o.o.o.o.o
Maarisa Zsinj
RSD Retaliation, Hyperspace
Admiral Zsinj tapped away on her office terminal as she looked over the reports transmitted from the various ships in the taskforce prior to their jump from Dressel.
What was most concerning was Captain Los'ean's, the Bothan's report was a scathing critique of her own ability, tactics, and conduct.
"Does she blame herself for the damage the convoy took…?" Maarisa whispered softly as she leaned back in her chair. "Either way… I may need to have her undergo a psych evaluation if this continues. If she's too unstable I'd rather her not be in command of a vessel that's capable of glassing entire continents by itself."
As if on que, the door chimed.
"Enter." She uttered without looking up from her work.
The door slid open, and Captain Zsinj strode inside. The door-guard shut the entryway behind him as he stood at attention.
"Admiral…" The thirty-odd-year old human began.
"Oh for the stars'… We're in private." Maarisa sighed as she looked up at him. "You have permission to speak informally, son."
He nodded, the subtle chastising causing his face to flush red for a moment, but he brought his temper under control. "My apologies, mother... But I have had a question that has been nagging on my mind for a while… Why did you make me the Captain of your flagship and not Captain Los'ean? Why give her a semi-independent command?"
Maarisa sensed a hint of resentment in his voice.
"It's quite simple… I want to see how she behaves without someone looming over her shoulder near incessantly. It is the rope she can use to hoist herself up, or to hang herself with if she so chooses. She's skilled but fresh, and I have no relation to her otherwise beyond being a sponsor."
There was a pause as Admiral Zsinj collected her thoughts. "By contrast if I were to give you independent command of a capital ship… Well we both already have enough accusations of nepotism thrown our way without that." She replied calmly.
Her son's eyes narrowed ever so slightly but he nodded in acceptance of the logic.
"Still… I hardly see why you picked a non-human." He noted dryly.
Maarisa laughed under her breath. "It's simple… I do not care if someone's human or not. All that matters is competence, and loyalty. You should do well to remember that. Some of the Galaxy's greatest military leaders, including and especially those who fought for the Republic, have been non-humans after all."
Her son stood there for a few moments before nodding in understanding. "I understand." He acknowledged, though Maarisa could tell her son was loathe to admit it.
She furrowed her brow as she sat there. "Will that be all?"
He nodded again.
"Very well then, you're dismissed." She informed Captain Zsinj, her son nodding once and then exiting her office.
Maarisa blew air through her lips as she continued staring at Kelia's report, then scrolled down to the Bothan's recommendations of what she should have done instead of keeping the Kestrel and its sub-group on close defense.
"Again she continues to surprise... Intuitive, clever, yet self-critical to an unhealthy degree. She's at least aware enough of her issues that I don't need to relieve her of duty... Yet. But assigning a psychologist to her ship may be prudent." The Admiral hummed as she rubbed her chin.
Setting topic aside for the moment. She proceeded to go through the rest of the reports in sequence once more.
Work was never done at the flag rank after all.
o.o.o.o.o
Korsk Los'ean
SpyNet Station Besh, Krant
Korsk reclined on his bed as he read an Alya Analytics news release on his bedside terminal. One of the perks of being a SpyNet agent was getting direct access to the Civil Division's information without a subscription.
The damage to convoy DD-1 had done a number on a lot of shipping corporations, with the Baobab Merchant Fleet and Torolis Solflot suffering predicted hits to their economic value.
Sei'lar Shipping, his family's company, was expected to see a substantial increase in its own value by contrast.
The information release group's stupid rhymes aside, they did decent work.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Linay idly inspect the black striping on her orange fur.
She clearly seemed bothered by it now that she was actually looking at it.
["You made the call."] He told her.
She shrugged before getting up and walking over to him.
Frowning at Korsk, she suddenly flopped down on his bed. ["Something's been up with you recently..."] Linay observed while poking him on the nose.
Korsk gave her a look. ["It's..."] He rolled onto his back after staring at her for a bit. ["Hard to explain."]
She looked like she was about to make a smug comment, but Korsk's serious expression caused her to stay her tongue.
Sitting up, she tapped him on the side of the head. ["Alright, lay it on me."]
Korsk sighed. ["I've been thinking. About you, me, and Kelia..."] He admitted after a moment, folding his arms behind his head.
["You finally admit you're being obtuse about it?"] Linay huffed as she prodded his leg with her foot. ["Kriff, we could've all hitched up years ago, but you got cold feet and that fed back into Kelia's anxiety."]
["I know... I feel like shtak because of that... Then we go and vanish just as Kelia's prepping to leave for Anaxes, not even a word..."] He muttered, covering his eyes with a hand and fighting back tears as he sat up.
He'd hurt Kelia, he'd hurt her so much. All because he was a kriffing idiot who either couldn't make up his mind or just did things without thinking.
As he tried, and failed, to keep himself from crying, he felt Linay's arms wrap around him.
Linay sighed as she pulled Korsk against her, tilting his head up with a hand so his violet eyes met her emerald ones. ["Listen... When we see her again. We're going to fix it. Okay?"]
He nodded as tears rolled down his face, fur flat against his skin. ["R... Right..."] He whimpered.
She smiled and rested his head against her chest, humming softly. ["Listen, I'll talk to Pri'fon later, see if we can't get a transfer to the Manda office or something and put in reserve. Tell him we're not psychologically fit for further covert duty for the near future."]
Korsk found himself fortunate that Linay actually gave a shtak.
Then again, when you could speak to one another via cybernetically communicated thoughts, it created a certain level of emotional intimacy that you didn't get anywhere else.
There was a gentle nod from Korsk. ["Still... I hurt her so much."]
["We like to talk about Kelia like she's fragile... But when pushed against a wall... She's stronger than either of us give her credit for, she's the one who dragged us to safety on Kothlis after Mineth froze up."] Linay reminded him as she pointed to a holo still of Kelia in her Republic uniform, taken from her brief appearance at a Tawa press conference.
A brief pause passed before Linay continued. ["Plus, if your message got to her then she'll understand. She's not an idiot, anxious, naïve, and obtuse yeah, but not an idiot."]
Korsk smiled softly. ["Right... I just hope she'll forgive me."]
There was a gentle tap on his snout. ["She will, she's got a good heart like that. Can't say she won't be angry about it though."]
He hoped Linay was right. Beings can change in three years.
They can change a lot.
o.o.o.o.o
Kelia Los'ean
RSD Kestrel, Hyperspace
Kelia panted as she did another run on a treadmill in the officer's gym.
Normally she would be on the bridge, but Perth had finally had enough of her neglecting her schedule and forced her to adhere to it under the threat of informing the Admiral that she was ignoring her own wellness.
Admittedly the past couple days had been rather… Off for her. Even if they were otherwise eventful aside from her continuing to try and build up a rapport among the crew, though more than once she'd gotten the cold shoulder.
It was a bitter pill for her to swallow, but she had accepted that her current way of doing things, simply trying to figure out shtak on the go, was untenable.
She felt that she looked like an idiot, her men doubtlessly sharing that opinion.
Speaking of her men, a few Clones were present in the gym, troopers, vehicle crews, or pilots given they were wearing body glove lowers, boots, and workout shirts.
Most kept their eyes averted from Kelia in her own PT uniform, which consisted of shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, both of which hugged her curves far better than she was comfortable with.
The Bothan honestly was thankful for that, she was not sure how to fully react to any attention from her crew given that she was the first typical humanoid planform female many of them had ever encountered.
After finishing her routine, she removed the stop key from the treadmill and hopped up onto the side-runners as it ground to a halt, feeling a weird sensation of continuing to move forwards as she stepped off it and put the key in a stowage cup on the machine.
Kursk, whom was being spotted by another Clone, placed his barbells on the rack of the bench he was working out at and sat up.
"Sir." He acknowledeged simply after mulling what time it would be on the ship before giving up.
Kelia gave him a nod as she stepped off the treadmill after her sense of inertia faded before setting down and taking a drink of water. "Commander."
She stopped after a moment, it occurred to her that she didn't know how old the Clones were. "Commander Kursk?"
He looked over at her. "Yes sir?"
"I don't really know how to phrase this but... How old are you?" Kelia asked candidly, leaning forwards as she draped a wet rag from a nearby bin over her snout to help cool herself off.
He blinked for a moment as he thought about the matter. "Approximately ten standard years, sir. We Clones grow at twice the standard human rate." He uttered nonchalantly.
Something in Kelia's mind broke in that moment. She was sending children in the bodies of grown men to die in battle.
Hell, she had done that already given two of her bomber pilots had been killed in action.
"Oh…" She uttered flatly as she stared off into the distance. Silently, she remembered the blood, fire, and screaming back on Kothlis as her brain processed the combined concepts of ten-year-olds, death, and combat in the best context it remembered.
Noticing the sudden change, Kursk walked over to her warily. "Sir? Are you alright?"
The empty look in Kelia's eyes faded as she returned to full awareness of her surroundings. "Huh…? Oh, yeah… I'm fine." She replied, moving her tongue away from the roof of her mouth.
Kursk's eyes narrowed for a moment, but he didn't press the matter. "If you say so sir… Anything else you want to talk about?"
Kelia frowned and thought on it for a moment. "Well I want to know why-"
A Clone in full armor suddenly burst into the Gym. "Commander! Captain!" He shouted as he looked over at Kursk and Kelia.
"What is it Crak?" Kursk questioned as he and Kelia looked back over at the trooper.
Crak pointed out the doorway. "A brawl has broken out on mess deck four! It's the pilots and the tank crews!"
The two officers shot to their feet, with Kelia's fur bristling in anger, and they rushed out of the gym.
In the rush neither bothered to take the time to change into their normal uniform or armor.
o.o.o.o.o
CG-32/5998
RSD Kestrel, Hyperspace
CG-32/5998 was flung back onto the ground as one of the pilots from Blaze Squadron, Ransack, decked him.
Nearby, CT-43/133 sent a pilot from Gault Squadron sprawling after dodging a sucker punch from the angry flyboy.
Getting up, 5998 reeled back his fist and slammed it into the armored gut of the bomber jock who had hit him.
Other vehicle crews and pilots were just as busy brawling, all of them venting pent up frustration at the opposing party that had built up even despite the best efforts of their officers.
Everyone else was taking cover, unable to do anything against a brawl of this scale without numbers or weapons on their side..
It had taken but a single spark, a single snide comment, before Blaze Squadron had descended upon Krak'jya platoon's walker crews, more clones from other armored and fighter units joining the melee in short order.
The frantic clatter of armored footfalls on the deck plating signaled to 5998 that he needed to get some final hits in before the fight was forcibly ended.
Grabbing the dazed bomber pilot by the waist, he spun the other Clone around and tossed him onto a vacant table.
The rapid snaps of safeties coming off filled the air just as Ransack slid across the table.
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" The crisp and commanding voice of a Clone Sergeant bellowed.
Slowly, the brawling Clones stopped and turned to look at the two squads of naval security troopers aiming their DC-15 carbines into the melee from two separate angles
5998 winced in pain and put his hands up with the other Clones, or at least those who were not insensate or out cold.
And then Commander Kursk and Captain Los'ean strode into the room in PT gear, both looking equally furious.
Huffing softly at the sight of Kelia as she stormed up to them past the troopers, 5998 watching her as she gazed about the room.
If he was going to be terminated by the Aiwhabait, at least he'd face it like a man and not a kriffing drone.
Slowly, Kelia walked along the edge of the room. "So… Who started this?" She asked, her voice oddly calm.
Near 5998, CT-07/078 exchanged a nervous look look with the pilot he had been fighting.
Ransack finally spoke up after getting to his feet, ignoring Kelia's rather fit physique as he snarled at her, blood dripping from his nose. "Yeah, I'll tell you what started it. These chakaar degenerated one of my vode. Not like you can possibly know what it's like to lose-"
Kelia promptly slugged him in his already bruised jaw mid-sentence, the stunned Clone staggering back as everyone else stared in shock at the Bothan.
Even 5998 had been rendered speechless, but he still had enough of his wits about him to notice something.
Her eyes seemed somewhat distant, as if she wasn't entirely there.
She took a step closer, unnerving Ransack further. "Ten. I was kriffing ten when I lost two of my closest friends to a pirate attack. Don't you ever insinuate I don't know what it's like to lose someone I was close to pilot." Kelia snarled as she jabbed a finger into his chestplate and then rounded on the others. "And as for the rest of you, if I hear another instance of you lot talking down about men who died under my command. I'll beat the osik out of all of you myself."
The bomber jock stood there, stunned and chastised, as Kelia turned and strode off.
She paused only long enough to look at Kursk. "Send them to the brig to cool off." She ordered; the unusual harshness of her tone only being offset by how calm her voice was.
The Clone Commander frowned and then waved the security troopers forwards as he watched Kelia leave.
As she exited the mess hall, 5998 noticed her shoulders sag visibly, the Captain likely assuming she was out of view.
He'd learned a bit about her today, and he found himself respecting her a bit more for that.
Just a bit.
Then, he was cuffed and led off like the rest of the combatants in the fight just as the transition alert sounded and the Kestrel jumped back into hyperspace, the deck lurching ever so slightly under their feet as they walked.
o.o.o.o.o
Kelia Los'ean
RSD Kestrel, Hyperspace
Kelia slammed her fist against the turbolift wall as she headed up to her room.
She'd gotten far too close to losing it this time. Two times within an hour her damned fight or flight instinct had almost caused her to trigger her adrenal implant without thinking.
It was insanely dangerous overall, and not for the first time she'd thought of getting it removed or disabled.
She wasn't a marine, she didn't need it anymore, and it presented a health hazard if her ship was exposed to super-heavy ion weapons or extreme radiation the shields and hull couldn't stop.
Exhaling and dismissing the matter for the moment, Kelia exited the lift, walking up to her room door and returning the salute of the on duty door guard, Collin if she recalled, as she walked inside.
She wasn't physically tired per say, but she also wasn't in the mood to do much more than change into a fresh uniform and flop about or something.
Plopping herself into her personal desk chair after a quick run through the sonic, Kelia plucked a holobook off the shelf and inspected it, trying to see if she was feeling like reading the thing.
It was something from her high school days, Kreslit ha Vork.
Draw Blood.
The book was about a veteran commando known only by his surname of Ra'trek, suffering from PTSD and struggling to find their way in a post-war society after the end of the Clan war they had been fighting in. It was particularly poignant given the traditional Bothan apathy towards former soldiers after the development of the Bothan Way, something veterans associations had been striving for millennia to change, and they had made much headway to be honest.
The plot was mostly described as a Kraa and Shalk game taking place after the accidental murder of a police officer leads to dozens of Bothan Marshals, Planetary Militia Officers, and Cops gleefully stepping all over eachother to take down a renowned soldier gone rogue. All of them were interested in furthering their own reputation at the expense of their rivals.
Were it not for the fact Bothans were actively dying in the book's events as a result, she would have considered it a comedy satire rather than a harsh knock against the Bothan Way.
Admittedly, she never finished the novel. Mostly because she had never gotten around to it. Though as she had grown older and realized how hellish having PTSD got, Kelia found she understood the character's struggles a bit more.
Sighing as she put it on her desk for later, Kelia leaned back in her chair, wondering what she could do. The crew was clearly tense, and many of the ground troops itching for a fight, to do something other than sit around uselessly and drill all day.
Closing her eyes, the Bothan found herself sympathizing with them, she herself was way too tense for her own good. And as cathartic as punching one of her pilots in the face was, it was improper conduct for an officer, at least under most circumstances.
It was then that she remembered something from the novel, one scene showed a fighting ring run by the Bothawui Marine Special Forces unit Ra'trek had been a part of.
Similar things had existed in various militaries, though this specific depiction of it was clearly inspired by Aean's use of battle circles to help warriors blow off steam outside combat whilst also honing their skills or settling disputes of honor.
Maybe…
Her door suddenly chimed.
Getting out of bed, Kelia made her way to her room's door and opened it, finding Kursk on the other side in full orange-gold striped armor with his helmet under his shoulder.
"Sir… I'd like to talk with you, in private." The Commander uttered, eyeing the door guard cautiously.
She nodded and gestured for him to enter the room; the door sliding shut behind the 608th's CO. "I would like for the men to be given a reprieve… An incident like this... I've noticed the listlessness the ground troops have been under and feel it's my responsibility for not repo-"
Kelia's fur swirled. "Well, I was planning on sweeping this under the rug anyways. I… Don't want them to be court martialed and imprisoned." She admitted, interrupting him.
Kursk shook his head. "With all due respect sir… There would be no imprisonment, they'd be sent back to Kamino for reconditioning if this got out."
She gave him a questioning look. "Reconditioning…?"
Admittedly, Kelia had heard enough about the Kaminoans to begin to put together that the phrase was a euphemism.
The Commander's eyes hardened. "Reconditioning is what the aiwhabait call any number of procedures used on aberrant Clones with 'undesirable' traits, usually ranging from mental reprogramming to termination."
Kursk paused for a moment before continuing. "Sometimes it's warranted, occasionally you get a Clone who doesn't turn out right in the head is as much a danger to everyone around them as the enemy. Other times…" He fell silent when he was done, shaking his head in dismay.
Kelia felt somewhat sick, everything she knew about Kamino was that the Kaminoans enjoyed a sterile, cold lifestyle.
This reminded her too much of a dystopian sci-fi holothriller for her to ever be comfortable with.
Evil was supposed to be dark, brutal, and gritty, like the Sith.
Not clean, clinical, and bright.
It then struck Kelia that the Kaminoans would likely view her as defective as well given her own plethora of mental issues.
Her fur fell flat at the thought of the spindly-necked beings strapping her to a table and overwriting her brainwaves, or worse. "No… Commander… I'd never allow that to happen unless one of them was mentally too far gone for anything else to be an option."
She watched Kursk sigh in relief, the Clone nodding in thanks. "Appreciated sir."
Kelia nodded back.
She stood there for a few moments before looking at Kursk curiously. "Commander."
"Sir?"
There was a smile on Kelia's face. "I need your help with something."
o.o.o.o.o
Ransack
RSD Kestrel, Hyperspace
Ransack sighed as he leaned back against the bare metal wall of his cell, waiting for his punishment to be handed out.
He'd kriffed up, assumed the Captain hadn't given a Ranat's shebs about his brothers and directly offended a superior officer.
A situation out of every Clone's nightmares.
The door suddenly slid open, revealing a pair of troopers who walked in and grabbed him, hauling the pilot to his feet. "So, am I being reconditioned or just shot?" Ransack asked warily.
Couldn't even die for the Republic like a good soldier, what a waste of good genes.
"Neither." The trooper on his left replied. "Captain wants all of the brawlers to storage bay four-nine ASAP. Don't know why."
That was odd… "What, special occasion?"
"Quit snarking, it's not funny." The trooper on the right grumbled.
Rolling his eyes, Ransack shut his mouth and let them lead him onwards along with the other detainees.
o.o.o.o.o
Kelia Los'ean
RSD Kestrel, Hyperspace
Dan'lya frowned as she took Kelia's officer's coat, the other female flexing her arms as she wrapped her hands in boxer's bandages before slipping her gloves on, Sabre standing at her other side.
["This is a terrible idea."] Dan'lya told Kelia in Bothese.
Kelia shrugged and adjusted her sports bustier and shorts. "Kilala ko." ["I know."]
["Then I won't stop you ma'am. But I still feel that talking is a better idea."]
"Kilala ko." ["I know."] Kelia repeated.
Sighing in defeat, Dan'lya stepped aside and let Kelia into the ring.
It was roughly at this time where the troopers led the parties involved in the brawl into the room.
Shrugging her shoulders, Kelia stepped into the middle of a circle made on the floor with reflective tape.
The Clones looked at eachother as the Bothan gazed intently at them.
"Sir…?" Ransack asked as he shifted nervously.
Kelia nodded. "Alright men… This is the battle circle, normally it's used to handle disputes of honor or hone combat skills among Mandalorians." She explained as she walked around the circumference of the circle, some of the Clones chattering away in confusion while a handful seemed to understand what that meant. "These duels are nonlethal, kill-hits are forbidden. For our purposes, these fights will be done unarmed and the rules are that the first to concede or be forced out of the circle is the loser."
Inside, Kelia was screaming at herself that Dan'lya was right, that this was a horrible idea and that she should stop.
Somehow, she kept going. "So, for our first demonstration, do any of you have a problem with me?" Kelia uttered, Dan'lya's fur falling flat as one of the Clones stepped forwards.
5998 cracked his knuckles as he strode up to Kelia, taking a fighting stance.
"I'm gonna wipe that look off your face, sir." He uttered as the two of them squared off.
Kelia narrowed her eyes and put her own arms up, her pride as a member of Clan Aean overriding her anxiety. "You'll try."
He smirked, clearly believing he had the advantage. "Riiiight."
The two of them circled eachother for a few moments before 5998 launched the first punch.
Kelia, caught off-guard, took the sideswipe right in the snout.
She winced in pain but stayed aware of her surroundings, spitting out some saliva and gritting her teeth.
At least she hadn't lost any, which was good enough for her.
Feinting at his face, the Bothan quickly slugged him hard in the gut with her other arm before he could respond.
"Huh… I always thought you were some prissy little officer. But you can actually fight." He grunted.
"There's an old saying in Mandlorian culture, which carries over to my clan as well. Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya." [Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."] She stated in Mando'a before switching back to Basic. "I may have my issues, but that doesn't mean I can't fight if necessary."
5998 raised an eyebrow at the Bothan as he blocked her next punch, grabbing Kelia by the arm and flipping her over onto her back.
Kelia only barely managed to avoid getting the wind knocked out of her.
With a growl, she recovered and rolled away from an attempted kick to the side, the Bothan getting back to her feet before dodging 5998's follow-up right hook and grappling with him.
She was out of practice compared to the well-drilled Clone, and it showed.
Still, she wasn't giving up.
"So, you have a name?" Kelia asked as she looked for an opening before just giving up and headbutting the Clone, wincing as they both recoiled back from the hit and set up to try again.
"Don't have one, only my number."
"And what's that?" Kelia asked as she shoulder checked him when he came in for an attempted grapple before backing off.
"CG-32/5998." He responded after he wiped some blood off his nose before kicking her in the leg, both continuing to juke and jab at eachother as they sought a definitive opening.
She nodded as soon as she got an opening. "Given how far you tossed one of your brothers, I think Yarder sounds nice. Makes sense for a tank gunner too." Kelia noted as she elbowed him in the side.
He mulled the name as he absorbed another hit from her before returning the favor with a punch to the ribs.
Exactly the position she wanted him in. Reacting quickly, Kelia grabbed his arm and then kneed him repeatedly in the gut while he was off balance, followed by a punch to the side of the head.
A final blow from her right fist to his jaw sent him sprawling, the Bothan panting as Yarder raised an arm and then slammed his hand on the ground to signify his admittance of defeat.
The entire fight had been sloppy, uncoordinated, and generally a mess.
Her mother would be proud she'd won, and disappointed she'd not been better coordinated.
Kelia honestly didn't care what she would have thought right now.
"Y'know… I don't think any of this was necessary… But kriff did I need to blow off some steam…" She gasped before reaching out to take his hand before hauling the Clone to his feet, several claps issuing from the spectators.
"I certainly feel a bit better…" Yarder uttered in agreement as he stood. "My apologies for…"
"It's fine… I'm still trying to figure out things on my own."
He shook his head. "No sir. Us ground troops have been… Angry since our brothers are out there dying and we're sitting here on a ship, doing nothing…"
"Well why didn't you kriffing morons just say that!?" One of the bomber pilots uttered in disbelief. "You didn't have to talk down our dead vode!"
The armor crewers milled about, looking down in shame, with Yarder sighing and walking over to Ransack. "I'm... Sorry ner vod." He apologized.
He offered the pilot his hand, Ransack smirking softly and taking it. "Apology accepted... You've got a mean arm, you know that?" The pilot laughed softly.
Yarder smirked as the Clones began discussing who would go next in the circle.
Sabre looked over at Kelia and gave her a thumbs up.
She smiled softly and returned the gesture.
"Captain… are you alright?" Dan'lya uttered as she closed with Kelia and checked her injuries, her fur swirling oddly.
Kelia shrugged and then flinched slightly. "Bit bruised, but feeling better. Really I am."
Dan'lya nodded in acceptance, but it was clear she was still worried.
Shaking her head clear of the cobwebs, Kelia turned and looked over at the Clones. "I… I'm sorry for losing my cool during the convoy operation…" She hung her head in shame, not worried about formalities given the environment and her out of uniform state. "Had I been thinking clearly I would've launched additional fighters to escort you."
The Clones exchanged several looks but unanimously nodded in acceptance.
Kelia pursed her lips, still feeling guilty. "And as for all of you… After your time in the brig is served out, consider the prior incident forgotten." She informed them as she looked up and at them in turn, the Clones staring at her in shock. "I can give you this much since nobody from off the ship was present. But do not let this happen again… If you have any problems, vent them here in the battle circle. Make sure word gets around too, this is how we vent now if talking doesn't work, not brawling randomly."
The men all nodded in understanding.
Stars knew what she would have had to do if the brawl had occurred when the civvies were onboard.
"Now, if you please, you're all dismissed, you can either punch eachother in the medi... Battle circle." Kelia caught herself, realizing she was feeling slightly woozy, before continuing. "Or you can go and stew in the brig for the next few hours until we reach Manda... As for me, I have to go get yelled at by the medical staff."
Yarder laughed again, this time mirthfully. "Thank you, sir!" He said before saluting Kelia, the other Clones saluting her all the same, the men smiling in appreciation.
She smiled back as she returned the gesture.
Things were finally looking up again.
o.o.o.o.o
Kelia strode onto the bridge in her uniform a few hours later after she had taken a nap and done some cleaning up, nursing a few bruises that were hidden by her fur.
She hadn't had the misfortune of running into the ship's chief medical officer, but he would no doubt hear about her injuries later.
"Captain. Seems like you've done something." Perth observed as she stretched a bit while looking out the window at the fleet's leading elements, multiple light cruisers, frigates, and corvettes, plus the Retaliation and Hawkbat, thrumming through the void ahead of the Kestrel.
"Maybe, maybe not." Kelia shrugged, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I did rectify some of the issues with the crew… And blew off some steam. You get any rest?"
Perth nodded, a knowing smile on his own face. "More than enough. Speaking of, we have reached Manda orbit without issue, and we'll be beginning our descent once we have clearance."
Kelia nodded and looked out the bridge window as the fleet moved into the landing pattern, thankful that the trip was finally kriffing over.
Nearly a day of hyperspace travel on top of all the prior time spent transiting to Denon and then Dressel.
Ten days down the drain, most of that just from exiting the core regions.
"It'll be good to finally have a planet under my feet. Hopefully we can get some downtime before we're caught back up in operational cycles again… Which should give us some space to set schedules up." Kelia noted as she adjusted her uniform.
Perth nodded in agreement. "Understood sir, you have the bridge." He told her before stepping to the side.
She smiled at him as she walked to the center of the main walkway. "Very well then. Helm, bring us in once we have clearance."
"Yes sir!" The helmsmen replied in unison.
A warm fuzzy feeling filled Kelia's heart.
For a few days she finally had the free reign to get shtakfaced drunk.
o.o.o.o.o
The Kestrel and the rest of battlegroup Retaliation descended towards the Republic Base on Manda, splitting off into groups as the component vessels began their landings, the Kestrel being the last of the three Venators to dock at the still expanding main berthing zone.
It was the end of a journey, and the beginning of the taskforce's new assignment.
But not all was going well in the Galaxy…
o.o.o.o.o
Flames billowed into the sky above the frozen wastes of Eredenn in the Tion as OG-9 homing spider droids, NR-N99 tank droids, AATs, and Dwarf Spider Droids ambled across the plains. Squads of STAPs and GAT fighter tanks zipping about, guarding the flanks of the main force.
Vast phalanxes of droid infantry, mostly B1 and B2s with their associated variants, advanced among the platoons of armor as they hunted down any remaining Republic stragglers that refused to surrender.
Above, Vulture Fighters and Condor Fighters backed by Jackal and Hyena Bombers buzzed through the air as they flushed out the local PSF and the surviving Clones from above.
Exiting the smoldering ruins of the main Republic HQ, surrounded by grey-green clad bodies of varying species in addition to the corpses of white-armored Clones, General Sev'rance Tann extinguished her lightsaber and stared at the dozens of C-9979s, and VACs descending to land near her location.
Behind her, a few B1s sorted through the rubble and detained the wounded Republic nonclones who had a chance of survival.
The twanging reports of blasterfire indicated the fates of those who were too far gone to be saved or had attempted to grab a weapon.
A smirk graced the Chiss woman's coldly beautiful features as she watched the boxy VACs land near the Republic's special weapons production lines, ready to pick up their special cargo
Her lover, Vanda'lor'sinther, or Vandalor, had likely completed his raid on Alaris Prime by now with his Commando Droid unit while a diversionary force attacked the Wookiee blockade over Trandosha.
By the time the stupid hairballs realized the CIS had stolen the master codes for their new weapons platforms, it would be too late.
And as Sev'rance stared at the massive land cruisers as they sat in the mid-day sun, she smiled cruelly.
She was going to have fun introducing the Jedi defending Sarapin to these deadly war machines, war machines built for them at Senator Yarua's behest.
And in the process, showing the Republic how vulnerable it really was.
o.o.o.o.o