[fic] Family of Choice

[CommanderQ]

Excellent story so far, Machievelli! Post the next part soon!

[machievelli]

Does anyone remember the name given to the Rakata homeworld?

[Bee Hoon]

Lehon, if I remember correctly.

[Endorenna]

I dunno, I always thought it was 'The Unknown World' I thought about calling it 'Rakata', just for length purposes, but it always came out 'Ricotta', and I was getting some very strange looks from my sis...

[Litofsky]

Lehon, if I remember correctly.

 

I believe that you're correct, Bee. Corroborating evidence.

[CommanderQ]

I think its known on the Galactic map as Rakata, but the Rakatan's call it Lehon, both are correct either way, though.

[machievelli]

Today

 

The children were like a flood running into the house, racking their tools, then running back out to wash up. Mission looked harried, as if she had tried herding gizka. She followed more out of sense of duty than any chance she was actually in control. The older women came in, already washed. They returned the tools they had been using, and Revan led them in.

 

“Manda’lor.” Merisa nodded.

 

She held up her hand “Please, that title belongs within the Mando’a.” She shrugged. “And since I am no longer Revan, please, call me by my name, Danika.”

 

Merisa shrugged. “Then please, Danika, Bastila, Juhani, come, sit and be welcome.”

 

Danika chose a seat at the table, not at the head or foot, but partway up the side. Bastila took a seat beside her. Juhani sat across from them.

 

“Something to drink?”

 

“Is there more?” Danika motioned toward the pot of stew.

 

Merisa looked at the pot, divining what she meant. “We have bread that is almost done baking, but-”

 

Danika stood. “We will help, please.”

 

Merisa nodded. The Jedi stood, and went into the kitchen. Sasha followed them. The men came in, then were sent back out to wash up. Now the children came in. Merisa assured that the places chosen by their guests remained open. Canderous came in as the women returned carrying bread already sliced on platters. They resumed their seats, Sasha curling up against Danika.

 

Finally everyone was there. Merisa began serving out bowls that were passed down either side of the long trestle table until everyone had been served. The bread was warm and soft, crocks of nerf butter passed hand to hand to spread on it. The spices to make it closer to Merdai were passed, and used or ignored as fit the diner.

 

Pitchers of the sweet black beer of the Mando were emptied, and filled again. Finally everyone was replete. The younger children took the empty bowls and platters, carrying them into the kitchen, and Sasha led all of the children in to wash and clean up. Merisa took out some black glass bottles. “Hard or soft, brother?”

 

“Hard of course.”

 

“Excuse me?” Juhani asked.

“Verdyc is Mando blood wine.” Danika said. “Hard means triple distilled. lighter than Tihaar, more an aperitif. Soft means the undistilled wine.” She smiled. “Hard for me, please.”

 

Merisa poured. Of them all only the Mando Carth and Danika sipped the syrupy liqueur. The other adults drank the lighter fruity wine. As the children came back they grabbed cups of beer or wine sitting around the front room looking at the adults expectantly.

 

“Ba’buir.” One of them asked, hesitantly of Canderous. “Tell us of a battle.”

 

He looked them over, then at his comrades. Danika shrugged. “Then hear you of the battle for all of our freedoms, a battle fought by those in this room, the battle of the Star Forge. But it is not my story alone, it is our story.” He nodded to Juhani and Jolee.

 

They told the story, each speaking of their parts. The four Jedi speaking of the battle in the temple on what was now called Lehon, Bastila against the others. Then Carth of the madness of the space battle. The Jedi charging through the corridors of the massive structure, Carth Zaalbar Mission and Canderous of holding against hope to cover their means of escape. Danika and Bastila speaking of the last fight between them, and the wonder of the bond that linked them now, then Bastila’s flight with the others to join at the ship. Danika speaking of the last battle with the man she had once loved, his death at her hands, then her wish to die.

 

Then Sasha, of crawling through sections of ducting as the grenade went off, wiping out the force within the station, of struggling on until she reached her adoptive mother, of pleading with her to come.

 

Then the run, the ancient station collapsing about them, and the frantic flight into space as it fell into the star.

 

The children listened raptly. “Bal kote, darasuum kote.” Kiara whispered.

 

They toasted the dead, and the living.

 

Canderous sipped, turning to Kiara. “Now tell them, my sister. Tell them of your first battle.”

 

Merisa sipped, listening.

 

*****

 

Fifty years earlier

 

“They blew up the house?” Merisa asked in horror.

 

“Not the guards. Those uniformed idiots couldn’t arrange a bottle party in a brewery.” Canderous sneered. “The people inside. They waited until the guards rushed them and took them all with them in a flash of fire. If anyone would have been a worthy opponent, it would have been them!”

 

“They’re not that good at war are they?” Kiara asked. “I have seen them on maneuvers. I have seen trainees with more discipline.”

 

“Zakal told me they were idiots. I didn’t believe how stupid they are. They hire four score of us to what? Teach their troops? Deal with a serious threat? No! We’re acting like a glorified hostage rescue team because they can’t even handle that! We could have taken that house without killing a score of our own in the process.” He shook his head angrily. “Kiara, talk with Drego. We’re going on total lockdown. I’m going to talk to Zakal and find out what she knew that she wasn’t telling me.” He drained the last of the beer, and stood. “Once you’re done with that, meet me at the command tent.” He looked at the girl, then walked out.

 

“Chu.” Kiara said. She and the two children left together. There was a quick stop at the gate, then they walked through the camp.

 

“Why did you camp here?” Merisa asked.”

 

“Because they were too ready to give us space.” Canderous said. “Apartments in the city for the families, two and three bedroom units for our single men or women to share.” He looked at her. “As if we were colonists and not hirelings. We set out our camp here.”

 

“But the fence! It’s… stupid to make one so weak!”

 

“We did that to see how stupid they are.” Kiara said. “They have probed the fence for the last four weeks, and think they were unobserved. They think we’re fat and happy, even if we don’t eat their food, or drink their beverages. Right now they have us ‘surrounded’ by a division of troops.” She snorted. “Like surrounding a nest of Krayt Dragons with Jawas.”

 

The command tent was off by itself almost dead center of the camp. Kiara clicked her tongue, then flipped the flap out of the way. “Go on, Merisa.”

 

The girl walked forward, stopping in the opening. Shoji looked up at her approach over the shoulder of the figure in front of him.

 

“Either get in or get out.” The figure hissed in a raspy voice. It was feminine, but sounded as if she had serious damage to her throat. “Blast it girl, do it.” Merisa moved as if prodded, the flap falling to place the tent in shadows except for a lamp on the table, aimed across between the two figures.

 

The woman pointed, a finger aimed at the side where the light was focused. Merisa moved to stand there, looking at the woman.

 

She was striking, green eyes looking into her soul from a deeply tanned face. But that face didn’t have the angular look of the other Mando’a she had met. The woman looked pudgy, her arms soft rather than tight with muscle. Yet those eyes had a glint of humor in them as well.

 

“Your father was Fro Beckett, the history professor, correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The woman leaned forward pushing a set of data chips around on the table. “He was also an author and political scientist. He quotes a man of Coruscant who once said ‘those who refuse to learn from history were doomed to repeat it‘. Interesting for a religious man.”

 

“My father was strong in his faith, but not religious. He told me once that the book of the way was a guide to life, not something to follow slavishly. That God expected us to learn and grow as people first and beings of our faith second.”

 

Shoji shrugged. “Then why did those d’kut from the government quote from the book?”

 

“Because our government is made up of those who believe you follow the way or you are nothing.”

 

The woman looked at her. “So you are saying people who are fanatical about a fundamentalist view of their religion are in charge of this asylum.” She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “I warned you not to take the contract Shoji.”

 

“Yes you did, but didn’t tell me why.”

 

She laughed, looking at the girl. “Do you like puzzles little one?” She asked.

 

Merisa remembered hours spent quietly with the family sitting around jigsaw puzzles, games that made you think rather than just play. She nodded.

 

“So do I.” The woman pushed with both arms, leaning back into a chair that sat behind her. She touched the arm, and a humming sound began as the chair lifted. “When I was young I was badly injured, both legs shattered so badly that they never healed properly. I can stand only because I am stubborn. Just not for long.

 

“So instead I use my brain.” She tapped her head. “I study, I tweak, I look for patterns. I do puzzles in my head to relax.

 

“The government seems dead set on removing those they do not approve of. Yet your book condemns warriors. The government before this one even reduced your planetary militia to a police organization. So why do they wish us to eat their food? The woman raised the chair until she was at the height she would have been without it. “Among the last five raids we have added a doctor a pharmacist, and a media reporter.”

 

“Reporter?”

 

“Duenan Castil.”

 

“The voice of the people.” Merisa said. “That’s what my father always called him. Always looking into government cover ups.”

 

The woman looked at her for a long time. “I wish her to stay with me for a while. I am going to figure this out.” She waved as if shooing a fly. “Go, Shoji. Polish your armor or something.”

 

The man stood, huge compared to the woman. Then he nodded, picking up his helmet and walking out.

 

“You are Merisa. I am Zakal. For my sins, I am the negotiator for half of the Clans of Mando‘yaim.” She looked at the chips in front of her. “Pull up a chair and we can get to work.”

 

“Why these?” Zakal asked. “Everyone of them has to the be targeted for a reason.” She began working, page after page of data flowed past. The hours passed. Zakal had accessed the local nets right down to government files, and as she worked, she used the girl to bounce ideas off. It was like those puzzle games, and Merisa found herself enjoying it immensely.

 

Merisa’s belly rumbled and Zakal snorted. “Go eat, get some sleep, and come back in the morning. Go.”

 

The girl crossed the night closed camp. Kiara had stew still gently bubbling with fresh bread. Merisa sniffed it. “Kiara, this bread smells… odd.”

 

The woman snorted. “Because we ran out of flour. So we had to get some grain.”

 

“But I thought you weren’t eating local food.”

 

“Did you know that every grain is related to common grass? We merely found grass with seed heads, and ground them.”

 

The girl ate. The stew tasted different. Obviously they had caught something else.

 

The pattern continued for three more days. Every morning either Kiara or Canderous were gone on a raid. Merisa would eat then join Zakal in her tent. The woman never seemed to sleep, and her encyclopedic knowledge of Merisa’s home planet was growing in leaps and bounds. The woman was reading a medical journal, dictionary at hand, looking up every other word, but happy as a clam.

 

The woman closed the dictionary with a snap. “Shoji is off on an operation. Kiara is here, yes?” The girl nodded. “Get her.”

 

Merisa ran to the tent, then ran back with Kiara. Zakal looked up as they entered. “Contact Shoji. Once our people are back we have to get off this planet now!”

[JAvatar80]

machievelli, this is freaking awesome!

 

Seriously, as our local critic, I know you know good writing. I was curious to your story from that little bit of knowledge, and I have not been dissappointed. As currently serving in the armed forces, I have a certain appreciation of the Mandalorians, and your educated presentation of them in this style is...incredible. I can hardly wait to find out more about Merissa's past, and can't help but wonder if you're going to tie in TSL, where Canderous assumes the mantle of Mandalore.

 

Honestly, this story alone is starting to kick back in my star wars mood, which means probally by mid-november, I'm going to have KotOR re-installed, and my full-game DS Revan story will start going up.

 

I'd say "keep up the good work", but I doubt you need to be told that.

[Litofsky]

Very nice new chapter, Mach. There were a few minor grammatical errors (I still stick to the belief that a list needs commas to separate the items), but the only spelling error that I saw was "diner" in place of "dinner."

 

As for the story, I still find it very intriguing: once more, I'm unsure as to why the Mandalorians are on a planet that they are not (seemingly) welcomed on, but I assume that this will be explained (my assumption for this would be that the government wanted a 'diverse' planet, and brought many different 'peoples' to their planet).

 

At any rate, I thought that this chapter was very well done. Keep up the great work.

[machievelli]

Very nice new chapter, Mach. There were a few minor grammatical errors (I still stick to the belief that a list needs commas to separate the items), but the only spelling error that I saw was "diner" in place of "dinner."

If you meant 'used or ignored as fit the diner' word usage was correct. I meant they spiced it as they liked.

[Litofsky]

If you meant 'used or ignored as fit the diner' word usage was correct. I meant they spiced it as they liked.

 

Yes, that was what I meant. My apologies for my limited experience in the area of grammar.

[machievelli]

Yes, that was what I meant. My apologies for my limited experience in the area of grammar.

No worries

[Darth_Yuthura]

This is a very impressive piece of work. I must say I'm impressed that an American can take a perspective from a warrior society like the Spartans, Romulans, or Mandalorians and give them a dimension that is understandable to a reader.

 

I have had some trouble understanding seemingly bad grammar that was actually meant as you had written. I assume that you don't often make those kind of mistakes, but it is still a bit difficult to see a sentence and have to reread it to know what was stated. I know that it is complex wording that make your fictions so interesting to read, but I am often forced to go back and reread to confirm that I understood what was meant.

 

I don't know if I can be more specific because there was no one quote, but frequently one word now and again that made the subject of a sentence the opposite that I didn't quite understand. Other than that, I have no trouble with the grammar or plot. Very interesting story you have here.

[machievelli]

This is a very impressive piece of work. I must say I'm impressed that an American can take a perspective from a warrior society like the Spartans, Romulans, or Mandalorians and give them a dimension that is understandable to a reader.

 

I have had some trouble understanding seemingly bad grammar that was actually meant as you had written. I assume that you don't often make those kind of mistakes, but it is still a bit difficult to see a sentence and have to reread it to know what was stated. I know that it is complex wording that make your fictions so interesting to read, but I am often forced to go back and reread to confirm that I understood what was meant.

 

I don't know if I can be more specific because there was no one quote, but frequently one word now and again that made the subject of a sentence the opposite that I didn't quite understand. Other than that, I have no trouble with the grammar or plot. Very interesting story you have here.

 

Remember what I said in my column in reply to your post? I post this pretty much as you do, flow of consciousness, then post. So when people ding me on grammar, I accept it.

 

As for looking at warrior societies, I look at what they do, and their mindset. You cannot judge a society by your rules, only by their own. The Japanese are a perfect example. Execution by a sword is an honorable death, not murder. In 1942, the Marine Raiders who had been captured on Makin were executed, and even the day shows the honor bestowed, it was on the memorial day of the Yakasune Shrine, where all of the brave souls are believed to return. The men who bestowed that honor were hung by the neck for war crimes.

[Bee Hoon]

Lovely chapter! Zakal sounds like a very interesting character-- it makes perfect sense that the Mando'a would value her mind. Merisa seems improbably politically aware for such a young child, although that may be due to her father's influence. I wonder what the government is up to! The next chapter should be exciting

[machievelli]

A note on this section: In the book "The Case Against Star Wars, one of the charges was linked to Leia being assigned to be the load master because she wasn't 'competent' to handle anyhing else. As a military specialist, I know how had the job is, so check this and the next section out as to hard the 'job' is...

 

 

Today

 

The fire had sunk to coals as Kiara finished her story. The Mando toasted the story, and passed around the bottles. Merisa watched the girl Sasha. She was watching Kiara in amazement, and Merisa remembered the first time she had sat in the story circle, and wondered when she would be able to speak of what she had done. It had been so long since she stood for the first time.

 

“Mother?” She looked at Kiara. “Tell us of a battle, mother.”

 

She looked at the children, all so expectant. She sipped her wine. “I will not tell of battle, but I will tell of when I found my warrior heart. You all know we speak of that first battle, the chance to learn if your heart is Mando. I will tell you of when I found this within my own chest.”

 

*****

 

Fifty years earlier

 

“Zakal-” Kiara began.

 

The woman shushed the warrior, then began laying out what she had discovered rapidly in fluent Mando. Moments later Kiara transmitted on the special channel. The guards, usually amiable were suddenly the silent killers better known through the galaxy.

 

“It will take time.” Kiara warned as she stopped transmitting. She hadn’t used pure Mando’a, rather she had used the dialect of Goontar province with it’s clipped vowels and odd loan words from a score of worlds the Mando had fought across. While anyone native would understand (Sometimes with difficulty) no one else would.

 

“Time we must spend though I do not like it.” Zakal said. “I will organize our escape. Command our forces. We must gather the children in one place to protect them.” Zakal looked at Merisa. “Come here, little sister.”

 

The girl walked over, and the woman rested a hand on her shoulder. “I have a question to ask, and will not be upset with the truth. You killed one of us when we took your family home. Could you shoot someone when your life is not in danger? Do not answer as you wish me to hear, girl. Answer from your heart.”

 

Merisa stared at her. “I don’t know.”

 

“Honest.” Zakal smiled. “We need to protect the other children like you, but there are odd things about some of them. The Government were too willing that we take the four oldest. We must have someone they might trust, that we can trust watching them until the shuttles arrive. Someone willing to protect themselves and all the younger ones. Can you do this?” Merisa nodded.

 

“Excellent. Then you had best be off to get dressed.”

 

Kiara led her to he armory. “Jaspar!” She shouted. The old man turned, setting down the weapon he was working on.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard. We need her buy’ce.”

 

The old man snorted. “Finished it two days ago.” He brought out the helmet, holding it out to Merisa. “Try it on little one.”

 

She stared at it, remembering the shattered hole in the visor, now repaired without a seam. The smell was gone, a clean smelling scent like when her mother clean the house hung in the air. But she was sure she could still smell the death on it.

 

Kiara knelt. “We need to hurry. You will need this if you wish to help us. It is your choice.”

 

The girl lifted the helmet, remembering stories she had heard from her parents. Of cursed crowns that drove men mad, of helmets of great heroes that gave you their strength. Which would this be?

 

Uncomfortable was what it was. The bottom of the helmet bumped her neck, and it was skewed on her head. She knew that if someone slapped her the helmet would spin on her head like a top on the spindle of her head. Kiara knelt. “Merisa, there are small tabs on either side of your head. If you press them it will adjust the lining. These are one size fits all.”

 

It took a few moments, but finally it fit snugly on her head. The old man handed her a wide armband. “Most of the controls for your helmet are here, though the helmet itself can do all of them. If you click your tongue or flick it in the small stem, it will adjust views, target for your weapons, set communications channels, adjust lighting and sound from outside, everything. Or you can use the control pad.

 

“We’ve set one dedicated channel for you, so most of what you hear will be background in Mando’a. When we speak with you or you speak to us, we’ll use the local dialect.”

 

“Why did you set my own channel?” She asked.

 

“We’re going to be busy.” Kiara told her, but there is one thing we need, and for that we need someone we can trust.” Kiara explained. “There is one I want you to remember in our language little one. “Voor’shi.”

 

“Voor’shi.” Merisa repeated. “What does it mean?”

 

“It means get down fast. If you hear it we are getting ready to fire, and if you are standing, you might be hurt or killed.”

 

“Why am I doing this? Why can’t Zakal do this?”

 

Kiara looked at her, then knelt. “To get out of this alive, everyone must do their part. Our warriors have to take a ship in orbit and get another shuttle to lift all of us in one group. Zakal will be coordinating it all.

 

“It is the hardest job of all. She must keep track of our people, both here and in the Autiise shuttles. She must monitor the enemy frequencies, and warn us of enemy attacks, tell us when to retreat, when to stand and die. She is likely to be among those taken.” Kiara looked up, face bleak. “Any of us who are captured will suffer a fate worse than death for a Mando’a.” She looked at the girl. “If you feel you cannot do this, we will assign another”

 

“Tell me what I must do.”

 

Merisa went to gather the children of her homeworld, taking them to Kiara’s tent. She was a nine year old girl, but she was one in a helmet like the other Mando, a gun strapped to her hip, and when she spoke the voice was deeper, as if she were a small adult. The children jumped when she spoke, and chivvying them along was absurdly simple. She suddenly felt old, even though four of the boys were older than her but they could not be trusted. The younger children looked at her as if she were the mother or a monster, and she found herself organizing them into places to sleep in what had been her room. Within an hour half a dozen of the warriors, mainly the young ones had surrounded the tent.

 

“Keep them quiet, Merisa.” One of them commented.

 

“Why me?” She asked plaintively. “Why am I in charge?”

 

The Mando looked at her. “You’re the one with the helmet and gun, that’s why.” He turned, facing outward.

 

She went back in. The four older boys were sitting playing some card game. In the background she heard a voice over a loudspeaker. “Eta Koos, Koos meh! Seize the infidels!”

 

As the first words were spoken three of the boys looked up, then one of them turned, pinning the boy that had not moved. The other two looked at her, standing.

 

“Trouble!” Merisa screamed.

[Litofsky]

An interesting start, Mach. I like how Zakal will willingly sacrifice herself to help save the others- it speaks volumes about the values of (her) culture. I am curious: is Merisa wearing any armor, other than her helmet? It would seem an odd appearance, to be walking with a Mandalorian helmet without the equally intimidating armor.

 

Overall, a very nice chapter! I look forward to more.

[machievelli]

An interesting start, Mach. I like how Zakal will willingly sacrifice herself to help save the others- it speaks volumes about the values of (her) culture. I am curious: is Merisa wearing any armor, other than her helmet? It would seem an odd appearance, to be walking with a Mandalorian helmet without the equally intimidating armor.

 

Overall, a very nice chapter! I look forward to more.

 

I hadn't changed any armor to fit her, so yeah, she's running around in a helmet and gun belt.

[CommanderQ]

Excellent story so far, Mach! Post the next part soon!

[Endorenna]

I'm really liking this story so far! I second CQ's motion! Poor Merissa...looks like she's about to be caught in a very nasty situation.

[Bee Hoon]

Merisa is such a steely little girl! I like how she was imagining what the helmet would feel like and ended up concluding that it was uncomfortable. The various functions of the helmet is something that never occurred to me at all, and as is usual with your writing, makes sense. I wonder why the Mandolorians trust her so unreservedly, in contrast with the older boys. By implication in your fic, it would because the government agents did not want them to take her, but perhaps there is more to it? A few mistakes here and there, but nothing major. Well done!

[Tysyacha]

"Uncomfortable is what it was." *LOL*!!! I loved that line--a bit of humor in a dark tale.

 

Uncomfortable is also what everyone in the story will be in the next chapter, seeing as how some of the children responded to the Government fighters' command...

[machievelli]

Today

 

The children stared at her. She had not told this since before they were born. Kiara, who had only heard it once swelled with pride. To be named after her grandmother. Her own children five and three looked at her. The woman raised her cup to her mother. “Please, continue, mother.”

 

*****

 

Fifty years earlier:

 

Merisa stared as the boys, each larger and heavier than her advanced with blank eyes. A calm voice, Zakal answered. “Report.”

 

“Three of the boys have gone crazy!”

 

“Not crazy. Controlled.” The calming voice answered. “Use the Church tongue, stop them.”

 

Merisa backed, her gun in her hand, but they were kids like herself. One of them wrapped his arms around her, and she kicked frantically as he lifted her from her feet. She frantically tried to remember as the third boy started to push past. She knew if he stepped outside, the Mando’a would kill him!

 

“Shtoia!” She screamed. They froze. “Let go let go let go!” The boy holding her dropped her on her butt. The girl gasped as they continued to stand there. “Zakal, they stopped.”

 

“Good. Now repeat what I say.”

 

Merisa looked at them, then repeated. “You will hear my voice only. Except for me you will hear only to those I say to listen to.” As she spoke, one of the guards from outside came in pressing two pairs of restraints into her hands. She looked up at the Mando’a warrior, and could hear a chuckle at her predicament as she stood. She took the restraints, the cuffs popping open.

 

“What about him?” The guard asked.

 

She looked at the boy. Slim, dark hair, dark complexion, nicely dressed. “Cosioli.” She said.

 

“Aren’t they of the group that is not of your religion?” Zakal asked over her headphones.

 

“Yes.”

 

“They do not speak the church cant. Perhaps they did not think of this.” Zakal mused. “Merisa, say the words in Basic.”

 

She looked at the boy, staring around in shock. You hear. Hear and obey.” The boy had turned toward her, and as she finished the phrase his head slowed, looking at her with a blank expression. Her heart sank. “He is like the others.”

 

“Then we must bind them.”

 

“You come here.” Merisa ordered. She was surprised when the curtain of her area opened and four others, the youngest five came out to join them. The guard went back out getting more restraints.

 

“Put out your hands.” She ordered. As they did, she watched the Mando who bound the younger children, and followed the example. She locked one cuff to a boy’s right wrist, then fed the second pair of cuffs through the open cuff she locked on the second boy’s wrist. The third boy after being ordered to stand walked over and she locked the cuff on his wrist then locked the other. The guard nodded stepping outside. Inside her ‘bucket’, she could hear as the plan began.

 

Raeder sneered at the rented troops. Of course soon they would be true believers. The mercenaries had sat silently until about an hour ago, then suddenly all of them had changed out their magazines. He hadn’t worried about that, they did that kind of thing oc-

 

The mercenaries turned, and Raeder had an instant to worry before he and all of his men in the troop compartment were dead.

 

“Sakil, go!” Shoji snapped. The young man moved toward the front of the shuttle, his weapon aimed at the flight crew.

 

“Move and you die.” The man snarled. The copilot tried for his sidearm and a burst ripped him apart. Sakil turned in back to the pilot. “Want to try?” The pilot shook his head frantically.

 

The Mando walked forward, pulling the body from the right hand seat as another Mando came up to the door, He set down his rifle, adjusting the seat until it was comfortable. He grasped the yoke. “My craft.” He said.

 

“What?” The local said, then froze as the barrel of a rifle tapped him.

 

“Get up.” The pilot slid his seat back, hands up once the seat had been retracted. The mercenary didn’t bother giving an order, he merely caught the man’s collar and dragged him to his feet. The pilot was flung back toward the troop compartment, his knees scraping through the offal of other men before someone caught him. He saw the bodies of a dozen of his fellows and began to scream.

 

“Oh shut up.” The man who held him slammed him into a frame, and the pilot went limp. He was cuffed and thrown into the rear of the compartment.

 

Sakil tested the controls before keying his com. “Zakal, we have it.”

 

“Good.” The woman purred. “There is a Coruscanti freighter at 250 degrees from your present position. Slanar!”

 

Approximately 200 kilometers west, another shuttle turned, diving toward the planet.

 

The troops surrounding the cantonment began deploying. They looked smart in their grey uniforms, but there was a stiffness in their movement. Berek watched, his tongue shifting from local to all hands. “They are getting ready to attack.” He reported.

 

“Slow them down, but retreat before they get to the fence.” Zakal ordered.

 

The young man nodded to himself then tongued to local again. “First squad one magazine single fire, make them count. On my mark.”

 

The troops outside had formed up and begun moving forward with vehicles spaced between the companies to supply supporting fire. Berek sighed, setting the targeting caret on the glacis of the approaching command vehicle. He paused as they approached to three hundred meters. “tracyn.”

 

One moment silence, then from the perimeter of the Mando encampment fire blasted into them. The vehicle Berek had chosen exploded, shrapnel scything through the troops deployed around it. He chose another then another, burning through half a dozen vehicles before his magazine dropped free. He slapped in another, sweeping through the troops before him as he marked and dealt destruction.

 

He listened as one by one the other half dozen in his squad reported clearing a magazine. He looked at the enemy as they began charging. “One magazine, fire at will!” He stood from his hide, moving back. His helmet marked the targets he serviced as the local trees cut off his own view. The men fired, then without a command moved backwards as the enemy started to return fire.

 

“Hold at the tree line!” He ordered. His squad dropped back, reloading, then began to engage the enemy as they closed on the fence. They had lost perhaps 500 men just here, but they marched forward stolidly, advancing into the fire with mindless intensity.

 

“Ruus'alor!” Shift to local frequency!” One of his scouts called as the fire intensified. Berek tapped the tongue switch as he fired the last round into a vehicle still trying to push forward.

 

“Stop shooting, God wants them alive! Advance, capture the infidel that we may teach them god’s will!” A strident voice screamed.

 

“Triangulate.” Berek ordered. “Zilos.” He lifted an arm, pointing to the left, then snapped his finger up. “Find a spot, let’s see if we can shut the preacher up.” He watched as the enemy approached. He tapped the main push. “They’re at the fence. We’re just in the trees.”

 

“Good. All units, blow mine sections at your discretion.”

 

“Thank you.” Berek whispered. He keyed in a sequence, and as the enemy continued marching forward, suddenly the ground erupted with death.

 

To Berek’s left, Zilos almost leaped up the tree, even as a young child he had enjoyed climbing. He was ten meters from the ground when he stopped. The sniper rifle’s stock snapped down, and he leaned into the trunk. The helmet used other helmets, all of them directed his eyes toward a point 504 meters from his stand.

 

There was a small group of men there, most of them the same as the men walking into the camp even as fire ripped them apart who were blown into mist by mines, who still did not fire for they were told not to.

 

He brought the rifle up, seeing a fanatic’s face in the scope raising a com link. “Adv-” his finger stroked the trigger, and the man’s head exploded.

 

“About time you shut up.” He whispered, dropping down the tree. A form shot toward them, a shuttle coming from the south at high speed. Inside his bucket the young man grinned. Soon they would be out… or dead.

 

“Merisa, move the other children toward the landing field.” Zakal ordered.

 

Merisa went to the small curtained area where the other children cringed at the crack of projectile weapons, and the zip blam of blasters. “All of you come on. We have to get to the landing field.” She began pulling them to their feet, chivvying them out into the open.

 

The line of trees that surrounded the actual camp were thick enough that only brief flashes of light came from the enemy, but there was screaming and the children looked around terrified. The guards surround them, pushing them forward as Merisa led the way. A shuttle passed over them at high speed, and dropped in, ramp coming down. Mando warriors poured out, throwing what she suddenly realized were bodies aside.

 

“We have room for the children and maybe ten or fifteen more.” One of the men shouted.

 

The children were shoved up the ramp, and Merisa sat them, making sure they were strapped in. A dozen wounded were shoved aboard as the ones who had been aboard helped them.

 

“Ciara?”

 

“I’m waiting for the next shuttle.” Merisa heard in her ear. “We have to hold them.”

 

“Ciara, mother-”

 

“If it is my time, I die.” She flinched at the cool voice. “Go, be safe my children. I love you both.”

 

She felt bitter tears stream down her face. She had lost her family, she was losing this one too. Zakal would not survive. The ramp started to come up, and she ran toward it.

 

“Sister!” Canderous wailed. She leaped to the ground, running toward the tent where Zakal directed the battle.

 

“All front units, fall back through the trees.” Zakal ordered. Berek whistled, and his men fell back through the 20 meter thick line of trees. The ran on another ten, stopping just before the tents, kneeling. They had taken a toll, According to the estimates of the other squads over five thousand enemy were dead.

 

That left only about 11,000 to go.

 

“Movement.” Someone reported. For a moment nothing happened. Then ribbons of fire shot though the entire stand from end to end too fast to follow. For a moment nothing happened. Then every tree fell over, crushing men beneath them.

 

“You have to admit, she has style.” one of his men said.

 

“She does that.” Berek agreed. “Why isn’t she married?”

 

“She’s landuur.” Another snorted.

 

“If you can out think her, you can talk.” Berek snarled. “If you judge a woman only by how much she can lift or the thickness of her thighs you don’t know what strength is.” He lifted his weapon. “Seems not everyone was stopped by that.

[Endorenna]

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.

[Litofsky]

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.