Looking down from the LAAT, Punch saw the captain waiting on the landing pad. Punch knew he was just there to greet the pilot. Slick had always said that upper ranks and specialties received preferential treatment. It was why he hadn't liked his squad to associate with the regular 'grunts' in the mess.

Punch still didn't understand why Sergeant Slick had thought them somehow better than their identically-cloned brothers. Sometimes he and Sketch had discussed it but they'd never been able to pinpoint any particular reason.

Because he's a traitor, whispered Punch's mind.

Punch wondered now if, perhaps they should have discussed it among the squad even if the rest of the squad hadn't wanted to discuss anything with the two brothers.

Punch jerked. No, that was what Slick had said and implied and manipulated them into thinking but now he couldn't trust anything the sergeant had done.

They don't want to disturb two brothers, Slick had commented once then, later, when they had such different shifts. You've made it clear you don't want to be interrupted. They had, but only because they had precious few minutes together and that because Slick kept them in opposite shifts.

What if Chopper had wanted to sit with him and Sketch rather than isolate himself in the back at the lone table? Frequently, he'd seen Chopper walk by their table and glance at them. There had often been mild envy in his eyes but had there been hope also? He'd been the only survivor of two squads back to back; what if he had just wanted company? Was Chopper truly a bad trooper because of his scars, a bad trooper because Slick said only slow troopers had scars? He hoped not and knew now that Slick couldn't be trusted.

What if Jester had the same questions they had? Or better questions? Back on Kamino his questions had often led them into discussions that were useful in training. They had high scores as a squad because Jester often questioned what had happened in previous training and how it could apply to future training. So often, they'd go into a scenario they had already discussed because of Jester's questions yet Slick only had to glance in Jester's direction to halt the flow of words.

What if Gus hadn't really wanted to be the sergeant's lover? Gus had never shown that kind of inclination before Christophsis. Was it all manipulation? When had it started?

Punch growled. "Di-kut," he accused himself under his breath. "Effing, fekking, di-kut grunt. I could have stopped it." He and Sketch could have stopped it; they could have invited Chopper to their table with them. They could have listened to Jester's questions. Sketch or Jester could have talked to Gus, explaining their small font of sexual knowledge to him.

"Ah, fek," Punch whispered to himself. Gus had been coerced in some way by Slick. That was the entire purpose of that bite mark on his shoulder - visible proof of Slick's ownership. "Gus, I'm sorry," he said, as if Gus was standing in front of him rather than parsecs away. "We should have protected you. We should have protected each other. We were a squad. One of the best."

Again Punch looked out the transparent wall of the LAAT but saw only his failure in the reflection of surrounding figures in armor.

Slick had stripped away their foundations and it had begun with Zev's death, with their introduction to their new squad sergeant and his harsh words of 'getting the incompetent ones out of the way'. Not one of them had made any disagreement with that statement. That's when it had started; when Slick told them that Zev was useless and they had believed him; when they had tacitly agreed because no one had said anything different.

There was a change in the LAAT's engines as it went from forward momentum to landing preparation. Gus stood and moved toward the door with a final glance around. In deference to his experience, the others were letting him disembark first.

They were all shinies, all rookies but him. They were his brothers and he'd do his best to protect them.

And not just from the tinnies.

Captain Top faced the disembarking troopers and removed his helmet, revealing basic clone features to their view and the light drizzle. There wasn't a scar or tat anywhere on his face, or any hair either.

One of the rookies chuckled, changing it to a cough. The captain only smiled. "You'll all be the same in a month or so," he said clearly as he reached the end of the line of transfers. He nodded at the one trooper in scarred armor.

He'd done well in leading the troopers away from the LAAT, gathering their gear, and keeping them in a loose formation as they gathered their gear. As the most experienced trooper, he had taken command of the rookies until a more experienced officer - him - took over. The rookies followed his lead; grabbing their gear, falling in order, then removing their helmets in the light drizzle and standing at the ready.

It fit with his record; excellent marks at Kamino then a lot of blank nothing followed by the single sentence 'commendable actions in a K-classified situation'.

That K-classified was interesting; classified by Kamino - not the Jedi or the GAR but by Kamino.

"I'm Captain Top. Welcome to the ranks of the 224th and the dismally wet and eternally muddy Mimban. My seconds are Lieutenant Cover and Sergeant Heft who you will meet in the mess. Mess is on the blue line," he gestured towards an opening reaching below the LAAT pad. "Barracks and common rooms on the yellow. Red is towards the Command Center. You'll be introduced to your sergeants in the mess." He relaxed into a parade rest and most of the troopers in front of him followed his actions. Not the experienced one, though and Top wondered about that. He had a look of mixed anger and despair on his face and Top wondered if he'd lost his squad.

"I know that some of you are not in squads, you'll go to Table One. All formed squads send one representative to Table Two. You'll have about three days to settle in, get your courtesy calls done with General Nyrm then me, and get briefed on the local situation."

The rookies moved towards the mess but the trooper with battle-marked armor paused then stood before the captain in attention. The captain raised the portion of his forehead that would have had an eyebrow if they weren't gone and saluted back. "Yes, trooper?"

"I'm a transfer, sir. From the 212th with specialty in electronics." He followed with his designation then his name - Punch.

Captain Top merely nodded with a speculative gaze. "Is it 'Punch' because you fight?" There weren't too many one-on-one fights in his company. Mimban itself took care of that.

"No, sir. Punch for punchline." For a moment he looked wistful with a sad smile. "For stories and jokes." Then he shook his head. "I assume you'll put me into a specialty squad?"

Captain Top gave a quick shake of his head.

"You assume incorrectly. You'll go to a line squad."

"Yes, sir." Punch nodded, his face grimly set as if being in a line squad was punishment.

Captain Top noticed his expression and offered an explanation. "Everyone - transfer or rookie - goes into a line squad. We let Mimban take care of the electronics," Top raised his face towards the sky then moved toward the opening speaking lightly with experience. "Come on; it's going to start raining."

Punch held his hand out to the drizzle. "What's this then?"

"Moist air," came the reply with a chuckle.

Behind them, the LAAT lifted off into the sky.