ENLISTED COMMON ROOM, COMBAT OUTPOST BYHILL, ORHLEAN ARCHIPELAGO, FARRACKGE, QIILURA SYSTEM - DAY 187, 2111 HOURS LOCAL TIME
"What are you all watching?" Kat asked as she walked into the company's common room.
"There's nothing on here except the mainstream HoloNet channels - it's either Galactic News or Coruscanti entertainment,"CPL Yykonen cocked his head back to her, energy drink can in hand. The giant, sandy-haired cannoner took up too much space on the couch. "And I'd rather watch the news! Coruscanti serials are the most boring, predictable things in the galaxy!" Bea scorned next to him.
The common room was a place for the outpost's enlisted inhabitants to unwind ( or at least, mostly - staff NCOs and officers , as usual, had their own respective places) - it could fit half a company (it never reached to full capacity), and had two HoloNet viewscreens, cheap couches, sabacc, dejaarik and pazaak tables and a small fridge for drinks, with Zoom-It!s being the brand most commonly stocked.
The windows and/or anything that could project light outside blocked or blackened out to avoid drawing fire, but that meant the room was stuffy from lack of fresh air flow. Their only saver was the air-conditioners.
Although Fox Company of the 605th Marine Regiment was pretty close- knit, with everyone at least knowing of each other's names even if they don't work together often, the deployment and shared hardships had bought them closer together.
No one knows when is the last time they might see each other, so different platoons, different occupational specializations and different ranks (as long as it didn't break the Republic military's rule on fraternization) got together and enjoyed their downtime as a unit. The Marines dominated the room, with only a pair of Army troopers hunched over a dejaarik holotable.
"Wanna zoom it?" chuckled LCPL Ganna Munioa, handing her an unopened can of citrus Zoom-It!. Typcially, she's Caford's AT assistant, but on this tour she's just another rifleman. "Sit down,watch the HoloNet...I've never gotten a chance to properly know you." "I would like that - thank you," grinned Kat as she sat on floor next to her, legs crossed.
"You're from Brentaal, right? Kolus City, isn't it?" Kat raised an eyebrow - she was impressed. "Yes… I'm surprised you know that!" "We're in the same squad, of course I would know that! But my father worked at your home city for a few months, so I'm… slightly familiar with it, I should say," "Was he a researcher?" "Good guess! He worked on some farming technology research with Amata BioTeic before he went back to Dantooine." "Your parents researchers, too?" "No, just office mice, not lab rats," Kat slightly smiled. "So what is a person like you doing in the Marine Corps infantry instead of a scientific lab?"
"When Darth Malak slagged our planet centuries ago, one of my great grandmother, eight times over, she and her son were buried under the ruins for a few days. The first thing she saw after being lifted out of the rubble was the hand of a Republic Marine. Her son would then grow up to join the Marines. Since then, his descendents have at least one being who served in the military. I loved that story and I feel indebted, so now I'm only the latest to join… for now." Munioa beamed proudly, puffing her chest out slightly. "That's amazing! That means your family has been in continuous service for… over three hundred years now,"
She waved her off. "Ach now, that's nothing, you know? Captain Vlogel, his family has been in for twice my amount!" The words left Kat's mouth without thinking. "A legacy commission! No wonder he could get to where he is!" Munioa shushed her down. "Shut up! I don't want to end up washing the blasted freshers!" she loudly whispered.
Before she could reply, she saw something on the HoloNet. She turned Munioa's head towards the viewscreen.
"...And now, with important news from Balmorra - After a long, hard-fought battle, Republic military forces have finally concluded Operation Kurik, with the seizing of the city of Gorra , the last in the Welga Mountains. The three-month operation had claimed the lives of 500 Republic servicemembers, 5,800 pro-Republic forces, 800 civillians and 8,000 anti-Republic forces. Material losses include 32 land vehicles and 15 ships… "
"What a waste. We all know it's the Imps behind the 'anti-Republic forces', anyway. Their puppets owned three-quarters of the planet, for stars' sake!" SGT Lovell seethed, his saliva spraying, though none hit anyone. "You fought the Imps, Squad Leader?" asked Munioa. "No, was too young, even for the end of the last big war. But had a couple of Balmorra veterans from then in my old company. They saw it all. They knew," He pressed his lips. "Are they still in? I bet they must've reached really high ranks… Echo-9?10?" Lovell's face soured. "Are you sure you want to know, LCPL Munioa?" "Of course," "One killed himself three years after exiting the Marines. The other is now an Echo-9 : Sergeant Major. Last time I heard he was overseeing things at Taris."
Munioa's face turned into one of embarrassment and regret. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sunk. "I'm sorry, Sergeant, I didn't mean to-" "Apology accepted. Don't do that to me or anyone else again, got it?" She snapped up from the worn couch and fully faced him. "Copy that, SGT!"
"Good. I'm off to get zoomed. We're on QRF next shift." He left. Munioa sat down and buried her face in her hands. "I felt like a fool. I shouldn't have–" "You heard the Squad Leader. Don't repeat that mistake. Everyone makes them sometimes. We just need to learn from them-"
"CPL Argyll! You cheated!" A harsh yell came from one of the sabacc tables. It was Rhyss. "Not my fault you are a predictable player… I want my 50 credits!" Bea smirked and beckoned her hand for her winnings. He groaned as he gave the chips to her.
"I could never play games like that, especially when there's anything at stake," Kat remarked. "You do realise you can play without betting anything, right?" "The amount of people who want to play seem to dive like a hawk when they can't take anything from you," "Not me, Merrick. I can teach you a few tricks," she mischievously grinned. "I never knew you for a game master, Ganna," She waved her hand towards the game tables. "Hard to not be at least decent when you use it to get speeder creds, but I'm giving you a chance to find out for yourself. Pick your poison."
Kat rubbed her chin. "I'm picking pazaak."
ROAD CHECKPOINT 2, KDARSAC - DAY 188, 1436 HOURS
Kat leaned her back and groaned hard while in the six-meter tower. It was hot, and her layers of clothing and gear didn't help. And the jungle nature of the islands meant it was humid.
You'd think that checkpoint duty would be more exciting since it is outside the wire, after all. But no… I'm stuck staring at these speeders in this BLASTED weather. I'm hot and all sticky, and I'm only standing guard in a tower!"
The steady, glacial stream of landspeeders and speeder bikes came through the checkpoints in two lanes in two different directions. Every vehicle came through a scanner gate and two different scanner droids to check for manifests, cargo and beings, illegal or otherwise.
On Farrackge, everyone who drives a speeder or ship has to have an identification document. It didn't matter if it was issued from the Galactic Transportation Authority in Coruscant or some backwater town in Tatooine with a population of 10 - as long as the documents were valid and legitimate and one is not wanted by the local authorities nor doing anything illegal, they were usually cleared through.
She stared resentfully at the Farrackgean policemembers below her on ground level. They all seemed to be there only for a paycheck. One was sitting on the ground, legs stretched out and back to the wall of the main checkpoint post. Kat suspected he wasn't supposed to be there, doing that, but it wasn't her place to tell anyone off unless they were part of security, and if he is, she would know. Another two were asking the vehicles' occupants questions via a megaphone from a lightly fortified post.
Those cheap synthobrick posts and everyone inside would vaporize if a decent-sized suicide Vee-BED (vehicle-borne explosive device) came through. Most of our guard posts would collapse and bury us. The only thing that would survive… is the main checkpoint building. And even then… no. No. No. No! Don't think. Focus, watch or else…it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
A sound caught her right ear. She turned in that direction and saw CPL Bea Argyll in a post on the other side, 40 meters away. She gave a whoop and flashed a hand gesture - a High Galactic "V" with her thumb in between. Even from that distance, Kat recognized the shape. It was a classic Brentaalian cuss out, and could mean everything from "bastard" to "thief" to "scum" and often used on unknowing offworlders.
Kat had taught her that as an educational joke in her early days in Fox Company. She regretted giving her the knowledge, but only momentarily as she laughed and flashed one back - her thumb, forefinger and middle finger entangled in almost unnatural angles. Argyll once told her it originally meant "Ardtra" in Telossian, or "excess fornicator" in Basic. As society on Telos IV progressed socially, it turned into something more general, instead turning into a double entendre meaning "get off!"
Typically, flashing such signs could lead to a melee fight, with a few extra bruises. But here, they all knew - it means nothing, only things that Marines do to break the monotony of their daily deployment.
It's nothing.
COP BYHILL BRIEFING ROOM - THE NEXT MORNING, 0600 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Fox Company once again crammed into the base's briefing room. The company leaders stepped out in front. CPT Vlogel crossed his arms.
"Good morning, Marines!... Today, we'll be beginning with an update on our progress in the AO so far. First of all, I would like to commend 3rd Platoon on finding a lead on a suspected Sith presence in Kdarsac. Well, after cross-checking with local and Republic military intelligence, we have good reason to believe there is at least a team of Sith spies on-planet," he flicked his wrist in different directions as he spoke.
A cold shiver ran through Kat's spine. While the Infantry Academy, Kat has been taught on known Imperial and Sith tactics, doctrine and strategy. The Sith had their own branch of espionage, separate from the much feared Imperial intelligence. A team meant there were at least four Sith - two pairs of master and apprentice, usually ranking Sith Lord and Sith Acolyte, respectively.
She had heard the stories from senior combat veterans of the last great war : Even a fully armed, well-trained squad of Marines would have problems taking on a mere Sith Acolyte, much less a Lord or worst of all, a Darth.
"...3rd Platoon will continue with specifically questioning and building relationships with locals in order to collect PERSINT (personal intelligence) on this new threat. All other platoons will also do the same when the mission calls for it. Headquarters platoon - half of Communications Squad will shift their mission to SIGINT (signals intelligence) and Intel Squad will coordinate efforts with larger intelligence units, and sift all new information to help with our local operations. The scuttlebutt is that we are also expecting a new Jedi pair to come into our AO soon, so we need to prepare."
Oh, stars.
She had heard stories. Most Marines didn't hate Jedi, they just hate it when they're around them. Jedi existed outside of the Republic military's strongly defined command structure, and thus most low and mid-level commanders didn't know what to do with them. The peace-loving Jedi also apparently often had clashing views with the Marines while in the field and on operations.
The CPT fully stiffened himself and raised his voice slightly. "Alright, shut the blast up!" he knife-handed them. "We are facing a new threat, Marines. Not only will we have to take on this adversary, but continue with our mission to stabilize and root out anti-Republic insurgents. I expect for all of you to give all you have, and more. We will complete all of our missions at all costs."
They all replied, "Aye, Captain!" "Oya! That's the damned spirit."
Huh. Captain Vlogel being positive-spirited for once. That's new. Maybe he's on the up now.
"Further briefings will be done by your platoon commanders at this end of this briefing, so that's all on the mission so far." He nodded to the platoon commanders.
"Finally, I have some bad news for the company - 1st Platoon will be leaving us and be attached to the EOD company of the Army's 200th Coruscant Combat Engineer Battalion, also in the Orhelayn Archipelago. We, in turn, will be getting an EOD platoon attached to us. I want all of you to treat our fellow servicemembers as equals, even if they're ANIs."
Chuckles, smirks and small laughs filled the room. No matter the branch or side, non-infantry troops were always considered "inferior" by grunt counterparts, and the subject of a bottomless-well of jokes.
But in the end, they all knew… It means nothing out here.
3RD PLATOON, FOX COMPANY (3/F/605) MOTORPOOL, COP BYHILL - 0740 HOURS LOCAL TIME
3rd Platoon gathered around in a school circle around the motorpool. "Alright, Marines. Looks like we have a big gig ahead of us. Brush up on your Interpersonal Contact Manual. We'll be out the wire this evening," briefed 2LT Cavell, hands on his hips.
"But before that, I have an important announcement to make. PFC Merrick…" "Yes, Lieutenant?" "Unfortunately, your medal didn't come through," Kat released the faintest sigh of relief. Thank the stars! Everyone wouldn't shut up for weeks if I got it.
"Damn battalion award quotas got taken early this month!" he almost spat. She was slightly unnerved for a moment, but then her thoughts shifted to "There's quotas for awards? Freakin' Marines. What if entire platoons or companies worth of Marines performed valourously?"
"... however, we got to get you a promotion," he warmly smiled, "Congratulations, Lance Corporal Merrick." The platoon cheered and gave her slaps and pats on the back and shoulders. "Oya, Merrick! Raar!" "Get some, Marine!" "Echo-3, oya!"
"Alright, she's not the only Marine getting promoted today. PFC Caford, your cutting scores finally allowed you to be promoted. Congratulations, Lance Corporal," more cheers and back pats landed on him. "Aw, thank you, guys!" he grinned. "You and Merrick are still boots until we all leave this planet, don't get too excited now!" gruffed Bea, eyeing them intensely.
"Alright, you two… Step forward, we'll keep this simple. No pomp and circumstance in a place like this," He pulled out two cloth tabs. "PFC Hunter Caford," he ripped the PFC rank off of the center top of the plate carrier, letting it fall on the ground, and sticked the tab on the now empty spot. "You are now hereby, a Lance Corporal of Marines." Cavell then punched him on the new rank tab. "Thank you, sir!" Caford saluted him, which prompted a response of momentarily widened eyes and a raised eyebrow from 2LT Cavell. "Trying to sniper-check me, Lance Corporal?" he said cheekily, clicking his tongue. The two then shook hands.
"Sorry, Lieutenant! Force of habit!" "Don't do that again, you hear?" "Oya, sir!" The platoon chuckled. He lightly punched him in the shoulder as he moved onto Kat. "PFC Cathria Merrick," he repeated the same action on her. "You are now a Lance Corporal of Marines." The punch landed, and Kat felt some air leave her chest. "Thank you, sir!" and they shook hands.
He moved back towards GYSGT Wojhee and spoke to him, before the two closed in on the platoon again. "This is the last but not least…important thing - I want all of you to clean everything, your weapons, gear, equipment, clothing, barracks. I want it to be spic and span when the Army EODs arrive. We're not embarrassing the Corps, and especially not to these NIMs. Go get the cleaner droids out of the cleaning closet, and get it done immediately!"
There were moans and groans from the platoon as they fell out.
MESS HALL, COP BYHILL - DAY 189, 1959 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Half of 3rd Platoon were sitting around the open-aired mess hall. Bea Argyll was puffing on a vaporator box, Aireasknarpt was sitting with his feet up on the foldable desk, Lovell was writing something on flimsiplast, Marc Rhyss was reading fiction on a readerpad and Caford was arguing with Ferhal on whether Corellia or Nar Shadaa had the better professional sabacc players. Kat was approaching the mess hall, ronat in hand. She had never gotten the chance to even touch it, and decided now is as a good time as any. She sat down to see the scene unfolding in front of her.
Luna Thule, Ioper'tamle Ceanlabeag, Rorry Wolverton and Maadil Gacklen were playing smashball in the open space beside the mess hall. The game typically had seven players per team, but they decided to improvise with just four total. Thule and Gacklen were one side, and Ceanlabeag and Wolverton on the other. Lee Gavenairgd served as referee.
"Go!" The ball was thrown between the two teams, and Ceanlabeag and Gacklen rushed towards it. Ceanlabeag's hands caught the head-sized ball first, and was greeted with a rough rush from Gacklen, who tackled him to the ground, but his hand never let go of the ball and he tucked it close to him as he turned around before charging to Gacklen's left.
Gacklen uppercutted the ball as it flew from his hands, and jumped towards it. He barely caught it zig-zagged towards Wolverton. He got dangerously close to the goalkeeper and bounced the ball onto the ground and past the goal line. "WOO! Yeah!" cheered Thule and Gacklen. "2nd round, current score - two to one," Lee pointed to Thule then Wolverton. "Reset!" The players returned to their starting positions.
Kat's eyes then shifted towards someone who she has been waiting for - TSGT Armach of Weapons Squad, carrying a stringed instrument. The two had shared a table here yesterday, and she found out he is a musician, and played the Zeltronian Qisrie, the eight-stringed musical instrument of his native world. They agreed to meet up and played whatever came to mind.
"Sergeant!" Kat called out, beckoning him over. "Ah, Lance Corporal Merrick…" he pointed at the drum and rod beater, "Is that the instrument you told me of?" "Aye, SGT." "Fascinating looking thing, this…ronat, " "What songs are we jamming out to today?" "There's this classic song," as his hand tried out chord shapes on the neck "called 'I Burn Redder For You', and it goes something like… one, two, three…!"
~Oh my heart, so now you see,
That I love you so deeply,
Nothing, in this wider galaxy,
Burns redder for you stilll~
"...So it goes something like that." "Very interesting rhythm. I'm not sure I'm catching that." Armach laughed. "Just pound out a steady pulse! That's what the percussionists back on my planet does whenever they can't find a beat that fits."
"Alright." She was apprehensive, but she put her hand on the rear of the drum surface and started whipping the front with the forearm-lengthed wooden rod. Armach joined in with the song again, and the two playing attracted a few onlookers from near and far within the base.
After their first song, they launched into current galactic hits such as "This Cold Heart" and "Amooga Yocola!(Bottomless Drink!)" and more Zeltronian classics such as "Your Shape is An Art" and "Egnai Seernm Ollu (Our Truth is All)". As she eased back into playing the long abandoned instrument, she started off simple, before adding articulations and fills and other complex ornaments that came back into her muscle memory.
Kat even managed to teach him one of the few traditional Brentaalian songs she remembers the lyrics to - "E Cràg an Rhósyn" or The Roses' Rock. She sang it a few times as Armach tried to figure the suitable notes and chords.
~ Ha coive é an lara,
Card wheric siey,
E Crág an Rhósyn~
~ Dho lahgv anmsa,
Ar ceuan an loide…
A' dionsac behar chroainte covla~
~ A mi mo glackav,
le do chaoivnas,
A mi mo glackav,
le do voiidicad~
~ Ha ni mo crid ackaegan taig cohla riu ven
Ha ni e ack a vhith leasa hag usa a vhith lamsa~
"...That's not the full song, but I think you get how the song sounds…" "Nice melody. Weird rhythm, but since you had trouble with my culture's songs, I can't say much," He beamed as gripped the neck of the qisrie. "What's it about?" "It's about a place we have back on our homeworld where this hill could only grow only person in this song was about to propose to their partner on the hill after falling deeply in love with was a really popular romantic spot back then. I did know my mother proposed marriage to my father there. I never went, but I heard it was beautiful."
"Sounds like a swell place…. Is the song in the Brentaalian language?" "Ah, yes, it is. We don't speak it much in my region except in schools, but in some places the beings there could never need to speak until they're adults."
"Ah, that's a good thing. Never lose sight of your identity. You're a Republic Marine, but you are also a Brentaalian. You are also a human. Every single thing about you is a combination of your experiences and identities. Embrace them wholeheartedly, in your own way, and use it to better yourself, those around you, and the galaxy. We'll be better off for it."
Kat flushed a little - she always had problems squaring different parts of her identity, and listening to something validating from an NCO superior wasn't what she expected. "Thank you, Technical Sergeant. That was uplifting." "No problem, Lance Corporal. Just doing my job. Let's begin with that song of yours again? Drum up."
Kat drummed and Armach strummed, and both sang the romantic Brentaalian song. They were about to finish the third verse when a gruff "Ay MARINES!" halted their impromptu concert. The pair set down their instruments. Everyone turned to the source of the sound.
It was an Army soldier. Kat tried to scan their weird uniforms for anything that would tell her what this soldier's unit and/or occupation was.
"Ah, it's from the new EOD platoon we got. Seems to be a staff NCO. This is going to be fun." Kat sighed, bracing herself for the barrage.
"Why'r ther Marines playain' 'struments and doin' sports in such unsightly uniforms? Where is your commanding officer? I DEMAND to speak to him! " he was pointing and raving madly. SGT Lovell stood up and went in front of him. "Master Sergeant… First of all, we are off of any kind of duty shifts. Next, I'm pretty sure our branches have a lot in common, but I don't think the Marine Corps has similar uniform regs to the Army. Especially NOT Marine infantry, Master Sergeant." "Well, I'm still quite sure that your CO wouldn't like you to be slacking off like this. I sugges' you find something productive and actually useful to do for your junior Marines, SERGEANT." Kat saw Lovell tense up and go into droid mode. "OYA, Master Sergeant! WIIILLLLCOOOO!" She saw the Army Master Sergeant mumble rapidly as he moved away and Lovell turned sharply towards them.
Lovell sat down with them. "What was that?"asked Gacklen. "Some bitter Staff NCO unable to see others have any form of fun, I guess." "Damn Army!" Ceanlabeag punched the mess table. "You know what he was saying about us? He thought I couldn't hear him, arrogant di'kut," Lovell angrily swung his fist in front of him. "What?" was the scattered response around, to which he answered, "'Damn Marines and their wannabe Mando bulldung!'" Every Marine laughed. "Then he continued to mumble something about the army- I didn't catch it…"
The laughter didn't stop for quite a while.
It was well known, and a point of pride that the Galactic Republic Marine Corps had a strong Mandalorian, or more accurately, Concordian heritage - Hall Laarik Cole was born on Concord Dawn to farmers. Not wanting that life, he ran away, eventually ending up in the Republic Navy's Space Elite Operations Forces, carrying out raids on ships and space stations, direct-action raids and planetary assaults, working his way up the ranks.
As a Field Commander in command of the military's Joint Forces Command, he recommended a large, conventional force specializing in infantry space-combat, and space-to-planet assaults. The Republic was at war then, and the senate approved. Thus, The Galactic Republic Marine Corps was formed, and he became its first Commandant.
Wanting to honor his heritage and roots while fighting for the Republic (while trying to make his culture more palatable within the Republic's military , as the Mandalorians and most Concordians have been siding against the Republic at that point), he handpicked a team of sixty-five servicemembers of all branches, all of them with Mandalorian or Concordian heritage (mostly the latter), ranging from Corporals to Field Commanders, to help with forming the culture of the fledgling branch. Everything from the uniforms and weapons selection to combat doctrine and tactics, approach to leadership, strategy values, code of conduct and even language, slang and traditions was carefully selected and tested as the Corps begin accepting its first recruits.
The first Marines were sent into combat only 10 standard months after its formation, but it would take 4 years to be considered "deployable" as an entire branch. During their first major campaign, the fresh green Marines used their lightweight and modular gear, aggressive tactics and specialized training to perform. The battle cemented their reputation as wild-fighting, fast moving, hard-hitting, modular and versatile troops, and the Senate and Galactic Republic decided to keep the Marine Corps permanently.
Through thousands of years of service and wars, hundreds of chancellors and administrations, millions of battles and fronts, and quadrillions of Marines cycling through of various species, genders, planets, occupational specializations, motivations, interests, political ideologies, languages and identities, they all have one thing in common…
They all hate the Army.
Author's Note : Basically done with uni so maybe I could post more after this, yay!
Also, as per usual, constructive criticism and comments are welcome. :D
