Two thousand meters of laid keel, sleek and metallic against the blackness of space and shipyard lighting, dominated the largest slip at Mandal Motors main production facility. A network of ribs had grown up over the last weeks and now between them decks had begun to form. Massive bulkheads, constructed separately, hovered ominously in zero
gravity. Shiloutted against the planet below her burgeoning outline became more distinct. Swarms of workers went furiously about their business; visible as distant dots darting between jutting steel and protruding struts.
From high above, in the observation area of Mandalore Technologies orbital design department, Beff Pike studied what progress had been made since last he had visited. Though his face remained frozen, betraying nothing, the sensation of displeasure that radiated off of him was palpable. He stood with arms firmly crossed while listening
to status reports mingled with holographic displays to which he paid little attention.
Spiraling costs, it seemed, had begun to have a negative impact on the progress of this precious Research and Development project. Considerable funds had been previously allocated and assigned to Mandalore Technologies but even that had been unable to stem the unnaturally high cost of procuring outside resources. Mandalore demanded secrecy and so any contact outside the system had to be conducted through various false fronts and third party intermediaries. Though, over the years, the Dominion had warehoused countless resources this renewed period of activity was beginning to cost. While nowhere near dire, the situation demanded immediate attention.
The Mandalore listened to his project manager, a sly Duros designer, ramble off a series of excuses and explanations.
"So, as you can see," he started in summary. "All project objectives are ahead of schedule. We've had no complications of note in the areas of Development or Implementation. The big issue, is cost."
Most of the materials used in constructing the Dominion fleet could be found and processed of and on the planet itself. Unfortunately, however; to build a military grade capital vessel Mandal Motors had to look at outside sources for the more hard-to-come-by material. Each contract had been personally overseen by Beff Pike who had accused old networks in his search. If anyone knew anything, it was only because he had allowed it.
For a long moment everyone in attendance fell silent. The project managers of a dozen different divisions waited for the Mandalore to speak.
"Supplement your work force with clones. I will see that you are supplied with another thousand endentured workers. Reassign those funds for better use."
He had not moved as he spoke. His gaze remained on the ship being constructed below.
"You will have full access to lots 1-G through 10-G. This should overcome your financial issues in the short term."
Soon enough the issue of resources would be moot, as it had been long ago. True, a number of decommissioned vessels had sacrificed their bits to the greater good but not enough to damage the Dominion fleet in the face of this coming marvel.
"I will return as per my scheduled updates. I expect better next time."
No one thanked Mandalore, as he stepped out of the conference. Fewer dared match his disapproving gaze as he moved towards the door. They tried to ignore the guard posted at the doors who parted to allow him exit, the same guards who kept each and every one of the design team under harsh lock and key. As Beff Pike left they wondered what the galaxy would think if it knew of the methods employed here. None of them were free beyond the command of the man they called Lord. And not one of them wanted to end up like the previous financial manager.
~
Six Months Later
... Beff Pike had smiled on his next visit to Mandal Motors shipyards. The progress was impossible to imagine, but there it was for all to behold. Mandalores first Deathwatch class Dreadnought had begun to take shape.
The slip that birthed her almost vanished behind the bulk of the vessel. Her keel, long and graceful, vanished between the trenches that ran the full length of the vessle on both port and starboard sides. Conversely, raised ridges similarly edged the hull along her dorsal and ventral centerlines. Though her weapons were still months away from installation she could not hide the empty holes soon to be filled with various cannon and turret. Great black hull plates masked her in the darkness, though this would soon be lost beneath coats of Shadow Paint.
With hands held neatly beneath the folds of his jacket the Mandalore watched the increased level of activity swarm maddeningly around the yard. As with their older projects, the Guild line for example, everything that could be done 'in house' was with as little outside help as possible. Even in the face of what could be a great adversity the Dominion had managed to produce a number of ships easily equatable to the galactic standard, and this vessel would be no exception.
"I want our launch date pushed ahead two months."
With that he left. No one had needed to die today.
gravity. Shiloutted against the planet below her burgeoning outline became more distinct. Swarms of workers went furiously about their business; visible as distant dots darting between jutting steel and protruding struts.
From high above, in the observation area of Mandalore Technologies orbital design department, Beff Pike studied what progress had been made since last he had visited. Though his face remained frozen, betraying nothing, the sensation of displeasure that radiated off of him was palpable. He stood with arms firmly crossed while listening
to status reports mingled with holographic displays to which he paid little attention.
Spiraling costs, it seemed, had begun to have a negative impact on the progress of this precious Research and Development project. Considerable funds had been previously allocated and assigned to Mandalore Technologies but even that had been unable to stem the unnaturally high cost of procuring outside resources. Mandalore demanded secrecy and so any contact outside the system had to be conducted through various false fronts and third party intermediaries. Though, over the years, the Dominion had warehoused countless resources this renewed period of activity was beginning to cost. While nowhere near dire, the situation demanded immediate attention.
The Mandalore listened to his project manager, a sly Duros designer, ramble off a series of excuses and explanations.
"So, as you can see," he started in summary. "All project objectives are ahead of schedule. We've had no complications of note in the areas of Development or Implementation. The big issue, is cost."
Most of the materials used in constructing the Dominion fleet could be found and processed of and on the planet itself. Unfortunately, however; to build a military grade capital vessel Mandal Motors had to look at outside sources for the more hard-to-come-by material. Each contract had been personally overseen by Beff Pike who had accused old networks in his search. If anyone knew anything, it was only because he had allowed it.
For a long moment everyone in attendance fell silent. The project managers of a dozen different divisions waited for the Mandalore to speak.
"Supplement your work force with clones. I will see that you are supplied with another thousand endentured workers. Reassign those funds for better use."
He had not moved as he spoke. His gaze remained on the ship being constructed below.
"You will have full access to lots 1-G through 10-G. This should overcome your financial issues in the short term."
Soon enough the issue of resources would be moot, as it had been long ago. True, a number of decommissioned vessels had sacrificed their bits to the greater good but not enough to damage the Dominion fleet in the face of this coming marvel.
"I will return as per my scheduled updates. I expect better next time."
No one thanked Mandalore, as he stepped out of the conference. Fewer dared match his disapproving gaze as he moved towards the door. They tried to ignore the guard posted at the doors who parted to allow him exit, the same guards who kept each and every one of the design team under harsh lock and key. As Beff Pike left they wondered what the galaxy would think if it knew of the methods employed here. None of them were free beyond the command of the man they called Lord. And not one of them wanted to end up like the previous financial manager.
~
Six Months Later
... Beff Pike had smiled on his next visit to Mandal Motors shipyards. The progress was impossible to imagine, but there it was for all to behold. Mandalores first Deathwatch class Dreadnought had begun to take shape.
The slip that birthed her almost vanished behind the bulk of the vessel. Her keel, long and graceful, vanished between the trenches that ran the full length of the vessle on both port and starboard sides. Conversely, raised ridges similarly edged the hull along her dorsal and ventral centerlines. Though her weapons were still months away from installation she could not hide the empty holes soon to be filled with various cannon and turret. Great black hull plates masked her in the darkness, though this would soon be lost beneath coats of Shadow Paint.
With hands held neatly beneath the folds of his jacket the Mandalore watched the increased level of activity swarm maddeningly around the yard. As with their older projects, the Guild line for example, everything that could be done 'in house' was with as little outside help as possible. Even in the face of what could be a great adversity the Dominion had managed to produce a number of ships easily equatable to the galactic standard, and this vessel would be no exception.
"I want our launch date pushed ahead two months."
With that he left. No one had needed to die today.