Venator-class Star Destroyer.

"Valkyrie."

Location: In orbit over Coruscant.

Asher hefted his bucket, and ran a thumb along the black of one of the Jaig Eyes.

He didn't want them, but he'd earned them fighting with his brothers, and he would wear them with pride. They were a simple design, not too flashy, just the way he liked it.

The GAR had done away with their color based rank structure quickly, now the colors were for units. They hadn't quite decided that what color they should be yet, he'd hash that out with the Jedi.

Asher had painted some aspects of his armor before the unit colors were selected. On his gauntlets he'd spattered blood red paint all over them in droplets to match the bloodied armor he had at Geonosis.

A constant reminder, as if he could forget anyway. But the Jedi encouraged individuality in an army of clones, something he could appreciate.

He was not used to the black kama and pauldron, but he knew he'd ease into the extra weight, the DC-17 blaster pistol had been modified for some extra punch with an extended barrel.

Unlike the ARC troopers and some officers that religiously followed the tactics of their template, he only had one. In place of a second pistol, he had a combat knife.

The ARC training he'd received had turned him into something more, something that resembled maybe half the leader Captain Aldane was, may he rest well.

He'd taken the survivors of Bravo Company, all eight of them to be his primary caregivers and command team.

Jace was promoted to Lieutenant, and was Asher's executive officer, neither would have it any other way.

Nero, Dice, and Kincaid, were his platoon leaders as Lieutenants, a newcomer named Walker would be the fourth.

Kidd, Sixes, and Gee would be the platoon sergeants with a replacement as the fourth a freshly promoted Sergeant named Trace.

The new leadership had integrated well, they just had barriers up from being from different batches. The new shinies were a tad more difficult, they soaked up information like sponges but had taken time to adjust to the grumbling of the veterans.

Asher liked Walker and Trace however, did as soon as he saw them, they were smart, dedicated if not a tad quiet.

He read the report, their platoon was slaughtered by Hailfires and B-2 shock platoons.

The pass rate for the new medical training Asher had helped compose was decent enough. The drop out rate was a margin he found acceptably high, after all he wanted the best of the best.

The Sergeants and Lieutenants had passed with flying colors despite being born and bred infantry. He had helped guide them into fine medics.

Right now they awaited the arrival of their new Jedi commanders. General Windu had originally stated there'd be a single Jedi Doctor, but she had a Padawan with her. Two Jedi instead of one was something he'd take gladly.

The men awaited in a loose cluster, chatting and joking. It reminded him of better days, but he found himself smiling at their antics.

The command team's pilot, a crazy di'kut named Showtime was getting the most laughs of them all.

Asher wondered if Showtime's tank was malfunctioning when he was being gestated. He was hyperactive, daring and a risk taker.

Perfect for where he'd be flying them.

He dropped off troops during Geonosis, flew his LAAT/i right into Petranaki Arena.

Showtime was at the center of the troopers, his blonde dyed mohawk possibly the most garish hairstyle of them all. His jokes were raunchy, but not without a level of caustic wit, Asher stifled his chuckles into his fist, attempting to maintain some military bearing.

Whatever he was saying, the lower enlisted ate it up with laughter bordering on suffocation.

"Not a bad lot eh sir?" Jace said plopping next to Asher on a crate.

"Not bad at all." He mused.

Jace had shaved his head to the scalp, while Asher kept his more or less the same save getting it faded. The scar did most of the work of setting him apart anyway.

He shivered, the faint sounds of clicking, chittering and the faint buzz of wings gnawing at his mind.

"You… alright there vod?" Jace asked.

"Huh? Oh yeah… I'm fine."

"You just… zoned out there for a minute."

"All good brother."

Jace shrugged but the look in his eyes seemed unconvinced. His brother rolled his neck, the fresh tattoo of the word "Bravo" peeking out of his collar.

Asher rubbed the spot on his neck where his was, all the Bravo survivors had one.

The shuttle was drawing near, he could see it getting closer in the black.

"First Sergeant!" Asher called.

Cutter jogged up, his high and tight haircut accented with the tattoo of crossed axes along the left side of his head.

"Sir!" He barked, standing at stiff attention.

Cutter, a former heavy gunner, probably the baddest trooper Asher knew.

The perfect senior enlisted man.

"Fall them in, our new Jedi are here."

"Yes sir."

Cutter ran to the apex of the hanger standing at attention.

"Fall in!" He roared and the clones jolted to their spots, the conversation dying into the sound of plasteel and hurried boots.

The four platoons formed up, platoon sergeants in front, officers in the back. Helmets on, firmly at attention.

"Receive the report." He snapped, "Report!"

"First platoon all accounted for!"

"Second platoon all accounted for!"

"Third platoon all accounted for!"

"Fourth platoon all accounted for!"

Jace strolled over to the back of the formation, slipping his bucket on as he went.

Cutter saluted off each report and stood tall. Asher had made a good choice putting him in this position.

As soon as the executive officer was affixed, Cutter called his next command.

"Post!"

Asher's cue.

The Platoon sergeants jogged behind the formations, trading spots with the Lieutenants.

Asher stood behind Cutter who executed a perfect about face.

"First Medical Support Company all accounted for sir!" He saluted.

Asher saluted back.

"Fall in First Sergeant."

He jogged to the back of the formation with a nod.

Once he was in place, Asher called his next command.

"At ease."

The men relaxed.

"Listen up brothers, the Jedi are coming, best behavior. And I'm talking to you Showtime!"

Showtime looked at the ground with a groan, a few chuckles echoed through the formation.

"If you embarrass me, I'll have you cleaning this hanger every night for a week. And that's nothing compared to what the First Sergeant will do to you." He spat.

Behind the formation, Cutter cracked his knuckles.

"Understood sir." Showtime gulped.

Asher executed an about face to meet the Jedi head on.

The shuttle came into the hanger slowly before landing. The landing gear whirring into place as air hissed. The rear ramp slowly came down to reveal their new commanders.

Asher had commed the Halaisi Jedi Master, Rig Nema a handful of times over the course of the Company's buildup. As a Jedi Doctor, she'd be the money maker for saving lives in the field.

Yellow-green skin and a headdress worn by her native people, a light grey robe matching the silver of her native clothing.

Her Padawan was shorter than the both of them, young with sleeveless dark brown robes. Her pink skin a pleasant oddity as well as her black hair.

The Padawan he hadn't spoken with, the Zeltron followed dutifully behind her master.

As soon as they were twenty paces away Asher came to attention, about-faced and pulled the best command voice he had.

"Attention on deck!" He roared.

The thunder of boots coming together was music to his ears.

Captain Aldane would be proud.

He turned again, as soon as the Jedi were on top of him.

"Good to meet you in person ma'am. First Medical Support Company all present and accounted for." He saluted.

She gave one back, a playful smirk on. It seems she was amused by the antics of drill and ceremony.

"At ease." She called, voice gentle.

The men relaxed as did Asher.

"Likewise on meeting you in person Captain Asher, you and your men look ready for anything."

"Absolutely ma'am." He intoned.

"This is my Padawan Reha Sul, she is also a Jedi Healer, holding the rank of commander." General Nema gestured to the younger woman.

"Pleasure to meet you Captain Asher." She smiled, extending her hand.

He shook it firm but gently, she looked more fragile than she most likely was.

"Same to you ma'am."

"Remove your helmets, I want to see your faces." Rig Nema said firmly, her soft voice raised for all to hear.

Some of the men seemed uneasy but they complied, Asher did and both Jedi keyed on the scar wearily.

They began to walk up the ranks, Asher trailing behind.

Both Jedi asked their names, not their serials, gentle smiles splayed on their faces.

Asher felt a well of anxiety as the Jedi neared the Pilot with a mohawk.

"And your name trooper?" Rig Nema asked gently with a regal smile.

Showtime gave Asher a wink, and the Captain sighed as the pilot broke into a feral grin.

"SHOWTIME!" The pilot roared proudly his arms spread out in a grand pose.

Caught off guard initially, Rig Nema's gentle smile upturned even more while Reha stifled her laughter.

Between the shoulders of his troopers Asher caught Cutter's attention.

The Captain pointed to Showtime, and made a throat slitting gesture with his thumb.

Cutter nodded, nostrils flaring and a scowl splayed across his face.

They finished getting to know everyone, Asher felt that such a gesture was nice but in the end futile at least for now. They all shared the same face, and with the helmets on it'd be impossible to tell them apart.

Jace and Cutter were the last ones and with that the Jedi were finished.

"Your quarters are already set, we begin training tomorrow. The data pads in your rooms have the schedules." Asher informed.

"Thank you captain." General Nema said.

"Get settled ma'am, I'll see you on the bridge."

Asher moved to the center of the formation.

"Company attention!" He barked, "Fall out."

Everyone took a step back, and it was Cutter's voice that rang out next.

"SHOWTIME."

The pilot froze and his shoulders sagged.

"Get to the other end of the hangar." The First sergeant growled.

Showtime sprinted to the other end.

All in all the bay had to be almost six hundred meters in length, and Asher knew just what Cutter would do.

Showtime dropped and did a burpee, weakly jumping forward before lunging backward. This workout was something the command team had devised for whenever the troopers would pay for something in sweat.

It was a helluva workout, and in kit? Even more so.

The pilot wouldn't stop until he touched the opposite wall, and he was barely making an inch with every repetition.

Asher smirked and turned on his heel to let Cutter instill some discipline.

"What are you?" Cutter growled.

"An embarrassment!" Showtime cried.

"Louder!"

"An embarrassment!"

Showtime's proclamation that he was an embarrassment were what bid Asher farewell as he left the hangar bay.

Asher strode onto the bridge with a fresh cup of caff in one hand and a thermos in the other. Showtime's antics were going to be the death of him.

"Ah Captain hello." General Nema greeted.

"General," Asher nodded.

He did a scan of the area, the petite Zeltron absent.

"Where's Commander Sul?" He asked.

"She gets lost sometimes, she was just familiarizing herself." General Nema sighed with a small smile.

"I see." He said somewhat irked.

He didn't need an airhead under fire.

"I'm sure you're well aware of the GAR's goals General?"

"Yes, Arantara, with General Skywalker's 501st legion."

"Yes, planet fall is next week and I don't want to waste any time when we can train." He explained.

"I agree wholeheartedly, I've skimmed over the manuals you've composed for mass casualty situations, and prolonged field care. These are very comprehensive, I'm impressed." She praised, swiping a finger across the datapad.

"Thank you ma'am."

"You were on Geonosis." She said simply.

"Yes ma'am I was." He sipped his caff.

"I don't mean to pry, but is that where you got that scar?"

Asher froze, cup just an inch from his lips.

"Yes… ma'am." He said evenly, taking another gentle sip.

"Then it seems I have a very experienced medic with me. Excellent." She mused.

Her eyes scanned up and down his armor.

"You do not wear the Red Sigil?" She asked, more curious than upset.

"Standing regulation within the unit, no man is to have that on any of their equipment. I won't have them turn into sniper meat." He said simply.

"This came from your experiences?"

"Were you dirtside when it went down General?" He asked, refilling his cup, never breaking eye contact.

She seemed puzzled by a question instead of an answer but spoke simply.

"I was not, but I did treat the wounded at the Temple afterward."

"You and Commander Sul's combat experience?" He asked.

"None."

"You are correct on my experience weighing on this decision. Droid snipers put a premium on medics, they keyed onto the red sigil on our gear."

"Why is that?"

It took quite a bit on his end to not make a sarcastic comment, but military bearing reined him in.

"Because they know with the medics gone, troopers die." He said, barely hiding the edge in his voice.

General Nema eyes widened, hadn't expecting the scalding tone from the Clone under her command.

The door swished open and the Padawan came in, her face flustered.

"Sorry master! Kinda wandered around for a bit! Lost track of time." She sighed, padding up to the holomap.

"Do try to be more on time Reha, mustn't leave the Captain waiting."

"I'm sorry Captain Asher." She sighed.

Asher smiled gently, his earlier ire gone.

"No harm done."

She eyed the map table as Asher brought up a holo of Arantara.

He frowned, another barren rock of desert.

"We always go to such nice places." He grumbled.

Reha smirked wryly and shrugged.

"Tell me the composition of this company." General Nema said.

"First and Second platoons are entirely medical. Callsigns Witch Doctor and Shaman. Third and Fourth are our solid Infantry units, fourth is our weapons platoon, everything and anything heavy."

"Callsigns?"

"Sword and Hammer."

"Aptly named." General Nema mused.

"The boys workshopped it." He shrugged.

General Nema eyed the data pad keenly.

"Rocket launchers, rotary cannons, grenade launchers, mortars… we are a medical unit Captain. Yet you've seen fit to arm us quite heavily."

"Do you disagree?" He asked, sipping his caff.

"Not at all, I just want to know your reasoning."

Asher nursed the cup steadily, eyes narrowing as memories flooded him.

"On Geonosis my entire company was wiped out. There's nine left out of a hundred and forty-four. If finesse can't win the day then brute force can."

He set his cup down and leaned onto the holomap console, palms flat.

"We were outgunned three to one, both by bugs and tinnies. Most of the men making up the higher ranks of this new unit are veterans of that. You have little in the way of combat experience here, sometimes a firefight boils down to who has more toys." He said simply.

The Padawan seemed uneasy with his bluntness but Rig Nema remained calm and passive.

"I trust your judgement Captain, if it puts your men as well as yourself at ease. I merely want us to accomplish our mission."

"Thank you General, as do I."

"We can go over these details more broadly with your command team. From then we will disseminate the information to the rest of the men." She announced.

Asher nodded.

"Dismissed Captain, get some rest, I will see you tomorrow for training."

"Yes ma'am." Asher said with a crisp salute.

He collected his things and left the bridge.

Asher changed into his workout uniform quickly, he couldn't sleep if he didn't sweat today. And it would be a long day of training tomorrow.

The ship's gymnasium was connected to the hangar, and Asher was somewhat surprised to see Showtime more than halfway done with his punishment. The sympathetic looks some of the technicians sent showed he'd been at it hard for the last hour or so.

"What are you?" Cutter asked, arms crossed.

"An embarrassment." Showtime groaned, his armor stinking of sweat, and the neck of his body glove soaked.

"Sir." Cutter greeted.

Asher stood next to the cross armed First Sergeant who held no kindness in his gaze.

"First Sergeant, do you believe he's learned his lesson?"

Showtime did another sloppy burpee before falling into a panting, plasteel heap.

"Eh a few more reps should do the trick." Cutter mused.

"I think so too." Asher jested, moving to the gym, purposely stepping over the downed pilot, "C'mon Showtime, almost to the wall."

"Yes… sir…" He groaned from his supine position.

Asher entered the gymnasium, nobody called attention, standing order from himself. Rank shouldn't interrupt a workout by any means.

Kincaid and Kidd were squatting, some of the new shinies were doing a mixture of workouts. Jace was hitting chest, alongside Nero who spotted him.

Asher eyed the punching bag in the corner and set to wrapping his hands.

He felt pent up, hungry for action, he kept it under wraps unlike some of the men who visibly bristled for it. But he felt a type of unease with the untested men making the majority of his ranks.

The Jedi were just as green as the shinies, lightsaber combat they undoubtedly knew. But full blown war? He had them on experience, and they'd be in command.

His frustration burned through him like a cancer, this kind of inexperience, incompetence even, had cost many Clones their lives. He knew of the Clone Commandoes that had died on Geonosis. Their orders from the Jedi had taken them out of their element and into the meat grinder.

Asher worked the bag, his blows raining onto synthetic leather, chains rattling.

Every blow was a droid, a Geonosian, one of those gas sucking Techno Union members or that disgusting amphibian Nute Gunray. As he struck the bag, a face was in his mind, every person responsible for the death of his company and so many other brothers.

Everyone he'd fail to save.

He didn't know it, but he now had the attention of the entire room. Their Captain dancing around a bag, pelting it with his fists, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

"He alright?" Nero asked, casting a glance as he took his turn on the bench.

"He says it, but I don't believe it. Geonosis is always on his mind." Jace sighed.

"Neither of us would be here if it wasn't for him vod. No one that served there can forget it."

"Asher is different, he doesn't just think about it." Jace said as Nero lifted the bar, "He lives it, there's a reason his armor has red on it. He still thinks he could've done better that day, saved more of us."

Nero pushed the weight up with a harsh exhale and began his reps.

Jace helped Nero through his reps and wondered to himself how he'd help Asher through the battle that never ended in his mind.

Please review! But don't leave me in flames please.