It was, as Kal Buir would put it, a tidy bow.
Well, Darman couldn't remember him actually saying that, but he certainly would be the kind of person to say it.
After all, " a tidy bow " pretty much summed up the whole covert counter-terror op that the combined forces of Delta and Omega squads had been running on Coruscant for the past few weeks- or, to use another of Kal Buir's actual phrases, they'd been going grey all along.
They'd had little choice; this was Coruscant, after all.
The whole planet was a gargantuan, enveloping city, with lights abundant and bright enough to be seen from just beyond its orbit. And, it happened to be located at the very center of the entire Republic's interstellar empire, to boot. With over 1 trillion inhabitants ( roughly, at least. Censuses weren't exactly a common practice ), and virtually no open spaces larger than a grav-ball field over its entire surface, Coruscant was hardly the kind of place that a team of Mandalorian/ Republic Commandos could operate on a ( un )authorized counter-terror op directed against a Separatist spy ring that'd somehow established itself there.
It had been as vibrantly different- and memorable- change of pace for the Commandos as they could've anticipated; rather than charging droid lines, assassinating enemy generals, setting of thermal detonators that could topple radar masts, and generally raising hell for the foes of the Republic in the way that Commandos did, they'd instead been strolling though the streets of Coruscant, drenched in its neon lights, bombarded not by artillery and blaster bolts, but by taxi horns, the scent of freshly brewed caf, and the incessant chatter of masses of civilians, living lives that were in no way even remotely like the ones of the Commandos.
Long before it was over, it'd left an impression on all of them. On one hand, none wanted to leave their brothers to carry on the battles on the front lines, to spend their days here. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with cities- everyone knew they were a lot more exciting than, say, mountains- or that a Sep network buried so deep in the Republic's main pit of power that it could hollow it out, or that they were the ones to do it- being men who'd been trained for exactly such a purpose- but, then again;
It wasn't battle. It wasn't where they felt they all belonged. Fighting, slugging it out. For their brothers, for the glory of victory, and for the Republic. All things worth fighting for.
Fortunately, that's where they seemed to be headed again.
Omega and Delta's business on Coruscant was done. The Sep terror network had been wiped out to the last member, after tracking them to their HQ- a warehouse in the downtown commercial district- and launching a lightning raid on it, with the help of Bard'ika- or General Bardan Jusik, to be more official. It'd been a satisfyingly violent way to bring an end to their op, as Sev had put it.
Now they could get back to the business of doing the same to the Separatists' army
Soon, that's exactly where they'd be headed: right back to those front lines where they could do what they did best. Omega was off to some frozen, dreadfully cold world called Mygeto, while Delta was bound for a rustic, out of the way world called Gaftikar. Exactly why they were going there was unknown, so far, but that was normal. Militaries can't be bothered to keep its members informed, even when they're about to ship out.
So, until more information trickled down the pipe, and until they were on their way out the door to actually board the ships that would take them to continue the 3 year old conflict against the Seps, the assembled Commandos, joined by some of their non-Commando allies- would mark how they'd so gloriously stomped out the Sep network here.
With a little rendition of that age old Mandalorian chant: Dha Werda Verda. " Warriors of the shadow ". Darman considered it one of the highlights of being a commando. The rank and file didn't do this.
Well, that didn't quite include the ARC troopers. Captains Maze and Ordo were here, after all, and they were suspiciously aggressive with their punches. Maze had gotten himself hit in the face by Ordo a while ago, though- so Darman'd heard, at least- and it seemed that the former had gotten himself involved here with the hope of getting some payback.
Maybe. So long as he didn't actually assault Ordo outright, Darman decided.
" Tuang-sa-rang-bro-ka ! "
" Je-tii-se-ka-rta ! "
" Dha-wer-da- verda-a'den-tratu ! "
Arranged in a formation that encircled the circumference of the bar, the assembled commandos were now booming out the verses. They were still clad in their armor, for the tradition of Dha Werna Verda dictated that you beat the rhythm itself onto the back armor plates of the man next to you, as he turned to do that to the solider next to him, and so on. Armor helped lessen the impact of fists driven by heavily muscled arms striking you.
" Cor-u-scan-ta-kan-dosii-adu ! "
" Duum-mo-tir-ca-tra-nau-tracinya ! "
Words, and real blows. That was Dha Werda Verda. It was pure Mandalorian: violent, passionate, and completely surrounding the idea of trusting your brothers. Because, what else can a warrior count on, but his brothers ? More than his weapon, more than his armor. If he can't - or won't-trust his brothers, he's already dead long before he steps onto any battlefield, or any combat scenario.
Mandalorians, as warriors by trade, understood this.
They weren't like those from Naboo; that planet's denizens had these absurd, flowery, unrealistic ideas about peace. They were so in love with it, they failed to understand that peace isn't something you can just love, and have it sit undefended. You must embrace the other side of it: preparing for, and staying ready for, combat and battle. Having a warrior's ethos was a point of pride. It was a point of unify , and a signature of Mandalorian culture. Without it, they were Dar'manda- dead souls.
And the men of Omega and Delta Squads were Mandalorian warriors, " Republic " Commandos or not. This was their heritage, and they were proud of it. Kal Skirata, and even that wretched disciplinarian Walon Vau, had ensured they would.
Darman was glad they had.
This is what being in the Grand Army was all about. You were one mind, and one body, with your brothers. You couldn't' afford not to trust them, especially not when you were running ops together, or on the battlefield. You just as well couldn't afford to let things get between you and them- no rivalries, no petty comparison's between who's sergeant was a better NCO ( Vau, Kal, and even Niner were all in that mix ) .
More than anything else, it was all about the rituals and traditions that you celebrated with them. They were the kind of things that nobody outside could fully understand- or, even if they could, and that was a stretch, they were still not quite in it.
Darman hammered on Fi's back plate.
Yes, he was certainly in this. Darman found himself grinning, and realized he had been all along. He didn't ever want to give this up- this community he belonged to. Yes, he was aware that he hadn't been given a choice on whether or not to become a solider, and on some level, he did resent that. But, on the other hand, things could've been so much worse.
Worse, as Darman considered it, was any life without Kal Buir, and his brothers. He'd gotten a taste and a glimpse of the ordinary civilian world during this op, and yes, it had fascinated him. But-
If he couldn't take his brothers with them, how could he enter that world, even if the GAR would let him ?
That was a question he had yet to answer. But, if nothing else, as much as he wanted them to always be with him, there was someone who could be enough.
And she used a lightsaber.
" Kandossi ! "
Grinning widely, with his sandy hair flopping unkemptly around his head ( as usual ), Bardan Jusik demonstrated his increasingly strong grasp on the Mandalorian tongue.
" Kandossi, Vode ! "
Oh, Jusik , Darman thought, smirking. You want so badly to be a Mando man, don't you ? Well, if Kal Buir thinks you're good enough for us, then perhaps you are. Halfway, at least.
Too many Jedi were all high and mighty, speaking osik about the force, light and dark sides, and dribble about peace. Bardan was different. Yes, he still talked about the force ( which Darman wasn't entirely convinced was real, but allright then ), but he did so with a healthy dose of Mandalorian-style pragmatism. That's how he approached most things these days, actually; rather than going on and on about peace, he seemed to want to win this struggle against the CIS ( Confederacy of Independent Systems, the more official name for the Separatists, though virtually everyone in the GAR rightly couldn't be bothered ), rather than just " end " it.
There was no negotiating their way out of this. Mandalorians fought, not talked, their way to victory.
And speaking of victory, they'd just marked theirs in the truest way possible. And he'd been a part of it.
" I don't think your masters back at the temple would be all that enthusiastic ", Darman contemplated thoughtfully.
Bardan shrugged. " Probably. But, then again, not all Jedi are so traditional. I still believe in fighting for the Republic, and restoring order to the galaxy, but I don't exactly have to do it by their rules. We're not an army. "
" You're right. Its more of a cult. "
Darman's remark got raised eyebrows from the young Jedi general, and for a moment, Darman wondered if he'd hit a sensitve spot. But, seconds later, Bardan promptly began laughing instead.
" Ohhmmm, Ohhhhm ", he hummed, swaying back and forth a bit.
" Like that kind ? "
Yep. He was a vode, all right. He could take jokes. Even the ones that were actually half serious.
" Eh, close enough. ", Darman shrugged.
He idly glanced around at the rest of the room. After Dha Werda Verda had finished, the assembled men had drifted off to form circles of conversations, scattered here and there, though all of them were relatively close to the bar. There was the clinking of glasses, and the elevated volume, and raucous edge, of fighting men who weren't fighting at the moment, chatting among themselves.
Kal buir had take his leave, graciouslly insisting that they didn't need an old man like himself getting in the way. They'd told him they didn't care how old he was, but the venerable ( to replace old with a more tough sounding replacement ) sergeant had done so anyway.
Well, he was always close by. Even with all the ruckus going on, he'd be somewhere on its borders.
Abruptly, it was punctuated by a woman's voice.
" Ordo ! "
A flash of blonde hair ( actual, platinum, blonde, as opposed to Bardan's more sandy hair ) appeared among the shirt cut darker hair of the clone men, as the disturbingly beautiful Besany Wennen walked through the crowd. Darman wasn't aware of how long she'd been here, or if she'd just arrived.
Either way, she was heading right for Ordo.
"Mmmm ", Bardan nodded at the attractive woman. " Hello there. "
" Is General Obi Wan here ? "
Turning his head as he asked , Darman spotted the ARC captain, as he also turned to face Besany. As he did, Darman was surprised to find he had a split lip.
And that Captain Maze was standing nearby, looking rather triumphant.
That's where it came from. Maze, what did you do ?
" Maze, what did you do ?! "
That was a bit unsettled, how Besany had said exactly that. But it fit.
Pulling out a white cloth, Besany pulled Ordo toward her ( rather close, Darman noted ), and began dabbing the blood. Maze, helpfully, stepped away a foot or so.
Or, maybe he thought to get away. But-
" Me ? That's an accusation. "
Maze was doing an admirable job of playing innocent.
Or not.
" Not if I have proof ", Besany bluntly stated. " I saw you. "
" Ohhhhh ", Bardan murmured. " Red hands. "
Maze blinked, as the realization dawned on him.
" Oh. Wait, you've been- "
" Yes. " Besany glared at him, then firmly wiped the cloth over Ordo's lips. The other ARC Captain dutifully didn't fidget as Besany fussed over him.
" There ", She gently patted the spot where the cut was. " Does it hurt ? "
Darman wanted to laugh; the usual kind of bodily harm Ordo faced involved white hot blaster bolts and shrapnel, not the fist of an somewhat irate ARC trooper- which, granted, could do a whole lot of damage, but still not quite the same.
Besany really did have a thing for good ol' Ordo, didn't she.
" Just needed someone nice to tend to it ", he replied, smiling.
" You could do with a bit more nice in your life ", Besany told him. " That's me. "
She then rounded on Maze.
" As for you- "
Maze put a hand up.
" Now, hold on, Agent Wennen- "
" Oh, no. You're going to listen to me- "
The exchange was utterly riveting. Bardan and Darman observed with great interest, as an experienced ARC captain was getting himself hauled over the coals by a fiery, stunning blonde, because of that's he'd kind-of gently- hit another ARC captain, who she rather liked.
You didn't see these kinds of things as a rank and file clone.
" Should we go rescue him ? ", Bardan mused. " Or let him suffer ? "
Darman shrugged.
" Seems he has it coming. Justice is what Jedi are all about, right ? "
" Revenge is justice as well, you know. Just a bit more, direct ".
Darman nodded. Bardan did have a point.
Perhaps that was why Kal' Buir had kept him around.
" Darman ?! "
Another woman calling out ? Commandos weren't used to dealing with even one, and this clan of them had two to living with them pretty much every day. One was a Treasury agent, and the other was a Jedi.
Darman blinked, as he immediately recognized who it was. If Besany, the diligent Treasury agent, was over there, so adorably defending her man, then this could only be-
Etain Tur'Murkan appeared on the walkway overlooking the bar, just as Darman spotted her.
And he just so happened to catch her eyes.
Like Besany, she was remarkably attractive; in more of a hometown, country style, as opposed to Besany's more polished, statuesque-ness. Her long light brunette hair swished around her shoulders, and her eyes- green, by the way- were searching for him.
Or, they were until just now.
She was looking down ( literally ) at him, with an expression of-
Relief ?
What was going on just now with her ?!
Darman still didn't fully understand women, though he'd been around her a lot. He knew, though, at the very least, that Etain was quite, in tune, with her emotions. It was a stark change from Bardan, and on some days, Darman wasn't sure if Etain was suited for being a battlefield general. That required walking the line, between caring for them, and willing to send them to die, or near certainly die.
Etain hadn't shown she was capable of that, at first.
But, after how she'd handled that dicey affair with Omega squad, drifting in that wrecked ship during a boarding action a few weeks ago, right before this op began-
And performing that mind-probe on that Sep prisoner-
Well, perhaps she was, after all.
But, what Darman cared about the most now, and actually, always, was how much he cared for her.
And vice versa.
" Etain ?! ", he exclaimed, not bothering to hide this surprise- or hints of affection. If it was no secret that Ordo and Besany were a thing, it was an even worse one that he and Etain were interested in each other. Besides, they- this little clan run by Skirata- didn't bother with ranks. Those were reserved for when they were among the rank and file.
Which were nowhere near them, not now.
Etain hurried to get down to the bar level. It wasn't easy for someone of her stature- she was neither tall, nor big, and all the commandos and ARCs were- to get through them, but the aforementioned commandos and ARCs were all gentlemen, and they pulled apart before her, like an ice field getting cut by a Mygeto icecracker ship.
" I would hate to get in the way ", Bardan was quick to realize that he was, technically, not quite in the way yet, but would be soon. " Should I go somewhere else ? "
Darman had been watching Etain, and heard Bardan nearly as a side thought.
" Hm ? Oh, I would appreciate that, sir ".
" No need to ' sir ' me ", Bardan clapped Darman on the shoulder. " But, I'll let it slide. Enjoy yourself. "
Glad you're on our side, Bard'ika.
With that, he strolled off, as Etain approached.
Darman leaned back against the bar. Etain stopped just in front of him, her Jedi robes swishing slightly.
" Impressed by our song and dance routine ? ", Darman queried, smiling openly. " We get carried away somewhat. Can't always help ourselves. "
" I've seen it before. " She reminded him, nodding. " And it was nothing less than amazing. Truly. "
Etain wore her soul on her sleeve, and tended to express herself that way. Always caught up in how she felt. She couldn't help it.
After all this time with someone like Sev around, Darman liked someone like her, though.
He, wanted, this, actually.
" Ah, that's right. I remember you there. I was outdoing everyone, wasn't I ? "
" Well, I wasn't really paying attention to them, actually. I saw them, yes, but, well, you were there. "
Darman enjoyed that pleasantly warm feeling that ran through him just now. It was good to hear- no matter how well he knew it already- that Etain did love him, and did think about him often. He'd had no idea how much he wanted a good woman in his life, until he met Etain.
He'd thought women were too alien for men like him- clones, and commandos to boot. They had been, but not anymore. Skirata had ( somewhat ashamedly ) admitted to them that understanding the ( frustratingly ) complex subject of women wasn't one of this strong points; he'd been kicked out by too many of them over the years, so all he could tell them was to not listen to him on that.
Darman, thus, had let himself not think after he met Etain, and just felt.
He'd done the same from then till now, and look where it'd gotten him: they were an item now. It was still unfamilar terriotry for him, but so had Qiilura, and he'd found a way out of and off of there.
With Etain, of course.
Its not that I need you. Its better than that; I want you
Etain looked away for a second. Shyly, it seemed. Nearly as if she'd heard him think.
Darman wanted to say something, but, bizarrely, found himself waiting for her first.
Perhaps, she actually had heard that thought.
Finally, though;
" Dar, would you walk with me ? "
Sometimes, Etain was indeed a General, and at others, she was just another woman wanting to be alone with her man.
Right now, she was certainly the latter.
" Where are we going, if I say yes ? "
It was an innocent enough question, and Darman couldn't help but smirk as he said it. Etain, like many women, liked humor from a man.
He didn't know much, though, until-
Etain, without any hint, leaned in and kissed him. Right on the mouth. She held it for just a few seconds, but like any worthwhile kiss, it felt longer to Darman.
He saw it coming, but couldn't stop himself from letting her. Everyone already knew about them, anyway. And even the ones here that didn't well, how could they know she was a Jedi ?
They weren't hiding. They were, blending in. Like everyone else here on this city planet, or elsewhere in this whole galaxy. The overwhelming majortiy of clones wouldn't taste this other world, the one outside the GAR. They were trained and groomed to think about the civilian world as something to be defended, but not studied or understood. They were their own society and culture- and anything else was supposed to be viewed as alien.
" You can't say no, now can you ? ", Etain finally pulled back, to softly ask.
A rhetorical question. Darman's favorite.
But, it played second fiddle to what'd just happened.
For a second, he glanced around, wondering if anyone had seen them, and how they'd reacted.
It seemed, that nobody had. Besany had finally finished scolding the unfortunate ( or not, as getting scolded from such a beautiful woman wasn't entirely bad ) Captain Maze, and Ordo was smirking triumphantly, clearly taking delight from it.
He still didn't know where Skirata was, but he knew his sergeant would want for this: For Darman to be the good lad he'd been taught to be, and treat the woman he did love- the one and only Etain Tur'Murkan- right
Darman wouldn't let either of them down.
Smiling, he slipped an arm around her.
She put her hands on his sides.
" Wherever you want, Etain' ika. "