Mimban Storms
"Hey, Punch."
Punch's head jerked in the direction of Art's voice who was gesturing his arm for Punch to come to the table.
"I've heard that you're one of the few clones who hasn't seen the holo of me in the riverbed."
"A few of us didn't think it was right," Punch replied as he sat at the table. "You could have died."
Art reached out and lightly touched the bacta patch on Punch's upper arm, a remnant of that morning's skirmish. "Any of us could die at any time. We need to be able to laugh before we die." He grinned and raised one tattooed eyebrow as he waved the holodisk in front of Punch. "And, I've been told it's hilarious."
It was.
Punch didn't know where Garl had gotten the music; instrumental and full of crescendos with a crushing sound for each time some part of Art's body hit the slick mud of the riverbed, but he understood why it was funny - Art had survived. If Art had died, drowned in the river or blasted by the clankers, Garl wouldn't have made the holo and set it to music. It was funny because Art was alive and a lot of the humor was because they had all survived. It reminded them of returning to base in the rain, covered with mud, laughing with shereshoy, glad to be alive. It reminded them of touching the wounded, taking their hands in a brothers' clasp then releasing the grip as they were moved to medical and the bacta tanks, knowing they'd be back in the mess in a day or so.
Punch smiled then guffawed as the hologram Art slipped, landing bucket face-forward in the black sludge. "Did that hurt, Art?"
Art chuckled and reached his fingers to the fading yellow mark on his cheek. "Yeah, I thought I'd busted a cheekbone but it just bruised the face."
They were laughing together and watching the holovid a second time when Captain Top came into the mess followed by Lieutenant Cover. Punch and Art snapped to attention.
"At ease," nodded Captain Top as he observed the hologram Art slip in the mud, his deece spinning out of view. There was an odd, sad look on his face as he reached to turn it off.
"We're getting another group of Kamino rookies," he said. "As well as another company joining us." He grimaced. "At least, I think that's what the message was. Punch, I'd like you to come with us when we greet them. Not just to calibrate the new troopers' helmets but I'd like you to run a comparison diagnostic tests with the pilot's and LAAT's transmissions."
"Yes, sir," Punch moved beside Cover, both men a step behind Captain Top as he turned back toward the door.
The captain shook his head. "Transmissions just keep getting worse. It sounded like a broad range receiver catching five or six transmissions. If one of the is the CIS encampment, I'd like to know what they are saying." He shook his head. "But it doesn't sound like that, merely random transmissions. Just noise."
"Will do, Captain," replied Punch, his own expression concerned as he thought of some possible diagnostics to run.
It was raining steadily but, as usual, Captain Top took off his helmet to greet his new troopers. Punch and the lieutenant followed his example. As they waited at the landing ramp, Captain Top turned to Punch. "I won't transfer you, Punch. Transfers don't look good on a trooper's record and, in retrospect, both you and Sergeant Heft were right, but I…" Captain Top's lips were open as if he was going to finish the sentence, but he was silent too long and the roar of the incoming LAAT drowned out whatever he might have said and he only shook his head. Cover put his hand briefly on Top's shoulder.
It seemed like there'd be a push against the Separatist forces soon; with these Kamino rookies they were now a full company. This time there was another captain, his armor painted with red predator figures. There were four extra squads under his command. None of them had shiny armor, their armor was all dinged and scraped and touched with red.
"Captain Sharp; 44th Special Ops. Devil Dogs Division." He snapped out to Top then glanced at Punch and Cover in curiousity. "Which is your second, Captain Top?"
Top smiled as he clasped the captain's arm. "Lieutenent Cover," he turned his head towards his vod, "is my second. Punch is Sergeant Tuur's second but my best electronics specialist. We're having a kriff-load of trouble with transmissions here on Mimban and I want him to cross-check the pilot's and LAAT's transmissions." He gestured toward the LAAT and Punch trotted inside to begin the diagnostics. By the time he had downloaded the pilot's transmissions to Mimban, another clone, his armor tipped in red, had joined him.
"Fixer," he said as he moved toward the LAAT's transmission memory and began opening the transmissions panel. "Captain Sharp sent me. Apparently, we're the best slicers in our companies."
"Always room for another slicer on this planet. The humidity plays havoc with everything." Punch handed the helmet back to the pilot and moved to where the new clonetrooper was reaching into the compartment, he pulled the hardwire connection and handed to Punch to attach to his helmet. There was the small whir of transmission download and Punch handed Fixer the connection who tucked it back into the alcove and secured the panel. Punch pulled on his helmet and turned back to the pilot with a nod.
"Thank you. I know you'd be welcome in the mess if you would like a break."
The pilot laughed and shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I want to get my LAAT out of here before the bad weather begins."
Fixer stared at the pilot for a moment. "That wasn't bad weather on the landing? I thought I was going to loose my last four meals."
"Just a little humidity," answered Punch as the pilot laughed, his fingers flicking switches, prepping the engines for departure.
In the mess, Punch showed Fixer how to make minor adjustments for the Mimban weather. "I usually tell the troopers what to check and wait to see how their helmets react before I do anything major."
"Don't they all react the same to the same conditions?" Fixer looked at Punch in surprise.
"No. Some have periods of dead silence while others have static. Two or three have randomly flickering screens and a few have double or triple transmissions. There's no such thing as private channel. Everything said is heard by at least three troopers. There were some arguments before we realized that."
"Maybe the CIS," began Fixer, his own fingers adjusting a trooper's helmet.
Punch shook his head. "We've run several tests, but apparently they can't hear our transmissions. Sometimes we run our attacks comm silence." He gestured to his bandaged arm. "We did this morning but there was no difference in the droid attack and our comm center and planning room remain shielded. I check every three days."
His chron began blinking and Punch stood with a smile. "If you don't mind continuing on the helmets, I'm going to medical. My sergeant will be coming out of bacta and I'd like to be there with the rest of the squad."
"Go," waved Fixer as he peered into another helmet. "I've got this covered."
As Punch strode into the medical unit, he paused, taking in the quiet respect and anticipation so unique to medical. The squad was there, waiting for Tuur. Tenaut was quietly conferring with chief medic Bone; Coil at his side carefully listening and observing in his new position of squad medic's assistant. Card was standing at parade rest in the second's place but, as Punch strode up, took several steps back to the bench where Tack, '31, Resh and the two no-longer-shinies waited.
"Sergeant Tuur," began Punch as he stood in parade rest. The sergeant was awake and attentive, only a rash-like red mark on his chest showing where he'd been blasted by a B1 earlier that morning. "New Kamino rookies have arrived to bring the company to full strength. Four squads of another company, 44th Special Ops lead by Captain Sharp also arrived. It looks like they're demolitions." Punch heard the murmurs of the squad behind him as they considered this piece of information. "Perhaps we'll finally be making an attack on the CIS encampment. There will be a sergeants' session with both captains later this evening." Punch grinned at Tuur. "Just enough time for you to get cleaned and fed." Punch saw the smile lines flex around Tuur's eyes and continued briefing him until the bacta tank emptied and Sergeant Tuur's squad helped the sergeant from the tank and into his gear.
