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| - “Thirty seconds to reversion,” the pilot said over the internal comm, his voice distorted slightly. Newly-promoted Lieutenant Senior Grade Thedus Bimm adjusted himself where he sat in the hyperspace shuttle's passenger compartment, switching his duffel from one arm to the other at the same time. He scratched idly at his neck; the starch hadn't yet come out of this set of Marine-issue BDUs, which was the third in the bundle of uniforms he had only received a week prior. He wasn't looking forward to the process of breaking in his brand-new armor, either, particularly since it would most likely take place under combat conditions. He scowled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest with disgust. He'd been recruited into the Marine Corps from the Republic Army's 83rd Assault Division by some Navy captain he'd never even met and who probably had had a grudge against the Army. When he had entered the Inter-Service Training Academy, the galaxy was at peace—relatively speaking, that is. Now that he had made it through the nine-week course and been assigned to a line unit, the entire galactic situation had gone straight down a black hole. Three weeks ago the Mandalorians, those delightfully barbaric roaming war-lovers, had begun a three-pronged assault on the Republic. And they were having a field day, Rybet-leaping from world to world and trashing them as part of some sort of new Crusade. Just what the kriff are you crusading for anyway, you void-brained bantha-poachers? he thought to himself as the subtle vibrations of a starship leaving hyperspace rippled through his seat. As far as anyone could tell the Mandos simply worshiped war, in the way some primitive pre-spaceflight species might worship the stars, and their religion compelled them to seek out the biggest, most challenging opponents and fight them, apparently to the death. And apparently, the Republic was the big guy on the interstellar block that they now had to beat. Boy, what a universe. Thinking too much about these things tended to give him a headache, so Thedus resolved to let his ongoing thoughts about the galactic situation cease as he concentrated on where he was now, and where he would soon be. Two days previously he had been assigned to Besh Company, Third Marine Battalion, where he would serve as its executive officer. The company was being formed up for some sort of excursion aboard a small convoy of warships in orbit of Vulta, an industrialized Outer Rim world near Taris, which had just been overrun by the Mandos. This was where his shuttle was bound, carrying himself and a couple of Marine noncoms who were also new to the outfit. What the op was and where it would take place were immaterial to him at this point; he had long since learned to suppress such curiosity during his prior career as an Army officer, and knew that he would be given the details at the appropriate time. Thedus was thankful that there were no viewports in this compartment, as he still hadn't quite gotten used to looking out upon the vast emptiness of deep space. He knew that, as a Marine, he was expected to be able to deal with the sight, since he could very well be called upon to scuttle up the outer hull of a warship like a ticq up the backside of a lumbering nerf. The idea gave him no comfort whatsoever, since he had only barely passed his zero-gee combat training. “Docking in five,” the pilot began, then counted down over the intercom. As he reached zero, there was a muffled thumping noise accompanied by a shudder, indicating that whatever ship they were moored with had successfully attached an umbilical. “Hard lock achieved, you are clear to disembark.” “Alright boys, let's go,” Thedus said in a half-growl as he unstrapped himself and rose from his seat. Arriving at the tiny airlock, he pushed the release and both doors, receiving the full-seal signal, opened. The three Marines strode through the short umbilical and into the airlock on the other end, beckoned forward by a Navy crewer who watched the viewports with an anxious expression on her face. Under normal circumstances Thedus would have considered the dark-skinned young woman to be quite striking, but the puckered, nervous expression on her face detracted from her appearance somewhat. “You know, you're not gonna be able to spot any incoming from there, Crewer,” Thedus said sternly. “Yes, sir!” she said, half-shocked and half-relieved. “Can you direct us to where Besh Company is being billeted?” Thedus asked, his voice softening somewhat. “We're kind of in a hurry.” “Of course sir, right this way,” the crewer replied, and tapped a sequence into the locking keypad. The airlock's inner door hissed open, and as the crewer led her charges to their destination, Thedus realized that they had boarded one of the brand-new Centurion-class battlecruisers; the décor was a dead giveaway. If there's gonna be a fight, at least we're going in with some power behind us, he thought to himself as he and the two noncoms walked down the long, spacious passageways. Here's hoping my new CO appreciates that. It was quite a walk, from the side docking port to the barracks were Besh Company had been billeted. They hadn't gone thirty paces before Thedus felt the telltale sensation of a hyperspace jump, the haste of which explained why the shuttle had docked with the massive cruiser instead of taking the safer but slower route of landing in any of its bays or hangars. Whatever this mission, it seemed to be proceeding under a strict timetable—which, in times such as these, was a dicey proposition at best. Finally, the crewer guided the three new arrivals to the proper place, offered Thedus a salute which he returned rather lazily, then scampered off to do who knew what. Thedus didn't really care at the moment, because the hatchway had just hissed open and he suddenly found himself chin-to-nose with a harassed-looking Human female wearing Marine BDUs and the rank insignia of a lieutenant commander. “You the new junior?” she snapped. “Yes ma'am,” Thedus said automatically, repeating the halfhearted gesture he'd given the crewer. “Get your handsome ass in here, then,” she continued, ignoring the salute and seizing his hand. Her grip was unexpectedly forceful as she nearly dragged him through the barracks' anteroom and into what was most likely her office, dismissing the two noncoms as she did so. “You two, go find your squads and get to know your people. Make it fast, though, we're on a time budget.” The sergeants answered smartly and headed off, but Thedus couldn't see where they were going as the door hissed shut behind him. “Take a seat,” the officer said shortly. Thedus did so, taking a moment to admire this woman as she paced the room once before taking a seat on her side of the small desk ensconced in the equally-small office. Her skin pigmentation was significantly lighter than his mocha visage; more of a light bronze shade that spoke of a lot of time out in the field combined with just the right mixture of genetics. Her eyes were a bit darker and more lustrous than his, a deeper shade of sapphire, and her auburn hair was grown to shoulder-length and restrained by a brown clasp. He would have described her as quite pretty, despite her expression or the worry lines that were beginning to manifest themselves. This officer was experienced, there was no mistaking that fact. “Uhh, Lieutenant Thedus Bimm, reporting for duty?” he asked uncertainly as his apparent commanding officer fixed her eyes onto his. “Lieutenant Commander Laera Reyolé,” the woman said by way of introduction. “Welcome to the Third Marine Battalion. I understand the Corps rescued you from the Army not too long ago.” “Rescued” wasn't the way Thedus would have put it, but he didn't really mind; he had, after all, accepted the offer, though admittedly he hadn't exactly sussed out what it had entailed beforehand. However, that thought was driven from his mind as recognition at the woman's name flared within his mind. “Thank you, Commander,” Thedus replied. “I'm...not sure how to put this, ma'am, but scuttlebutt says that though the war isn't even a month old, you've already been on the spit.” “Yeah, that's right,” Reyolé acknowledged briskly, locking stares with her XO. “The Mandos hit the outpost at Bad Alshir on their first stop toward Taris. We beat back their initial probe but command yanked us out before they could return in force.” “I hear they're giving you the DSO for your leadersh—” Thedus began, but he was interrupted by his CO resuming her feet. “Let's get one thing straight, Bimm,” she admonished. “We're not in this to get medals. We're Marines, which means we do what we have to do to defend the Republic, whatever it takes. You're hardly unique; I've met plenty of soldiers and officers who joined up for the fun of it. But let me tell you plain: it just doesn't work that way. You want to get out there and kill Mandos, right?” Reyolé was posting her hands on her hips, and from this attitude and her continued silence, Thedus decided that this was not a rhetorical question. She was trying to get a sense of his mettle, that was probably it. “Well ma'am, if the mission calls for it...” “At least you've got some brains to go with that brawn,” she said with a scowl, making the observation into a backhanded compliment. She turned her back on him as he stood up, and continued. “Six years I spent on that dirtball, looking Rimward, waiting for some void-brained scum-nut to try and stake a claim. Well, someone did, and they damn near killed us all in the process. Keep your eyes peeled and your head cool, Marine, and you'll soon learn that the best fights will find you. Follow me.” Turning abruptly, Commander Reyolé led the way back out of the office and through to the main barracks, which was swarming with troopers, noncoms, and officers. Most of them were engaged in little knots of three or four, holding their own conversations as they squared away their kit, cleaned their weapons, or simply chatted. “Company, atten-SHUN!” At her bellowed command the company ceased its idle chatter and fell in before her, assuming formation and organizing themselves by platoon, while Thedus stood behind and to the right of his commander. “Now that everyone has joined us and we're on our way, I can tell you what we're up to,” she said into the stony silence. “As everyone knows, the Mandos now own Taris. However, there are a lot of small colony worlds in the nearby star systems that have come within Mandalore's crosshairs. We are currently heading to one of them, a planet named Sigdooine in the Escher system. It's a temperate planet with good mineral wealth, an abundance of arable land and no native sentient species; perfect for setting up an agriworld with mining interests. Right now there's only a small pioneer team on the surface, about three hundred fifty civilians in all. Our mission is to see to their evacuation and the demolishing of any supplies and equipment we can't take with us. Any questions?” The second platoon leader's hand was raised to his shoulder, and Commander Reyolé pointed him out. “Yes, Plixin?” “Any intel on nearby enemy fleet units?” he asked briskly. “Republic Intelligence seems to think that the Mandos are busy consolidating Taris and the other planets in that system,” the CO replied. “But we can't rule out the possibility of scouting parties or an inconveniently-timed full-scale assault. That's why we have to get on the ground, do our jobs, and get the hell out a-sap. What is it, Neile?” A yellow-skinned Twi'lek female in the fourth platoon had raised her hand. “Commander, is our priority the civilians or the supplies?” “The civilians are our number-one concern,” the commander replied, a hardness creeping into her voice. “That's why we're going down in half-empty transports. We will land as a unit and debark, then the civilians will be ferried up to the ship. During the evac, we set up a defensive perimeter, do everything we can to blow the facilities groundside, and maybe even lay a few traps; if all goes well, we'll be back aboard within two standard hours. Now, the last thing we want is for the Mandos to turn Sigdooine into a forward base, but if they bring ships into the system then we're pretty much on our own.” “So if the Mandos do show up, we'll be left behind?” Thedus said incredulously. Commander Reyolé spun on one heel and cast a scorching look at her lieutenant. “Precisely, Mr. Bimm,” she said in low, molten tones, then turned to regard her company. “Yes, such a development would put us in a bad situation, but that's what we all signed up for. We'll be arriving in-system in five hours, making planetfall ten minutes after that. Everyone is dismissed until five minutes before our scheduled reversion, where you will report to the troop landing bay in full armor and kit. Get some chow, clean your weapons, and tidy up any loose ends you might have. May the Force be with you.” As the company broke up to begin final preparations, Commander Reyolé subtly beckoned for Thedus to follow her once again. He knew that he would catch hell for his outburst, because he had known as an officer that it was a very bad idea indeed to question an order in the presence of those under his command. As the door to the commanding officer's billet slid shut behind him, his hunch was proven correct. “Just what the stang do you think this is, Lieutenant!” the commander bellowed, smacking her desk with her open right hand. “You signed the flimsi, you took the training, and now that you're in a line unit you want to become the mother of all cluster-knocks? Who in their diseased mind thought it would be a good idea to recommend you for transfer, anyway?” Thedus thought that drill instructors could take a few lessons from this woman as she dressed him down. “Captain Yagato, ma'am,” he replied. “The...the recommendation was passed down through channels, ma'am. I never met him personally.” The woman brought her hand up to her inclined forehead, looking as though she was attempting to massage away a headache. “Feldui Yagato, of the Kikakaze?” “Yes ma'am,” Thedus said, somewhat taken aback. “I was a platoon leader with the 83rd Assault Division, serving a rotation aboard that vessel.” “Fierfek, that explains a lot,” Reyolé replied resignedly. “Every few months that Sithspawned Navy puke sends a bunch of hotheads like you over to the Corps to see if they'll pass muster. So far you're the first one I've met who did, so count yourself lucky—or unlucky, as the case may be. As for your little jaw-jacking back there in front of the company, it will never happen again. Clear?” “Leth cresh,” Thedus replied, hoping to get this gundark of a company commander to lay off him a bit. Like crystal. “I'm not unreasonable, Mr. Bimm,” she said after a few moments of terse silence, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you think something's not right, or you have some insight into what's going on, I want to hear your opinion. Hell, if it's clear that I'm totally misreading the situation, then tell me. Just...be more careful next time.” Thedus nodded gratefully. “Understood ma'am, I will take that under advisement.” “By the way, how's your gear? Are you good to mount up so soon after your transfer?” “I'll be ready, ma'am,” Thedus replied with a quick nod. “Where will you want me?” “First, take this time to get to know the company,” Reyolé rattled off briskly, now all business. “Once we head out, stick with first and second platoon, as I'll be coordinating third and fourth. We maintain opchans on squad, platoon, and company levels but I'll need you to maintain an open link to Tac Two-Seven for private chatter. Tac Two-Eight is for direct communications with Fleet and is only to be used in an emergency; I'll be handling those calls. Anything else?” Thedus was momentarily lost for words, which was saying something considering his usual flippant nature. It was because of this that he had been rather badly harangued by the master gunnery sergeant during his stint at ISTS. “Tell me truly, ma'am, what happens if the Mandalorian fleet does show up?” he asked finally. “Then you find out what I said earlier about the best fights finding you,” the commander said cryptically. “Dismissed.” — — — Besh Company, Thedus decided, was a fairly good representative of the Corps' ethos. At least, as far as he had known it those few times he'd ever billeted alongside a Marine unit. Most of them tended to be pretty rowdy during downtime, probably because they didn't get very much of it. If Commander Reyolé was any indication, then he was without a doubt an oddity among the Republic Marines' officer corps; this impression seemed to be reinforced by the up-front and frank attitudes of the platoon leaders and their seconds. Lieutenants Lanoli, Plixin, Sercote, and Alders, who commanded the first, second, third and fourth platoons, respectively, were all OCS graduates. Thedus had earned his commission in the Army by attending the academy on Carida, which meant he'd spent four years on that high-grav world toughening up his body and sharpening his mind. It was clear that his subordinates, however, had a lot more field experience. “If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I'm surprised Commander Reyolé let you live,” Alders said after swallowing a mouthful of nerf steak. “First day on duty and you interrupt the CO? That's grounds for execution in some civilizations.” “Heh, I've heard of her assigning laps for much less,” Plixin chimed in. “Laps?” Thedus asked, puzzled. “What's so difficult about running laps?” The junior lieutenants all exchanged glances, then looked back on their XO with identical grins. “Sir, do you know how long a Centurion-class battlecruiser is?” “Lanoli said. “They're twelve hundred meters from stem to stern, so that means a lap around the ship is about three klicks. She'll make you run them in full armor and kit, including your weapon.” “Have any of you actually had to do that?” Thedus asked, cocking a disbelieving brow at the platoon leaders. “Do we look that stupid, sir?” Sercote asked with a shrug. “Nah, she's only done that to a few privates and one of my corporals. The Navy doesn't like us kriffing around with the ration supply, so they won't let her assign KP.” Several bites later, a commotion began to develop a few tables over, where some Navy officers were enjoying their own meal. Thedus payed it no heed at first, until... “...so the jarheads finally got all their people, including a mud marine of all things.” Thedus recognized the term “mud marine,” it was commonly-used slang for someone who joined the Corps after being recruited from the Army. Its counterpart for Navy personnel was “void marine,” which Thedus thought was quite apt. However, there was no way he was going to let some Navy space-jockey get away with calling him mud. Grabbing a handful of steak and gravy, he leaned back, identified the offender, cocked his arm, and let fly. The Navy man never saw it coming; the glob of food hit him square on the nose. “Good arm,” Alders said approvingly. “FOOD FIGHT!” yelled another Navy officer, following the proclamation with his own edible missile. It missed Thedus by centimeters, who had ducked underneath its arc, causing the hurled vegetable to smack another officer in the back of his bald, belekkued head. The green Twi'lek male, a truly massive being dressed in Marine BDUs, glared at Thedus and then at the pitcher. He nodded at the Navy officer, a gesture which seemed to be a mute signal of acceptance. The air was soon thick with flying rations. “Atten-SHUN!” bellowed a well-projected female voice five minutes later, a bellow which succeeded in switching off the lunchtime brawl as though it were a glowrod. “What the KRIFF is going on here?!” Thedus, who had just hurled a lump of mashed tubers when the shout came, stood to attention and twitched his gaze in the direction of the new arrival. When he saw that it was Commander Reyolé, his heart did a somersault. Given the subtle groans coming from his new subordinates, he could sense that they too were fearing the worst. It was probably fortunate that, within this mess area, the Marine officers were outnumbered more than two to one by their Navy counterparts. Reyolé strode up and down the mess area, ascertaining the damage done and occasionally shooting filthy looks at particularly guilty-looking junior officers. After what seemed like an eternity, she arrived at where Thedus and her other officers were standing. “Just tell me one thing,” she whispered coldly. “Tell me you weren't the one to throw the first shot.” Thedus swallowed hard. “I can't tell you that, ma'am.” “Then please, tell me what in all the galaxy could have possibly compelled you to start this?” she asked, folding her arms once again and pursing her lips tightly in a thin line. Her stare seemed to bore into him, and he had to work to resist adjusting his collar. “Ma'am...” he began. “...one of my esteemed colleagues in the Republic Navy referred to myself as a 'mud marine,' and the company as being 'jarheads.' I could not in good conscience allow this slight go unaddressed.” If Thedus had thought that her lips couldn't get any thinner, he was wrong. “Stow the melodramatics, Mr. Bimm. Consider yourself on report for the time being, with your punishment to be determined if you survive the mission. This has got to be a new record for the Corps; first day on official duty and you're already in the doghouse not once, but twice.” Turning gracefully, she strode to the head of the mess area. “All you Navy void-brains, start cleaning up this mess, now! Marines, report to your barracks and clean yourselves up; you are confined to quarters until mission go.” — — — By the time he reported to the hangar bay for the mission—doing so five minutes earlier than the commander had ordered—Thedus was almost praying that the Mandos would come and rescue him from this disciplinary nightmare. He considered himself a capable, if untested, officer; the people under his command had always seemed willing to follow him with a minimum of fuss. He had been doing well in the Army before Captain Yagato had passed along the recommendation. He had in fact graduated near the top of his class at the Academy, where he had specialized in small-unit tactics and counterattacks, as well as dabbling in covert ops. But as a Marine...he didn't really know what it was he wanted. His thoughts were hazy and unfocused as he glanced over the hangar itself, where the dropships were arranged in two columns. Besh Company was shipping out aboard a total of ten of the Corps' purpose-built assault landers, which was more than twice what they needed. It seemed to be a simple thing, this operation: jump into the system, descend in the landers, send the civvies up all in one go, then wait for them to debark and send the empty landers back, with a fighter escort if necessary. Stop worrying! he admonished himself as the rest of the company entered the hangar and formed up prior to departure. Just get through this mission, then you can face down the gundark when other people aren't trying to shoot you! As the last of the troopers fell in, Commander Reyolé stepped over to the front of the formation. “Alright, let's get'em boarded!” she barked, getting things going without preamble. “First platoon, second platoon, you'll be with Lieutenant Bimm; third platoon, fourth platoon, you'll be on me. No more than two squads to a transport! Move!” “Take the landers on the left!” Thedus ordered once the CO headed for her own transport. “Platoon leaders, load at your discretion!” Suiting action to words, he galloped up to the first lander in his column, boarding it by its rear ramp and taking a seat next to its forward portside hatchway. It occurred to him then that he'd never before been in one of these Jarhead-class landers, as they were called. The practice drops he'd conducted during ISTS had been aboard Ministry-class orbital shuttles, which seemed rather pointless in retrospect seeing as how these craft were vastly better-suited to the role. The interior was comfortably large, and had enough seats for ten people in addition to an entire platoon's worth; doubtless it could hold more passengers if they weren't in full battle kit. As he strapped himself in, another armored Marine took the seat to his right, tapping him on the shoulder plate. “Excuse me sir, may I have a word?” “Go ahead,” Thedus said dully. “First Sergeant Karmana Till,” the woman introduced herself. The melodious tint to her voice caused Thedus to speculate that she was not actually Human. “I heard about what happened in the officers' mess.” “I'm sure you were thrilled, Sergeant,” Thedus grumbled. He realized that, as Besh Company's senior noncom, she was the link between officer and enlisted and certainly knew Commander Reyolé better than he did. “What's the word on our fearless leader, anyway?” “Commander Reyolé was only assigned to us sixteen days ago,” the noncom replied with a shrug. “She's about the only person in the outfit who has combat experience, so I trust that she knows what she's doing.” “But how do I get her to like me?” Thedus asked, hating the petulance in his own voice. “Just take it easy in future,” Till replied. “Let her get a chance to know you before you start taking liberties. Third Bat isn't the strictest outfit in the Corps, and it seems to work well enough that way.” “Noted, Sergeant,” Thedus replied, and it was his turn to shrug. “Thanks for the advice.” “Anytime, LT,” she replied, a bit of pep in her voice. — — — Thirty minutes later, the company was on its way to the surface of Sigdooine. Thedus was sharing his lander with the first sergeant, as well as the first two squads of the first platoon. As the lander began to enter the upper atmosphere, it started to vibrate more severely as it met thicker and thicker air; Thedus supposed the pilots must be doing a nosedive for the jostling to be this intense, but for a combat drop it was the optimal vector; straight down and on the target before they realize what's coming. About a minute before the scheduled arrival time, the internal comm crackled to life. “Pilot to passengers, I've got an update for ya,” said a male with a thick Corellian accent. “New plan is to drop in the town square; turns out the population's a bit bigger than initially thought.” Great, just great, Thedus muttered in his head. As if this mission has enough risks... “Pilot, understood,” the first sergeant replied, reaching across Thedus's lap to hit the comm switch. “We're ready for touchdown.” “Thirty seconds!” the pilot replied. “Brace brace brace!” Thedus yelled as he unstrapped himself, stood, and grabbed hold of an overhead grip-loop. “I want everyone out within fifteen seconds of landing!” “Sir, yes SIR!” the two squads of Marines replied, following his lead. The last of them had barely gotten a grip when the lander hauled up on its belly, pulling out of its dive with tremendous effort. The inertial compensator was overloaded by the maneuver, resulting in the troopers swaying to the rear with the force of it. No one lost their grips, however, and the craft impacted the ground with a sonorous thud! “Move move move!” Thedus ordered as the side hatches and rear ramp hissed open. He was second behind the company sergeant to exit the craft; following her lead, he sprinted for the nearest cover as the rest of the landers arrived. “Where the hell are we?” he asked once he, the sergeant, and the first squad squatted on the near side of a low brick wall. “Is this the village square?” “Looks like it, LT,” Till replied with another shrug. In removing her helmet she confirmed Thedus's earlier assumption, revealing that she was in fact a Zeltron; her violet hair went well with the deep magenta of her skin. Producing a comlink, the first sergeant flicked a switch and brought it to her helmet. “Citizens of Sigdooine,” she said, her voice magnified by the comlink's setting. “The Republic Marines have come here to assist you. Please assemble at the center of town and we will do our best to make this process quick and orderly.” She began to repeat the summons, walking amongst the outer area of the large, open space that looked to be the center of whatever community the pioneer team had built. Tentatively at first, the town's populace, who were exclusively Human, came out from their homes and whatever shops were in view. The rest of the company had landed by now, and the sergeant's message was being repeated by Commander Reyolé. Gesturing for the two squads that had exited the lander with him to set up secured positions nearby, Thedus set out to find the company commander. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Bimm,” she said when he hailed her. “Looks like we've hit a snag.” “It could be worse, Commander,” Thedus replied nonchalantly. “You don't know the half of it, Lieutenant,” Reyolé said with a rueful air. “Oi! What the hell d'you think yer doin' here, ya bloody jarheads!” yelled a voice from off to their left. The two officers turned to see a well-dressed, middle-aged male with a generous beard and mustache—not to mention a distinctly well-fed appearance—striding indignantly toward them. “This is an independent community, we want nothing from yer Republic!” “Oh, here we go,” the commander growled under her breath before doffing her helmet. Thedus did likewise, and the two strode forward to meet what had to be the town's leader—or the president of the whole damn planet. “Are you in charge here?” “Yer too bloody right I'm in charge!” the man replied hotly. “Governor Tier Grordick's the name, and our people are not subject to your laws!” “This planet is in danger, Governor,” Reyolé shot back, equally adamant. “Taris has fallen to the Mandalorian clans, and we—” “And they can bloody well have it, then, can't they?” the governor shouted, waving a dismissive hand. “We're not some colony, beholden ter some corporation or what have ya, we came here to get away from that urban cesspit!” “If you don't leave now, Governor, then your people will be next on Mandalore's list of targets!” the commander admonished loudly. “You risk a great deal by staying here!” Thedus Bimm considered himself a laid-back kind of person, even during the course of his duties. But he wasn't blind, nor was he ignorant of how people tended to interact, and he could sense the approaching impasse. Hoping to head it off, he held up a hand to halt the governor's reply even as the bearded man sucked in his breath. “Commander, if I may,” he said, casting a sideways glance at his superior officer. “By all means, Lieutenant,” she said flatly, crossing her arms over her breastplate. “Governor, I realize that your people value their independence,” Thedus said to the official. “We value it too, that's why we're out here in the first place.” “A fantastic way to show it, sending in a dozen assault ships,” he said sarcastically. “You going to push us in at blasterpoint, then?” “You mistake our intentions, Governor,” Thedus replied, unfazed by the rebuke. “You see, my commander here knows what it's like to face the Mandalorians in battle. She fought them on the Rim, and knows how brutally-effective they can be.” “So? What of it?” “Governor, the fact of the matter is this,” Thedus began, holding up his fingers and ticking off items for emphasis. “One, this planet is ripe for the plundering: it's got farmland, minerals, even a close proximity to a well-traveled hyperlane. Two, this town is hardly the ideal location to fight a battle. And three, wishing no offense to you or your people, you're not trained soldiers and would be overwhelmed rather quickly. Is that about the size of it, Commander?” “As much as I hate to admit it, my subordinate is correct,” Reyolé quipped, her demeanor relaxing somewhat. “Governor, we really do want what is best for your people.” “I still don't trust yer Republic,” he scoffed, though his head had deflated a bit. “The least you could've done was send a message.” “Such a communiqué could easily have been intercepted, Governor, and I think you realize that,” Thedus replied. “But if you feel this strongly, why not tell your people the facts and they can decide for themselves?” “What's ter stop me telling them they're best left alone?” the politician grumbled, but then he turned away and brought out his own comlink. — — — It didn't take long for the thousand people living in the town to make their choice. Nearly all of them agreed to be ferried Coreward aboard the Republic warship; those who refused were either pressured into leaving by their families or else told simply that the majority had spoken and packed aboard a lander anyway. An hour after his craft had arrived on the surface, Thedus was watching it ascend into the sky, this time loaded with a hundred villagers packed in shoulder-to-shoulder. There had been no alternative to stuffing the Jarhead landers thus; there was no time for a second run, and every minute of delay increased the odds of the Marines' position being compromised. As the last of them vanished from sight, the troopers and officers of Besh Company were working feverishly to set up defensive positions, saving the demolitions for emergency use since there was nothing here worth blowing up that the Mandos wouldn't likely trash themselves if they came to call. Thedus, meanwhile, had mounted the roof of the village's tallest building, where he had begun to scan the outskirts for signs of trouble. “Room for one more up here?” a voice said, interrupting his observations. Thedus looked back at the access door to see Commander Reyolé, who was hefting a BR-12m rifle in sniper configuration with practiced ease. Careful to keep his surprise at her choice of weapon hidden, he offered her a halfhearted salute. “Of course, Commander. Looks like everyone's settling in; if the Mandos decide to move on our position, we won't make it easy for them.” “Good,” she said, then began unfolding her rifle's bipod as she strode toward the roof's edge. “Care to spot for an old sniper?” “I...didn't realize you did that, Commander,” Thedus replied uncertainly as he took a knee beside her now-prone form and bringing his macrobinoculars back up. “I've never heard of...” “I wasn't always an officer, Mr. Bimm,” she said, adjusting her rifle's scope. “My first deployment was as a scout/sniper fresh out of advanced training. It's a good line of work, if you've got the skills.” “Must have come in handy on Bad Alshir,” Thedus said. “Got seven confirmed kills that way, all without having to leave my headquarters,” the commander agreed with a chuckle. “That was after the transparisteel had been blown out by a near-miss from a proton mortar round, of course.” Thedus laughed at that; to his surprise, Commander Reyolé joined in. “That was some smooth talking down there, Lieutenant,” she admitted once the mirth had run its course. “I probably couldn't have made the governor see sense otherwise.” Thedus shrugged. “It wasn't all that difficult, ma'am. In my experience, civilian leaders are a lot more concerned with appearances, with 'acting the part' and what have you. I just played to his tune.” “Ah, politics,” the commander remarked with disdain, getting up from her position and shouldering her rifle. “If there's one thing at which I rank dead last, then that is it...”
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