"When you truly don't care what the fuck anyone thinks of you, you've reached a dangerous level of freedom." - Jim Carry
Ahsoka avoided a narrow miss from a blue lightsabre, her sweat making her grip on her lightsabre challenging. Retaliating, Ahsoka swung her blade at her opponent's throat in her famous reverse grip before twisting the blade round to bring it down in a large overarching slash. The togruta's opponent was forced to lean back to avoid the first attack however when she brought her blade up to counter the second her footing and position was all wrong resulting in the blue lightsabre being knocked from her grasp. Staring down at her opponent, Ahsoka hovered her blade close announcing in a smug tone, "That's 5 for me, and 3 to you Satine!"
Satine stared back at Ashoka her eyes dejected and bored whilst Daz clapped from one of the side benches. Turning the blade of Ahsoka offered her hand, which Satine readily took. Standing up, Satine dusted herself off before replying, "I still have more victories over Daz than you, besides your being trained by Anakin Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi! It's not like you have to remind me all the time of your combat prowess."
Ahsoka only chuckled, "First, Daz lets you win..."
"I do not!" Daz protested, going to stand before being painfully reminded of the bullet still stuck in his leg.
"Yes, you do and you know it!" Ahsoka answered back, forcibly pointing at the nautolan. "And second of all, Anakin is the only one to teach me lightsabre combat, Obi Wan does more of the meditation and negotiation training."
"Really?" Satine asked, intrigued the council member wasn't teaching her any of his moves.
"Yep, Anakin isn't really very good at it so he either joins in on the lesson, or is off seeing his senatorial friends." Ahsoka answered, picking up her canteen for some refreshing water. Offering the canteen to Satine, Ahsoka couldn't help but chuckle as she took note of the number of bandages covering the three of them. Since landing on Pandora, the Jedi had found injuries were much more common against the terrans than it was fighting the useless battle droids of the CIS.
"What is it?" Daz asked, perplexed at the upbeat nature of his compatriot.
"I've only just realised," Ahsoka started, "We have probably been given more injuries between us now, than we ever did have whilst we were younglings!" Satine and Daz looked between themselves, trying to find the humour in it all.
"So?" Satine asked, genuinely angry Ahsoka could find something so funny, "You trying being shot by a high-density blaster!"
"Or still have several bullets stuck in your leg." Daz screeched, pointing to the tightly wound and slightly dirty bandages wrapped over his leg.
"Ok, the injuries themselves aren't pretty," Ahsoka defended, calming down a bit with her arms raised in a calming motion, "but you have to admit, it is slightly amusing that our old masters used to scold us for our recklessness whilst now our recklessness might actually be the one thing keeping us alive?"
"I suppose in a dark and morbid way," Daz conceded, "But it still isn't comforting when you have to sit around in pain waiting to have two bullets removed from your thigh."
"Well it serves you right for attacking the bridge without back up." Satine argued, "As for your dark sense of humour Ahsoka, you have more and better quality of experience in these sorts of environments than either of us combined so until we start making jokes like those could you not, please."
"I think its funny." A voice in the darkness replied, causing all three Jedi to ignite their lightsabres in defence. Illuminating the darkness, the three quickly calmed down at the sight of a young boy standing watching them, his clothes dirty and unkept but with a broad smile across his face. Directing her blade at the boy's chest, Ahsoka sternly questioned him,
"What do you want?"
The boy didn't even flinch at the threatening sight, "My mother told me to come and grab the fish boy."
"Fish boy!" Daz screeched, however Ahsoka ignored him disengaging her blade and fitting it back to her belt, "I will show you who's the Fish boy once I gut you like a Ritherium salmon." Satine held the annoyed nautolan back simply muttering 'ignore him'.
"Well then Daz seems your operation awaits." Ahsoka beckoned, biting her lip slightly. "Thank you, kid." Only after watching Daz limp away from their equipment to follow the boy, did Ahsoka and Satine break into wide grins at the nickname used by the young boy. Picking up their own stuff the two padawans followed on, hiding their slight snickering as they continued to joke.
Stepping out into the filtered daylight, the pair found themselves disappearing among the entanglement of a large wooded forest, the dusty smell and creaking floors of the abandoned barn the Jedi used to practise their lightsabre techniques left behind them. Walking along the beaten path, they passed small tents and piles of equipment huddled together away from the prying eyes of the terran's roving drone patrols. Clones wandered here and there, many of them recovering from the stress and drain of the frontline. Some played Sabaac, others watched holo-news and movies and a rare few could be seen roasting small animals over little fires for dinner.
Breaking out onto a more open stretch of path, Ahsoka and Satine spied their destination sprouting above the high tree tops of the pine forest, the large town of Casanova. Out of all the towns on Pandora it was the most welcoming to the Republic troops, but even by Coruscant standards hatred for their forced occupation still ran through the streets. Its level of acceptance of the clone presence had made it the main relief point for the clone soldiers; a place where they could be sent to be patched up if injured or for rest and recovery. The only reason it was not being used as a Republic base was because of the town's mayor, who had ordered that all weapons bar those being used for the protection of the town's people be kept outside, hence the significant number of clones hiding in the surrounding forests. Whilst many of the clones complained being stuck outside the town's walls, it was a ruling carefully enforced by Kenobi. Due to his master, Qui Gon, he had become acquainted with the mayor of the town, Kathrine Taylor, and was reluctant to sour relations any further. Those that did break the rules were often locked up by the town's police force, and only released when they were either fit enough to fight, or their unit was returning to combat; The rule was there on the populace's behalf after all.
Mayor Taylor was an enigma to many of the Republic leaders, she was an ex-UNSC combat surgeon and a staunch supporter of the UNSC's counter invasion, however as soon as tired, sick, and injured clones begun walking her streets did she not hesitate to begin treating them. She would always mutter 'you shouldn't have crossed us' or 'that's what you get for picking a fight with a terran' whilst working on her patients, but her level of professionalism far outweighed her own feelings and every soldier who saw her was given the very best care. Her medical training as well as her organisational skill was so good that the clone medics that helped her were always in awe of what she could achieve on so little resources; these were men who had trained their entire lives on how to deal with saving people in combat but the injuries they faced, the number of patients they had to see, as well as the stress of constantly being shot at put them at their wits end. Mayor Taylor however took it in her stride, so much so that Kix had convinced Kenobi to write a report requesting clone medics not in combat against Confederacy forces be rotated through Casanova to gain precious experience.
Coming to the edge of the town, Ahsoka and Satine found themselves faced with a relatively short line waiting to be processed by the two officers at the town's entranceway. Catching up to Daz, they hushed their joking but the smiles of what they had talked about was still covering their faces. Looking ahead the two watched as the two officers forcibly removed a blaster off of a clone, scowls visible on the police officers' faces. Happy the clone was thoroughly unarmed, they ushered the next clone forward, before repeating the same monotonous task of asking about the clone's visit. As the line slowly shortened, Daz tapped his foot impatiently, wanting to have the two rounds removed quickly so he could be put on bacta and get back out to command his men.
"Finally!" the nautolan shouted, glad to be at the front of the line. Just as the officers were about to begin processing him, did the heavy hum of an LAAT interrupt them. Looking up everyone was shocked to watch the bright orange paint of a 212th Legion gunship come crashing down just short of the town perimeter. Ahsoka and Satine grabbed at their lightsabres, weary of the force's warnings as both clones and the officers drew their weapons and directed it at the gunship's doors.
Swinging open, the doors of the gunship revealed a dishevelled and motley band of terran soldiers stripped down to only their blood-stained combat uniforms. Between the crowd and the soldiers stood a frightened clone, a long knife pressed to his throat by the largest of the terran soldiers, which wore three stripes on his shoulders. Upon seeing who he had landed in front of, the clone begun shouting, "I am sorry commanders, they forced me to land the gunship. Said they would kill me if their men didn't receive first aid...gulp."
The sergeant pressed the knife closer to the clone's throat, causing the gathered Republic troops to begin to advance, "Back off!" the brute shouted, "Just tell me where the nearest first aid station is, NOW!" the clones and Jedi paused, taking glances at each other, unsure of what the terrans were planning. The brute however become impatient gruffly shouting through his muttonchop beard, "Either someone tells me where the nearest doctor is, or I cut this lab rat's throat and find out myself!"
"Follow me sergeant I can show you where to go!" The young boy piped up, poking his head from behind a clone soldier. The terran soldiers didn't hesitate and stepped aside to grab wounded comrades in arms they had shielded from the intrigued clones. The sergeant in particular didn't hesitate to drop his clone hostage to grab a particular small and scrawny soldier behind him and carry him bridal style. Together the terran soldiers sprinted from the craft ignoring the clones and Jedi in front of them.
Ahsoka stood there gobsmacked at the sight of them running away. Turning to the wheezing 212th hostage, Ahsoka asked in shock, "What the Fuck was that all about?" She had no intention of chasing after them yet, for as soon as the police officers saw the wounded they simply ushered them through like any other clone casualty case.
"I was ordered... cough cough... to transport those prisoners... back to the capitol, however they in... insisted their friends receive medical aid first!" The clone gasped out, several of his brothers helping him up.
The three padawans looked between themselves before taking off, intent to round up the loose terrans before they slipped away. Outpacing both Daz and Satine due to her more uninjured state, Ahsoka found herself passing by curious onlookers and startled clones, many of them in awe of the small band of terran soldiers running from the Republic commander.
Skidding to halt, the three padawans watched as the terran soldiers were quickly being met by the medical staff outside of the towns hospital with gurneys and drips being pulled out for the Republic's enemies. Enraged, Daz hobbled forward and ignited his lightsabre cutting a gurney in half as he boldly shouted, "Troopers round these prisoners up and get them out of here!" Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the aquatic padawan with looks of horror, anger, and surprise reflecting off of their faces.
The large sergeant from before stepped forward, the knife still in his tight grip. "None of us are leaving until our mates have been given medical attention!" Several of the terrans puffed out their chests and grabbed at loose bits of brick and chain to defend themselves, each one eyeing up the few clones that surrounded them. "So, I don't care if you come from the magic land of rainbows and pixies and can move stuff with your mind or swing a light stick, we are not leaving until they receive their proper treatment!"
"Daz, don't do this," Ahsoka pleaded realising the fruitlessness of the situation, "they deserve medical attention just as much as our own men do."
"Do they!?" Daz rebuffed, "Are they not the men and women that have killed so many of our troops!? Are they not the men and women that murdered my master!? Are they not the men and women that have destroyed half of this planet, just so they can have the satisfaction of starving half the galaxy!?"
"Christ, the lad's off his rocker," a terran called out in a thick accent, "he's been reading too much of that Republic shit they call news!"
"At least he has the courage to stand up for what's right in this galaxy," Satine shot back, causing an exasperated Ahsoka to look back at her with a face screaming 'not helpful', "unlike your precious United Planetary Alliance!"
"Bullshit..." the thickly accented terran was about to argue but was cut off.
"O'Rourke, enough!" the sergeant shouted before turning back to Daz, "Now I would listen to the well minded lassie over there kid, before you get yourself really badly hurt!" By now the commotion had attracted so much attention, that clones circled the terrans whilst the medical staff were in sufficient number to secretly begin working on the worst of the wounded terrans. Both clones and terrans itched to have a go at each other, intent on finishing the job their friends were unable to complete.
"Why the fuck are these prisoners not on their transports to the capitol!?" Condor shouted, pushing his way through the crowd two armed troopers in tow. The terrans reacted bitterly to his appearance, closing their circle and making themselves as mean looking as they could whilst the medical staff worked harder and faster on their patients already smelling what was about to go down.
"Oh brother," Ahsoka muttered to herself, "Condor, stand down now! All they want is proper medical treatment for their friends, nothing else."
"Medical treatment your men have neglected to give us, even when our friends were dying around us from improper sanitation!" The sergeant added, resulting in Ahsoka giving him a quick death stare before turning back to Condor.
"I don't care whether your wounded live or die, my interest is in the intelligence you hold. So, get back on the transports, or join your friends in an early grave!" Condor threatened, resulting in the two clones on his flank raising their blasters and the majority of the clones wrapped in the tight seal around the terrans shouting and heckling their opposites. Daz and Satine joined in with the threatening gestures, igniting their lightsabres and standing among the crowd. Whilst all this noise was going on the medical teams faces contorted to ones of worry, as they realised the patients they were so desperately trying to save were about to be ripped from the safety of the hospital.
Ahsoka on the other hand struggled, mentally fighting with herself on what she should do. The warrior spirit and Republic patriot she was wanted to kill the terrans on the spot for everything they had done in fighting the Republic, however her selfless and Jedi nature wanted to take care of the men, to even comfort them in their time of need, regardless of whether they had been trying to kill her or not. Deciding to recall on memory for a solution, she had seen this situation play out on Ryloth before. Charl had willingly put herself between a small group of slavers that had been working with the separatists and were only asking for their wounded to be taken care of, and a local Twi'lek village that was more than ready to rip them apart for what they had done to them. She wasn't Charl, that day she didn't have the courage to take a stand with Charl, instead opting to let what happens happen, however Charl had reminded her, "It is the duty of everyone to protect those who need help, regardless of their background or past. So always have the courage to stand up to helping other!"
"ENOUGH!" the togruta shouted, using the force to push all the clones back, "If anyone, AND I MEAN ANYONE, touches those soldiers before they have been released by the hospital, they will answer to me! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!" Ahsoka slowly turned around, staring each and every clone down.
"Ahsoka, what are your doing!?" Daz shouted, wobbling forward still with lightsabre in hand.
"I understand you have suffered by the terrans hands," Ahsoka consoled quietly, "But they are beaten, and so we should treat them as any other sentient being in this galaxy, with care. Respecting their basic needs for food and medicine!"
"The girl is right!" The sudden voice of the mayor boomed through, striding out from the hospital a guilty looking Kenobi in tow, which greatly confused Ahsoka. "Those men are not going anywhere until I say so!"
Mayor Taylor was an experienced woman, the strands of grey through her predominantly black hair giving off a sense of age and wisdom hard to come by as she approached one of the wounded soldiers, assessing him with her eyes alone.
"No." Condor replied, causing Kenobi to silently curse, "These men are prisoners of the Grand Army of the Republic, and as such what they receive and what they don't receive is at the discretion of the highest-ranking officer present." Condor hid a smug smirk behind his helmet, knowing full well the mayor had no say in the matter at all. However, Mayor Taylor only held an evil glint in her eyes.
Condor and Taylor had been at each other throats since she started treating the Republic's clones. Her personal feelings and support of the UNSC had led the ARC Commander to not trust her one bit, always believing she would poison the clones in her care when they were at their weakest. He would always ignore the miracles she was able to achieve or the affectionate praise from his own medics, instead focusing on the clones that died in her care. Part of what also frustrated him, was the amount of control she had over the Republic's mission. With one word she could terminate the entire contract leaving hundreds of his brothers inside the hospital at the mercy of disease.
"Staff," the mayor called earning the attention of the medical staff around her, "If you would please remove all Republic soldiers from the hospital premises." The sudden announcement took everyone by surprise as clones gawked, and the Jedi bulged their eyes out. Even the terran soldiers were surprised by the order.
"You... you can't," Kenobi blubbered, finally speaking out over the confrontation, "Our men need care."
"Kenobi..." Mayor Taylor begun, staring the Jedi master down, "I asked you when we started this cooperative agreement for you to inform me of any prisoners taken so I may first assess them before they are sent to where ever you are processing them. You have not only lied to me about you having prisoners, but one of your officers is also refusing them basic care."
"But we are fighting a..."
"I don't give a 2 flying fucks about your so called 'operation'," the mayor interrupted, "most of these men are half starved and in urgent need of care. So, if they cannot receive proper attention from my team, then neither can yours."
"You can't do that!" Satine tried to argue angrily, stepping forward threateningly.
"The hell I can," Mayor Taylor wheeled round on the girl, pointing an accusing finger at her, "I built this hospital out of my own money and donated it to the people of Pandora for their benefit, it therefore falls under the ownership of the Pandoran establishment and as Mayor of Casanova I decide who can make use of it. Even if you were to force martial law on this town, the majority of people who work here are volunteers and will happily stop working if I tell them too. So please do explain to me how I don't have the power to throw the lot of you out?"
Satine only stepped back, as the clones begun to realise how screwed they were going to be without the hospital. In fact, a lot of them began to become aware of the growing local presence behind them, their faces contorted in anger and their hands full of stones and pipes.
"The choice is yours Kenobi, let me treat these men or you're going to have to find a new hospital to take your sick and injured."
Kenobi's brow furrowed. The decision was simple enough, allow the terrans to be treated by the doctors and keep his men alive. But he knew he was going to lose the trust and support of the 87th, especially Condor, who had become more and more vocal about the entire conflict. Several times they had tried calling for orbital strikes on civilian centres, or indiscriminate killings of locals to ensure submission. Whilst they were hailed by the Republic media for their steadfast loyalty, their true brutal and violent nature were quickly becoming a real problem for Kenobi to manage. It was so bad their extremist views had already begun infecting other outfits in the 7th Sky Corp.
"Fine, let the terrans be treated. But they must remain under guard at all times." Kenobi ordered. He needed the hospital way to badly. The few 87th men decorating the crowd however swore, and soon begun heckling the Jedi General, believing the decision to be too soft. The terrans on the other hand breathed a sigh of relief as they allowed themselves to be treated, comfortable in the knowledge that they were safe for the time being.
Ahsoka was among those who let out a sigh of relief, as she turned back to facing her friends. Both Daz and Satine however only looked at her in disgust, bitter that she had taken the terran's side over theirs. Watching the pair disappear into the mass of clones, Ahsoka disengaged her lightsabre again no longer needing it. Turning back, she watched with a sad smile as the terrans were slowly filtered through and into the hospital, medical staff carefully looking after them.
"Thank you." The togruta was startled as the mayor personally saw the young padawan, "A lot of good men would have died today if you hadn't stepped up when you did." Ahsoka simply blushed, muttering a slight 'no problem' as she turned to leave but was again stopped by a pair of the wounded terrans, the sergeant and a young friend of his.
"We just wanted to say thank you lassie," the sergeant greeted with a soft smile, "I hope you defending us isn't going to get you into any trouble?"
"It's fine," Ahsoka admitted, "they'll get over it eventually." Going to leave again, the young soldier stopped her.
"If the Republic was led by people with your heart and your brain, we wouldn't be in this situation. So... thanks." The young soldier whispered, pushing a small collection of objects into her hands. Ahsoka was dumbstruck, as her eyes followed the pair limping away. Looking at what the young soldier had given her, she spied the knife used by the sergeant wrapped away in an sapphire blue cloth embroidered with a planet overlapping a compass and surrounded by stars and wreaths. Pocketing the other bits for later, Ahsoka was about to walk off to her own tent but was stopped by a sudden cry.
"TRAITOR!"
Spinning around she watched as an 87th trooper tried to drive a knife up and into Mayor Taylor. He was caught though by the sergeant, as the pair struggled for control. The clone was able to quickly overpower the sergeant, due to the terrans weak state but was again interrupted by the young soldier who tackled the clone to the ground. As the pair tumbled away in a mass of arms and legs, a police officer rushed to the scene pistol drawn. Rolling to a stop the clone rushed to get up, turning back to his original target.
BANG
BANG
BANG
The clone dropped dead, as the officer directed the weapons at the rest of the gathered clones, threateningly. That was why the police were the only ones armed.
Whilst everyone focused on the dead clone, police officer, or mayor, Ahsoka focused on the bloody knife. She was certain it was clean when the clone initially attacked. Rushing to where the terran soldier lay, she spotted a pair of dark red patches staining his dirty uniform. Grabbing the sapphire cloth, she rushed to apply pressure, her mind recalling Kix's teaching. "Oh god it hurts..." the young soldier cried.
"Medic!" the sudden cry of the padawan alerted the sergeant as he spotted his young brother in arms lying motionlessly on the ground. Ignoring the nurse's questions, he wobbled over, falling down opposite the young girl. Spotting the small pool of blood pooling by his side, the sergeant lifted the young soldier up whispering to him.
"Perkins, you still there?" The sergeant whispered. Tears burned at both soldier's eyes, as Perkin's breathing became laboured. The rest of the terrans hearing the cry raced to the sergeant's side, as the togruta still desperately applied pressure.
"I am sorry sarge, I am so sorry." Perkins cried, his hand gripping the sergeants. Reaching for another of his friends he whispered, "A tune Dan, please a tune."
As medics and nurses ran to help the wounded soldier, Ahsoka held her hands against the bloods' gushing tide trying to keep the terran alive. The noise of the sudden commotion died around her as she softly listened to the words quietly sung by the other terran soldiers. In mourning they sung, as their brother slowly faded away, too weak and frail to carry on living.
"Here's forty shillings on the drum,
For those who volunteer to come
To enlist and fight the foe today
Over the hills and far away..."
Mayor Taylor watched in shock and sadness as the face of the young soldier slowly lost its colour, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The togruta desperately applied pressure to the wound, however the mayor could already tell it was too late as the blood slowed itself. The Sergeant could tell this as well, as he closed his tear stained eyes. Holding the boy close to him, the sergeant comforted him as he whispered a silent prayer. Soon all life in the soldier disappeared, and the terran troops were forced to cover him over with a thick grey blanket. A nurse comforted the young togruta, whilst the Mayor straitened herself gave a quick death glare to both Condor and Kenobi before marching into the hospital. Pandora had to know about what the Republic's heroes were up to, else what else might they try to get away with?
-----
Countess Rebecca Zafah was a strict and disciplined leader, her unwavering dedication to her family and the clan had given her the nickname the Iron Dragon. Unlike her husband she was not born into the clan, instead being originally of terran descent and having to fight her way in. Her terran heritage caused many clan members to scorn her for being 'tainted', however her judgment and combat prowess was well respected and feared.
Looking out over the fields and forests surrounding Clan Zafah's training monastery, the silent hum of her personal Pelican soothing her brewing frustration. Feeling a slight tap on her shoulder, the countess turned to be greeted by her Chief Protector holding 3 fingers up at her, his Templar armour already fitted after their long journey. Nodding, the countess grabbed her helmet from its seat and fitted it before going back to leaning out of the Pelican's back door. Soon she could feel the large steel bird gently slow itself, before turning to land allowing the armoured woman a beautiful view of the ageing monastery.
Heavily influenced by Japanese culture, Clan Zafah's monastery was their first independent home from the rest of the Alliance species, a secluded and hidden place for them to live uninterrupted by the wider galaxy. It was centred between the numerous family settlements belonging to the clan, the monastery acting as the clan's base of power and training establishment. Surrounded by wide open plains and dense woodlands, every member of the clan would train for a minimum of 4 years within before being recognised as warriors and allowed to go their own way.
Each year over a hundred potential warriors at the young age of 11 and 12 would enter the monastery's gates under the watchful eyes of the Templar guards, and would not be permitted to leave unless they either quit, passed, or died. The training of each of the warriors included a thorough introduction into the basics of many of the weapons used by the clan among other skills. Each of the key families would provide some of this basic training, which was always carefully monitored by the permanent training staff to ensure proper instruction, so as to introduce the trainees to the various personalities of the wider clan.
Stepping out onto the landing pad, the Countess was soon welcomed by the chief instructor, a grizzly old warrior known as Grey. His armour was heavily scarred with damage and he would normally hold a gruff and uninterested impression. But today he smiled warmly at his young protégé.
"Grey, it has been a long time." The Countess warmly greeted, feeling the hot blast as her pelican took off again.
"In my long-life time, a long time is nothing." He replied, giving the woman a tight hug. Even in his 60s he could still beat the snot out of all the young recruits he trained. "How have you been?"
"Stressed," the Countess admitted, "without Alex around anymore, trying to hold off HADES and keep some of the families in line has been difficult, especially when your own daughter is also out causing chaos on Pandora!"
"You know Charlotte," Grey consoles, "she has her father's sense of duty and your ability to pick a fight out of anything. So, what has she done that has got everyone unimpressed."
"She was merciful to Skywalker and his padawan."
"Ah," Grey muttered, realising the slight error in her ways, "of course she has also inherited Arsenal's flair for the unexpected."
"Tell me about it," the Countess chuckled, "As much as I'd like to talk, you informed me about an issue with our recent addition and told me to come as soon as I was able. So, what's the problem?"
"Yes, I think it's better if I showed you." Grey admitted, beckoning her to follow. The pair soon begun walking through the main courtyard, where large swarms of recruits were training before the last of the day disappeared into night. Many of the trainers observing bowed to the two, before returning to their pupils' progress aware of the imposing steps of the Templars.
The Templars were the best of the clan's warriors. Picked from the best of the recruit classes, they were trained early and were responsible for protecting both the Count and Countess, as well as protecting the monastery. Equipped with advanced armour and the best weapons, no one dared cross them. What made their role so hard though was their loyalty and willingness to lay down their lives for others. Many of them were also combat veterans with years of experience against insurgent forces, even Countess Zafah's own guard leader had fought alongside her in battle past. It was why she trusted him and no one else.
Opening the doors to a large dojo, the Countess couldn't help but smile at the sight of the old cherry timber frames holding the ancient structure together. If they could tell stories they would be able to talk for hours about the many warriors that had once trained around them. Turning her attention to the centre of the dojo, she spotted a tight ring of initiates standing over a young purple skinned girl, laying hard punches and kicks into her fragile body. Many of the others in the class were sitting around the circle on beams or the floor, watching with amusement as the girl put up no resistance.
"They've been going for about half an hour now, Grey." The class' instructor admitted, unable to help her.
"Who's leading the bullying, Arsenal?" the Countess quietly asked, watching as another punch was landed.
"Izaiah Fulcrum, ma'am." Arsenal admitted not bothering to show her the same respect as his fellow instructors. The Countess took no offence however, Arsenal had been one of the first to ever properly accept her into the clan and so she considered him a brother.
"Related?" the Countess asked, turning to her head Chief Protector, who only nodded slowly, in obvious annoyance. After whispering a quick plan to her bodyguards, she then strode out into the wide dojo.
The Countess grabbed the fist of a young initiate who had attempted a big punch, causing a sudden murmur to ripple through the dojo as the class realised who had entered their midst. Looking back with an angry glare, the blonde initiate suddenly snapped his eyes wide open. Content the trainee wasn't going to cause further harm, the countess roughly released him.
"I think she's had enough." The Countess reprimanded. The blonde initiate only looked back at the alien girl with disgust muttering.
"Not until the Republic has paid for Pandora."
The Countess stopped momentarily, before sighing to herself. Bending down to the young pantoran's level she softly whispered, "Raya, I want you to get back up." The ex-Jedi looked at back at the Countess, tears burning around her eyes.
"Why?" Raya softly questioned, "so these brats can beat me again?" The initiates within the immediate area moved to hit her again but were stopped short by the Templars who had followed the Countess onto the mat.
"Because its time they finally found out what an amazing warrior you will become." Raya with a determined growl pushed her aching muscles to stand. With much struggle she stood up, albeit in terrible pain. Hunched from the bruising on her stomach and clutching her dislocated shoulder, Raya faced the Countess who quietly beamed beneath her helmet.
"Tell me initiate, what is your name?" The Countess asked, turning to the blonde who she guessed was the ringleader of the group.
"Izaiah Fulcrum, ma'am." The blonde initiate replied, side eyeing Raya.
"I assume this it your handiwork, Izaiah?" the Countess questioned, motioning to the wounded pantoran.
"Yes," Izaiah replied proudly, "The bitch got what she deserved."
"Good. Fulcrum, if you will."
In one swift word of command, the Templars launched themselves at the initiates, beating them until they were on the floor bruised. The surprise and intensity of the attack had taken the young mandalorians by complete surprise, none of them able to defend themselves against the experience and skill of the clan's best. Growling, Izaiah spit blood from his mouth as he glared up at his uncle.
"The fuck was that for?" An initiate cursed, trying to stand again.
"I am here to teach you a lesson I hope none of you will ever forget!" the Countess shouted striding to where Izaiah was beginning to get up, "I have been duly informed that you are one of the best training cadre's to ever pass through, however lately you have begun to act arrogant, thinking you know everything and are the best when you are so clearly not. This arrogance has blinded you in fact, blinded you to the core principles of the clan and the creed you swore to uphold. Any idea what principle that is?"
The initiates stumbled up listening as their clan leader droned on, as soon as the question was posed to them a particular initiate decided to make a cheap remark, "Not to except war mongering Jedi into our ranks?" several initiates sniggered and grinned, however realised their mistake when the 'funny guy' was harshly hit in the head with the broad edge of a Templar sword.
"No," the Countess silently seethed, glaring at the fumbling trainee, "It seems your arrogance has even meant you have forgotten your principles entirely. No, the answer I was looking for was all Clan members are to accept everyone's identity, personality, and opinion even if they do not conform to your own. It is for this reason you are being punished now, because some of you thought yourself better than this young girl standing before you." The countess shouted, pointing at Raya, "Better enough to beat her for your own amusement!"
"Then why are we all being punished," another initiate countered, "not all of us partook in tormenting her."
Countess Zafah only smirked, "No, but as Izaiah put it, Raya deserves to be beaten for the actions of the Republic and Jedi, just as you all get to be beaten for the actions of Izaiah here." Izaiah only glared at the clan leader, frustrated his own words had been used against him. "Again."
"Well, that isn't fair..." The initiate tried to argue but was cut off by when the Templars again beat down the trainees. Some had tried to think of ways of avoiding it either sneaking away or fighting back, but they were still knocked flat.
"Neither is beating the crap out of a girl who by all accounts was never really a Jedi in the first place." The Countess rebuffed, before turning back to Raya who was struggling to hide her face from the rest of the initiates. She knew exactly how many of them were feeling, the hatred and bitterness at the teacher's favourite because they had to do a punishment for a tiny mistake someone had made. Part of her however couldn't help but feel delighted at their torment, particularly Izaiah, for all the pain and anguish they had put her through. Glancing up at the Countess she watched as she silently whispered, "Show them the scars." Nodding slowly, Raya complied and begun stripping herself of the long-sleeved training top.
Izaiah coughed, as he once again pulled himself from the floor, the soft pacing of his uncle's feet behind him. Looking up, he suddenly noticed Raya begin pulling her top off, the stretchy fabric peeling slowly away from her back before being unceremoniously dropped at her feet. Turning herself around, Izaiah watched in shock and remorse as Raya slowly showed hundreds of deep and jagged scars running across her purple back, showcasing in as plain a way as possible the amount of pain that filled her past. In that split fraction of a second, Izaiah found himself resisting the burning urge to wrap Raya up in a tight embrace, forgetting completely his bitterness and frustration at the Republic's actions.
"Would someone like to explain what they can deduct from the scars lining miss Kaosa's back?" the Countess questioned, noting the shocked and down trodden faces of the entire initiate group. Even some of her guards recoiled at the grim sight and the trainers, whilst in the know, visibly flinched at the girl's torture. "Anyone?" The silence was deafening, as everyone silently preyed not to be picked upon. "No one? Funny, and I though part of your first aid course was to be able to recognise signs of human abuse. These right here are..."
"Whip marks, caused by a heavy rope." Izaiah explained, his head to the floor, "Some have just recently healed, suggesting the last set was delivered 4 - 5 weeks ago, the same time Raya was still under the tutelage of Master Isigqila..." Looking up from the floor, Izaiah pushed back tears as he realised his mistake, "I am so sorry."
"Thank you, Izaiah." The Countess consoled, respecting the suffering the revelation was causing him. "That is the end of training for today, and I suggest you also take tomorrow off as a chance for reflection. Now disappear!" The initiates didn't need to be told twice as they all desperately hurried back to their dorms, the knowledge of what they had done weighing down on them heavily. Izaiah however didn't move, keeping his head low with tears burning at his eyes his Uncle had to physically grab him by the shoulders to get the boy to move. Once he was back on his feet, he spared one last pain felt look back at Raya before blindly walking back to his dorm.
Raya didn't know how to react, she had felt such pleasure and delight at Izaiah's own suffering she was in no way prepared for his sudden breakdown in character. For two weeks he had prided himself for beating and ridiculing her for her past life, now he just felt ashamed of himself for it. Raya couldn't even mentally argue it being some sort of twisted trick, through the force she could feel his regret and pain echo all around her, something she thought completely impossible to fake. Everything whizzed around her mind in a constant tornado leaving her completely speechless apart from 5 words, "What. The. Hell. Was that?"
The Countess only chuckled at Raya's bewildered response, finding some amusement in all the heart felt pain and emotion. "That was a Fulcrum realising he had screwed up royally." She replied with a much more calming tone, relaxing away from her stricter and more disciplined Countess persona.
"Looked more like someone had just shot his Loth Cat." Raya joked, causing another brief chuckle from the Countess.
"Yes, I suppose." The Countess answered, "But I wouldn't push him around about it."
"Why not?" Raya questioned, completely forgetting her top half was covered barely by her sports bra. "Do you realise how long he has been tormenting me? How long I have had to wait for a chance to retaliate." Grabbing her training top from the floor, she put it back on, no longer wincing from the pain of her scars.
"2 weeks, I suppose." The Countess questioned.
"Yep, and now I am looking forward to enacting my revenge."
"I thought the Jedi abhorred vengeance?" the Countess questioned with a raise of her brow.
"And I thought you said I was no longer a Jedi!" Raya wittingly shot back, forgetting much of the pain caused by her fellow trainees.
"True, true." The countess admitted in humour, beginning to walk out of the dojo. Her tone quickly darkened again however as she gave a warning to the young pantoran. "But either way you are by no means allowed to retaliate against any of them, am I understood."
"Why not?" Raya questioned, limping to catch up.
"Because if you do, I will not hesitate to treat you with the same punishment as I treated them for what they did to you." Raya nodded in understanding. It was frustrating that she was unable to feel the satisfaction of dishing out the punishment, but it was acceptable.
Coming out under the crimson sky of the setting sun, the duo begun walking to the main fortress of the monastery, its stone foundations towering over the main training grounds. It was the main home of residence for the clan's leaders whenever they were in meeting, allowing a comfortable but easily defended place for them to discuss the problems the clan were facing. For now, it was mostly empty, with only the Countess and Old Zafah being the only elders in residence.
"You still didn't explain the reason behind his reaction," Raya pondered, "I mean he is meant to be the cold-hearted warrior meant for fighting the enemies of the clan; He isn't exactly going to frighten anyone if he cries at the sight of someone's scars."
"Before I explain why he reacted in that way, you first of all need to understand the philosophy of our clan," the Countess begun walking up the slope to the fortress gatehouse, "how much do you know about mandalorian philosophy? Particularly our clan?"
Raya thought carefully back to her days as a youngling, trying to picture herself sitting in front of a tired and stressed master learning about the history of the Jedi order. "What I recall, the ideas behind mandalorian warriors, is more of a creed than it is a people's identity. However, that is as far as I got when I was a youngling, as a friend of mine was always uncomfortable with the lessons for some reason."
"And of Clan Zafah?"
"Nothing really, in fact I think you were the first person to discuss it with me."
"That isn't surprising." the Countess sighed, stopping to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Why not?"
"To explain will take to long, but all you need to know is we weren't exactly popular in Mandalore before our departure," The Countess explained, continuing her walk beneath the great gatehouse. "In fact, the clan was so unpopular in the entire galaxy it was forced to relocate to the unknown regions where it stumbled across the terrans' home world of Earth..."
"Earth! The terrans home world is called Earth." Raya interrupted, slightly surprised that the soldiers that had defeated her clones so effortlessly came from such a strange sounding place.
"What have you got against my mother's home world?" the Countess asked slightly exasperated, pointing an excusing finger at the girl.
"Its just weird that a planet is called Earth, that's all." Raya defended, her hands up, "Besides what did you mean by your mother's home world?"
"I was getting there, if you hadn't so rudely interrupted me!" the Countess scolded continuing on her way. By now they were standing in the inner courtyard, the personal rooms of the elders overlooking them from the curtailing buildings. "Anyway, when the clan found Earth, they were initially sceptical. Earth at this point hadn't even been able to break out of its atmosphere and still remained predominantly divided and so the clan leaders thought it best to investigate more about the world in hopes of understanding the culture they were entering. What surprised them however was the variety and expression of the people that they decided to initiate contact."
"And they were allowed to remain?" Raya asked, realising they were now entering the large council chamber. Looking around she noticed detailed and intricate art carved into the stone walls surrounding the room, conveying an ancient and heroic story. No doubt the story Raya was just hearing now.
"More than that, they were accepted." The Countess explained, a small smirk on her lips, "The terran people accepted the clan with open arms, celebrating a potential lifelong alliance. Some terrans were hesitant, afraid the clan would conquer them with their more powerful armaments, however the majority were excited for the future ahead."
"I don't quite understand what this has to do with the clan's philosophy?" Raya again asked, slightly irritated she was being dragged along a mile-long history lesson. It wasn't she wasn't interested in learning, she loved learning when she was still a youngling, but her attention for long periods of time was terrible, and the Jedi masters that taught her were always so boring.
"Because as soon as the clan was finally settled in place, the leader, Count Zafah, announced that it would accept any and all terrans who were capable enough as warriors in the clans ranks. He wanted to demonstrate the clan's gratitude to the people of Earth that he was offering them the chance to become incredible individuals. And this gratitude has continued since then, the clan has willingly accepted any and all species and persons the chance to join."
"And you were one of these individuals." Raya soon realised, mentally joining the dots together, "You were once a terran."
"Yes," the Countess chuckled at the bright eyes of Raya realising she was right, "so believe me when I say I know and understand what you are going through and have already been through..."
Raya flinched at the hints of her past, the mental scars of Master Isigqila's punishments still too fresh in her mind. Whilst she had no problem demonstrating the scars publicly, the mere mention by other of her past torment stuck a nerve with her. "Although I doubt none of you will have any idea as to what it is like being tormented by the person you are meant to confide in." Raya turned away, as the Countess sighed.
"No," the Countess admitted, "I know exactly what it was like being tormented by the ones you trust..."
"Really!?"
"Really," the Countess continued with sympathy, "For you it was your master. For me, my father." Raya turned around at this, her eyes open in disbelief. "Yeah, whilst the scars have faded, I was also beaten for much of my life. Even if I failed the most basic of tasks he would still beat me. If I talked back, I was locked outside. And the worst was if I did something against his will, then, then he would lock me in a room with one of his buddies for 'corrective punishment'. I eventually got so sick of him and his rules I ran away to join the army, setting me on the path I am on now. So, whilst I was never there with you in your pain, trust me when I say I have experienced it myself, as have so many of the ex terran warriors in the clan."
"That was why Izaiah was so distraught," Raya soon realised, "he knows someone who went through that also."
"His cousin," the Countess admitted, "she was 7 when his Uncle and myself rescued her from her father. We failed to find a good enough home for her, so Fulcrum took her in as his own. When Izaiah met her, they bonded well. In fact, they bonded so well that they were basically inseparable by the end of her first week, bringing a much-needed breath of fresh air to the family. To them she is family. It's also why the Fulcrum family leads the support for Police action against Criminal groups."
Nodding her head, Raya soon begun to sympathise for Izaiah. Maybe she could forgive him for the past few weeks, but it was going to be hard. He mind though wandered to why she had been brought up to this ancient room. Their private discussion could have just as easily been talked about in the dojo without risk of prying ears. Maybe the Countess was shy about her own past and wanted somewhere she could really feel was safe, "I suppose I should be returning to my dorm now?" Asked in slight sadness.
"Whilst I have enjoyed our little discussion, it is not the reason for me bringing you up here." The Countess explained, lightly stopping the young pantoran with her arm. "I have been watching your recent test results with great interest, Raya. I must say, they are not exactly worthy of a great warrior."
"Well unfortunately my master preferred to teach me about meditation rather than lightsabre forms." Raya tried to argue. "Beside my peers have been training on their weapons since they could walk!"
"True," the Countess conceded, "but its not your level of training I am interested in, more you attitude and general mindset that I have a problem with."
"What do you mean? My attitude is fine!"
"Depends on who you ask." The Countess joked, "But what I brought you here for, is to speak with Old Zafah, our resident elder. Whilst many of your peers have had a chance to find themselves under their family's tutelage, you are still not yet grounded as to who you really are. And no, I am not talking about being a mandalorian or Jedi, more your personality. You just seem so indecisive of what you should do or who to be, I was worried you might not know who you are yet."
"I know who I am!"
"Well, we'll see if Old Zafah agrees?" the Countess indicated for them to sit at a set of cushions that slowly rose from hidden panels in the stone-cold floor. Sitting crossed-leg, Raya watched as an old and frail woman shuffled from a side entrance, accompanied by a young aide who carried with him a small bag. The old woman was heavily wrinkled, her hunched back making her already small stature smaller. The trails of her long robes swept across the ground, the ancient and mysterious writing being slightly covered by the dusty ground. Slowly shuffling to the centre cushion, Old Zafah was careful not to break any bones in her slow descent to the cushion, also sitting crossed-legged. The young aide sat in the corner constantly watching the old woman, without a care for either of her guests, the bag sitting on his lap.
"Grandmother." The Countess greeted, bowing down. Raya silently gawked as her mind tried to comprehend the age of the woman, before quickly following suit. Rising again, the pair were greeted by a warm smile, as Old Zafah outstretched her hand. "Go on." The Countess encouraged after a brief pause, prompting Raya to place her hand in the outstretched palm.
"Ah I see you have chosen a new warrior to follow in your footsteps Rebecca," the old woman begun, inspecting Raya's hands gently, "A blasted Jedi, with a traumatic childhood though. Ah yes, but she does have the heart of a warrior inside." Raya just sat there, bewildered as the woman slowly traced her fingers across Raya's palms.
"How did you know?" Raya questioned, suspecting some sort of old person magic or wisdom.
"I read your file." Old Zafah croaked with a wicked smile, causing a brief chuckle to emanate from the Countess.
Raya felt slightly foolish, but the force warned her not to be angry. In fact, since the elderly woman walked in, Raya could feel a deep peace and sense of joy surround her. A feeling she had forgotten from her time with Grandmaster Yoda. Whoever was in front of her was most certainly a wise and forgiving person that Raya feared to anger.
"So then Kaosa, what piece of ancient wisdom do you require?" the old woman gently asked, already soothing the pantoran.
"Your granddaughter believes I don't yet know who I am." Raya replied, shooting a side glance to the Countess. "But as I tried to explain before you entered, I already know who I am."
"Do you now?" the frail lady asked in surprise, "Well then, who are you?"
Raya was about to answer but came up blank. Falling back on what she knew, Raya explained, "I am an ex-Jedi Padawan now training to be a warrior of Clan Zafah." Smiling to herself, Raya thought it was the perfect answer. But she could tell the answer wasn't what the elder was looking for, and so her smile faded.
"Tell me child, what are your strengths? What defined you when you were a part of the Jedi?" Old Zafah questioned, squinting her eyes from behind her glasses.
"I was well known for being a trouble maker and making people's lives miserable." Raya tailed off, not exactly proud of her past mistakes. They were fun when she was younger, but since then she had been forced to accept the consequences for her mistakes making her regret every prank she once loved pulling.
"You no longer seem proud of it?" Old Zafah questioned, hardening her stare.
"No, I don't."
"And why is that?"
"Because I made people's lives difficult, I created a mess when I had no reason to. All I brought to the Jedi as a youngling was frustration and misery." Raya explained, slightly irritated by the question.
"And joy." Old Zafah added, causing extreme confusion to cross Raya's face. Chuckling slightly at the girl's annoyed expression, the frail woman continued, "Like I said, I have read your file, which includes general information regarding your capabilities in the Jedi temple. Whilst there were a lot of reports of your misbehaviour, many of them only showed frustration at the mess it caused rather than the pranks themselves. In fact, several Jedi masters absolutely loved how your jokes would brighten their days."
"I don't understand?" Raya's confusion was still heavily written across her face, "I made people's lives harder."
"No, you did not." Old Zafah explained, "Master Isigqila believed the perfect Jedi should be disciplined and focused. She couldn't accept anything other than complete control, so she tried to make you into something you are inherently not. As such it made you afraid of your own talents, something unforgivable for a teacher to do."
Raya carefully thought about what the elder had explained. Piecing together what was said and her life, it begun to make more sense. Yoda had only ever disciplined her for the messes she caused rather than the pranks themselves. The Jedi masters that she regularly targeted never tried to force punishment on her, they would normally give her a stern glare and walk off. Master Isigqila was really the only one to force her to change, punishing her if she dared have fun. It was also around that time that she begun to really struggle with her training, as her thoughts on joking around became more negative.
"So, what are you suggesting? I use my pranks as a weapon?" Raya asked.
Old Zafah smiled warmly as Raya begun making sense of it all, "What I suggest, is that you use the skills you require to prank people as your basis to improve your own fighting abilities." With that the aide walked over carrying with him the small bag. Dropping the bag between them, Raya took a careful look inside. Widening her eyes, she drew from it a small polymer ball and smiled wickedly. It was a glitter bomb and her fellow trainees were about to find out why she was the undisputable master of them...
-----
'Charlie' watched the passing by of speeders through his small apartment window, the range of colours and designs leaving a pleasant smile over his face. 'Such wonderful creations.' He thought to himself, watching as a particularly small and nimble one begun racing the long streams of traffic, its bright orange paint pattered by the slow drizzle of the rain.
Smirking to himself, 'Charlie' muttered under his breath, "No matter where you go, you'll always find those who like showing off."
DING DONG
Turning to the door, 'Charlie's' brow became fixed as his hand drifted towards his pistol, tucked unceremoniously in his jeans. Moving towards the door, he took a careful glance at the large map of the Senate building sprawled over his table, little yellow post-it notes decorating it with carefully collected information. "Yes?" The brown-haired man asked cautiously, taking a careful look at the small holo-screen that looked out into the building's 20th floor. On the other side stood what he assumed was a young woman staring back at him. Instead of the usual clear-cut image, a heavy artificial static surrounded the woman's face; the only identifiable feature being her eerie yellow eyes, which sent shivers up 'Charlie's' back.
"I am looking for a Charlie Brown. Do you know which apartment is his?" The woman shouted through the door, sighing 'Charlie' gave a quick coded rap of his knuckles against the heavy steel.
BANG.
"Great," Charlie muttered dryly. Opening the door, he grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her in, swiftly closing it behind the trails of her cloak. Releasing her, 'Charlie' narrowly avoided a jab from the woman as she expertly spun into a defensive pose.
"Relax," 'Charlie' muttered dismissively checking the hall camera once more, "The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with a HADES operative."
"Then why did you grab me so harshly?" The woman bit back. 'Charlie' ignored her, focusing on the hall camera with a hard stare. Satisfied that it's feed wasn't going to yield anything new, he turned back to his guest a heavy scowl across his face.
"What is your Op-code?" He questioned, analysing the woman carefully. She wore a heavy-duty grey cloak, covering over a tight red and black combat suit which both accented her stunning figure and kept the woman light and nimble. Locking eyes with the woman 'Charlie' could see his eyes weren't deceiving him earlier, as two Topaz coloured eyes stared back at him. Probably one of HADES' new enhancements they give to their few field operatives.
"What!?" The woman questioned, still not relenting on her defensive stance.
"Your Op-Code, what do you call yourself in the field?" 'Charlie' Berated.
"Omega..." the woman replied, relaxing slightly, "I thought you didn't care who people were as long as they worked for your side. 'Charlie' only chuckled moving back to his small window.
"I care about proper procedure when disclosing information between agents." Picking up a small hidden tablet, he typed away, "I run the biggest network of informants and agents in the entire Republic, the information I have been gathering as well as the pressure I have been able to exert on some Senators has made the 56th's job on Pandora a whole lot easier. Its also why once you are on your way I plan to find out who the hell in HADES thinks its funny to ignore protocol, send me no warning of a meet up, and get a kid to do a hit on a senator. Now, what do you want?"
Omega was taken a back at the bluntness of the spymaster. Looking him up and down, he wasn't exactly what people expected a spymaster to be like, instead of a black business suit and stoic expression 'Charlie' wore a pair faded jeans, white polo shirt, and a look as if he was already bored with all his boss' bullshit. Even his codename wasn't awe inspiring, instead it was a simple name easily lost within a galactic archive. His reputation however was legendary, using his knowledge and skills he was able to help build and establish the best network of the Alliance Linked Intelligence and Enforcement Network (A.L.I.E.N).
Whilst the UPA was officially known to the galaxy 10 years ago, ALIEN, the UPA intelligence agency, had been working within the Republic for many years before then, building intelligence networks and systems in the shadows. The Senate network, as it was known, was the most successful of all these networks, accompanied by countless agents and informants it worked to monitor the Republic senate in hopes of ensuring more favourable outcomes to the UPA and its allies. In recent months however it had become a whole lot harder due to the Senate discouraging careless talk about the war.
"I am sorry what?" Omega tried to feign confusion, feeling belittled by the spymaster's comments, "I have a doctorate in psychology and sentient studies from the New Step University on Kadia, you really think I wouldn't guess you, a HADES operative, are here to conduct a hit and need information? Now I am tired of repeating myself, so what do you need?"
"Schematics of the Senate Apartment Complex." Omega replied quickly, causing 'Charlie' to furiously begin typing away. "Also, I am not a kid."
"How old are you?"
"17."
"Then, why am I not surprised." 'Charlie' muttered to himself, finding the relevant file, "Good old HADES, sending a 16-year-old inexperienced kid to do the job of a master assassin."
"I told you..." Omega was about to protest, closing the short distance between them.
"No, HADES told you, you're 17," 'Charlie' interrupted, staring up at her, "and given the enhancements and level of training you've received it is plausible that you are as you say 17. But I am going to take a guess now and say that you were activated at the beginning of the Pandora conflict, and given the strict UNSC rules on under 18s serving in a dangerous capacity, rules even HADES can't escape, you and any other operatives of your cohort were and still are under the age of 18. Unfortunately, HADES has been able to deploy you early using Pandora as an excuse."
"But is it hard to believe that I am a year older than you say?" Omega questioned.
"Yes." 'Charlie' replied, looking back at the tablet.
"If you think so sourly of HADES and an under 18 doing this mission, then why are you helping me?" Omega asked coyly, uninterested whether she was too young to kill. 'Charlie' only laughed.
"I can pull HADES up for improper etiquette, but who they use is simply out of my control." 'Charlie' answered with a hard stare. "The blueprints are by the printer."
Omega nodded and went to grab them, noticing the array of information covering the spymaster's table.
"Your notes look incredibly detailed," Omega picked up a single post it note scrawled in codded sentences, attempting to read the information it contained she found herself coming up blank, "with most of this information I assume you can already predict what senators are going to vote for that new bill to do with the extension of support to Pandora." 'Charlie' joined her at the table, harshly grabbing his notes out of her hands.
"Yes, and hopefully with whoever HADES has told you to kill dead, this conflict can be stopped. Who is your target anyway?" Omega paused slightly at the question, her back becoming more rigid as her eyes narrowed. Her answer was near robotic as if another entity had possessed her.
"Senator Vaa Huunava." 'Charlie's' eyes widened as he realised who she was targeting, grabbing his pistol he directed it at her, stepping back his face contorted in fury.
Speaking as calmly as he dared, 'Charlie' questioned her, "Why the Fuck is HADES trying to kill one of the most influential senators in the Republic, a senator whose opinion has just changed for the better over the Pandora conflict!"
Omega smiled however, turning to face her host properly her golden coloured eyes glinting with danger, "That is precisely why HADES has decided to kill him."
"You don't care about Pandora, do you?"
"Not in the slightest," Omega happily replied, "HADES' chief concern is about procuring the next generation of weapons that ensures the legacy of the terran race, and the Jedi are the key to that next generation. Besides we control thousands of planets and moons, what's a small skirmish on a distant colony worthwhile preventing, when the very existence of our race is at stake."
"Our wars against the aliens are over, they are our allies and Pandora is our planet. We have a duty to protect them from harm!" 'Charlie' protested, slightly hopeful he could overcome the young girls conditioning to think otherwise.
"No, our duty is to the protection of our people's existence, that is why this war must carry on, so we can acquire the necessary resources we need to protect them." Omega growled, advancing on the spymaster.
"Well I will not allow it, you're going to have to kill me..."
POW
The harsh sizzle of burnt flesh filled Omega's nose, exciting her senses, as 'Charlie' clutched at his chest in surprise and fear. Stumbling back the dishevelled spymaster fell backwards, his pistol dropping out of his grasp. Drawing the hidden blaster from her cloak, she looked at the body with a stone-cold stare, before tossing the pistol back under cloak. She then quickly marched to where 'Charlie' had last placed his tablet, picking it up she quickly uploaded an encoded message designed to fool anyone who analysed it. Putting the tablet back down, Omega closed her eyes briefly before shuddering slightly.
"HADES, this is Omega, Charlie Brown is dead!" The young operative announced her voice calm and collected.
"Roger Omega, I advise you return to the safe house." Nodding, she begun to leave the apartment. "Were you able to secure any intelligence that may help us identify other individuals worth eliminating?"
"Negative sir," Omega replied, "All his notes where written in a complex code that my eye couldn't quite decipher."
"Understandable, your bionic eye is more tailor made to your specific enhancements, we are yet to work out all the technical issues." The voice in her ear confirmed, "However your mission remains, eliminate that Senator so we may swing the vote in Admiral Sokar's favour."
"Roger, out." With that the young assassin advanced into the night pulling her hood above her head. The soft touch of rain began to fall heavily around her, as if the Coruscant skies knew what she had done to its greatest spymaster.
-----
The town held their heads down in mourning, as the flag draped coffin passed them down the central aisle. Beautiful voices from the town's choir echoed off of the solid walls of the building, masking the slow and careful feet of the parading soldiers. As people fidgeted with their hands, they couldn't help but feel sorry for the soldiers as they were forced to carry the coffin of their fallen brother, a brother who had fallen not in combat but in his actions to save another's life.
After the attempted murder of Mayor Taylor, as well as the deaths of the 87th clone and terran soldier, things became a lot tenser throughout Casanova. The people of the town, already unwelcoming to the clones quickly became enraged. They remained in check, and didn't attempt to antagonise any of the Republic soldiers, but if there was even a hint of a trouble between locals and clones the entire town would join in. The 87th didn't make matters any better, they would constantly conduct spot searches and false imprisonment of locals under the fear of guerrilla activity aiding the UNSC, enjoying the ability to exercise their power over Pandora's people. Mayor Taylor and Kenobi tried to keep both sides in check, encouraging an attitude of restraint and whilst the locals listened to their mayor, Condor and his men would constantly ignore the Jedi, happy to take vengeance for their brother who they called a hero.
The entire situation in Casanova had already sprouted mass protests and riots across much of occupied Pandora. People calling for the surrender of Republic forces or the execution of the 87th legion marched down the planet's many streets, blocking Republic columns and tanks. Even port workers and railway loaders begun refusing to load and unload Republic cargo, instead sitting idly whilst the Republic officials cursed and swore. With the UNSC continuing to push forward and the population against them, Ahsoka could see no way that the conflict would end on friendly terms.
Returning to the service, they watched as the old pastor climbed to the stand, his frail movement and grey hair contrasting the now healthy soldiers. "We are gathered here today to honour the service and sacrifice of Rifleman J Perkins." The pastor begun a tear sliding down his face, "The Republic will have us believe that his sacrifice was worthless. That he was a barbaric man who wanted nothing more than to destroy the hard work and progress the Republic believe they are doing for our planet. They have already screamed and shouted and used his peaceful body to demoralise our fighting men. And whilst it is their right to have their own opinion, whenever they point to this soldier a tear slides down my face." Taking a deep breath, the pastor continued, "He was a young man, a boy even. Not much older than many of the children standing before me now. But he did his duty to a cause he believed in. He did his duty to protect those he loved. Not because someone told him to. Not because he wanted to kill people. And hell, we all know it wasn't for the pay." A round of chuckles rung round the room, lightning the grim mood. "No. He served because he wanted to protect those he loved. Just like so many of our brave men and women, he served because if someone threatened his people, he wanted to have the power to stop them. And his life be damned if someone wanted to kill his best friend because like so many young boys I once served with he probably would have jumped on that grenade without a second thought. He would've stood between the enemy's fire and innocent people without considering his own life. He would have braved the fires of hell to pull back those he loved. His name, like so many of the fallen that scatter our fields and our streets may remain distant to us, foreign even. But their sacrifice will be remembered..."
The pastor was soon replaced by the sergeant who stood tall and proud, as tears stained his face. His uniform was cleaner and he was healthier, but the treatment he had endured under the 87th and the many bandages from his spell in the hospital were still present.
"In Flanders Fields by John McCrea
In Flanders' fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders' fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high,
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders' Fields."
As the sergeant's voice carried across the church, clones begun filtering through the large wooden doors, weapons armed with Daz leading them. He no longer limped, but the bandages were still wrapped round his leg and his face was still showing his bitterness. Igniting his blue blade, Daz led the Republic party down the aisle, ignoring the focused stares from the gathered crowd. Continuing the poem in its beautiful manner, the sergeant watched the party approach, making sure to finish the final verse with some emphasis.
Stepping down, the sergeant approached the Jedi padawan his men backing him. Outstretching their arms to be cuffed, the terrans knew there was no point in fighting. The clones had been watching them since they got here, and since their part of the service was over, they were free to be taken. The populace watched them go with saddened thoughts, knowing that wherever they were sent they may not return the same, or at all.
Daz watched the clones force the terrans out to the waiting gunships, before staring the crowd down with his blade still engaged. Beginning to make his way out, he suddenly felt the presence of someone who he once believed to be a friend. Stopping slightly, he took a quick glance to where he thought it might be coming from, but found nothing.
Ahsoka watched Daz go with a hard stare, having used the underside of the bench to hide from him afraid of being found out. Her new opinions were not likely to be favoured by Daz any much as they were Condor. Climbing out of her hiding place, she was surprised by the hand offered to her by one of the town's people. Smiling at the slight offer of generosity Ahsoka returned her attention to the service. The service was able to continue without any more interruptions and amid all the mourning and singing Ahsoka found herself looking back at the sapphire cloth.
With her mind wandering amid the words, Ahsoka inspected the sapphire cloth still in her hands, the blood of the young private now staining its silver threads. As she stroked her hands through the soft material she caught snippets of its past, or the past it represented. The images of proud men in green and red jackets amid pouring rain ran through her mind, permeant smile on their faces as they laughed and joked, whilst balls of stone and metal rained around them amid the pouring rain. It soon morphed into a still image of several soldiers standing in deep thick mud, masks with strange cylinders hanging off their faces. Their demeanour no longer looked all cheery and fun, instead replaced with a weariness that only a soldier who had been through the worst of it could make. It changed again to a set of men, stepping cautiously through the burning huts whilst skeletons littered the ground around them. All the images appeared so vividly in Ahsoka's mind, as if it were trying to describe a thousand-year story in a couple of images. It again changed to a narrow street with several long black cars flanked by flocks of people, who wept in silence for the flag draped coffins inside. The images soon begun changing more rapidly, showing images of terrans fighting man, alien, and machine with a blood shot look in their eyes. Ahsoka could feel them get closer to her present day, until she found herself staring at the bloody body of a terran standing weapon in hand between a school and patrol of crimson clones. It again changed to an image even Ahsoka shuddered to believe was true...
Ahsoka snapped her eyes open, the realisation as to what her friend's men had done, numbing her to her core. She knew they weren't hers, but her mind still made her feel responsible. She had heard the rumours after all, seen the reports. But what the little cloth showed her gave her a renewed purpose. She wasn't going to fight against the invasion for the Republic anymore. She wasn't going to partake in anymore violence for some ignorant and lousy senate. She was only going to fight for her men. Ahsoka had seen time and time again the care the terrans took for their people, and their men and she planned to show the same respect for her own men and people. She wasn't going to fight to kill anymore, she was going to fight to survive.
"I promise, from now on, to always fight in the defence of others, no matter the cost to myself!"
As Ahsoka whispered her promise to herself, hopeful the resting soul of the dead soldier would offer its support, a sudden warmth in the force washed over her. The subtle answer caused a brief smile to escape her lips as she became renewed with her purpose.
Guess who's back! Unfortunately not for long though as I have an extremely busy Summer Holidays ahead of me, but I should get one more chapter done before its conclusion.
I firstly want to thank everyone who messaged me and commented between chapters, as it does keep my mind ticking over on the story, even when I am stressing about exams. I also welcome any one to message or comment if things don't make sense or you have ideas as it is difficult to get things to make sense when it's all coming from a single point of view.
Now this chapter has taken way to long to write so I really hope you did enjoy it