Litofsky Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 "Shall you continue?" Is that even a question, Mach? How could you even contemplate not continuing this story? Not continuing would be a travesty! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CommanderQ Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 The way you're going you must do the Mandalorian Wars!! It is the only way to please the fan base!! If you don't we will tar and feather you {well, not literally anyway}. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tysyacha Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 Third answer: If you don't continue to the Mandalorian Wars, I will misspell every single word in my next Umbral Tide fic and still ask you to review it!!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Endorenna Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 I'll do the same with my fic! And I'll make it a fifty-page chapter! Then you'll have a true on your hands! Just a warning. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CommanderQ Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 The answers are upon you, Mach. That and numerous threats of ever annoying reviews and tar and feathering!!! THE PUBLIC DEMANDS MORE!! This is the CQBC on Coruscant.... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted November 21, 2008 Author Share Posted November 21, 2008 The answers are upon you, Mach. That and numerous threats of ever annoying reviews and tar and feathering!!! THE PUBLIC DEMANDS MORE!! This is the CQBC on Coruscant.... I ask for opinion and get threats! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Endorenna Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 You betcha! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CommanderQ Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 Well, you did say that you wanted to know whether or not to continue, yes? Good enough reason for our threats... As Endorenna put it, "YOU BETCHA." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chevron 7 locke Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 I'm rather fond of this story. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JediMaster12 Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 Ok folks. I see that mach has got himself a paparazzi going on. As much as he seems to like the abuse just keep the comments to playful ones and constructive criticism. The tar and feathers are a little much--JM12 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CommanderQ Posted November 21, 2008 Share Posted November 21, 2008 Oh, sorry about the tar and feathers, I didn't think them that dangerous seeing that we're on the internet... Well, instead of the tar and feathers, we will simply force you to review bad works!!! RAH! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted November 22, 2008 Author Share Posted November 22, 2008 Oh, sorry about the tar and feathers, I didn't think them that dangerous seeing that we're on the internet... Well, instead of the tar and feathers, we will simply force you to review bad works!!! RAH! All right all right! The next segment will take a few days. I have to block out one hellacious battle. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CommanderQ Posted November 22, 2008 Share Posted November 22, 2008 Okay, we'll be quiet. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted November 27, 2008 Author Share Posted November 27, 2008 Today Merisa stopped, sipping. She remembered that day as if it had happened yesterday. She could see the hostility among the young. The war against the Republic and then the Jedi had caused festering resentment. “The Jettiise have been our enemy and our friends time without number. Like Danika there, they have even been considered Mando.” She chided. She looked at the children in reproach. “If we declared anyone who fought us enemy forever, we would have no one beyond our own blood to call friend.” “What did they do with you?” The youngest asked. She looked terrified. “Why Zakal they declared our contract fulfilled. They brought us home, and left us in peace. They had much to do you see. My home world was blockaded, and within fifteen years the economy collapsed, the people driven almost to extinction. Exar Kun by that time had become a Sith Lord, and one of the things he did was use that chemical binding they had created to form his Dark Legions. “Most of the men of those Legions died. I will not say bravely, because to be brave you must have a choice to stand and die.” She sighed, stretching. “I for one am for bed. Friends, there is room enough in the house for you. Sleep well and safe, for no one dares challenge a Mando in his own home.” As she lay back, she remembered. The trip to Mando’yaim, her first trip on a spaceship. Seeing this valley from the air. It would be three decades before this house became her home. The world had seemed harsh, but she had grown to love it. ***** After almost six decades, Merisa found herself awake before the sun as always. She dressed, strapping on the same antique pistol she had worn on her home world. The weapon had been something that reminded her of her father, but now it was an old friend she wouldn’t part with. About half of the young were up, and she sent them back up to drag down the others. While they tried to be quiet, they were children after all, and soon Mission came staggering down, whining about not getting enough sleep. Merisa set a pot of black tea on the table, and as the Jettiise came down, looking insufferably neat and awake she poured. All of the children were up, stuffing their faces before the Republic officer and the Wookiee finally staggered down to join them. For a long time the only sounds were what you would expect when eating was the most important thing. Three of the boys finished first and left to gather the milk from the nearby dairy farm in return for a bushel basket of tubers. The others moved outside, and began their morning exercises. The Jettise came out to watch, then joined the children. Their exercises were similar, but different from what the children did. “All right. Training circle.” Merisa ordered. The children fell back with military precision. One of the boys stepped forward, drawing a line on the soil. He was a muscular 11 year old who had been training since five. Sasha stepped forward, dragging her heel on the soil and faced him. Merisa considered. The girl was younger, true. But it was her choice. “Cha!” The boy dropped into a crouch, then screamed charging. Sasha watched him come, then stepped aside, her arm coming up, clothes lining the boy. As he flipped up and backwards with a squawk the girl spun like a dancer, catching his collar so he literally snapped out straight before hitting the ground. She dropped beside him, fist clenched to strike. “Pa-cha!” Merisa cried. “About time.” One of the children snorted. “Shut up-” “Why, Kano?” The young boy snarled. “You’ve always used your weight and height to overawe everyone else. But our little Jetiise showed you!” The boy leaped up, fists clenched. “Pa-Cha!” Merisa snapped. The boy froze. “Kano, your brother Shoji is correct. You have always won because you were bigger and faster. Sasha is half your size, yet she used her brain before she used her muscles. Young one, what style have you learned?” “Te-rehal-Vor.” The Cathar woman answered for her. “The style of the Echani which the Jedi also use.” “Learn of your opponent before you fight.” Merisa told him sternly. For an hour they practiced both hand to hand, and with dulled swords. Then the children split up, some to gather ripened tubers and fruits from the fields and orchards, others to begin clearing the fallow field around the parked spaceship. As before they fell into an automatic division of labor. The young Twi-Lek proved willing to scrub and clean anything. The Wookiee moved furniture so the girl could clean, and Sasha this time had joined the other children. The Jettiise were working on the ship along with her older brother. Lunch was a hurried catch as catch can meal as those close to the house ate then returned to their chores as others came in to take their place. Basket after basket of fruit or tubers came in, separated into the cooling cellars for storage. The children as they will ate their fill of fresh tart fruit as they worked. Merisa knew there would be bellyaches in the future, but she remembered her own times as a child. Finally dinner was ready, and again they all sat down to eat. The children, as Mando children would, had accepted Sasha as one of them. They had accepted the Jettiise as just other adults of the clans. Even Zallbaar was just the big furry uncle. This evening, sections of Besu’lik, the large snake of the planet were baked, and only the warriors who had taken it were allowed to cut the succulent portions for all. The beast was hard to kill, and Merisa grinned when her brother and the Republican Commander brought in the 10 meter squirming length. A meal fit for warriors! Soon they sat again. Again the children as they would called for stories. Kiara told of her first battle during the siege of Dxun when it was taken from the Onderoni. Her brother told of the strange ship that had been seen in an asteroid belt, and Revan spoke of the Battle of Dxun when it was wrested from the Mando. Kano growled about the duplicity of the Republic, and then it came to Merisa. “Many times we have been accused of crimes,” Merisa began, pouring again the syrupy blood-wine. “Yet I remember once when the Republic broke the rules they espoused, and it was up to me to bring the criminal to justice.” ***** 10 Years earlier Ruus'alor Merisa Becket Clan Ordo recorded the harvest from the fields of Harcour‘s smallest continent, noting the areas where that harvest had fallen below predictions. Three of the areas she understood the deficit. One had been smashed by hailstorms, another had been plagued by tornadoes. Another had been flooded for a third of the planting season. The other two… A hand slid a pad before her, and she picked it up it was- She looked up, then leaped up, hugging the man that had delivered it. “Berek!” She shouted, hoisting the older man off his feet. “Put me down!” The man laughed. “Is that any way to treat your al'verde?” She dropped him, grasping him by his shoulders. “It’s good to see you.” “And you, little one.” He pounded his fists upon her shoulders. Merisa grinned, few called her ‘Little One’ any more. She was over 50 now, married thrice and widowed twice, mother of seven, three of whom were still alive. She poured tihaar, passing a cup to Berek as she held the other. “Welcome.” Berek accepted the cup, sipping the sharp liquor. “So you ended up here.” He said. “What did you expect?” She asked, sipping her own shot. “I was too young for the Sith war.” She said. “I was too busy throwing sons and daughters to face our enemy.” Berek sighed, sipping. The child they had saved on Carenta had grown into a stark warrior. Her rank was earned on battlefield after battlefield in this latest war. “How is your squad, my young sister?” “Well, commander.” She replied. “While our warriors deal with harvests and the occupied, we still work to maintain our skills. I would put my squad against any the Republic would field.” “Well enough little one.” He said. He looked sad, and she noticed. “Berek, what is?” “Zakal was captured three months ago.” He said, draining the cup and pouring more. “How?” Merisa was astonished. Zakal had been Mandalore the Ultimate’s leading intelligence officer. If she were lost… “She resigned when we went to war with the Republic. She was aboard one of our merchant vessels bound for Vespana to visit our oldest.” Berek reported woodenly. “It was captured by a Republic Frigate on the way. She and fifty others were captured. They were sent to Sooribor.” “Then she joins Kiara and Kono.” She said sadly. Her mother had been captured almost two years earlier when the Mando had finally attacked the Republic. Her husband Kono had been aboard a medical transport after the capture of Serroco the year before. “I have received messages from them. I wonder why Zakal hasn’t sent me one?” “Because for the first month they are not allowed to communicate.” Berek snorted. “As if a warrior in a prison camp sees anything of importance.” He held up a set of data chips. “But I received these. One each from Kono Kiara and Zakal for you.” She sighed, taking them. The worst part of this war was how little time she had with any of the three before their capture. Kiara had been captured when her ship was badly damaged by a Republic task force near Taris. Now Zakal was in enemy hands. They spoke about the children, the sixteen Berek and Zakal had raised, all but one of the five survivors in the fight now. All but one of hers were also out there, and she mourned those that had died. Fro, Casi and Shoji had died as mercenaries, Tirith had died when they had invaded Cathar, though she had regretted that the girl had served under such a monster as Dererok. To go into battle where your enemy didn’t even have a chance to properly bloody his blade! Bombarded from orbit, their cities shattered, farmlands and feed lots smashed into dust. Only then with almost 80 percent of the race slaughtered had the Mando landed. The survivors hadn’t surrendered. The girl had died, not in battle, but by throwing herself between her own people ‘making an example’ of a rag-tag guerilla force fighting against their oppressors. When they had been captured, Dererok had ordered their execution. Tirith had set her weapons down, and stood between the firing squad and the half dozen survivors. When the monsters had ordered her aside, she had merely replied, ‘Either kill me or stand down. I grow bored.’ So they had killed her. Then had gone on to drive the race into extinction. Merisa had wished she could exact her revenge personally, but Mandalore the Ultimate had taken it for her. All but a tithe of those ‘brave’ warriors had been forced into ‘honor death’ for their actions. She slotted the first letter. “My dear wife, I miss you every day, especially your cooking. The camp is a bit crowded now with so many captured in the last months. It reminds me of a Zeges nest.” Kono had waxed on assuring the Calor fields were properly cleared, and her eyebrows quirked. She had more interest in the fields around his ancestral home, and what he knew about Calor root could be written with a heavy marker on a credit transfer card, though it was a valuable cash crop. Clearing the land was hard true. Zeges, small hive insects used the areas where the roots had weakened the soil during the fallow times. The workers in fact looked like leaves, freezing into immobility when they sensed danger. They were not dangerous alone, but a hive could sting a man to death. Many a worker had entered a field and found themselves beset from all sides by them. Why would he be warning her of this? And what was this ‘Dear wife’? He’d always joked that she was a hellcat and that the best way to deal with her was to feed her to repletion, and only then press his suit. Their arguments were not only legendary, but she had been told by some it was a favorite spectator sport. As for cooking he was better than she would ever be. Her food was good but it was like comparing a fire in a fireplace to a star. She shook her head, bringing up Kiara’s letter. “My beloved daughter, I hope this finds you well. The camp is quiet tonight. We have little to do but relax. You know how I love that.“ Merisa grew cold. Her mother exercised not only to stay fit, but to help her think. She had seen the woman fidget until she had to leap up and pace. The picture of her relaxing for any length of time was absurd. Kiara went on to speak of even odder things. How she had worried when Fro had stopped her from getting hurt. How Tirith had waited in the kitchen for her, and Casi had fallen down and hurt himself… She leaned back. Her mother didn’t speak of her own children, rather about her own family dead all these years. Betrayed by their enemy… With dread she put the last letter in. ***** Zakal hissed as the boot set itself in her back, slamming her down. “Crawl, Mandalorian scum!” The man snarled. She shook her head to clear her hair from her eyes. The mess tent where all meals were served was 100 meters from the tent she had been assigned to. Originally her tent had been closer. But the Commandant of prisoners had changed that. She pushed herself back to hands and knees. You must walk to the mess tent or you will not be fed. Simple for someone with good legs, she thought crawling forward. When the bones had shattered all those decades ago the shards had scraped her nerves raw. Even now mere movement ran sheets of pain like fire through them. A hundred meters three times a day would ruin what remained of her legs. Others had tried to help her, some had been beaten until they could not move. Others… A hand grabbed the back of her collar, dragging her back twenty paces. “I said crawl!” She looked up into that ugly face, then turned herself, trying to crawl back toward the mess tent. The man used his rifle to club her into unconsciousness. A time later she felt hands gently cleaning filth and blood from her face. She opened her eyes, looking into Kiara’s face. “You risk much, my friend.” “Risk for a friend is not risk.” Kiara replied, rinsing out the cloth. She continued the task of cleaning the cuts. Behind her Kono Hando, Clan Ordo came in. He walked over, opening the front of his uniform, pulling out several slices of bread with meat shoved between them. “Eat, Zakal.” He bade. “What of the others-” “They took their portion and ate some, but pressed the rest on me.” He told her. “We need you.” She took the rolls of bread and meat, eating ravenously. In the last three weeks she had eaten four full meals, most of those back when she had first arrived in this hell. She wanted to save some of it, but the nightly searches would find any food stores, and punishment was for everyone in the tent, not just for those guilty. She felt guilty that no one even looked at her as she ate. She had finished the last of it when the warrior guarding the flap hissed. Kiara moved as if she had practiced the move many times, taking the bowl and scrubbing her own face as Republic soldiers burst in. They spread out, weapons ready. Behind them the flap rested for a second, then Commandant Roykirk entered. He was a short portly man, with an avuncular manner that fooled any new prisoner only as long as it too for the Commandant to open his mouth. He walked through where the captives had marked their own spaces. There were small handcrafts laying there, and he picked up a piece of stone painfully carved to display an animal. The man smiled. Even that was insulting. “Oh dear, I see you have too much time on your hands.” He dropped the stone, shoving it into the mud. “Perhaps we need some land cleared for more of you filth. Everyone out. Oh except for our dear cripple.” He turned his attention to Zakal. He walked over, and a hand came down, picking up a crumb. “Oh dear, did someone bring you food?” He dropped the crumb, turning. “Search them all. If anyone has crumbs inside their clothes we will kill them.” “Enough, Autiise.” Kono said, standing. “I did what any would who cared for others. If you are going to kill anyone, I am responsible.” Roykirk smiled. “Do you know what we do with responsible Mandalorians?” He asked rhetorically. Then his hand moved, the blaster came up and he shot the man. “Well that is enough unpleasantness. Have your weekly letters ready to go please.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CommanderQ Posted November 27, 2008 Share Posted November 27, 2008 Excellent next installment, Mach! The fan base was definately not disappointed! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chevron 7 locke Posted November 27, 2008 Share Posted November 27, 2008 I agree with CQ. I love this story! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Endorenna Posted November 27, 2008 Share Posted November 27, 2008 Good chapter, Mach--but I don't like it as much as the others. I understand that you like the Mandalorians a lot more than most people, but here you seem to be going to the opposite extreme. I'm sure there were sadists on the Republic side, too, but still... But thank the Lord you aren't making them the paragons of virtue! (shudder) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Litofsky Posted November 27, 2008 Share Posted November 27, 2008 Very nice chapter, Mach. The prisoner camps were horrid, to speak the least of them. I cannot help but wonder how the Mandalorian prisoner camps holding the Republic soldiers are, or if they take prisoners? The descriptions of the planet in the beginning of the chapter were also interesting. I wonder if, perhaps, you're foreshadowing any potential events? At any rate, a very nice chapter. Keep up the great work! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted November 27, 2008 Author Share Posted November 27, 2008 Good chapter, Mach--but I don't like it as much as the others. I understand that you like the Mandalorians a lot more than most people, but here you seem to be going to the opposite extreme. I'm sure there were sadists on the Republic side, too, but still... But thank the Lord you aren't making them the paragons of virtue! (shudder) The problem with history is that the excesses of the winners are ignored. As an example there is a movie made in the 60s called 'Hell Is For Heroes) with a campaign between the Japanese and the English. At one point the Japanese have several men they have captured and are threatening to kill them. The men they are chasing hear them being killed (Shots and screams) In the next scene, you see the Japanese officer, until now portrayed as a total maniac handing one of the 'dead' prisoners some water. At the surprise on the prisoner's face he says 'What, you thought were as brutal as you paint us?' I am not painting the entire Republic as evil, just the men under this man's command. In the next section I am going to explain more. Oh BTW, did you know this piece, less than two months long had more hits in that period than all on my longer works? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tysyacha Posted December 4, 2008 Share Posted December 4, 2008 *Tysyacha's jaw hits the floor* Once again, you continue to amaze me. How the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks is Zakal ever going to get out of there?! I agree with you that the victors of any war or rivalry against another group of people write history, and the losers are confined to writing it their own way--and the winners call it "propaganda"... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted December 5, 2008 Author Share Posted December 5, 2008 I could answer that, but I won't Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted December 5, 2008 Author Share Posted December 5, 2008 Today Merisa looked at her audience. Manda’lor watched her with a concentration she would have expected of an enemy. Carth wanted to protest, but his own innate honesty stopped him. She watched both of them, but neither refused the challenge. She gave due honor for their forbearance. ***** Ten years earlier Merisa waited impatiently. She had taken several hours of working through the echelon of flunkies. Planetary governor, Sector command, fleet command, Operations, then Sector intelligence, now finally the Intelligence bureau. After repeating herself ad nauseum she had almost reached the man she was trying to speak to. Sencor Casio Clan Fett looked at her, his face bland, though she could see his distaste. When Zakal had resigned in protest, she had been the next person asked to assume the post. She might be a low ranking warrior, but she was considered highly intelligent. Merisa had refused, and Sencor had been chosen in her place. “What do you need, Becket.” He asked. “Have you been investigating the correspondence from our POWs?” He gave a long suffering sigh. “Becket if you want this job all you have to do is tell Mand’alor what he wants to hear.” “Answer the question, Casio.” She snarled, dropping civility since he wasn’t willing to use it. “Every letter sent is checked for codes and ciphers.” He snapped. “Then I am surprised that whomever you have doing so didn’t notice that Zakal has had her chair taken away, Kiara is not allowed to run, and Kono who hates the fact that he owns fields of Calor can’t think of anything else to talk about except how sweet I am and how he loves my cooking.” She saw the hesitation in his eyes. “So people are checking them but none of them know the people they are supposed to be examining.” She sighed. “Casio, we don’t have to like each other. But something is wrong. Something is going wrong in the Sooribor POW camp. We must contact the Caamasi.” ***** the Caamasi had been discovered 15,000 years earlier. Furred pacifist humanoids, they were appalled by the hostility of even the most benign race other than their own. It was recorded in history that if the Jedi had not been among that first contact team, the Caamasi would have refused to even meet the Republic. None had the telepathic abilities of the Caamasi. The Caamasi were horrified even by the thought of war because they would feel the people die if they were close enough. No other race could implant memories in other species either. If they were more militant; an oxymoron if applied to a single Caamasi let alone the entire race; they could have convinced the galaxy to be at peace by making every politician drug lord slaver and warrior feel the deaths and pain they caused. But they also had a strong sense of personal responsibility. People must take responsibility for their actions, and interfering with that choice was anathema. Not long after the Caamasi had joined the Republic, they had begun proposing ways to mitigate some of the horrors of war. Over the millennia they had created rules, and gotten the Republic to agree with them. Most were obvious; since the innocent people of a planet were the source of it’s productivity, they were to be left alone where ever possible. The same with all industry not directly tied to warfare. Cities were to be left alone unless the enemy defended them, because you know the enemy will leave the people alive. These were called the Caamasi Accords. Until a millennia ago they had worked. The Sith had neither cared for nor even given lip service to the rules. If they wished to slaughter everyone, they would do it. The Sith war had been one of the most brutal in the Republic’s history for that very reason. However this war, between peoples that accepted the rules should have been easier. Merissa sat back, waiting for the holonet system to put Casio through. She had spent every favor she had to be part of this. Casio looked at her, tired and frustrated. “We have little more information, Merissa.” She relented in her hatred. Something had caused him to try for civility. “May I ask, Sencor?” He nodded. “We contacted Caamas. This is the transcript.” He touched a button. The screen cleared and she saw the Caamasi representative. “Speaker Noral. I am Sencor Casio. I speak as representative of Manda’lor in relation to the treatment of prisoners.” She shook her head wryly. While she had learned from Zakal how to analyze a situation, Casio was so much better at the pompous crap. As a race, the Caamasi were covered in a golden, downy fur, highlighted on their faces by purple stripes. Their most striking physical feature was their blue-on-green eyes. Noral would have been considered quite attractive by their measure. She was beautiful even by human standards. “I see you, Sencor Casio.” She replied in a soft voice. “Speak and I will hear.” “My questions concern the POW camps on Sooribor.” Did that alien countenance flinch? “Ask your questions.” “There are statements made in communications from our prisoners that suggest mistreatment-” She wanted to scream at him. You idiot! Don’t tell them how we know! Now she was sure the alien did flinch. “The Sooribor facilities have officially been placed outside the Accords.” The phrase left Merissa cold. “How can they be outside the Accords?” Casio demanded. “Under the Accords, the Caamasi are allowed access to all prisoners and officials at any time. The Caamasi have been denied access for the last two months, since Commandant Roykirk took command.” Noral replied. “We informed Regar Danzik, the Provost Marshall of the Republic fleet. He informed us that the Sooribor facility was now designated a maximum security facility, and the Caamasi would be in danger.” “That is not good.” Merissa commented. An institution or base declared outside of the Accords had no rights, and no oversight. By declaring it so, the Caamasi also allowed attacks on it, since a POW camp was not a legitimate target; they could only be liberated, not attacked. It was usually applied to units already in violation of the Accords, such as those who refused to take prisoners. To apply it to a POW camp suggested the same claims made by the Republic against them, albeit with only one quickly repaired incident at the Mando POW camp on Mando’Yaim. She looked up at him. “What do you intend to do about this?” “We’re going to launch an attack and liberate the camp. As soon as we find the right unit-” “I’m going. With my unit.” She disagreed coldly. “Have you asked your al'verde?” “My adopted mother and husband are in that camp, his wife is. Do you think he will stand aside?” ***** Today She watched the eyes of the Republic officer and the two older Jedi. as she told the tale. The officer had the look of someone ready to call her a liar. But why did Manda’lor look haunted? ***** 10 Years earlier The guards dragged Zakal, throwing her onto the floor of the commandant’s office. She caught herself from slamming down face first, but a boot jammed between her shoulder blades, shoving her face down. She glared through her ratty hair at the wall as the highly polished boots walked past a few moments later. “Let her up.” Roykirk ordered mildly. Zakal leaned up, looking into his eyes without flinching. The man went through the papers on his desk, then tapped one. “It seems the Caamasi have been told about our changes here. How do you think that came to be?” He asked rhetorically. She merely stared at him. “Well we have you to thank. I spoke with Provost Marshall Danzik, and he has approved our plan.” “Plan.” Zakal spat. “Of course. They think you’re being tortured, so they will try to liberate the camp. But we are set for what is to come.” He leaned forward. “A task force will be in position five light years away, ready to come to our aid when your fleet tries.” He laughed. “We’ll have the Mandalorians on scanner attacking a POW camp in violation of the Caamasi Accords. We can blame every death in the camp on them. The propaganda will unite our people in a wave to crush you. “Using prisoners as bait in a trap is a violation of the Accords.” She told him flatly. “When the War Crimes trials are convened, it will be our judges on the bench, not yours.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Litofsky Posted December 5, 2008 Share Posted December 5, 2008 “When the War Crimes trials are convened, it will be our judges on the bench, not yours.” A most excellent and truthful line, Mach. That was my favorite part of the entire chapter. As for the rest, there were a few grammatical errors (I believe in the beginning, should it not be "What do you need, Becket?”), but that hardly overshadows the other shining parts of the chapter, such as the detailing of Roykirk's plan. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted December 5, 2008 Author Share Posted December 5, 2008 A most excellent and truthful line, Mach. That was my favorite part of the entire chapter. As for the rest, there were a few grammatical errors (I believe in the beginning, should it not be "What do you need, Becket?”), but that hardly overshadows the other shining parts of the chapter, such as the detailing of Roykirk's plan. A little known (And frequently denied) fact is that Japan was a signatory to the Geneva Conventions. During the early part of WWII, when the Japanese invaded China, they announced that they would put the Conventions aside until 'circumstances allowed'. By legal definition, they decided the Convention didn't apply to them. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
machievelli Posted December 8, 2008 Author Share Posted December 8, 2008 The Corvette Akaan Murcyur or Kiss of War burrowed through hyperspace in convoy with a dozen others. In her cargo bay an ol'averde; almost 300 Mando prepped their weapons, checked armor, or relaxed. Merisa sat with a group of younger warriors, showing them how to prep their gear for the assault. She walked among the warriors of her squad, touching a shoulder here, tousling a head of hair there. She treated her people like her children, and watched over them with the fierce attention of a mother Besu’lik. Berek came into the bay, and every eye locked on him. “Attention to orders.” Berek said. Everyone gathered around, the traatika ver'alor (Platoon leaders) and Ruus'alor (Squad leaders) in the front. He looked them over, then tapped his helmet, a topographic map flashed against the side of an assault shuttle. Slowly Berek laid out the operation. The ol'averde would land here, thirty kilometers from the POW camp; close enough for a fast march, but far enough away from the sensors that had been deployed according to the last intelligence update. They would move forward and capture the guards on the camp, then signal for pick up. Because of the situation, a number of innocents they didn’t want to injure, the ol'averde would land in light weapons configuration, only two heavy anti-vehicle blasters with two heavy grenade launchers per squad, the other 12 members carrying projectile rifles light grenade launchers or blasters. As the time approached, the warriors found their own ways to relax. Merisa sharpened her Beskad, then tried to decide whether she would wear her blaster pistol or her old friend. She pulled the ancient pistol from it’s holster. She had been hand loading the cartridges for it over four decades now and had reached the maximum the chamber could accept. The weapon had been almost rebuilt four times, and she’d had paid to have parts made the last time. The action was as smooth as glass, the sights adjusted to perfection. Of course the blaster had better penetration except at long range, so maybe- She smiled gently. She always did this. It was her version of nerves. She looked over her squad with the love of a mother. Tahshi, the eldest of her team at forty. The youngest was Sange, only nineteen. Between them the team ran the gauntlet of ages. Her best shots with heavy blasters were Tono Kala Ger and Tasha. She decided the women Kala and Tasha; both wizards with the tracinya rapid fire heavy grenade launchers, would carry them on this assault. Tahshi Canda, El and Mooti, four women alike as peas in a pod even with 20 years between the eldest and the youngest. They would be the point unit, silent, fast, and deadly. They would be followed by Saml, Coha Lan and herself. Toros Kalo, Sange and Grief on rear guard. She yawned, going to bed. ***** The squadron of corvettes dropped into normal space. They charged toward the planet, assault shuttles launching. Fighters came out to meet them, and a furious battle began. One of the engines on Akaan Murcyur stuttered and died, flames shooting from a broken fuel line, and she staggered toward the edge of the battle. A dozen fighters turned to target the cripple. Laser blasts slammed into her shields, seeking her vitals. An internal explosion blew out her cargo hold, and a mass of debris shot toward the planet. Merisa held the flying wing‘s control bar as she and the other members of the strike force fell toward the planet. Above them the fuel line stopped spewing fire, and the engine came back to life. She used the HUD to check the others. 290 green circles and one gold one dropped toward the unsuspecting enemy. Like avenging hawks half a dozen Republic Frigates and another half dozen corvettes dropped out of hyperspace between the Mando warships and escape. The Mando ships split into combat groupings of four ships each, and each ‘hand’ broke to dive around the planet. The Republic strike group broke to pursue. ***** Merisa adjusted her course. The landing zone was there, haloed in green. Nothing yet. ***** “Nothing.” The gunner growled. The one ship that had approached had been out of range above the atmosphere and not come within range of the infantry cannon. He snorted, seeing that blasted static again. The fleet had reported that one of the ships had blown a cargo bay, and debris was falling into the atmosphere. He refined the passive tracking information. Most of it was tumbling to fall far from him, but some… His eyebrow quirked. It was falling in another direction, away from the rest. In fact… ***** They were 500 meters from the ground when active sensors lashed them. “Hot, zone!” Berek broke com silence. “Dump and get down fast!” Below them a dozen heavy cannon capable of ripping apart a ship roared, and the night was cut by plasma blasts. First half a dozen, then a dozen then more of the icons for the assault force disappeared as fire reduced them to dust. Merisa slapped the release, the wing lifting up, and beginning a preprogrammed evasion program as she plummeted like a stone. The wing carried out it’s primary function, radiating ten times what her armor did, and drew a bolt that would have killed her as well. A hundred meters up she hit the thrusters on her sen'tra, slowing her descent. Around her, like well oiled machinery, everyone who still lived was copying her reaction. Berek halfway across the LZ from her; closer to the guns, roared, “Oya!” And leaped into a full run toward the suddenly blazing hill as infantrymen with rifles both blaster and projectile ripped into the Mando. The Republic’s infantry manual would have called for retreating until out of direct fire, assess the situation, then formulate a plan. The numbers themselves should have given them pause. The Republic troops facing them knew they outnumbered the Mando. If you went by the book, it was exactly the wrong thing to do. A pity for the Republic that the Mando had never read that book. They had learned by doing, and even the youngest among them had been a warrior in training since the age of five, and warriors in truth since they were 13. Fifty of the finest warriors the galaxy had ever seen charged into ten times their number ahead of anyone else. Merisa and her unit had landed farthest from those guns, but at her signal she and those between her and the al'verde charged in his wake. Thirty warriors leapt up that hill, weapons flaming as they shattered the lines of dug in men like glass shattered under a hammer. Fifteen breasted that hill, falling upon the crew of the cannon, blasting everything that moved, smashing weapons and men in their rampage. the few creman that survived did so by running for their lives. Merisa and those with her smashed into the same line, still disorganized by the first assault, and reaped their own harvest. Nothing lived in their wake. She reached the knoll where the guns still sat, finding only seven still standing. Berek was not among them. Throughout the HUD had desperately been jumping from officer to officer, trying in it’s idiot best to choose who still commanded. Of the almost 300 only 65 still stood. Merisa took a deep breath when the gold icon of command finally settled… On her. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Archived
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.