number of applicants was staggering: more than half the ceremony's attendees tried to enlist.
To the Rishii, Max's enlistment terms were outrageously generous.
Every recruit received a jetpack for free—and they'd be allowed to use their pay to purchase jetpacks for family members as well. The moment that condition was announced, Rishii who had long envied the jetpacks worn by Mandalorians and Black Feather messengers shot their hands up to volunteer. Quite a few chieftains even led by example and signed up themselves.
Max also signed an agreement with the committee members representing the chieftaincy-to-be. The agreement stated that once these recruits completed a fifteen-year term of service, the Mandalorians would present the fleet performing in today's aerial display as a national gift—so the retired Rishii veterans could fly it back to Rishi.
"R-really?"
"That's amazing!"
…
Staring up at the ships that covered the sky, the committee members' eyes gleamed with a near-tangible intensity.
"Chief," Christopher Wren asked, watching the Rishii recruits queue to board, "do you think there are any Force-sensitives among them?"
"Hard to say." Max shook his head. "Force-sensitive Rishii definitely exist. Whether any are in these nine thousand… that's anyone's guess."
"Huh…"
"Come on. We should get ready to board too." Max patted his bodyguard captain on the shoulder. "Force-sensitive or not—I'm still convinced you are."
"Chief," Christopher scratched his head as he followed, "but I really don't have abilities like yours."
"You just haven't awakened yet. Believe in yourself—believe in the force of belief."
Soon, Max would board one of the LH-3210 cargo haulers and return to Cloud City ahead of the fleet. Settling over nine thousand Rishii and nearly a thousand Galandans, plus relocating the Lars family, would require constant coordination between the Mandalorian Armed Forces and Cloud City's civil administration. Max planned to handle it personally.
"Commanders, the fleet is in your hands. Discuss everything between you. If there's a disagreement, defer to Tracy Reeves—her experience is deeper."
"Yes, Chief."
The Mandalorian fleet couldn't stay at Rishi much longer. By late September, they needed to reach Corellia to receive the navy's new blood: the second delivery of "freighters"—one MPO-1400 Purrgil-class, plus four Gozanti-class, all heavy-armed reinforced variants.
But if they still hadn't found Kamino and Jango Fett by then, they'd have to come back to Rishi again.
…
"Master, starting today, the Outer Rim will no longer be peaceful."
"Good. Good." Darth Sidious let out a cold, satisfied chuckle. "Tyrallus—you've done very well."
"By your will, Master."
"Rise, Tyrallus. I have another task for you."
…
PS: Kaminoans have distinct sexes. Male Kaminoans have a protruding cranial fin; females do not. Worth noting: the long-necked Jedi Council member, Master Yarael Poof, is not a Kaminoan—he's a Quermian.
PPS: Count Dooku often uses the Sith title "Tyrallus" as a codename for covert operations. The Pyke Syndicate and the Kaminoans both address him as "Tyrallus," but they don't know the full title "Darth Tyrallus."
PPPS: A full-strength Grand Army of the Republic unit at the legion/brigade scale is 9,216 personnel, commanded by a Clone Senior Commander and a Jedi General, and organized into four regiments.
WOWOWOWO 👀🔥
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💎⚡ DROP YOUR POWER STONES RIGHT NOW ⚡💎May the Force be with you… but let the Stones speak. 😈🌟
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