The Arca Barracks parade ground actually saw little parading across its foundation. Having troopers line up to march across the grounds was a rarity since most Special Operations squads and agents were usually off-planet and on missions. The last time more than a few dozen squads stood at attention on the grounds was probably when the Grand Army first settled on Coruscant in those days after the First Battle of Geonosis.

Geonosis was a just about over a year ago, but even as a Republic Commando, Jawbreaker still found himself shakings his legs to get rid of the non-existent sand out of his shin guards.

Jawbreaker let out a breath into the Coruscanti air as he let the aroma of his hot chocolate stimulate his senses. It was admittedly an odd choice of drink for a Republic Commando, many of them preferred caf. But, it had been one of the few luxuries that Sergeant Ambu Kelborn had ever given him on Kamino, and Jawbreaker had since made it his drink of choice. He sipped from his mug, now half empty. Opening his eyes, he let his gaze fall on the parade ground again. From his spot on the balcony, he could see clones in small groups quietly ambling down the grounds. If they weren't scheduled for training or prepping for another mission, then they were taking advantage of their short respite. Some clones liked to play a game of freestyle bolo-ball, like what a few RCs seemed to be setting up at the center of the parade ground. Jawbreaker on the other hand preferred a homebrewed cup of hot chocolate while watching the skyline every now and then.

The only downside to Jawbreaker's relatively fair mood today was his absolutely unwelcomed drinking companion, who wasn't moving a damn inch from where he was standing like a Force-forsaken carbonite statue.

"We're on easy street," the man that Jawbreaker could not believe shares DNA with said, "and it feels so sweet."

The man in question was a Commando like Jawbreaker. Unlike Jawbreaker, he was wearing his full set of armor. Jawbreaker kept himself in his basic red fatigues. When it came to RC armor, he was partial to a little green paint to overcome the default white, but Jawbreaker's companion's armor was splattered with a nauseating violet color. The nausea could have been forgiven if it weren't for –

"Because the world is b-b-but a treat," the man who calls himself Rang continued to say, unknowingly interrupting Jawbreaker's train of thought, "and you're on ea–sy street!"

Rang wasn't even drinking his caf. It was physically impossible, what with his helmet still latched atop his head. Rang merely held his mug close to his chest plate as he stared blankly forward, all the while spouting out his odd, odd expressions he was infamous for.

Hyperion Squad had their faults, but at least they knew how to communicate properly, unlike the insane oddballs in Sigma Squad, and Rang definitely exemplified that insanity.

When Rang turned his head so that his visor glared its blue tint at Jawbreaker, Jawbreaker scowled with a sidelong look right back at him. Rang held up his mug, as if offering a toast. "Do you think love can bloom on a battlefield?" Rang asked out of nowhere.

Jawbreaker's answer was a grunt. From what Jawbreaker has been told, conveying quiet disgruntlement is the best course of action to steer Rang in the opposite direction.

In response to Jawbreaker's grumble, Rang seemed to nod to himself, looking to his feet. "Nobody ever cares about the henchmen."

The growl of, "We're not henchmen," escaped Jawbreaker's lips before he could stop himself. The mention of "henchmen" reminded Jawbreaker of an argument he had with another Commando. Clone troopers weren't petty lackeys or minions. They were soldiers, and the term henchmen just cheapened the effort clones put into their work.

Then again, most of the things that come out of Rang's mouth needed to be taken with a gallon of salt. He probably didn't even know the actual definition of henchmen. Rang was just spouting nonsensical nonsense, as always.

Rang turned his gaze back to the skyline. As he held his mug over the railing of the balcony, Rang declared, "Honey, if you stay, I'll be forgiven." He turned his mug upside down and poured the caf down to the ground floor. "Nothing you can say can stop me going home."

If he wasn't going to drink it, why did Rang bother to pour himself some caf to begin with? "There other balconies where you can do… whatever the hell it is you do," Jawbreaker said, shaking his head and taking another sip.

Jawbreaker avoided the back of Rang's hand that tried to bump against the unarmored clone's arm. It might have simply been a friendly pat, but for all Jawbreaker knew, Rang could have been trying to stab him with his wrist blade. However, Rang seemed to be preparing to toss his now empty mug into the parade ground. He hunched his body and stretched his throwing arm back.

"Let's rearrange some architecture, Delta!" Rang shouted as he hurled the cup. Jawbreaker's gaze followed its trajectory. The cup travelled a good distance before bouncing off the back of an unsuspecting RC.

"Nice throw," Jawbreaker allowed. He squinted at the RC that was hit, who was probably glaring at Rang. Without the helmet, Jawbreaker could vaguely make out the scars on his face. He was one of the clones that was playing bolo-ball. Four of the clones were in pitch black armor. The other four wore white with varying sprays of orange, red, green, and yellow.

After a moment of thought, Jawbreaker recognized the scarred clone as Atin, from Omega Squad. That must be his squad in black. Their more colorful brothers Jawbreaker recalled were Delta Squad, or more popularly known as the Republic Commando poster boys, the "best of the best." Why Omega and Delta were playing bolo-ball while decked in full armor was beyond Jawbreaker, but at least they had the sense to play not too far from a nearby medbay. There was one in the building with the balcony Jawbreaker and Rang were standing on.

Speaking of Rang, now he was sighing to himself disappointedly. "So close, yet so far," he mumbled. He must have been aiming for someone from Delta Squad. Why? Who knew? Jawbreaker hoped Scorch was the intended target, that hypocritical whiner. Seriously, why should he expect respect from non-clone soldiers and officers when he lambasted them so much? Mongrels my shebs.

As Omega and Delta reoriented themselves for another round of bolo-ball, Jawbreaker eyed Sev lining up with Atin. They were side-by-side, so Sev was probably who Rang was aiming for. "Should have hit Sev," Jawbreaker said under his breath. "Force knows he deserves it." That bloodlust the psycho had was going to get him and his entire squad killed one day.

Rang twisted his head, almost robotically, to look at Jawbreaker. As much familiarity there was that came with the glowing blue visor, there were still clones like Rang that came off as unnerving with that stare. Gently lifting a finger to point at Jawbreaker's mug, Rang said, "Third time's the charm."

"Hell no." You didn't waste good hot chocolate while you had it right in front of you. Field rations were as tasteful as a Wookie's rear, so you took your luxuries when you could. "Get another one cup on your own."

"Oh, baby, give me one more chance."

"I said no, and don't call me baby."

"You wanna be starting something?"

"Do you? It sounds like you want to start something when there's nothing to begin with."

Rang made a sound that was a cross between a cough and a chuckle. Whatever it was, Rang turned away from Jawbreaker and back to the skyline. "It don't matter if you're black or white."

Getting too close to the edge of his tolerance for stupidity for today, Jawbreaker left the balcony and strolled into the building. Hopefully, Rang was amused enough by whatever Jawbreaker had said or done to leave him alone for the rest of the day.

Or not. The footsteps following behind Jawbreaker were unmistakable. Resisting a sigh, Jawbreaker decided to get more sugar for his hot chocolate. He needed more energy if he was to peacefully get rid of Rang. The man-child and his squad were trained by that sociopath, Dred Priest, but Rang hadn't actually done anything to warrant blatant hostility. Not yet, at least.

The hallways were mostly empty aside from a janitorial droid here and then, but before long, shouting could be heard. It was a clone's voice, and as Jawbreaker and Rang walked further, they could make out the sounds of a struggle; fists pounding against Katarn armor, choking croaks resisting strangulation, and the works. Off-the-record brawls between RCs weren't horribly uncommon, but they weren't usually this telegraphed and out in the open.

Rounding a corner, a part of Jawbreaker exclaimed in surprise. His brother and squad mate, Destroyer, had Rang's brother and squad mate, Double-Four, pinned against the wall. Both were fully armored except for their helmets, which were clipped to their respective belts. Destroyer's fingers dug into Double-Four's throat as Double-Four sported a horrifying lackadaisical, dopey grin.

Jawbreaker merely stood still in silence, taking in the scene before him. Rang whipped pass him and shouldered Destroyer off of Double-Four. Rang tended to his hysterical brother. Destroyer moved to start throwing fists, but Jawbreaker stood between him and the Sigma boys.

"Hold on for a second," Jawbreaker snapped. Destroyer's facial burn scars were much worse off than Atin's and would have intimidated other clones, but Jawbreaker had spent enough time with his brother to look pass the pain from the scars to see a different kind of pain. "What the hell did he say?"

If Rang's shtick was nonsensical expressions, Double-Four's was dumb, insensitive, and Force-awful jokes. The jokes were either seriously in bad taste or need an hour's worth of explanation for someone to understand them.

"Brother Destroyer can't take a joke," Double-Four in his orange armor coughed out. Rang was examining him for any more injuries. "I'd prescribe him some light fun in his life ASAP if I were you, brother Jawbreaker."

Jawbreaker was absolutely unamused. "You made fun of his scars," he stated plainly. Destroyer in his stylized armor with bronze streaks kept his distance, but he eyed Double-Four with unrestrained rage.

"No, I wasn't making fun. I was offering to make it fun."

"What do you –?"

"You see, I was waiting in line to use the 'fresher when Destroyer here walked out. I said, verbatim, 'Jeez. I never realized that you've got a face only our non-existent mothers and eternally absent fathers would love. Hey, you like to draw, right? How about you draw up a pretty face and I'll surgically transplant it on to you for you?!' And what do I get in return? Attempted second degree murder!"

Jawbreaker ran an exasperated hand across his hair. Rang was odd, but Double-Four was a legitimate idiot who was still wearing that dwang-eating grin on his face. Was he really unbothered by those bruises all over his neck and face? "Are you goddamned high again?"

"Ha! You can't get high on Giggledust."

"It's a spice addiction." Giggledust wasn't exactly a universally illegal spice, but it wasn't fully lawful in the Republic either. Politics could get complicated like that.

"You mean to say spice prescription, my good friend."

"I'm not your friend," Jawbreaker snarled. He turned to Destroyer and spotted the ungloved bloody knuckles. "We're getting you to the medbay."

A clap of the hands from Rang sounded off. "Sounds like a plan," he said before dragging Double-Four onward by the wrist. Rang tried to grab Destroyer, too, but Jawbreaker kept them separate as all four of them headed to the medbay.

"You know why I did what I did," Destroyer said quietly to Jawbreaker.

"I know," Jawbreaker replied easily, "but you were going to kill him."

"No. Just rough him up. He deserves it."

"All of Dred Priest's kind deserves it, but you did almost kill him. It'd be a crime of passion if you went through with it. You'd be court-martialled."

Destroyer gave a grunt, and that was the end of the conversation.

Meanwhile, Double-Four and Rang were still rambling on and on. "You know," Double-Four called back to the Hyperion boys, "I'd offer some of my Giggledust with you folks, but lord knows you'd just spit it out of your shebs. You guys are emotionally constipated like that. I know the feeling. I haven't given an osik in days."

"Some shabu'droten are always trying to ice skate uphill," Rang said as if he was giving sagely advice.

Destroyer upheld his silence countenance. Jawbreaker drank his hot chocolate. Neither of them wanted to fuel that malarkey.

When they entered the medbay, it was largely empty of patients, save for one clone in green and white armor sitting on the side of a bed cot. An RC in white and blue armor with marks signifying him as a medic sat on a chair beside the clone. Their helmets lay on an adjoining end table. The medic was attaching a mechanical right hand onto his patient's stump of a wrist. The pair looked up and nodded gently at their brothers.

The patient, Frog, waved his cybernetic hand at Double-Four and Rang. "Hey, guys. Cabur says he fixed up all the glitches in my hand. I can finally feel my pinky again." He twisted the metallic finger around for emphasis.

The medic, Cabur, patted Frog's back reassuringly with an easy smile. "Cybernetics aren't exactly my forte, but –" Cabur was interrupted when Double-Four captured him in a hug that lifted Cabur off his feet.

"Brother Cabur!" Double-Four greeted enthusiastically. "Sigma Squad appreciates your services to the squad's favorite little brother!"

Albeit forced and feeling awkward, Cabur tried to match Double-Four's grin head-on. "Uh, anytime, man. Anytime."

"In return, I'mma give ya a little piece of advice." Double-Four leaned his head to whisper into Cabur's ear. "Do you know what the saddest piece of clothing that a person can wear is?"

"I, uh…"

"Blue jeans, my friend. Blue jeans, and those blue highlights you've got going just make me depressed." Reaching into a compartment on his belt, Double-Four pulled out pair of tiny colorless tablets. "I think you need a little Giggledust in your life!"

Before Cabur could reject Double-Four's offer, Jawbreaker shoved the jokester aside. Cabur felt back into his chair as Double-Four rolled over Frog's cot and fell to the floor with a yelp. "We don't need you turning someone else into an addict like you," Jawbreaker snapped.

"It's a prescription!" Double-Four shot back.

Jawbreaker rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Cabur readjusted the loose pieces in his armor, shaken slightly from the hug. "What happened to Double-Four's face?" Cabur had had an obvious view of the injuries during the embrace. When Destroyer made himself comfortable on the next cot over, Cabur spotted his bloody and bruised hands. Sighing, he moved to apply some bacta patches on his brother. "Never mind. I've got a pretty good idea what happened."

Rang sat beside Frog and wrapped him in a one-armed hug. Frog jittered in surprise. "We come together because opposites attract."

Double-Four brought over a stool and place himself near the edge of Frog's bed cot. "You've got that right. One big happy family. Ain't that right, brother Frog?"

Frog had a deeply unhappy frown on his face. "Why are you guys bothering Hyperion Squad again?"

"They just can't get enough of us."

Jawbreaker snorted as he crossed his arms, pointedly turning away from the Sigma boys. "Kriff off," he said.

"If they don't want to be bothered," Frog rebuked Double-Four, "then just leave them alone. Not everyone wants to be our friend."

"Ha!" Double-Four faked a laugh. "As if I'd let that stop me."

"You should. It's not… endearing, I guess is the word. It's not endearing, no matter what you say. Other squads outright tell you that you're annoying."

Double-Four tilted his head at Frog. The Sigma Squad medic sported a bemused expression. "Listen, brother Frog. If there's anything Dred Priest taught us, it's that while we ought to acknowledge the views other people hold, we should also hold true the values we ourselves hold. Rang, what's the line?"

"Stand your ground."

"Exactly! We stand our ground, brother Frog, and like hell am I going to surrender ground to some aruetyc showboats without reaping some fun out of it!"

Frog and Double-Four continued to bicker. Rang remained silent. He was staring intently at Jawbreaker, but Jawbreaker ignored him. Cabur might try to be buddy-buddy with Frog from time to time, but they'd hardly done anything to warrant nothing other than a cold shoulder from the rest of Hyperion.

Just as Destroyer was flexing his hands and as Cabur stored the spare bacta patches away, Jawbreaker's comm link went off. Without his helmet or armor, he had his earpiece to let off the tell-tale alarm of someone contacting him. Jawbreaker put his back to Sigma as he pressed two fingers against the earpiece.

"Jawbreaker here," he said. The voice on the other end of the line was instantly recognizable: another member of Hyperion Squad, Genet.

"Hey, Jawbreaker. Are you anywhere near the rest of the squad?"

"We're all at the infirmary…" Jawbreaker looked over his shoulder. Frog and Double-Four were still bickering, and Rang was still staring at him. "… With Sigma Squad, sans Bev."

"Yeah, about Bev…" Genet's partly exasperated tone wasn't hard to catch. "I'm with him now. We're with Zey, in meeting room two-zero-zero-six, and Zey wants the rest of our squads to come in for a debrief."

Jawbreaker felt something nasty pull against his stomach, and he was pretty sure it wasn't the hot chocolate. "We're being assigned an op together."

"Looks like it. Can you guys hurry it up and get over here already? Bev's been staring at me the whole time, and I don't know if it's because he wants to beat me up or if he's taken a liking to me, and I don't like either option."

Jawbreaker met Rang's stare. "I know the feeling. We'll be there in five."

"Can you make it in half the time? Bev's got his creepy predatory vibes going on."

"Zey's in the same room, right? Bev won't try anything. Just keep your nerve. We'll back you up. Jawbreaker out." Jawbreaker regarded his fellow RCs, some with more respect than others. "Hey, I just got a call from Genet. Zey wants to see all of us for debrief, right now."

Double-Four clapped his hands and held them tightly. "From what I can tell from your side of the conversation, it sounds like we'll be working together on the next mission, brothers and brothers!" Of course Double-Four was eavesdropping on Jawbreaker's comm chat. The gossip and conspiracy theories that come out of his mouth were tangibly better than his jokes. "Aren't you all excited as much as I am?"

"Fanatical about it," Destroyer said in a gruff tone as he removed himself from his cot. After Jawbreaker told them what meeting room to head to, the clones left the medbay and walked briskly to it.

Sigma had on their helmets, so they were most likely having a helmet comm-only conversation. Jawbreaker lacked his, but he could still receive hear what Destroyer and Cabur said on the helmet comm. From the earpiece on Jawbreaker's ear, he heard Cabur plead, "Can we play nice with Sigma at least in front of General Zey?"

"No," Destroyer answered. Jawbreaker silently nodded in agreement.

"Let's just not mention anything that has nothing to do with whatever the assignment's going to be about, then. Keep the talk mission-oriented. Don't bring up any baggage unless it's expressly related."

Jawbreaker could work with that. Sigma's wild and unpredictable nature was assuredly an issue that he would bring up if the two squads were paired together. He'd tell Zey point blank once he gave all the mission details.

On their way to the meeting room, Hyperion Squad could hear snippets of Genet's voice. He must have left his comm on. He was conversing with Sigma's Squad's lead, Bev, if passive aggressive needling and insults counted as conversation.

"Seriously," Genet was saying, "the tough-guy act ain't worth a sleemo's backside."

"Neither is a fear of flying," said Bev's voice. He was probably on his helmet comm, too, to avoid getting Zey to catch on to their communication. "Frog once had an irrational fear of flight. I helped him overcome it."

"Please. You probably beat him till he 'toughened up' and shut up. You just get off on taking it out on the little guys, don't you?"

"I only harm those who don't have what it takes to make a stand for themselves. We all like to show someone how they are in the wrong, and how to fix themselves. Would you agree?"

"You're sick in the head."

"You are also sick, in a sense. Letting your fear of flying fester without restraint –"

"It's not fear. It's discomfort. I don't feel comfortable flying. I can handle that kind of the discomfort. You, on the other hand, are a whole other type of discomfort I don't wanna –"

Another clone's voice cut in on the comm channel. "Stow the chatter. Bev, you can get pseudo-philosophical another time. Genet, Bev's a shell no one's cracked yet. Keep any more talk civil, or else."

That was Advisor. He was an intelligence officer, often serving as the handler for RC Squads in the field. There were other "advisors," but the sound of this particular Advisor was one that definitely had his fair share of dysfunctional teams to defuse tension out of.

Rang, Jawbreaker, Double-Four, Destroyer, Frog, and Cabur arrived at the meeting room before long. One long table with holopads placed along it stood at the center. Zey, dressed in his traditional Jedi robes and working over his own holopad, was at the end of the table. Advisor in basic clone trooper armor sat beside him. Bev in his blood red armor sat across Genet in his grey and white armor. Both RCs had their arms crossed, Bev practically motionless while Genet fidgeted in his seat. They relaxed as the rest of Hyperion and Sigma made their presence known.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Zey greeted, motioning to the chairs. Hyperion sat with Genet, and Sigma sat with Bev. The self-imposed separation of squads was apparent, but Zey didn't comment.

There was another person, neither a Jedi nor a clone, in the room. He leaned against a chair near Zey with his back turned to everyone else. He wore a burly coat and with a hood thrown over his head.

"What did you call us in for, General?" Jawbreaker asked, eyeing the stranger with curiosity.

"For the sake of honesty and clarity," Zey began, setting down his datapad, "I want to emphasize the need-to-know nature of this matter. Aside from everyone in this room, no one in this facility is allowed to even catch a hint of the details of what we are about to discuss."

"We are hardly unprofessional when it comes to matters of information and intelligence, General," Bev spoke up with a shrug, "even if we like to gossip from time to time."

"I know, and I respect that. I'm merely stating this to preface why this assignment is so… sensitive in comparison to other standard missions Commando squads usually take." Zey gestured to the hooded figure. "Men, this is Glasgow Rase, Governor of the Khemerion Sovereignty. You will be working closely with the esteemed Governor for the duration of this mission."

The Governor turned to face the clones. What the clones saw made them flinch and look twice.

Scars lost their pizzazz and shock value for the RCs, facial scars especially in Destroyer's case. Glasgow, however, removed his hood to reveal burn scars covering every single part of his bald head. His skin was a sickly pale pink color with blue veins lining where the burns began and ended. He had no eyebrows, and one could hardly make out his lips since his chin morphed into uneven layers.

"Republic Commandos," Glasgow said in a surprisingly smooth voice that resounded with strength and confidence, "I, and Khemerion, are honored to have such accomplished warriors tasked with uplifting the hell plaguing my home planet."

"A hell on earth?" Rang questioned with a slight tilt of his head.

"Forgive the Governor," Zey said. "Khemerion natives often use flowery language to express themselves." As Glasgow took his seat, Zey motioned for the squads to pick up their holopads. "Are any of you familiar of the situation on Khemerion?"

Genet adopted a thoughtful look on his face. "That's a Mid-Rim World, right? Snowy planet, mountains and forests, only joined the Republic recently?"

"I think I remember reading about that," Frog said, scanning through the text on his pad. "There were insurrectionists on Khemerion, and a bunch of other independent systems in the same sector. When the Clone Wars broke out, the Separatists backed the rebels. The Republic pushed the Separatists out of the sector."

The Governor appraised Frog with a nod. "Correct. The foreign invaders have long since abandoned their efforts to subjugate Khemerion. The rebels have all but been dismantled, making peace with their gods either through prayer or personally."

"Unfortunately," Zey added, "the rebel leader is still active on Khemerion. The mission objective is to apprehend her, preferably alive." Zey pressed a button on his holopad. A headshot of the rebel leader appeared on the clones' datapad. It was a blonde woman, her hair hanging a few inches above her shoulders. Her collared shirt looked vaguely like formal military attire. The wide smirk pushed against her prominent cheekbones.

"She has a familiar face," Bev commented. Jawbreaker began to sip the last of the hot chocolate left in his mug.

"She should. Her name is Ruusaan Skirata."

Jawbreaker spat out his drink. Luckily, no one was hit, but Jawbreaker had to cough a bit to recompose himself.

"Ruusaan Skirata?" Genet repeated with a raised brow. "Redundant question, but any relation to Kal Skirata?"

"She is her biological daughter," Zey confirmed.

On the helmet comm, Cabur and Double-Four murmured, "Whhaaat…?" More indiscernible mumbles followed. Everyone was expressing their disbelief one way or another.

Rang broke their momentary dizzy spell. "The plot thickens," he said cheerfully.

"Indeed," Zey agreed, straight-faced.

"So," Double-Four said, "we've got one Skirata working for us as a training sergeant and a black ops intelligence officer, and we've got another Skirata running a resistance movement on a Republic world."

"Oh, the irony," Rang added.

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised," Jawbreaker gave his two cred-chips. "Skiratas have an unhealthy habit of getting themselves into unlawful trouble."

"Hence why I am emphasizing the discretion required for this mission," Zey affirmed, "perhaps redundantly so, but it's a point I must make nonetheless."

"I take it Sergeant Skirata is unaware of her daughter's extracurriculars?" Cabur asked.

"He is. I have Kal busy on a separate assignment entirely." Zey regarded the Hyperion side of the meeting table. "Yours and everyone else's objections and concerns relating to Kal and the Null ARCs are noted. Trust me, I understand your distrust with him. That is why the details of this operation will not be reaching Kal's ears."

"Kal would try to extract his daughter out of Khemerion," Bev suggested. "Even if they have not been in contact, he would do it simply to get in her good graces again. Keep her out of sight, perhaps even fake her death. And you do not want that to happen."

"Yes, Bev. Kal is a skilled soldier and a useful asset, but too independent from the rules of the Republic to be trusted with this information. Ruusaan is a criminal that must face justice. Kal won't have any opportunity to undermine the Republic's authority concerning her. Understood?"

The clones resounded, "Yes, sir!" That was a plan that Hyperion would agree to enthusiastically. Anything to bring Kal down a peg, whether he knew it or not. Sigma, on the other hand, were more lax and curious. Bev leaned forward in his seat.

"Kal has two other blood children," the RC said. "Are they involved as well?"

"No," Zey answered. "We have a few files on them. The eldest son, Tor Skirata, is an esteemed doctor, strictly a civilian, based on Corellia. He doesn't seem to keep in contact with his sister. The middle child, Ijaat, is a mercenary formerly in the employ of the same group of rebels Ruusaan was a part of. However, the Governor here has confirmed that he left the rebels and is also a non-factor now."

Jawbreaker shut his eyes and shook his head in disappointment. "Sounds like only one person in the Skirata family made something meaningful with their lives. Too bad so many Skiratas end up on the mercenary path."

"Eh, I don't think it's that bad," Double-Four said. "Brother Jawbreaker, don't you have an inkling for hunting wild game?"

"What does that have to do with any –?"

"A hunting hobby and/or profession is about eights letters away from galaxy-trotting as a mercenary. It's only a question of payment method and preferred prey."

"Gentlemen," Zey raised his voice. "Let's stay on topic. Now, the Governor here has the full story on Ruusaan. Governor Glasgow, if you may?"

The scarred Governor slowly lifted himself from his seats and spread his arms widely apart. "I sense hostility with the Skirata name. I can't speak for her family, but I can assure you all that Ruusaan Skirata, at best, is a feral animal." Glasgow began pacing around the table with hands folded against his back. "Ruusaan is a Khemerion immigrant. Six-odd years ago, she was one of our most aspiring warriors. She fought honestly and earnestly against the rebel threat. Unfortunately, all of her glories and victories were a farce, a smokescreen to hide her true intentions."

Frog, Double-Four, and Rang straightened their backs, entrapped by the Governor's words. Bev and Hyperion Squad were more or less relaxed, patiently listening to the Governor's speech.

"Even during her days in the Khemerion military, she longed for power and privilege that she did not work to earn. This rebel insurgency is the apex of that animal attempting to bypass the law of our land, the land she had once sworn to bleed and die for"

Glasgow laid his palm against his scarred cheek, and closed his eyes for a moment before resuming his trot around the table. "She betrayed me and her countrymen to spearhead a long, fruitless conquest that has ultimately left her with nothing but a weak, waning lust for revenge. That weakness must be smothered and destroyed completely before Ruusaan regains her nerve to carry a final assault on her former brothers and sisters in arms. She must answer for all of the blood her actions have shed!

"I believe you Republic Commandos have the skill, nerve, and attitude to bring her to justice."

A silence followed. Glasgow seemed to be waiting for a response, maybe an applause or a collective salute. Hyperion didn't have much to say, but Bev asked, "What exactly has Ruusaan Skirata done to warrant two Republic Commando squads to capture her?"

Glasgow counted the crimes off his fingers. "Murder, manslaughter, vandalism, and theft of all degrees against military assets and our sovereign citizens. The fortunate victims suffer speedy ends, but any and all pains and miseries Ruusaan inflicts has done exponentially more damage than any misguided good she believes she is fighting for. Justice demands that Ruusaan face trial for these crimes."

Advisor, silent up to this point, turned his head away from his holopad. "Governor Glasgow, the Senate hearing begins in a half hour. You should leave now, or else you'll be late."

"My thanks, Advisor." Glasgow gave a serene bow. "I trust Master Zey to inform you all of the finer points of our crusade. I look forward to us sending the devil incarnate into her own personal hell." With that, the Governor made his departure.

"Y'know," Double-Four offered, "it's not too often you see politicians inside the Spec Ops Brigade Headquarters."

"The Governor is a renowned military officer on Khemerion," Zey explained. "He has been assisting the Grand Army in our efforts against the CIS."

"So he played politics and called in favors to get him two RC squads to ice Skirata Junior," Genet deduced. "Lucky him."

"No, this isn't an assassination mission. Ruusaan is to be detained alive and well. She must face trial in person."

Genet shrugged. "It'd be easier to slot her."

"In the end," Rang said, "it's not their lives people value most. It's their reputations."

Zey nodded to Rang. "In a way, Rang is correct. Several worlds, Republic or Separatist or otherwise, still deal with rebel insurgencies and domestic terrorism regardless of the Clone Wars. Ruusaan represents these rebels. Capture her, and we show that the Republic can effectively enforce the peace even while dealing with galactic threats like the CIS. Keeping her alive, she becomes subject to Khemerion's own justice system, not the Republic's, so Khemerion can still retain a level of sovereignty."

"Politics is simply the continuation of war by other means," Rang continued.

"What are the logistics with the mission?" Bev asked. "Weapons, resources, the landscape we will be working in? Ruusaan Skirata's full résumé?"

Zey waved a dismissive hand. "Advisor has all the details. He will be accompanying you to Khemerion to provide support. This meeting was more of a formality to appease the Governor." Zey shut off his datapad and keenly met each RC in the eye. "I want to know what your thoughts are on this assignment. I'm sure the target being related to Kal comes as a surprise."

Sigma Squad ultimately shrugged as they looked to Bev. Bev said, "Our opinions and relationships to Kal Skirata and who he considers as 'family' are inconsequential. Ruusaan is an enemy of the Republic. We work for the Republic. We will capture her and do our job to the letter, or die trying, as always."

Hyperion Squad exchanged knowing glances. Jawbreaker answered for the squad. "You know how we feel about Skiratas, sir. We'll stick to the mission parameters. The fact that we'll be locking up Kal Skirata's terrorist daughter is just a bonus."

Zey, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing, looked between the two squads. He regarded Sigma Squad first.

"Bev, Frog, Rang, Double-Four; to be frank, your squad is one of the most competent and successful the Special Operations Brigade has. I don't question your expertise or talents. What mars your reliability is your arrogance, your recklessness. You follow orders and improvise when necessary, but you care little for the consequences of their actions, whether beneficial or harmful."

"Collateral damage is inevitable," Bev defended.

"But compassion isn't. Your overconfidence isn't unwarranted, your experience well-earned, but it can blind you to the most obvious things that lie right in front of you. All of you – and you especially, Bev – must realize that the galaxy doesn't align to suit what you want, to what you desire. There is more to the galaxy than your own dreams and dilemmas."

Rang shifted in his chair. "No one gives us the right. We take it."

Zey took on his I-am-your-superior look and aimed it down on Rang. Rang was hardly deterred, his reaction only a simple head tilt. Zey sighed to himself. "Simply be aware of whose rights and livelihoods are disregarded and ignored while you take what you believe is rightgully yours."

Zey turned his stare to Hyperion Squad. "Jawbreaker, Cabur, Genet, Destroyer; your problem lies in your bias against the Skirata name. As I said, I understand your concerns with Kal, and I know you have the compassion to want to alleviate the situation on Khemerion, but we all know you are putting a personal stake into the matter simply because of Ruusaan's surname."

Genet barked a smirking chortle. "Are you surprised?" Cabur elbowed his brother to cut off any more snarky remarks.

"The only reason Ruusaan is the objective of this mission is because she is a terrorist killing clone troopers, government officials, and endangering the lives of innocent civilians. Her being a Skirata is hardly relevant."

"No offense, General," Genet interrupted, avoiding another hit from Cabur, "but have you ever heard of the nature versus nurture argument? I'm leaning towards the nature side when it comes to Skiratas."

"You cannot act on Ruusaan's name alone when you render judgement." Zey, albeit reluctantly, sent Rang a sideways glance.

"Actions speak louder than words," Rang said.

"Exactly. Had I only relied on my research on Kal's past alone, I would have written him off as a common thug who had no place working for the Republic. However, I have met the man, worked with him personally and watched how he treats his men. He is still a mercenary – what traditionalist Mandalorian isn't – but he also cares deeply for his surrogate children, even if you and your squad think Kal takes too many liberties with protocol."

At Jawbreaker's and Cabur's glares, Genet neglected to give another smart response.

"You are free to do as you please, but I implore you to reserve judgement until you meet Ruusaan personally, see her handiwork for yourselves. She is a terrorist and an enemy of the Republic, but we have had worse enemies to deal with before. Perhaps she is a pawn in a political game, or perhaps she truly is a sociopathic anarchist. You cannot make a solid conclusion based on the Skirata name alone. Understand?"

Jawbreaker understood pretty well. Kal Skirata was a certifiable psychopathic dirtbag, but Zey liked to gloss over that little detail. Ruusaan Skirata was more than likely no exception.

"Just one more question, General," Genet spoke up with a hand raised into the air. "Is there any particular reason Hyperion Squad is being paired with Sigma Squad of all people?"

"I supposed that it is a test of loyalty," Bev suggested "Am I right, General?"

"You're on the right track," Zey confirmed. "My advice notwithstanding, I trust both of your squads will work to the best of your ability. However, Sigma, you are too independent, preferring to accomplish tasks on your own terms by your own terms, even if cooperation with an ally would be the expedient solution. Hyperion, your heavily opinionated views aren't bad things in of itself, but they are when you outright refuse to work with certain people because of those views."

Rang nodded solemnly. "We don't work well with others."

Jawbreaker bristled as he folded his arms. "It's hard to work well with others when you don't trust them."

Zey rose from his feet to his full height. "Trust is important, but so is loyalty. I hope you will share both by the end of this joint assignment. Remember that whatever your prejudices may be, we are all ultimately working toward the same thing: protecting the citizens of the Republic."

Advisor pressed a finger against the side of his helmet, around where the earpiece for his comm link was situated. "General, Captain Maze says he's finished his rounds. He's waiting in your office to deliver his report."

"Thank you, Advisor. Squads, we will reconvene here at seventeen hundred hours to go over the finer points of the mission. Until then, do as you please and maintain some discretion." Zey gave Hyperion Squad a pointed look. "No mocking Kal or his team. I need him fully committed on his own assignment." Zey then looked to Sigma. "And no gossiping with other squads – not even any smart comments that hint at Khemerion or Ruusaan Skirata. Understood?"

The RCs collectively nodded. "Sir, yes sir!"

Zey made his way to the exit door, but he stopped short and turned back to face the clones. "One final warning, gentlemen. Though Governor Glasgow is our ally, tread carefully around him. Unlike Kal or any of the other questionable allies and business partners the Republic has dealt with, I can't help but feel more wary than what's probably necessary. He is just… a little more dark and righteous than I would have liked, but don't let that get in the way of mission…

Zey sighed and shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps the war has made me more paranoid than I should let it. Just get through this mission alive. Simply remember that reality always has a way of overcoming your expectations of what events you think will actually happen."

With those final words, Zey was gone.

Advisor was busy crunching data on his datapad, so the Commando squads quickly left the meeting room as well. Most of Hyperion would have liked Sigma to have walked off in the opposite direction as them. Of course, that did not happen.

"Hey, hey!" Double-Four called out gratuitous loud shout. "Where you brothers going? We've got some pre-mission bonding to take care of!"

"Kriff off," Genet called back in an equally loud yell. The two squads were walking side by side at this point.

"Hell of a speech that Guv'nah went on about, wasn't it? 'Let us strike down our common foe with thou sword of justice,' and shab like that, y'know?"

"The sales pitch was a little pretentious," Jawbreaker admitted, mostly to himself, "but I get where he's coming from. A terrorist – a Skirata causing problems for over half a decade has to take its toll." Jawbreaker looked at Destroyer in the corner of his eye. Destroyer's had a flat stare. He was contemplating, probably sympathizing a bit with the Governor because of those horrid scars.

Rang hummed softly. "Even the devil can quote scripture to suit his own purposes."

"What?"

"Zey said to be wary around the Glasgow Rase," Bev translated Rang's words. "The pretentiousness and self-satisfaction of the speech may have been an act to garner sympathy, or perhaps not. Only time will tell."

"I don't know guys," Double-Four said. "I don't know a damn thing about the Guv'nah, but Zey could've been talking out of his own shebs for all we know. A man in his position must be under tons and tons of stress. It really could be getting to him."

Cabur looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Double-Four. "Zey's a good man. He's a Jedi Master, for Force's sake. You ought to take his words more seriously."

Jawbreaker gave his brother a doubtful look. "You mean as seriously as Zey is when he assigns Skirata and the Nulls jobs with practically free reign all the time?" Jawbreaker shut his eyes and shook his head to and fro. "Zey might be a Jedi, but he lets Skirata walk right over him. A stronger Jedi would have gotten Skirata and his boys on a tighter leash, or cut them loose entirely."

"Come on, Jawbreaker," Cabur said. "I'm sure Zey's doing the best he can out of a bad situation."

"Zey is," Bev agreed. "Zey does a good job. He has tact and likeability, but he also has professionalism, knows when to cut to the chase. Keeping Kal Skirata around is smart. When and where to slot Kal Skirata when he turns loose is another matter entirely."

The squads' aimless wandering eventually found themselves on the parade grounds. Coincidentally, they spotted Kal himself in all of his grizzled old-aged glory relaxing on a bench. He was talking to someone in Jedi robes, a human female with long reddish hair.

"Is that Etain?" Frog asked aloud, though his tone was unsure and nervous.

"Who's Etain?" Cabur asked.

"She's… well…"

Double-Four chuckled quietly. "Etain? We worked on a mission with her once or twice. Sweet gal, stunning looks, knows when to get down and dirty with the grunts, but Force be damned if she doesn't know how to take a good old joke."

Genet scoffed. "As if anyone could take any of your kind of jokes seriously."

Jawbreaker found himself scowling at Skirata. They couldn't see the clones, but Jawbreaker could see Etain looking attentively at Skirata. Skirata was probably spouting some baloney about Jedi enslaving clone troopers, and Etain was probably eating up.

"Looks like Kal Skirata found himself a new pup," Bev remarked. "Shame. She's young, impressionable, without a parental figure in her life. If she buys into his anti-Jedi sentiments, she's probably going to leave the Jedi Order before long."

"Ah, what a damn, damn, shame," Double-Four said. "I mean, I don't care much about the Jedi Order, but Skirata's dirtbag. He's already got Bardan on his payroll. Why does he gotta take on Etain, too?"

"That last thing Skirata deserves is a second hanger-on," Jawbreaker growled. Jusik was a decent fellow, but he had an admiration for Skirata and the Nulls that Jawbreaker couldn't tolerate.

Jawbreaker wanted to physically separate Etain and Skirata, but Zey's words rang in his head. Jawbreaker restrained himself. Might as well not risk spilling the beans about Ruusaan Skirata not ten minutes after being assigned the mission. Speaking of the mission…

"We'll be spending enough time together later during the op," Jawbreaker said as he faced Sigma Squad. "Stop following us. I can speak for most of Hyperion, except for Cabur, and say that we don't like you. We. Are. Not. Friends. We'll work with you, but don't expect us to be friendly. So, unless you've got something actually important or mission-related to talk about, leave us alone."

Just as Jawbreaker turned away, Rang grabbed his wrist. Jawbreaker was about throw a fist when he realized Rang was also holding Bev's wrist.

"The enemy of my enemy is our opportunity," Rang announced, pulling at the clones' wrists. "Make love, not war."

Jawbreaker got a pretty good idea of what Rang was asking for. "A temporary truce, huh?" Bev asked. He stared blankly at Jawbreaker. "Tell me, Jawbreaker, can a squad trained by Ambu Kelborn work benignly alongside a squad trained by Dred Priest?"

Gritting his teeth, Jawbreaker said, "Hell. No."

Cabur walked up to Jawbreaker's side. "Come on, man. Sigma Squad obviously doesn't want to pick up on any petty fights. Like it or not, this is both squads' mission. Our mission. Ours."

"We can take Ruusaan down without them."

"Maybe, but think about it for a second. Unlike Skirata, that is, Kal or Ruusaan, none of Sigma Squad have ever really broken the rules or disobeyed unlawful orders. They're as by-the-book as you can get. You can work with that, can't you?"

Jawbreaker was pretty sure Bev broke some sort of brutality rules when it came to treating prisoners, but those were admittedly only rumors.

"Eh, what the hell," Genet said, throwing his arms into the air. "Fine. Temporary truce. Screw the insult game and play nice for the rest of the mission. Can we hurry this along, Jawbreaker? I haven't eaten breakfast yet."

Destroyer gave Jawbreaker a single understanding look. That was the final straw.

Bev and Jawbreaker held each other's fist and shook resolutely. Jawbreaker's brown eyes looked into the dark void that was Bev's helmeted visor.

Then Bev spoke in Mandalorian. "Ni dinu ner gaan naakyc, jorcu ni nu copaani kyr'amur ner vod."

Body growing rigid, Jawbreaker released his grip, turned his back to Bev, and stormed off.

"Honor my offer of truce, for I would not willingly shed my brother's blood." That was the translation. As if Bev could keep that promise. Jawbreaker remembers the stories back on Kamino, how in Dred Priest's illegal and immoral battle circles, Bev was the first clone to kill another clone. And it wasn't like they were in different regiments. They were brood brothers, their growth pods side by side as they matured into fully formed humans. If Bev could kill a brother like that, how much could he be trusted to watch Hyperion Squad's back?

Sigma Squad let Hyperion begin to walk away without a word.

Jawbreaker heard Rang call out one last thing. "I'm addicted to stress," he said. "It's the way I get things done."

Jawbreaker had enough stress dealing with Sigma's antics all day. Maybe the stress, adrenaline and excitement of taking down Ruusaan Skirata will make this entire morning worth the trouble.

A collaboration between myself and JKrlin, featuring our respective OC squads, Hyperion and Sigma. He provided practically all of what you see here, I just edited some of Hyperion's dialogue and thoughts. JKrlin will post the next part and we'll be alternating between us, so if you want to see how this continues, be sure to check out his profile.