Very well done, Mach. Out of curiosity, the Mandalorians have no ships in orbit, and, as such, are taking only the captured shuttle to escape?
It should also seem that the Government is a Theocracy, rather than a dictatorship. I also like the Mandalorians' cohesion is spectacular. I'm surprised that they wouldn't have snipers in the trees to begin with?
Overall, there were a few grammatical errors (there needs to be a quotation mark in the sentence 'You hear. Hear and Obey'), but otherwise a good chapter. :)
The escape plan will be explained in the next section. As for not having snipers in the trees, I didn't primarily because just sitting up there might get them caught in what is happening.
I like your battle sequences a lot, Mach. They seem to be well thought out, and they're well executed. :) Where are you getting all your Mando'a? I can't find some of the words on Wookiepedia. :confused: SOme I had to create because the mando'a dictionary I have so far doesn't have a word for 'duck'
The escape plan will be explained in the next section. As for not having snipers in the trees, I didn't primarily because just sitting up there might get them caught in what is happening.
*Applauds loudly* Where did you get your Mando'a dictionary, anyway?
Yes, very nice job so far Mach! :golfclap:
*Applauds loudly* Where did you get your Mando'a dictionary, anyway?
Someone in the expert's forum listed one, which is a list of words from the first Republic Commando book. There is also Mando 101 (
http://www.completewermosguide.com/mandalorian.html) and Mandalorian language (
http://home.sol.se/Mandalore/generalinfo/library/language.htm)
Zakal? Weakling?
Phhht. She could probably take that guy apart with one hand tied behind her back.
Zakal? Weakling?
Phhht. She could probably take that guy apart with one hand tied behind her back.
That was what I was going for, kid. She may be physically weaker, but no one on either side of the conflict is within shouting distance when it comes to intelligence and as you will soon discover, guile.
Writing can be interesting, especially when you're in my head when it happens.
You see; Zakal has at the moment, the most dangerous job in a fighting retreat. In fact I had to change one scene in the next section because of two people, Merisa and Berek.
I had it blocked out, Zakal getting the info from the enemy, fighting and dying in that tent. She was actually accepting of this, primarily because if you think about it, it's a very Mandalorian way to die.
Next thing I know, Merisa jumps off the shuttle. I was thinking 'What the eff'?
So I suddenly got the writer's equivalent of the Ghosts of Christmas from A Christmas Carol. Merisa as past, saying, 'But I like Zakal! And you're killing her off, you meanie!'
Then Berek as Christmas Present saying 'Hey, you decided I like her and she dies before... you know? No way!'
Then Zakal who merely smiled and said, 'Besides, I'm too much fun to just kill off, right?'
So I had to create an entire chunk you will not see until the next section to explain how they got out alive.
Oh, in case you're wondering, the plan the Mandalorians are using is based on an actual historical incident. In November of 1981, 42 mercenaries under the command of the Famous Mike (Mad Mike) Hoare arrived in the Seychelle Islands intending to take out the premier of the socialist country and install a democratic government.
However fate or an idiot mercenary intervened. One of them brought something that alerted the rather lacksadaisical customs officers that something wasn't right, causing the alarm to be raised. With all of their heavy weapons packed in crates, Hoare and company were outnumbered and outgunned.
Taking their weapons from enemy troops, they had to retreat. They did so by hijacking an airplane that was about to take off and escaped.
However it did not end well. Hoare ended up with a ten year prison sentence, and the others recieved lesser sentences, their passports taken away so they were unable to leave South Africa again.
Let's hope the Mando do better, eh?
Merisa ran to tent where Zakal was. The forest was just… gone. It lay like an idle game of pick up sticks being played by the gods. There was no one in sight but the other Mando, and she almost shouted in relief, but the cry died as she saw half a dozen men in enemy uniform breaking cover, using Zakal’s tent as cover to run forward. She screamed Zakal’s name as she burst through the tent flap.
Zakal looked up, eyes widening at the pint sized girl with the bucket on her head burst in, drawing her gun. “There are men heading here now!”
Zakal sighed. “I knew that, little sister. I wanted some answers, and I knew they would come for me of all of us.” She waved. “Leave the gun in the holster, and wait.”
Berek head the scream, spinning to see the last of the men running into the tent. He leaped up, running toward the tent. He knew he’d be too late.
The men burst in. They weren’t moving with the droid like movements of the others. These moved like soldiers. One of them sneered at Zakal. “Well met, infidel.” He pulled a set of cuffs from his belt. “Welcome to the service of god.”
“What I do not understand is why you needed us.” Zakal leaned on the table, idly playing with the laser pointer on her desk. “You world is what, thirty hours transit from Mando’yaim. We’re close enough to hire if you need us.”
“We need true believers, not scum.” He snarled. “Three weeks of eating our food would have made you one with god.”
“I had figured that out. Your insistence made sure we would not, though.”
“Soon enough you will.” The man said as if it was as sure as the sun rising. “When you have embraced god we would have had you bring more, and take our food there. Your home world would have joined us willing, marching in the fore to lead the righteous to their destiny, and control of the Galaxy.”
Zakal sighed, picking up the laser pointer. “Such a pathetic plan. Listen I would really like to explain why it won’t work, but I am busy. Now I must warn you I have a laser, so just let us go and you can go back to your fantasy, all right?”
Berek kept running. He was almost to the tent when suddenly a laser beam punched through tent and began sweeping toward him! He dived, the beam passing over his head before it died out. “Zakal!” He screamed. He leaped to his feet running to the tent, peering through the opening caused by the sections that had been cut.
Zakal sat at her desk, a laser pointer in her hand. She tossed it aside as it began to smoke, rubbing the blisters on her hand. “What are you doing here?” She demanded.
Berek was stunned, but replied, “Well it’s believed that the old gods took smoke fire blood and steel from a battle, and made the first warriors of our race.”
Zakal stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. Before she spoke Merisa replied. “Odd. In the Book of the way it is
said that god took river mud and the blood from his own hands to make us.”
Zakal put her hands on the desk, bringing her head down with an audible thump. The manner suggested that she had wanted to slam it down hard enough to shatter, but didn’t have time. “What I meant,” she asked dangerously, “was why you, squad leader are here, not with your men.”
“The enemy has paused to think. I considered we weren’t done with you as our coordinator, so I decided to relocate you inside the perimeter.”
She gave him an appraising look. “Such long words.” She looked at Merisa. “And you?”
There was a tooth rattling hum, and the back of the tent fell. Ciara stormed through like a war goddess. She stopped, putting away her vibro-sword as she stalked forward. “Yes, Daughter, mine? I would really like to know why you are here instead of aboard the shuttle safe. Well?”
“I thought about Zakal being here, and didn’t want to see her die. So I came to help.” Merisa said in a tiny voice.
“Repeat that sentence starting with ‘I did not think’, and stop after that.” Ciara snarled. Merisa did as she was bid. The armored hand tightened into a fist, as if she were resisting the urge to punch the child, then extended and a single finger flicked out thumping the girl’s helmet. It would have a hurt a bit if she had not had the helmet, but as with any such punishment, it was more embarrassing than painful. “What good does a bucket do you if you don’t use your brain?”
“Ciara, I love your teaching style, but we do not have the time.” Zakal commented. “But they are not going to stand around stupid for long.” She looked at Berek. “So is there a brain in that bucket, Squad leader? How do you move my chair fast?”
Berek slung his rifle, slid an arm under the woman’s knees, another behind her shoulders and lifted her.
“What about my chair, you Di’Kut?” She snarled.
“I’ll buy you another.” He snapped. Now shut up, we’re rescuing you.”
Zakal looked at him, then looked down grinning shyly. “Such a sweet talker!” She looked to Ciara. “Neither Merisa or I have a rifle, so if you would, please?”
Berek ran from the tent carrying the woman. A moment later Merisa ran out carrying the belts of the dead men with their bandoliers, Ciara pacing her with two of the local rifles. They reached the others, and Zakal tapped a sequence on her pad. With almost silent thumps all of the tents collapsed, leaving clear fields of fire.
Ciara showed the girl how to work the action of one of the rifles, and Merisa slung three belts of ammunition on herself. Zakal worked the action a with professional manner, then slung her own ammo. They actually had more than their compatriots. Still the enemy had not yet come.
“What are they waiting for?” A man near them asked. “There are enough of them to walk in and beat us to death with rocks!”
“They are trying to figure out what went wrong.” Zakal said, the rifle snapping down to point. “They’re typical politicians and civilians. To a civilian a warrior is nothing more than a programmed man who goes and dies for the government, and the government thinks that soldiers obey out of love of the government.
“So throwing 16,000 men against 80 is simple numbers. But we proved that wrong with 60 to one casualties when they thought they could ‘walk in’ and take us. Now they are reconsidering. Perhaps someone on their own side is bright enough to think of other ways, but they will have to move fast. Shoji is commandeering space on a Coruscanti ship as we speak, but we have to hold until he is done.”
The time stretched. Men were moving closer, the makeshift abatis was slowing the enemy advance, but no one had passed beyond it yet, a sign that someone on the other side was thinking. The enemy had learned from the attempts to use loudspeakers or comlinks to pass orders that all it had done was give the snipers targets, so there was nothing there to be heard. Using thermal and sonic imaging, they knew almost 4,000 men were now just beyond the first section of tree trunks.
All of the older warriors grew grim. War is the most Darwinian of processes. Those who survived were the ones who were lucky enough to have lived long enough to learn what not to do. Their enemy, even if they were arm chair warriors were getting a crash course.
The fifty-five men women and one girl in the circle prepared for the fight of their lives.
The shuttle had not yet reported that they were coming. There were now almost 6,000 men hiding inside the abatis. “If they had a brain, they’d try both smoke and stun grenades together.” Zakal mused. “It wouldn’t hurt you in the Beskargam, but Merisa and I would be discommoded. And the smoke would slow you down a bit, allowing them a chance to slip closer.
“Of course we can hope they stay stupid.”
Almost as she finished there were thumps as grenade launchers began firing. Hundreds of grenades began to fall among the Mando. Berek dived at the same moment Ciara did, each tackling someone. Merisa felt the pulses of concussion as the helmet automatically blocked out the flashes that would had knocked her into confusion. To the side Berek lay protecting Zakal, who had been intelligent enough to close her eyes, even though she was reeling. She looked up, her hand resting against his cheek.
“Berek, you’re so… heavy.”
“Get ready!” Ciara screamed, rolling away from Merisa, rifle up as almost a thousand of the enemy troops leaped the last tree trunks, running toward them. The guns barked, ripping into the enemy troops. The last of them collapsed less than five meters from them.
“Stupid.” Zakal shook her head. “But that means smoke next.”
She was wrong, but only because the enemy was learning faster than she had anticipated. Smoke grenades began to fall around them, and the warriors switched to thermal imaging as the enemy sent in not a thousand but two thousand. The smoke slowed their fire, but not by much. But as they passed 30 meters suddenly there was another flurry of stun grenades. As they began another wave of thousands began to run forward.
Merisa aimed, her helmet setting the caret and she squeezed the trigger, the unseen enemy falling. She ignored him switching to another. She had just shot him when a stun grenade landed beside her. She felt the concussion knocking her from her feet, staring into the sky as a shape like a raptor bird suddenly shot over her head.
bumped it because I drove it half way down the page trying to clear up where I need to go back to work as the critic. sorry guys
Great chapter, Mach!
I think I'm echoing myself...but still, great chapter! I love battle scenes! :xp: (That was great with the laser)
Great chapter, Mach!
I think I'm echoing myself...but still, great chapter! I love battle scenes! :xp: (That was great with the laser) Remember what I said about guile? The girl is someone that if she had been hale would have been James Bond instead of Sir Francis Walsingham. So I made her a nice toy and even used a bondesque line before. After all, she did warn them...
Excellent Chapter, Mach!! The Action scenes are awesome!!!!!!!
You changed Kiara's name to Ciara ;D Very nice, and it's amazing to see Zakal's tactics in play! The government obviously has a very high opinion of Mando'a strength (I mean, 16000 against 80? O_O), and it's apparently for good reason. It's a little odd how they wised up so abruptly after springing all the traps and taking casualties, but you could say that they've killed all the dumb ones in the chain of command;o As always, well done. There's some missing punctuation, and a couple of sentences that are kinda confusing, so I'll have to use your own advice on you ;) Polish!
You changed Kiara's name to Ciara ;D Very nice, and it's amazing to see Zakal's tactics in play! The government obviously has a very high opinion of Mando'a strength (I mean, 16000 against 80? O_O), and it's apparently for good reason. It's a little odd how they wised up so abruptly after springing all the traps and taking casualties, but you could say that they've killed all the dumb ones in the chain of command;o As always, well done. There's some missing punctuation, and a couple of sentences that are kinda confusing, so I'll have to use your own advice on you ;) Polish!
As for the name change, all I have to say is... oops.
And the problem as Zakal said, is some people are stupid enough to believe numbers are the most important factor. Both the Chinese in Korea and the Soviet Russians during WWII used human wave attacks 'knowing' that as Stalin said, 'quantity has a quality all it's own'. They obviously thought 'We have a division, they have a light company... We'll roll right over them before they can do anything' which is that argument personified. Look at Thermoplae with 6000 Greeks led by 300 Spartans. Who do you think was going to win? The truth is the bigger battalions did win, but it took them three days to push them out of the way.
Anyone who believes that should have said the Coalition that went into Iraq either time were going to lose automatically because the Iraqis had 16 divisions the first time (Against 3 divisions and an armored Cav Regiment) and 11 the second (Against Three US Divisions and One British Brigade).
As for how they wised up, that was a mistake the Mando made, which will be explained shortly.
Very nice addition, Mach (missed it due to the reviews of the ancient threads :p)! The descriptions of the fight itself were very nice, especially the final holding action. I'm not surprised that the Mandalorians are doing that well, but the skirmish was more of a slaughter than it was a fight.
At any rate, nice job! As Bee mentioned, there were a few punctuation errors, but otherwise a great chapter. Keep up the good work. :)
*Cheers for Zakal and worries for Merisa* Come on, guys! Make the enemy one with god!
Very nice addition, Mach (missed it due to the reviews of the ancient threads :p)! The descriptions of the fight itself were very nice, especially the final holding action. I'm not surprised that the Mandalorians are doing that well, but the skirmish was more of a slaughter than it was a fight.
At any rate, nice job! As Bee mentioned, there were a few punctuation errors, but otherwise a great chapter. Keep up the good work. :) As much as politicians think it will work 'shooting to wound' is not a good idea. So it would be smart to use some way to disable at a distance but the enemy isn't that bright obviously.
Today
Merisa looked around the circle. It was custom to look first to the elders, but she ignored that. This was for the young, those who were in training. They had not yet gone through the first battle. The Elders had been through this already, knew the answers. She paused, waiting until it became unbearable.
One of the young ones asked the question she had been waiting for. “But what could they do?”
Merisa smiled. The first time she had told this tale one of the young had come up with the question within seconds. But she had been one of them and those ‘older and wiser’ than her had complained.
“They had two choices.” Merisa told them. “Fight or surrender. What will you do when it is your time?” She looked around the chastened young. “As I chose.”
*****
Fifty years before.
“I’m out!” Someone screamed, dropping his rifle as he drew his beskad, readying himself for the fight to come. One by one others did the same. The first rush had been blunted by mines and grenades. The most recent rush however had used up the grenades, and now was running through their ammunition like sand through an hourglass. Even the most careful had less than two magazines left. Berek dropped his heavy weapon, grabbing the rifle Zakal had brought. An inferior weapon, but at least something better than a beskad when it came to range.
And we didn’t bring more grenades because they were hoping to capture their enemies. Like us…
He was worried about the blood that ran from Zakal’s ears and nose. The enemy may want them alive, but didn’t seem to care about the condition. He turned, the Bucket as efficient with this weapon as any other as he screamed. “Hold what you’ve got!”
The ammunition ran down as they kept servicing targets. More and more called empty, and as the fire slackened, more of the enemy got closer. They would be close enough to hold down the Mando in minutes.
“Be ready! Death or glory!” Berek called. The closest thing the Mando had to ‘don’t let yourself be captured‘.
Suddenly another voice cut in. “Mando! Voor’shi!”
Everyone dived for cover instinctively. A second later fire walked through the enemy troops as fighter cannon blasted them into gobbets. Then two white shapes passing at the speed of heat lifted over the buildings in the distance and were gone. Before they disappeared, red patterns could be seen on the ventral wings.
A few moments later grenades began to drop into the section not already blown clear by fighter cannon. A shuttle dropped toward them, spinning to reveal an open door and an empty cargo bay.
*****
Merisa could see, but didn’t really understand. She saw a helmet above her, knew somehow that it was a friend and family. The woman’s voice kept speaking, but she didn’t understand.
*****
There was room for almost 40, but there was room for more if they packed in like cattle. Only two people, the worst wounded were guaranteed a seat. The Mando were pragmatic.
They packed. Zakal and Merisa were strapped in, and the other fifteen people without seats grabbed onto whatever they could. “Go!” Kiara screamed.
The shuttle lifted, staggering under the overload. Berek had shoved his way to the front as they lifted, a Mando at the controls waved in a jaunty manner. “Too busy to talk; the enemy called up reinforcements.”
On the sensor screen Berek could see fighters closing from in front, weapons hot. “Chaff and flares!” He ordered.
“A great idea if those Di’Kut had added them.” The pilot said blandly. “But no one bothered to ask us.” On the screen the enemy fighter had finished their hairpin turn and were coming back. They were closing at an alarming rate.
“Are you just going to ignore them?” Berek shouted.
“Orders.” The pilot said. Blasts were causing the shuttle to shudder and rock as it was buffeted by the thermal bloom. “Because if we change course-”
There was a screaming sound as two white fighters passed so close Berek was sure he could have read their numbers, if they had any.
“-they might run into us.”
The fighter’s laser cannon raved and the half dozen enemy atmospheric fighters dropped to only one in less time than he had expected. The shuttle cleared the atmosphere, headed toward a ship now in low orbit.
The shuttle landed, men gratefully finding more space in the landing bay. The crew was conspicuously absent. A few moments later one of the fighters that had covered their retreat slid through the mono-directional force field, cannon smoking as it settled to the deck. A moment later the other ship landed.
The Mando readied what weapons they had left as the cockpits opened. A man stood in the cockpit of the first fighter, a moment later his motions were duplicated in the second fighter. Both men dropped to the deck, moving with the ease of predatory beasts. They stopped, close enough to be fired on, but not close enough to fight hand to hand.
“Mando, I bid you welcome.” The older of the two men, a man with striking features and black slick hair said. “My name is Kun, Jedi Knight.”
*****
Merisa remembered hands taking her to lay her on something soft. Then suddenly her eyes opened. The first thing she realized was that the stylized symbols of her HUD were gone. She was seeing with her eyes. A figure in a chair lay against the bed as if she had fallen asleep waiting. Merisa reached out, touching the silken hair.
“Kiara.” She whispered.
The woman flinched, then leaned back, yawning. “So you’re awake?” She asked. “Too stupid to listen, but you lived through it.” She leaned back, stretching. “So what have you learned, my daughter? Will you be a warrior or only a citizen of our world?”
Merisa considered it. Being assigned to guard the other children, which still left her questions she wished answered. Trying to save Zakal then the frantic defense against hordes of men. “I have never felt so terrified, unsure or alive, mother.” She admitted. “I wish to learn if I can be as strong as you or Zakal. If I can go to fight.”
Kiara grinned ruffling her hair. “If you’re feeling better we can visit Zakal.”
“Oh please?”
It took moments to find the Coruscanti doctor, and get permission for the girl to go down the passageway with her mother. Zakal lay in her own bed, Berek held her hand and she looked from his face, and grinned. “Up and about little sister?”
“Yes.” Merisa looked down then up.
“I think you have questions for me, little one. Ask.”
“Why were you willing to trust me?” She asked bluntly.
“Water.”
“Water?” Merisa stared at her. “Why is water so important?”
“Little one, the government began treating the water for the cities four years ago. Over time they reduced the people to a very suggestive state. Then they used subliminal signals to train the people of your world to be slaves to their vision of god. It didn’t work completely. Your father among others figured out what was happening, and went into hiding. The Government ignored them.
“As they began to gain control, they spread to processed food, snacks, prepared meals, drinks. Your family was the only one during our raids that had nothing of that sort. Your mother had flour from grain grown on your own land or freshly bought still un-ground. Milk from your own herd who drank water from the streams or well and ate the native vegetation. Eggs of your own birds, fed with the same grain you ground for flour, all untainted.
“But the government hit a problem. Your father was not the only one free. Some of the others were older military men, and they were able to hold off their feeble attempts. You see, when you have soldiers, you need more than blind obedience to orders. You need men who can use their initiative.
“So they needed proper soldiers. Soldiers untainted by their poisons. They needed us.”
“Very good.” They looked at the man who came in. He was dark skinned lithe, and tall. He wore long flowing robe Merisa had never seen before. “I should mention, Zakal, that your head set was still transmitting when you gave your discourse on what they should do. Your enemy learned what they needed to do to succeed, albeit too late.
“Jettiise.” Zakal nodded toward him. “I think we have you to thank for our survival?”
The man chuckled. “No. Most of you would have gotten out without our assistance. But the Coruscanti government might not have let you go.” He cocked his head. “According to the Karenti Authorities, you fired into the men intended to keep you from interacting with the locals. When they moved in to subdue you, you brutally killed an estimated 7,000 of them with massive firepower greater than your contract stipulates. You also seem to have stolen two prototype snub fighters to aid in your escape.” He smiled at the reference to the Jedi snub fighters.
“They demand return of all of you for trial, return of their stolen fighters, and repatriation of the children ‘kidnapped’ by you.” He motioned toward Merisa. “Whom they feel to be brainwashed.”
“How self serving.” Zakal commented dryly. “Did they mention using chemicals to program their own people?”
“That did slip their minds, obviously.” The Jedi took a seat. “Now what shall we do with you?”
“Do?” Berek stood. He towered over the slim Jedi by half a meter.
The man looked up at him. “Calm yourself vode.” The Jedi looked back to Zakal. “The government of Karenta has been informed that you were acting on their violation of the contract and as such are not criminals. We pointed out that forcing you to eat their food was not part of the original contract. That adoption of survivors was negotiated as an addendum to the contract, and not negotiable.
“We also pointed out that snub fighters belonging to the Republic Judiciary department were not theirs to seize.” He looked around. Then leaned forward, chin on his cupped hands. “Now that all of that has been taken care of, what are we to do with you?”
Very nice chapter, Mach. I'm very glad that the government's methods have finally been explained, and, as it seems, that the Mandalorians are finally free from "Karenta," which seems to be the planet.
Also, it seemed that the "water" reference was never explained (or was that just me)? Zakal mentioned the government's treachery, but never why water was so important (aside from not being in Merisa's water, which would've made Merisa...) Never mind. :p
All in all, a very interesting chapter, Mach.
Very nice chapter, Mach. I'm very glad that the government's methods have finally been explained, and, as it seems, that the Mandalorians are finally free from "Karenta," which seems to be the planet.
Also, it seemed that the "water" reference was never explained (or was that just me)? Zakal mentioned the government's treachery, but never why water was so important (aside from not being in Merisa's water, which would've made Merisa...) Never mind. :p
All in all, a very interesting chapter, Mach.
The primary ingredient in 90 percent of cooking is water. a chemical can be added to water, which can then be given to animals to impregnate their tissues with the chemical, or used to irrigate croplands, or to be drunk by humans in the course of a day. We already have this in modern american or English drinking water with fluoridation, which strengthens teeth as an example of a benign version.
The primary ingredient in 90 percent of cooking is water. a chemical can be added to water, which can then be given to animals to impregnate their tissues with the chemical, or used to irrigate croplands, or to be drunk by humans in the course of a day. We already have this in modern american or English drinking water with fluoridation, which strengthens teeth as an example of a benign version.
All I have to say is...
Dr. Strangelove...
All I have to say is...
Dr. Strangelove...
:conspire:
Absolutely chilling--and absolutely brilliant. Five stars on this latest chapter! :)
Absolutely chilling--and absolutely brilliant. Five stars on this latest chapter! :)
Thanks Tys. My only question to you among others is...
I intend to jump right to the Mandalorian Wars next. Shall I continue? I see I've had almost 900 hits, so let's get maybe four answers?
"Shall you continue?" Is that even a question, Mach? How could you even contemplate not continuing this story? Not continuing would be a travesty!
The way you're going you must do the Mandalorian Wars!! It is the only way to please the fan base!! If you don't we will tar and feather you . :D
Third answer: If you don't continue to the Mandalorian Wars, I will misspell every single word in my next Umbral Tide fic and still ask you to review it!!!
I'll do the same with my fic! And I'll make it a fifty-page chapter!
Then you'll have a true :conspire: on your hands!
Just a warning. :D
The answers are upon you, Mach. That and numerous threats of ever annoying reviews and tar and feathering!!! THE PUBLIC DEMANDS MORE!!
This is the CQBC on Coruscant....:D
The answers are upon you, Mach. That and numerous threats of ever annoying reviews and tar and feathering!!! THE PUBLIC DEMANDS MORE!!
This is the CQBC on Coruscant....:D
I ask for opinion and get threats!
Well, you did say that you wanted to know whether or not to continue, yes? Good enough reason for our threats... As Endorenna put it, "YOU BETCHA."
I'm rather fond of this story.
Ok folks. I see that mach has got himself a paparazzi going on. As much as he seems to like the abuse just keep the comments to playful ones and constructive criticism. The tar and feathers are a little much--JM12
Oh, sorry about the tar and feathers, I didn't think them that dangerous seeing that we're on the internet...
Well, instead of the tar and feathers, we will simply force you to review bad works!!! RAH!
Oh, sorry about the tar and feathers, I didn't think them that dangerous seeing that we're on the internet...
Well, instead of the tar and feathers, we will simply force you to review bad works!!! RAH!
All right all right! The next segment will take a few days. I have to block out one hellacious battle.
Today
Merisa stopped, sipping. She remembered that day as if it had happened yesterday. She could see the hostility among the young. The war against the Republic and then the Jedi had caused festering resentment. “The Jettiise have been our enemy and our friends time without number. Like Danika there, they have even been considered Mando.” She chided.
She looked at the children in reproach. “If we declared anyone who fought us enemy forever, we would have no one beyond our own blood to call friend.”
“What did they do with you?” The youngest asked. She looked terrified.
“Why Zakal they declared our contract fulfilled. They brought us home, and left us in peace. They had much to do you see. My home world was blockaded, and within fifteen years the economy collapsed, the people driven almost to extinction. Exar Kun by that time had become a Sith Lord, and one of the things he did was use that chemical binding they had created to form his Dark Legions.
“Most of the men of those Legions died. I will not say bravely, because to be brave you must have a choice to stand and die.”
She sighed, stretching. “I for one am for bed. Friends, there is room enough in the house for you. Sleep well and safe, for no one dares challenge a Mando in his own home.”
As she lay back, she remembered. The trip to Mando’yaim, her first trip on a spaceship. Seeing this valley from the air. It would be three decades before this house became her home. The world had seemed harsh, but she had grown to love it.
*****
After almost six decades, Merisa found herself awake before the sun as always. She dressed, strapping on the same antique pistol she had worn on her home world. The weapon had been something that reminded her of her father, but now it was an old friend she wouldn’t part with.
About half of the young were up, and she sent them back up to drag down the others. While they tried to be quiet, they were children after all, and soon Mission came staggering down, whining about not getting enough sleep. Merisa set a pot of black tea on the table, and as the Jettiise came down, looking insufferably neat and awake she poured. All of the children were up, stuffing their faces before the Republic officer and the Wookiee finally staggered down to join them. For a long time the only sounds were what you would expect when eating was the most important thing.
Three of the boys finished first and left to gather the milk from the nearby dairy farm in return for a bushel basket of tubers. The others moved outside, and began their morning exercises. The Jettise came out to watch, then joined the children. Their exercises were similar, but different from what the children did.
“All right. Training circle.” Merisa ordered. The children fell back with military precision. One of the boys stepped forward, drawing a line on the soil. He was a muscular 11 year old who had been training since five. Sasha stepped forward, dragging her heel on the soil and faced him.
Merisa considered. The girl was younger, true. But it was her choice. “Cha!”
The boy dropped into a crouch, then screamed charging. Sasha watched him come, then stepped aside, her arm coming up, clothes lining the boy. As he flipped up and backwards with a squawk the girl spun like a dancer, catching his collar so he literally snapped out straight before hitting the ground. She dropped beside him, fist clenched to strike.
“Pa-cha!” Merisa cried.
“About time.” One of the children snorted.
“Shut up-”
“Why, Kano?” The young boy snarled. “You’ve always used your weight and height to overawe everyone else. But our little Jetiise showed you!”
The boy leaped up, fists clenched. “Pa-Cha!” Merisa snapped. The boy froze. “Kano, your brother Shoji is correct. You have always won because you were bigger and faster. Sasha is half your size, yet she used her brain before she used her muscles. Young one, what style have you learned?”
“Te-rehal-Vor.” The Cathar woman answered for her. “The style of the Echani which the Jedi also use.”
“Learn of your opponent before you fight.” Merisa told him sternly.
For an hour they practiced both hand to hand, and with dulled swords. Then the children split up, some to gather ripened tubers and fruits from the fields and orchards, others to begin clearing the fallow field around the parked spaceship.
As before they fell into an automatic division of labor. The young Twi-Lek proved willing to scrub and clean anything. The Wookiee moved furniture so the girl could clean, and Sasha this time had joined the other children. The Jettiise were working on the ship along with her older brother.
Lunch was a hurried catch as catch can meal as those close to the house ate then returned to their chores as others came in to take their place. Basket after basket of fruit or tubers came in, separated into the cooling cellars for storage. The children as they will ate their fill of fresh tart fruit as they worked. Merisa knew there would be bellyaches in the future, but she remembered her own times as a child.
Finally dinner was ready, and again they all sat down to eat. The children, as Mando children would, had accepted Sasha as one of them. They had accepted the Jettiise as just other adults of the clans. Even Zallbaar was just the big furry uncle.
This evening, sections of Besu’lik, the large snake of the planet were baked, and only the warriors who had taken it were allowed to cut the succulent portions for all. The beast was hard to kill, and Merisa grinned when her brother and the Republican Commander brought in the 10 meter squirming length. A meal fit for warriors!
Soon they sat again. Again the children as they would called for stories. Kiara told of her first battle during the siege of Dxun when it was taken from the Onderoni. Her brother told of the strange ship that had been seen in an asteroid belt, and Revan spoke of the Battle of Dxun when it was wrested from the Mando.
Kano growled about the duplicity of the Republic, and then it came to Merisa.
“Many times we have been accused of crimes,” Merisa began, pouring again the syrupy blood-wine. “Yet I remember once when the Republic broke the rules they espoused, and it was up to me to bring the criminal to justice.”
*****
10 Years earlier
Ruus'alor Merisa Becket Clan Ordo recorded the harvest from the fields of Harcour‘s smallest continent, noting the areas where that harvest had fallen below predictions. Three of the areas she understood the deficit. One had been smashed by hailstorms, another had been plagued by tornadoes. Another had been flooded for a third of the planting season. The other two…
A hand slid a pad before her, and she picked it up it was- She looked up, then leaped up, hugging the man that had delivered it. “Berek!” She shouted, hoisting the older man off his feet.
“Put me down!” The man laughed. “Is that any way to treat your al'verde?”
She dropped him, grasping him by his shoulders. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you, little one.” He pounded his fists upon her shoulders.
Merisa grinned, few called her ‘Little One’ any more. She was over 50 now, married thrice and widowed twice, mother of seven, three of whom were still alive. She poured tihaar, passing a cup to Berek as she held the other. “Welcome.”
Berek accepted the cup, sipping the sharp liquor. “So you ended up here.” He said.
“What did you expect?” She asked, sipping her own shot. “I was too young for the Sith war.” She said. “I was too busy throwing sons and daughters to face our enemy.”
Berek sighed, sipping. The child they had saved on Carenta had grown into a stark warrior. Her rank was earned on battlefield after battlefield in this latest war. “How is your squad, my young sister?”
“Well, commander.” She replied. “While our warriors deal with harvests and the occupied, we still work to maintain our skills. I would put my squad against any the Republic would field.”
“Well enough little one.” He said. He looked sad, and she noticed. “Berek, what is?”
“Zakal was captured three months ago.” He said, draining the cup and pouring more.
“How?” Merisa was astonished. Zakal had been Mandalore the Ultimate’s leading intelligence officer. If she were lost…
“She resigned when we went to war with the Republic. She was aboard one of our merchant vessels bound for Vespana to visit our oldest.” Berek reported woodenly. “It was captured by a Republic Frigate on the way. She and fifty others were captured. They were sent to Sooribor.”
“Then she joins Kiara and Kono.” She said sadly. Her mother had been captured almost two years earlier when the Mando had finally attacked the Republic. Her husband Kono had been aboard a medical transport after the capture of Serroco the year before. “I have received messages from them. I wonder why Zakal hasn’t sent me one?”
“Because for the first month they are not allowed to communicate.” Berek snorted. “As if a warrior in a prison camp sees anything of importance.” He held up a set of data chips. “But I received these. One each from Kono Kiara and Zakal for you.”
She sighed, taking them. The worst part of this war was how little time she had with any of the three before their capture. Kiara had been captured when her ship was badly damaged by a Republic task force near Taris. Now Zakal was in enemy hands.
They spoke about the children, the sixteen Berek and Zakal had raised, all but one of the five survivors in the fight now. All but one of hers were also out there, and she mourned those that had died. Fro, Casi and Shoji had died as mercenaries, Tirith had died when they had invaded Cathar, though she had regretted that the girl had served under such a monster as Dererok.
To go into battle where your enemy didn’t even have a chance to properly bloody his blade! Bombarded from orbit, their cities shattered, farmlands and feed lots smashed into dust. Only then with almost 80 percent of the race slaughtered had the Mando landed. The survivors hadn’t surrendered.
The girl had died, not in battle, but by throwing herself between her own people ‘making an example’ of a rag-tag guerilla force fighting against their oppressors. When they had been captured, Dererok had ordered their execution. Tirith had set her weapons down, and stood between the firing squad and the half dozen survivors.
When the monsters had ordered her aside, she had merely replied, ‘Either kill me or stand down. I grow bored.’
So they had killed her. Then had gone on to drive the race into extinction. Merisa had wished she could exact her revenge personally, but Mandalore the Ultimate had taken it for her. All but a tithe of those ‘brave’ warriors had been forced into ‘honor death’ for their actions.
She slotted the first letter. “My dear wife, I miss you every day, especially your cooking. The camp is a bit crowded now with so many captured in the last months. It reminds me of a Zeges nest.”
Kono had waxed on assuring the Calor fields were properly cleared, and her eyebrows quirked. She had more interest in the fields around his ancestral home, and what he knew about Calor root could be written with a heavy marker on a credit transfer card, though it was a valuable cash crop. Clearing the land was hard true. Zeges, small hive insects used the areas where the roots had weakened the soil during the fallow times. The workers in fact looked like leaves, freezing into immobility when they sensed danger. They were not dangerous alone, but a hive could sting a man to death. Many a worker had entered a field and found themselves beset from all sides by them.
Why would he be warning her of this? And what was this ‘Dear wife’? He’d always joked that she was a hellcat and that the best way to deal with her was to feed her to repletion, and only then press his suit. Their arguments were not only legendary, but she had been told by some it was a favorite spectator sport.
As for cooking he was better than she would ever be. Her food was good but it was like comparing a fire in a fireplace to a star.
She shook her head, bringing up Kiara’s letter. “My beloved daughter, I hope this finds you well. The camp is quiet tonight. We have little to do but relax. You know how I love that.“ Merisa grew cold. Her mother exercised not only to stay fit, but to help her think. She had seen the woman fidget until she had to leap up and pace. The picture of her relaxing for any length of time was absurd.
Kiara went on to speak of even odder things. How she had worried when Fro had stopped her from getting hurt. How Tirith had waited in the kitchen for her, and Casi had fallen down and hurt himself…
She leaned back. Her mother didn’t speak of her own children, rather about her own family dead all these years. Betrayed by their enemy…
With dread she put the last letter in.
*****
Zakal hissed as the boot set itself in her back, slamming her down. “Crawl, Mandalorian scum!” The man snarled.
She shook her head to clear her hair from her eyes. The mess tent where all meals were served was 100 meters from the tent she had been assigned to. Originally her tent had been closer. But the Commandant of prisoners had changed that. She pushed herself back to hands and knees.
You must walk to the mess tent or you will not be fed.
Simple for someone with good legs, she thought crawling forward. When the bones had shattered all those decades ago the shards had scraped her nerves raw. Even now mere movement ran sheets of pain like fire through them. A hundred meters three times a day would ruin what remained of her legs. Others had tried to help her, some had been beaten until they could not move. Others…
A hand grabbed the back of her collar, dragging her back twenty paces. “I said crawl!”
She looked up into that ugly face, then turned herself, trying to crawl back toward the mess tent. The man used his rifle to club her into unconsciousness.
A time later she felt hands gently cleaning filth and blood from her face. She opened her eyes, looking into Kiara’s face. “You risk much, my friend.”
“Risk for a friend is not risk.” Kiara replied, rinsing out the cloth. She continued the task of cleaning the cuts. Behind her Kono Hando, Clan Ordo came in. He walked over, opening the front of his uniform, pulling out several slices of bread with meat shoved between them.
“Eat, Zakal.” He bade.
“What of the others-”
“They took their portion and ate some, but pressed the rest on me.” He told her. “We need you.”
She took the rolls of bread and meat, eating ravenously. In the last three weeks she had eaten four full meals, most of those back when she had first arrived in this hell. She wanted to save some of it, but the nightly searches would find any food stores, and punishment was for everyone in the tent, not just for those guilty.
She felt guilty that no one even looked at her as she ate. She had finished the last of it when the warrior guarding the flap hissed. Kiara moved as if she had practiced the move many times, taking the bowl and scrubbing her own face as Republic soldiers burst in. They spread out, weapons ready. Behind them the flap rested for a second, then Commandant Roykirk entered.
He was a short portly man, with an avuncular manner that fooled any new prisoner only as long as it too for the Commandant to open his mouth.
He walked through where the captives had marked their own spaces. There were small handcrafts laying there, and he picked up a piece of stone painfully carved to display an animal. The man smiled. Even that was insulting. “Oh dear, I see you have too much time on your hands.” He dropped the stone, shoving it into the mud. “Perhaps we need some land cleared for more of you filth. Everyone out. Oh except for our dear cripple.” He turned his attention to Zakal.
He walked over, and a hand came down, picking up a crumb. “Oh dear, did someone bring you food?” He dropped the crumb, turning. “Search them all. If anyone has crumbs inside their clothes we will kill them.”
“Enough, Autiise.” Kono said, standing. “I did what any would who cared for others. If you are going to kill anyone, I am responsible.”
Roykirk smiled. “Do you know what we do with responsible Mandalorians?” He asked rhetorically. Then his hand moved, the blaster came up and he shot the man.
“Well that is enough unpleasantness. Have your weekly letters ready to go please.”
Excellent next installment, Mach! The fan base was definately not disappointed! :D
I agree with CQ. I love this story!
Good chapter, Mach--but I don't like it as much as the others. I understand that you like the Mandalorians a lot more than most people, but here you seem to be going to the opposite extreme. I'm sure there were sadists on the Republic side, too, but still...
But thank the Lord you aren't making them the paragons of virtue! (shudder)
Very nice chapter, Mach. The prisoner camps were horrid, to speak the least of them. I cannot help but wonder how the Mandalorian prisoner camps holding the Republic soldiers are, or if they take prisoners?
The descriptions of the planet in the beginning of the chapter were also interesting. I wonder if, perhaps, you're foreshadowing any potential events?
At any rate, a very nice chapter. Keep up the great work!
Good chapter, Mach--but I don't like it as much as the others. I understand that you like the Mandalorians a lot more than most people, but here you seem to be going to the opposite extreme. I'm sure there were sadists on the Republic side, too, but still...
But thank the Lord you aren't making them the paragons of virtue! (shudder)
The problem with history is that the excesses of the winners are ignored. As an example there is a movie made in the 60s called 'Hell Is For Heroes) with a campaign between the Japanese and the English. At one point the Japanese have several men they have captured and are threatening to kill them. The men they are chasing hear them being killed (Shots and screams) In the next scene, you see the Japanese officer, until now portrayed as a total maniac handing one of the 'dead' prisoners some water. At the surprise on the prisoner's face he says 'What, you thought were as brutal as you paint us?'
I am not painting the entire Republic as evil, just the men under this man's command. In the next section I am going to explain more.
Oh BTW, did you know this piece, less than two months long had more hits in that period than all on my longer works?
*Tysyacha's jaw hits the floor*
Once again, you continue to amaze me. How the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks is Zakal ever going to get out of there?! I agree with you that the victors of any war or rivalry against another group of people write history, and the losers are confined to writing it their own way--and the winners call it "propaganda"...
I could answer that, but I won't
Today
Merisa looked at her audience. Manda’lor watched her with a concentration she would have expected of an enemy. Carth wanted to protest, but his own innate honesty stopped him. She watched both of them, but neither refused the challenge. She gave due honor for their forbearance.
*****
Ten years earlier
Merisa waited impatiently. She had taken several hours of working through the echelon of flunkies. Planetary governor, Sector command, fleet command, Operations, then Sector intelligence, now finally the Intelligence bureau.
After repeating herself ad nauseum she had almost reached the man she was trying to speak to.
Sencor Casio Clan Fett looked at her, his face bland, though she could see his distaste. When Zakal had resigned in protest, she had been the next person asked to assume the post. She might be a low ranking warrior, but she was considered highly intelligent. Merisa had refused, and Sencor had been chosen in her place.
“What do you need, Becket.” He asked.
“Have you been investigating the correspondence from our POWs?”
He gave a long suffering sigh. “Becket if you want this job all you have to do is tell Mand’alor what he wants to hear.”
“Answer the question, Casio.” She snarled, dropping civility since he wasn’t willing to use it.
“Every letter sent is checked for codes and ciphers.” He snapped.
“Then I am surprised that whomever you have doing so didn’t notice that Zakal has had her chair taken away, Kiara is not allowed to run, and Kono who hates the fact that he owns fields of Calor can’t think of anything else to talk about except how sweet I am and how he loves my cooking.” She saw the hesitation in his eyes. “So people are checking them but none of them know the people they are supposed to be examining.”
She sighed. “Casio, we don’t have to like each other. But something is wrong. Something is going wrong in the Sooribor POW camp. We must contact the Caamasi.”
*****
the Caamasi had been discovered 15,000 years earlier. Furred pacifist humanoids, they were appalled by the hostility of even the most benign race other than their own. It was recorded in history that if the Jedi had not been among that first contact team, the Caamasi would have refused to even meet the Republic.
None had the telepathic abilities of the Caamasi. The Caamasi were horrified even by the thought of war because they would feel the people die if they were close enough. No other race could implant memories in other species either.
If they were more militant; an oxymoron if applied to a single Caamasi let alone the entire race; they could have convinced the galaxy to be at peace by making every politician drug lord slaver and warrior feel the deaths and pain they caused. But they also had a strong sense of personal responsibility. People must take responsibility for their actions, and interfering with that choice was anathema.
Not long after the Caamasi had joined the Republic, they had begun proposing ways to mitigate some of the horrors of war. Over the millennia they had created rules, and gotten the Republic to agree with them. Most were obvious; since the innocent people of a planet were the source of it’s productivity, they were to be left alone where ever possible. The same with all industry not directly tied to warfare. Cities were to be left alone unless the enemy defended them, because you know the enemy will leave the people alive.
These were called the Caamasi Accords.
Until a millennia ago they had worked. The Sith had neither cared for nor even given lip service to the rules. If they wished to slaughter everyone, they would do it. The Sith war had been one of the most brutal in the Republic’s history for that very reason.
However this war, between peoples that accepted the rules should have been easier.
Merissa sat back, waiting for the holonet system to put Casio through. She had spent every favor she had to be part of this. Casio looked at her, tired and frustrated. “We have little more information, Merissa.”
She relented in her hatred. Something had caused him to try for civility. “May I ask, Sencor?”
He nodded. “We contacted Caamas. This is the transcript.” He touched a button. The screen cleared and she saw the Caamasi representative.
“Speaker Noral. I am Sencor Casio. I speak as representative of Manda’lor in relation to the treatment of prisoners.” She shook her head wryly. While she had learned from Zakal how to analyze a situation, Casio was so much better at the pompous crap.
As a race, the Caamasi were covered in a golden, downy fur, highlighted on their faces by purple stripes. Their most striking physical feature was their blue-on-green eyes. Noral would have been considered quite attractive by their measure. She was beautiful even by human standards.
“I see you, Sencor Casio.” She replied in a soft voice. “Speak and I will hear.”
“My questions concern the POW camps on Sooribor.”
Did that alien countenance flinch? “Ask your questions.”
“There are statements made in communications from our prisoners that suggest mistreatment-” She wanted to scream at him. You idiot! Don’t tell them how we know!
Now she was sure the alien did flinch. “The Sooribor facilities have officially been placed outside the Accords.”
The phrase left Merissa cold.
“How can they be outside the Accords?” Casio demanded.
“Under the Accords, the Caamasi are allowed access to all prisoners and officials at any time. The Caamasi have been denied access for the last two months, since Commandant Roykirk took command.” Noral replied.
“We informed Regar Danzik, the Provost Marshall of the Republic fleet. He informed us that the Sooribor facility was now designated a maximum security facility, and the Caamasi would be in danger.”
“That is not good.” Merissa commented. An institution or base declared outside of the Accords had no rights, and no oversight. By declaring it so, the Caamasi also allowed attacks on it, since a POW camp was not a legitimate target; they could only be liberated, not attacked. It was usually applied to units already in violation of the Accords, such as those who refused to take prisoners. To apply it to a POW camp suggested the same claims made by the Republic against them, albeit with only one quickly repaired incident at the Mando POW camp on Mando’Yaim.
She looked up at him. “What do you intend to do about this?”
“We’re going to launch an attack and liberate the camp. As soon as we find the right unit-”
“I’m going. With my unit.” She disagreed coldly.
“Have you asked your al'verde?”
“My adopted mother and husband are in that camp, his wife is. Do you think he will stand aside?”
*****
Today
She watched the eyes of the Republic officer and the two older Jedi. as she told the tale. The officer had the look of someone ready to call her a liar. But why did Manda’lor look haunted?
*****
10 Years earlier
The guards dragged Zakal, throwing her onto the floor of the commandant’s office. She caught herself from slamming down face first, but a boot jammed between her shoulder blades, shoving her face down. She glared through her ratty hair at the wall as the highly polished boots walked past a few moments later.
“Let her up.” Roykirk ordered mildly. Zakal leaned up, looking into his eyes without flinching. The man went through the papers on his desk, then tapped one. “It seems the Caamasi have been told about our changes here. How do you think that came to be?” He asked rhetorically. She merely stared at him.
“Well we have you to thank. I spoke with Provost Marshall Danzik, and he has approved our plan.”
“Plan.” Zakal spat.
“Of course. They think you’re being tortured, so they will try to liberate the camp. But we are set for what is to come.” He leaned forward. “A task force will be in position five light years away, ready to come to our aid when your fleet tries.” He laughed. “We’ll have the Mandalorians on scanner attacking a POW camp in violation of the Caamasi Accords. We can blame every death in the camp on them. The propaganda will unite our people in a wave to crush you.
“Using prisoners as bait in a trap is a violation of the Accords.” She told him flatly.
“When the War Crimes trials are convened, it will be our judges on the bench, not yours.”
“When the War Crimes trials are convened, it will be our judges on the bench, not yours.”
A most excellent and truthful line, Mach. That was my favorite part of the entire chapter. As for the rest, there were a few grammatical errors (I believe in the beginning, should it not be "What do you need, Becket?”), but that hardly overshadows the other shining parts of the chapter, such as the detailing of Roykirk's plan.
A most excellent and truthful line, Mach. That was my favorite part of the entire chapter. As for the rest, there were a few grammatical errors (I believe in the beginning, should it not be "What do you need, Becket?”), but that hardly overshadows the other shining parts of the chapter, such as the detailing of Roykirk's plan.
A little known (And frequently denied) fact is that Japan was a signatory to the Geneva Conventions. During the early part of WWII, when the Japanese invaded China, they announced that they would put the Conventions aside until 'circumstances allowed'. By legal definition, they decided the Convention didn't apply to them.
The Corvette Akaan Murcyur or Kiss of War burrowed through hyperspace in convoy with a dozen others. In her cargo bay an ol'averde; almost 300 Mando prepped their weapons, checked armor, or relaxed. Merisa sat with a group of younger warriors, showing them how to prep their gear for the assault. She walked among the warriors of her squad, touching a shoulder here, tousling a head of hair there. She treated her people like her children, and watched over them with the fierce attention of a mother Besu’lik.
Berek came into the bay, and every eye locked on him. “Attention to orders.” Berek said. Everyone gathered around, the traatika ver'alor (Platoon leaders) and Ruus'alor (Squad leaders) in the front. He looked them over, then tapped his helmet, a topographic map flashed against the side of an assault shuttle.
Slowly Berek laid out the operation. The ol'averde would land here, thirty kilometers from the POW camp; close enough for a fast march, but far enough away from the sensors that had been deployed according to the last intelligence update. They would move forward and capture the guards on the camp, then signal for pick up. Because of the situation, a number of innocents they didn’t want to injure, the ol'averde would land in light weapons configuration, only two heavy anti-vehicle blasters with two heavy grenade launchers per squad, the other 12 members carrying projectile rifles light grenade launchers or blasters.
As the time approached, the warriors found their own ways to relax. Merisa sharpened her Beskad, then tried to decide whether she would wear her blaster pistol or her old friend. She pulled the ancient pistol from it’s holster. She had been hand loading the cartridges for it over four decades now and had reached the maximum the chamber could accept. The weapon had been almost rebuilt four times, and she’d had paid to have parts made the last time. The action was as smooth as glass, the sights adjusted to perfection.
Of course the blaster had better penetration except at long range, so maybe-
She smiled gently. She always did this. It was her version of nerves. She looked over her squad with the love of a mother. Tahshi, the eldest of her team at forty. The youngest was Sange, only nineteen. Between them the team ran the gauntlet of ages. Her best shots with heavy blasters were Tono Kala Ger and Tasha. She decided the women Kala and Tasha; both wizards with the tracinya rapid fire heavy grenade launchers, would carry them on this assault.
Tahshi Canda, El and Mooti, four women alike as peas in a pod even with 20 years between the eldest and the youngest. They would be the point unit, silent, fast, and deadly. They would be followed by Saml, Coha Lan and herself. Toros Kalo, Sange and Grief on rear guard.
She yawned, going to bed.
*****
The squadron of corvettes dropped into normal space. They charged toward the planet, assault shuttles launching. Fighters came out to meet them, and a furious battle began. One of the engines on Akaan Murcyur stuttered and died, flames shooting from a broken fuel line, and she staggered toward the edge of the battle. A dozen fighters turned to target the cripple.
Laser blasts slammed into her shields, seeking her vitals. An internal explosion blew out her cargo hold, and a mass of debris shot toward the planet.
Merisa held the flying wing‘s control bar as she and the other members of the strike force fell toward the planet. Above them the fuel line stopped spewing fire, and the engine came back to life. She used the HUD to check the others. 290 green circles and one gold one dropped toward the unsuspecting enemy.
Like avenging hawks half a dozen Republic Frigates and another half dozen corvettes dropped out of hyperspace between the Mando warships and escape. The Mando ships split into combat groupings of four ships each, and each ‘hand’ broke to dive around the planet. The Republic strike group broke to pursue.
*****
Merisa adjusted her course. The landing zone was there, haloed in green. Nothing yet.
*****
“Nothing.” The gunner growled. The one ship that had approached had been out of range above the atmosphere and not come within range of the infantry cannon.
He snorted, seeing that blasted static again. The fleet had reported that one of the ships had blown a cargo bay, and debris was falling into the atmosphere. He refined the passive tracking information. Most of it was tumbling to fall far from him, but some… His eyebrow quirked. It was falling in another direction, away from the rest. In fact…
*****
They were 500 meters from the ground when active sensors lashed them. “Hot, zone!” Berek broke com silence. “Dump and get down fast!”
Below them a dozen heavy cannon capable of ripping apart a ship roared, and the night was cut by plasma blasts. First half a dozen, then a dozen then more of the icons for the assault force disappeared as fire reduced them to dust.
Merisa slapped the release, the wing lifting up, and beginning a preprogrammed evasion program as she plummeted like a stone. The wing carried out it’s primary function, radiating ten times what her armor did, and drew a bolt that would have killed her as well. A hundred meters up she hit the thrusters on her sen'tra, slowing her descent.
Around her, like well oiled machinery, everyone who still lived was copying her reaction. Berek halfway across the LZ from her; closer to the guns, roared, “Oya!” And leaped into a full run toward the suddenly blazing hill as infantrymen with rifles both blaster and projectile ripped into the Mando.
The Republic’s infantry manual would have called for retreating until out of direct fire, assess the situation, then formulate a plan. The numbers themselves should have given them pause. The Republic troops facing them knew they outnumbered the Mando. If you went by the book, it was exactly the wrong thing to do.
A pity for the Republic that the Mando had never read that book. They had learned by doing, and even the youngest among them had been a warrior in training since the age of five, and warriors in truth since they were 13. Fifty of the finest warriors the galaxy had ever seen charged into ten times their number ahead of anyone else.
Merisa and her unit had landed farthest from those guns, but at her signal she and those between her and the al'verde charged in his wake.
Thirty warriors leapt up that hill, weapons flaming as they shattered the lines of dug in men like glass shattered under a hammer. Fifteen breasted that hill, falling upon the crew of the cannon, blasting everything that moved, smashing weapons and men in their rampage. the few creman that survived did so by running for their lives.
Merisa and those with her smashed into the same line, still disorganized by the first assault, and reaped their own harvest. Nothing lived in their wake. She reached the knoll where the guns still sat, finding only seven still standing.
Berek was not among them.
Throughout the HUD had desperately been jumping from officer to officer, trying in it’s idiot best to choose who still commanded.
Of the almost 300 only 65 still stood. Merisa took a deep breath when the gold icon of command finally settled…
On her.