✶ Extraction from the private journals of ELF-1993 ✶
Approx. 11 weeks since the Battle of Geonosis: Entry #1
"Do you think we'll meet any pretty girls during our deployment?" Rez asked me as we were priming our blaster rifles.
"Don't count on it," I answered. "Pretty girls don't belong in war. Jedi Commander ell Talaan is probably just another middle-aged man that's dissatisfied with the regular troops."
"Of course our lot would be among the geriatrics," Rez griped.
Of course, both of us didn't know it, but I was wrong. Women ––– even lovely, principled women ––– can end up in ugly places during times of conflict. Beauty is not a free pass out of a war; often, it is beauty that causes one.
We are standing in formation, rifles nestling snugly against our shoulders. As usual, our armor shines an immaculate white. I guess we look impressive, but I don't feel impressive at all. Just scared.
There are twenty of us in the squad. I am the only one from the Carnivore batch; the rest all hail from various squads. We are a mutt group, scraped together from all different batches. Some of us aren't even the same age; I am the oldest, at seven years old, while Rez is only five and a half. We are much, much shorter than the troopers in formation behind us, but at least we all know how to line up properly.
I'm not scared because I'm about to go into a battle; I have been in enough combat simulations ––– both live fire and with blanks ––– to know how to survive in a fight. What I am really afraid of is meeting our new commander. He is a Jedi, and though I have heard some reputable things about that group, they are supposedly sorcerers. There are rumors that they can kill you just by looking at you funny, and though I'm not a superstitious sort, I don't disregard the warnings to watch out for Jedi.
The trainers on Kamino were tough ––– they nearly killed you so that you would be able to survive in a battle. What's the good in that, to try to kill someone so that they'll learn how to live? But I've never met a Jedi; how do I know that our Jedi Commander isn't going to be ten times as mean as my trainer on Kamino?
Delta ––– the brother standing to my right ––– stiffens noticeably as our Captain Ember appears on the balcony above us.
"Here he comes," Rez says into the helmet communications headset that we use for private conversations within the squad. To outsiders, it may appear that we are silent soldiers, but we really talk quite a bit. Especially Rez.
Skipp follows Ember out onto the platform, and then Commander ell Talaan comes out, too.
"Sithspit, that's a female," Cor says into the link.
He's right; Commander ell Talaan is a human woman, standing only slightly taller than Ember, and dressed in discreet black. She looks out over the balcony, and says some words to us all. I can hear her, but I'm too shocked about her being a woman to take much notice of what she's saying.
"Yes ma'am!" Everyone shouts, and I add my voice to the chorus, though for all I know she just asked us if we were idiots.
Now Ember and Skipp have removed their helmets, which is completely against trooper protocol, but perhaps she commanded them to do so. Most beings are uncomfortable if they can't see a person's face. Maybe that's why people are afraid of us ––– we're always hiding behind our shiny white armor.
Ember and Skipp have taken the Jedi down to the floor. Now she's walking toward us. I hear several of my brothers swallow in the comlink. As she approaches, I not only begin to realize that she's not only a woman, she's just a mere slip of a girl, barely older than sixteen. She's walking down the line, now, her blue gaze seeming to pierce through our helmets and see the people within. I can't tell if she's pleased with us or not.
She's a very pretty girl. Loose blond hair, blue eyes to match, and freckles. The only thing on her that screams "Beware!" is the lightsaber clipped to her belt. I can't believe this. A little girl, commanding a legion all by herself? This can't possibly be true; it is much more likely that she's just one of Commander ell Talaan's students. A Padawan, I think is what they call it. Yes, this must be it; this girl is just a Padawan. Not our Commander.
"I am the captain of the elite squad, if you haven't noticed, ma'am," Ember says. "Skipp specializes in ship maintenance ––– he's the executive command bridge officer. There are twenty total in the squad, Commander."
The girl nods, folding her arms across her chest. "As the special force, you are my personal escort, so you'll be seeing a lot of me. That means that now is a good time to get introduced to each other. Commander Adriaan ell Talaan. Preferably addressed as 'Ma'am' or 'Commander' but 'Master' and 'Sir' will do, too. Name and designation, please!"
Fierfek. So this is not ell Talaan's Padawan, after all. She truly is our Commander.
Even the private comm is silent in my helmet. The chatter that usually goes on between the members of the squad has been effectively silenced by the girl. They are all just as shocked as I am.
We knew that some women were warriors, but we had never seen one before, and we certainly never imagined a female warrior to look like this. A little girl. Who would drag a little girl into a war? Are the adult Galactic citizens too lazy, scared, or busy to take command themselves?
Where are the adults in this war? Even us clones aren't grown ups, though we all have adult bodies. But that's only because we were genetically altered so that we would grow up faster. I guess that I'm a child, too, so I shouldn't be so shocked that a teenage girl is commanding my squad.
She's walking down the line now, asking for our names ––– our names, not our numbers. That's significant. Most officers think we don't have names. But we do, just like a slave or a pet has something its owner calls it by. We may be just clones, but we still have individual names, just like everyone else.
She has us take off our helmets so that she can see our faces. As I pop the seal and take off my "bucket" she stops by me, and she looks me straight in the eyes. Her eyes are very blue, with gold flecks in them. They look so innocent, but to my surprise, there is no fear in them. She isn't cocky, she's just…confident. Hopeful that the war will end soon.
"What is your name?" the girl ––– I'd better call her Commander now ––– asks. Her voice is very pleasant ––– not high-pitched, not too deep. A little boyish. It's the type of voice you can easily hear over the noise of tanks firing and bodies running and men screaming and blasters firing and the ground exploding beneath your feet. It is the voice of an officer that's not afraid to stick it out with her men in the front lines.
As I return her gaze, I know that, little girl or not, I'm going to like Commander ell Talaan a lot.
"My name is Wolf," I say.