The Mandalorians - an OC Fanfic

The Mandalorians - Part 2

The Mandalorians exchanged glances before entering the room.

"Greef Kerga said you were coming," Said an old man. He was dressed in Imperial robes and sat behind a mostly empty desk.

The Mandalorians stepped farther in, walking up to the old man.

"What else did he say?" Mando asked.

"He said you two are the best in the parsec," the old man replied.

A door opened to their left, and the Mandalorians both whipped out their weapons, pointing them at the newcomer.

"Freeze! Drop your weapons!" shouted one of the troopers as all of them drew their weapons and pointed them at the Mandalorians.

The Newcomer was a small, skinny man dressed in a lab suit. He held up his clipboard in a weak defense and trembled behind it. "No-no-no, sorry! Uh, pardon- I- didn't mean to alarm," He stammered pitifully.

The old man stood and held up his hands for everyone to lower their weapons. "This is Dr. Pershing." He walked up to the Mandalorians. "Please excuse his lack of decorum. His enthusiasm outweighs his discretion." He added in a dangerously low voice, "Please lower your blasters."

Small Mando didn't take her eyes of the troopers as her grip tightened on her two small but deadly pistols. "Them first."

Mando nodded, not lowering his rifle. "I agree with her."

"We have you two six to one," the closest trooper snarked.

Mando shrugged. "I like those odds."

Small Mando shook her head. "If it's a fair fight these gahska's want, they'd better call in about a dozen more of their friends."

The old man stepped even closer. "He also said you two were expensive. Very expensive." He moved back over to his desk. "Please, sit." He nodded for the troopers to lower their weapons.

The Mandalorians lowered their weapons and sat opposite the old man.

The old man slid something across the desk, wrapped in black cloth. He unwrapped it, revealing two small bricks of pure Beskar.

"Beskar?" the Mandalorians asked.

"Go ahead," the old man told them, "It's real."

Mando picked up the bricks. Each one was small, just big enough to fit in the palm of a hand, and barely an inch thick.

"This is only a down payment," the old man informed, "But I have a camtono of Beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the asset."

"Alive," Dr. Pershing added quickly.

The old man nodded. "Yes, alive." He leaned forward. "Although I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination would also be acceptable for a lower fee.

Pershing spoke up again. "That is not what we agreed upon-"

The old man shot him a look. "I'm simply being pragmatic." He leaned back in his chair.

Small Mando said, "We'll bring you the asset. Dead or alive. Give us the puck and we'll be on our way."

"I'm afraid that discretion dictates a less traditional agreement," the old man said, "We can only offer you a tracking phob."

Dr. Pershing handed Mando a tracking phob, which he pocketed. "What's the chain code?"

"We can only give you the last four digits," the old man told them.

"Their age?" Mando asked, "That's all you can give us?"

The old man nodded. "They are fifty years old. We can also give you the last reported positional data. Between that and the tracking phob, a man and woman of your skill should be able to make short work of this."