Chapter 1: Introductions
Beto looked at the sea of white, Mandalorian style helmets before him and fought to keep his face neutral. The Feeling that had plagued him since Qui Gon's death on Naboo eleven years ago was stronger now as he looked at the small part of the Clone Army that he was going to lead. This war should not be happening, he thought grimly. It will be the end of us. How can we lead men into battle and still call ourselves Jedi? But the Council and the Senate had ordered the Jedi to lead this army against the endless droid supply of the Separatists. So, Beto would. But that didn't mean he had to stop showing compassion.
"At ease, men," he said. In perfect synchronization, the clones before him opened their legs and clasped their hands behind their backs. Beto wanted to roll his eyes. That didn't look any more comfortable than the "attention" position that had been barked by Commander Jay – another clone but with distinctive black and blue markings on his armor that distinguished him from the rest of the troopers. And the four slightly more built clones in the front of the line weren't troopers at all, but Clone Commandos that were to be sent on more delicate missions on their own. And they didn't Feel like "men" in the Force at all; more like children or teenagers. After all, their biological age was barely older than ten years. Even though their accelerated aging made them seem more like they were in their early twenties. Beto had a lot to learn about these new allies if this mission was to survive. And he only had a week to do it.
"Helmets off, please," Beto added. The rows of helmets were eerie and impersonal. The clicking and hissing of the suits being opened was not in sync. They hadn't been expecting that. Fifty-five identical faces looked up at him. No, not identical. Here and there, scars from the first battle of Genosis. Armor painted to reflect individuality. And, in the Force, their rippling emotions and thoughts left shadows that were quite different.
"I am General Beto Mag Liano," said Beto. "I am the Jedi Master to which you have been assigned." It was time to win their confidence, if not their trust. "Although it would be more correct to say I was assigned to you. You have been trained for this. You have proven yourself in battle and have come to the aid of the Jedi when we sorely needed it. For that, I thank you."
There.
Beto could feel their surprise, and a hesitant admiration from a few. Whoever had commanded them last hadn't cared much about their opinions. Beto frowned internally. He'd have to remedy that.
"You have insight and expertise that I may not have. And I have the Force. By working together, I believe that we can achieve our goal of stopping the Separatists. We are headed to a small outpost in the Outer Rim. We should be able to accomplish our objective from the air – but several years of experience tell me that things rarely go as planned."
"Never trust the intel...or the cantina menu," one brave trooper volunteered. Beto smiled broadly and, encouraged, a few of the men laughed. Good, they were relaxing. Now to give them spirit.
"We are part of frontal assault in the Outer Rim," Beto said, allowing his voice to grow. "We are a thin layer between the innocent people we are protecting, between destruction and peaceful planets that want no part in this conflict. We are few. But we are well trained. Strong. Have survived battle and loss. And we will not let this enemy drive us back! We will not allow the Dark Side to destroy the Light. I know that you were not given a chance to volunteer, but I am asking you know. Will you stand with me and protect the Republic?"
"YES, SIR!" The response was deafening. And Beto could Feel in the Force that it was genuine.
Pleased and slightly relieved, he finished, "Wheels up in t-minus ten minutes. Men, to your posts."
There was a disorganized clatter of troopers hurrying away, some putting their helmets back and then heading to their posts. Others looked for their mates before heading off to the different parts of the small forward assault vessel. But it was a forward assault vessel all the same. Complete with two small fighter ships that could be used as extra gun-support while still attached to the ship, or be easily unattached and used as wing ships piloted by one or two men. And, for piloting these ships, Beto had commandos.
"Commander Jay," Beto motioned to his, for all intents and purposes, first officer.
"Sir." Jay saluted.
Beto finally allowed himself the look of exasperation that had been coming for a long time. "Jay, I appreciate the support," he said. "But you really don't need to salute every time you see me."
Jay looked very uncomfortable at that. "Sir, protocol..."
"Jay," Beto put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "You will soon learn that I prefer a less distant form of leadership. Please, when it's just the two of us, don't salute."
Jay nodded. "Yes, sir. That is...better." He looked a bit surprised at his own sentence. Beto tried not to laugh. "If you please, Commander, tell the commandos that I'd like to see them in my office as soon as possible."
"Sir!" Jay's hand went half-way to his forehead before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to salute. So he just nodded instead, putting his hand awkwardly on his chest.
Beto almost laughed. If only Blake could see this, he thought. But his eighteen year old padawan wasn't on the ship. He was on-loan to Master Windu who had required a partner on a mission. It was a mark of how spread thin the Jedi had become that the revered Master had asked for a young padawan. Blake had been ecstatic. Beto hoped he wasn't giving Windu too much trouble. Also, he couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed that Windu had taken Blake. Why couldn't the old Master just get his own padawan?
"And Jay!" Beto called as an afterthought. The clone commander turned. "Contact my apprentice as soon as we're underway."
"Yes, sir." Another awkward, bobbing nod.
He'll get used to it, Beto thought. It was like training another apprentice. That was how he'd decided to think about the clones; another group of young eager apprentices. With a good deal of training but not much life experience. Except that he'd never had fifty-five padawans at once. And if Isa had been a handful, Blake was a completely different challenge, and these clones would be something eons different.
Beto's continued musings were interrupted by the arrival of the four commandos. They lined up in front of him, helmets on, and stood at attention.
"You summoned us, General," said the one with the distinctive red band of a major on his right arm.
"Yes." Beto looked from one to the other. "May you please remove your helmets?" The commandos did so. A quick survey of the Force told him that only the major was vaguely bothered by this. Another man couldn't have cared less, while the final two had decided that they felt right at ease with their new commanding officer. I'll take half of them, Beto thought. The other two will follow. They're a squad after all.
Helmets off, the only real way to tell them apart was that one was bald except for the short mohawk down the center of his head, and the one that couldn't care less had a jagged scar above his left eye and an older scar on his chin.
"What are your names?" Beto asked kindly.
The Major looked a bit confused. "We have assignations, sir. The names are more...personal."
"But we can say them if you prefer," Scarred Man was quick to add. The Major gave him a side-long glance. Ah. Not the original squad then, Beto observed.
"Yes, please," said Beto.
"Major Nicko, sir," said the Major.
"Private Zar," said scarred man.
"I'm Edge," said the one with the mohawk. "And this is Jolly." The last man gave Beto a two-fingered salute.
"And you were trained as specialty combat pilots, correct?" Prompted Beto.
There was a very slight hesitation before Nicko replied, looking at Zar again. "Yes, General. By Sergeant Artemis at Kamino."
Beto looked from Nicko to Zar. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" He felt Edge's surprise at the word gentlemen.
"This is a new squad, sir," explained Nicko. "Jolly and Edge were part of the same pod. And I was trained by Sergeant Artemis, same as them. Zar was one of Kal Skirta's."
"But Artemis taught me how to fly," Zar was quick to add. "I'll be ready to fight."
Beto nodded. "I believe you," he said, trying to sound both in control and soothing. Zar and Nicko's tension was like a pot of water beginning to boil in the Force. Jolly and Edge were still much more at ease. "I confess, I do not know much about your training sergeants. You'll have to educate me."
Jolly seemed to take that as an invitation. "Well, both Skirta and Artemis are Mandalorian. So their training styles were pretty similar. Except Artemis specialized in advanced piloting and Skirta was the recon guy."
Beto nodded. "I'd like to meet them someday." Then he got down to business. "Men, we are approaching Surius 5. A rather boring planet that is barely larger than a planetoid. It has one very important strategic element, however." Beto paused, expecting one of the men to ask the obvious question. However, it was just awkwardly silent for two beats and Beto had to remind himself that, no matter how much these ten year olds felt like children in the Force, they weren't apprentices. "Surius 5's core is completely filled with Tiranium," Beto finished.
Jolly gulped. "Sir? Isn't that what they use to make droids?"
Beto nodded. "There lies our reason for keeping it out of Separatist hands."
Edge seemed encouraged by Jolly's comment and added. "Have the Separatists found it yet, General?"
Beto frowned. "Unfortunately, we don't know that. But there has been a worrying increase of enemy troops in the area. Our mission is to provide additional intel and scout out an area for a permanent Republic base."
"Are we expecting a fight, General?" Asked Nicko.
"We're always expecting a fight," Beto said honestly. "We're expecting the Separatists to be unhappy about our presence. But they shouldn't send more than a few space craft to intercept us. That is where you come in. Are you familiar with the small fighter ships we have onboard?"
"Yes, sir!" They chorused. Beto was impressed at the precision.
"Very good," said Beto. "You have complete access to both of the crafts. Getting to Surius 5 will take us four days. I suggest you become intimate with the fighters. You will be our gunmen and pilots."
"Very good, General," said Nicko.
Beto nodded. And nothing happened. It took a few seconds for him to realize why. "You are dismissed," Beto remembered.
"Sir!" They barked, snapping their helmets back on and then matching away.
Another trooper approached and saluted. "Sir, we are ready to engage the hyperdrive at your command." said the trooper. A lieutenant by the yellow band on his arm.
"Very well, thank you." Beto began to walk to the bridge, motioning for the lieutenant to follow. "What is your name, Lieutenant." The clone felt vaguely shocked in the Force but answered all the same, falling into perfect step beside Beto, "Lieutenant Eon, General."
"Well, Eon," said Beto as they headed to the bridge. "What exactly do they tell you about the Jedi? I'm very curious..."