Garel, eleven months after the Battle of Geonosis
After a successful operation, Fenn liked to sit back, have a drink, and catch up on all the sleep he missed. The other men of his squadron – Rath, Adenn, and Jay – had a similar idea of post-mission relaxation. Garel's city seemed to be something decent, Coruscant if it was tiny and backwater. They were heading there now, on the way from another op. They had leave for an entire twenty-four hours. Not a long time. But who said you needed a whole week to explore a city's nightlife?
But I guess not yet, Fenn thought. He and the rest of his team were in the small cabin of an LAAT/i, sitting or standing around a holoprojection of their adviser, listening quietly as he spoke. Well, not just spoke. Berated was much closer to the mark. And he wasn't addressing anyone other than Rath, Sergeant RC-2112, who stood with his helmet at his feet as he leaned on the bulkhead. The commando's face was a mask of disinterest.
"Sergeant," CT-2767 snapped, his arms crossed. The hologram flickered, blue light illuminating the cabin. It made Rath's dull gold paint patterns seem to glimmer. "Your interrogation methods are definitely not appropriate."
"Adviser, anything that gets info out of a prisoner is appropriate. Especially with such vital intelligence," Rath replied. His voice was deadpan. Fenn watched with his own buy'ce on, grinning. It was pretty funny, Sixty-Seven getting so worked up over such a little thing.
"Beating a man half to death isn't an interrogation method, Sergeant. It's torture. He had severe bruising to his head, chest, back, groin and legs, several stab wounds, a kriffing broken femur - "
"With all due respect sir, it was more than half to death," Jay chimed in. Fenn glanced up at his blue-armored brother. He was sitting, cleaning his DC-17 with that soaked rag he carried with him everywhere. The anti-armor and sniping attachments were set neatly around him. RC-2013 was a stickler for cleanliness, but had his own sense of humor. "I'd say that it was three-quarters to death."
"Affirmative," Fenn agreed. The Adviser clicked his teeth together with disapproval.
"The Jedi aren't going to like this. It's unethical, and just … no, Genet. I have to report this to General Zey," he warned. General Zey? Fenn wanted to laugh aloud, and he did. Sixty-Seven turned to him. The man didn't have his bucket on; the commando could see his annoyance rise, the twitch of his lips and furrowing of his brow. Yeah, yeah. Fenn was disrespecting command. Get over it. With all due respect of course. He wasn't saying anything to Zey's face. He wasn't saying it to Maze's either. There wasn't any harm in it.
"Skirata and his bunch get away with anything they want. They've redirected assets all the time, and don't get me started on what I've heard Jaing pull off -"
"That doesn't matter, RC-2100. There's a thing called ethics protocol. I suggest you read the manual. Or should I have you assigned with Echo so you might learn? I heard he and Fives are in your sector right now. I can always redirect assets their way." Echo, one of the newer ARCs, was devoted to the rules like Jay was devoted to cleaning. Redirecting assets, and assets meaning clones? He wanted to send that comment over to Sergeant Skirata and see what he'd think. He didn't dislike Sixty-Seven, definitely not, but it might be amusing to see him get beaten. Kinda like the target they had just caught.
He didn't see why it was such a big deal, anyways. Some Separatist informant had been going to deliver the coordinates of a rather important Republic base on Dandoran to General Grievous, they'd tracked him down to one of the mesas that dotted the surface of Garel, caught him, extracted the information they needed, and then extracted themselves. Just because their extraction methods might have been a tad bit brutal didn't mean they didn't complete the mission. And like Sergeant Priest said: the goal determines what we do. The ends we need to meet justify whatever means we use. Sure, it didn't always apply. None of them believed the osik he spouted about Mandalore needing – deserving – to reconquer the galaxy, for example. Those were stupid ends, and any means towards that goal were equally stupid. But protecting the Republic was a justified end. Beating some poor Siniteen chakaar a third of the way to death, therefore, was a justified method.
"That's a negative, sir," Rath grunted, rolling his eyes. "We don't need Echo to beat a dead bantha."
Jay decided to give his two cents once again. "You mean dead informant, Sarge." Adenn snorted audibly, but Fenn knew his ner'vod well enough to guess that he was stifling a laugh. Fenn was much, much worse at that; he giggled like a little girl until Rath gave the side of his head a hearty smack.
The Adviser was not amused. He turned in a circle, eyeing all of them with wary disdain. He always had that air about him, a dislike for every questionable technique Genet Squad employed. Poor guy. He must want one of Vau or Bralor's bunch. But he got stuck with Dred Priest's.Eventually he turned back to Rath and nodded curtly. "Fine. Adviser out." The hologram flickered away. The cabin became dark, and the only noise the hum and buzz of the gunship's engines.
"So, I wonder how that Siniteen is doing now, huh," Adenn said after a lengthy pause. Fenn shrugged.
"They probably put him in a coma to treat him. He was bleeding pretty hard, wasn't he sarge?" Jay said, standing up, He took off his helmet and raised an eyebrow. "And while I don't agree with Adviser's sentiment … did you really need to use the vibroblade?"
"What else would you have done?" The sergeant bristled. Jay shrugged.
"Broken his arms, duh."
"Then we wouldn't be able to move him."
"We could still move him. He'd just be screaming like a little di'kut."
"You're a little di'kut."
"Copy that." Both Rath and Jay turned to Fenn as he opened his mouth to laugh once more.
"Shut your trap." Rath, aptly named after the fearsome rathtar, was just as scary as his namesake when he got angry. After having his methods questioned he was probably in no mood for Fenn's constant chortling. Rath would probably treat him in the same way as that informant. Trying to get me to shut up is a dumb end. But I doubt he thinks so.
"Sir, yes sir."
MANDO'A GLOSSARY
Buy'ce – helmet
Osik – Crap
Chakaar – scumbag, thief, literally "grave robber", but is used as a general term of abuse.
Di'kut – idiot
My first story in ... geez, a while. My first Star Wars story, too. I have a bunch of tales in mind of Genet Squadron that I'd like to tell. Reviews to tell me how I've done would be great.