AN: This is not a happy story. I'm not going to lie and tell you that it is, but if you want to pretend it is, you can read up to about chapter 7 and then not finish the fic.
Also, there are literally no canon characters. This takes place about 4 years before SWTOR, so one of the characters does end up as the Trooper, but that's about it. So if OCs aren't your cup of tea, this isn't the fic for you.
With that out of the way, enjoy!
General fic warnings: Strong language, major character death, suicide mention and suicidal actions.
Warnings for this chapter: none.
If Iscom was honest with himself, the first thing he had noticed about the sergeant had been the eye patch.
Of course, it was rather distracting. A big metal circle on someone's face did catch the attention. But Iscom wasn't fond of admitting when he was prejudiced, even if it was a minor, stupid, little thing. He liked to think that he was above the idiots who had made a big deal out of his appearance when he was a kid. Those kids hadn't all been human either, although most of them had been. It probably had something to do with that whole majority-species thing. It gave them a sense of entitlement, or some other fancy explanation that adults used to rationalize away the stupidity of children.
Now, if Iscom was going to continue the honesty, the second thing he had noticed with his nervous smile. Something about the lopsided grin screamed, "New CO!" But it wasn't off-putting, not exactly. Just something that Iscom would have to remember when he said something completely medically inaccurate, or impossible. Commanding officers always had these ridiculous misconceptions about the limits of medical technology, that was just a fact.
"Hello," he said. "I am Sergeant Badri Emras." Iscom saluted smartly. The sergeant's voice was oddly hesitant, Iscom noticed. He spoke in a halting sort of way, almost as if he was unsure of his voice. Speech therapy, Iscom thought immediately, and wondered if the sergeant had a speech disorder.
Sergeant Emras laughed, "At ease. We're just getting to know each other." Iscom lowered his hand, still listening carefully to the strangeness of his speaking pattern. The others didn't seem to notice anything, but they were both new. And probably hadn't taken two speech pathology classes purely because they sounded interesting. But they didn't notice the sergeant's nervousness at being in change either, and that was because they were new.
"I'm going to be your commanding officer on the field," Sergeant Emras continued, "and I need to be able to trust all of you out there. I hope you can trust me as well. A team divided is never going to accomplish anything worthwhile." That nervous half-smile had come back, but Iscom could tell this wasn't his first ride. New officers, the ones fresh out of school, started with the speech about the glory of the Republic and her ideals, noble sacrifice, blah, blah, blah. New COs, the real ones, knew the importance of the team, the importance of trust. That was a sense you only got after being part of a team yourself, and Emras certainly had that sense.
"I seem to be at a disadvantage, here," said the sergeant. "You know who I am, but I'm afraid I only got this assignment now, so I don't know all of you."
Iscom felt a little of the tension he had been holding ease up. This guy must be good if the higher-ups were just throwing him into a team. Either that or he was truly terrible. He had worked his way up from enlisted, though, so it was likely the former.
"My name is Iscom Rigil, rank Corporal," Iscom said. There was no way either of the new graduates was going to be the first to speak up. "I will be serving as the team's field doctor." Hopefully he wouldn't be needed as much as he had been on his last assignment, although he wouldn't say that out loud. It would only serve to tempt fate.
It was the male graduate who spoke up next, which wasn't terribly surprising. Not that female graduates were quiet, not by any means, but this guy had seemed fidgety the whole time. "I'm Private Chertan Brash," he said, rather quickly. Casually, as if he didn't want to make it a big deal, but quickly. "No special training; I only joined last year." Which, also, was not a surprise to Iscom.
"And I'm Private Dune Yuo," the female said, letting the nervousness in her voice show. Show more than the other two, really. Iscom was even a little nervous himself, not that he was going to let it show. They'd been together all of two minutes and it already looked as if the team was going to need someone to hold them together.
"Well, now that we all know each other's names," the sergeant said, gaining some confidence, "I think it's time we got to know each other better. Seeing as we don't have any assignments currently, I recommend the cantina."
Iscom nearly let out a sigh of relief. The sergeant thought like a member of a team, not a stuck-up officer. First place to learn about people is on the field. When that fails, there's almost always a cantina around the corner.
"You paying, Sergeant?" asked Private Brash. Iscom wondered if he was looking for approval, or broke. Or both; he was fresh out of the academy, after all.
"It seems only fair," replied the sergeant, and Iscom felt like they got the first true smile from the cyborg they had seen. His eye took on a mischievous gleam when he said, "I take no responsibility for your actions there, though. This will be strictly off-duty socializing."
"I'm in," Private Brash said quickly.
Private Yuo looked over at Iscom, as if seeking his advice. He gave just the faintest of shrugs to indicate his approval. The sergeant caught his glance and smiled.
Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
"Well, it's been fun, but I really should get going," Yuo said nervously. Iscom laughed.
"What, afraid we're not going to let you go?" he asked her jokingly. "Go on, get some sleep. I'm sure we'll need it for tomorrow, if the Sergeant's record is anything to go on."
That got a laugh out of Emras as well. "See you in six hours," he said with a smirk.
"Six?" Brash asked drunkenly. "Damn! I—I should go," he said, standing up so quickly Iscom thought he was going to fall back over.
"Hey Rigil, can you stick around for a bit?" Emras asked him as the two privates made their way for the door, Yuo half holding Brash up.
"No problem," he said, setting down his empty glass. "I think I'll pass on the next round, though."
"Good choice," Emras said pensively, looking at his own. He twirled the glass around his finger before adding, "I think I will too. To business, then."
"Business? After this many drinks?" Iscom raised his eyebrow.
"I try to avoid talking about bureaucracy while sober," Emras replied. "You're my XO, though, and I think it's only fair that I'm blunt—er, straightforward—with you."
Iscom laughed at his apparent misspeak. "What's the difference?"
"Blunt means I get to swear more," Emras said seriously, closing his eye. He rubbed one temple carefully, tracing his finger around the metal that covered it.
Iscom shrugged, still laughing. "Blunt works just fine for me."
"Good, because it's a hell of a lot easier," Emras said. Iscom found his gaze drawn to the light on the temple he was rubbing, glowing blue at the end of the metal band. The band seemed to wrap around the back of the sergeant's head, although Iscom wondered if it really did, and why. Emras noticed his gaze and quickly moved his arm down. Iscom looked away awkwardly, feeling oddly guilty of some unspoken offence.
"I have never had any sort of command," Emras continued. "Hell, before today I was at the last rung of the ladder. Bottom of the pyramid. End of the rope. Etc., etc.," he said, waving his hand. "I have no clue what I'm doing, so I'm going to be relying on you for some of that. You are at least used to having people take your orders."
"That's true," Iscom said. "No one ever wants to piss off their medic."
Emras choked on a burst of laughter. "You are the medic. You don't understand how much the consequences of your anger affect the rest of us."
"Might I suggest trying not to get yourself blown up once a week then?" he suggested with a hint of sarcasm. "It does wonders for my mood."
"I'll keep it in mind," Emras assured him. "But as I was saying, this whole command thing is new to me. I know what I would want my commander to do, and I know what makes a commander good in the eyes of his team, but that's about it. What I do know," he said confidently, "is our assignment. We're on call here, on Coruscant, for security and rebuilding. For the next six months, at least," he added.
"The attack hit pretty hard, didn't it?" Iscom asked. There was a slight shift in Emras's posture. "I mean, I had never been here until after, but they're still rebuilding after almost seven years."
"You have no idea," Emras said. His tone was light, but there was an undertone there that suggested something else.
"You've been here before," Iscom said. It wasn't really a question, but it wasn't really a statement either. It was just something for the sergeant to respond to.
"I grew up here," Emras corrected. "Lived on Coruscant for all of my life. Before I signed up, that is." He continued before Iscom had a chance to get anything else out of him. "I know we've only just met, but I need to know if I can count on you. If you're okay with beating a new CO around the block a bit," he translated.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Iscom laughed. "I would be more worried with your own safety, sir," he said with a smile. Emras laughed as well.
"It's good to know we're on the same page, corporal," returning the use of rank with a smirk. He raised his glass as if he was about to toast, before realizing it was empty. He shrugged and held it up anyway.
"To last-minute assignments," he said. Iscom held up his own empty glass to knock the sergeant's.
"To six months on Coruscant," he echoed.
"Someplace with civilization, and actual cantinas," Emras sighed in relief. "I'm going to enjoy being back."