Chapter 2: Lir Sey'les

Aboard the Polycaste

The fall of the Mid Rim Hyperlanes had been a topic of grave concern for most officers in the Republic Navy. On Coruscant, with increasing dread apprehension, most of the officers working safely behind desks had been watching the Holonews and reading reports.

The ashy-furred Bothan Lir Sey'les, however, had been taken completely by surprise. The news that she and her team were being transferred to the 12th Army was the biggest surprise since leaving the Strategic Advisory Cell. She had less than ten-hours' notice, in the middle of having taken leave.

In charge of the entire 12th Army, was a sanctimonious Caamasi Jedi General named Prococia Olgar'kla. He had blinked his little yellow eyes incredulously when not one, but three Bothans were transferred under his command. Now, their fleet was in Hyperspace on its way to a world near a Hyperspace terminus the Separatists had seized, MGX-93776, named Kwookrr by the Wookiees.

Lieutenant Commander Archard had been placed in charge of the 12th Army's 31st Company, alongside—

"—Listen up Lieutenant!" bellowed Prococia's Padawan in a shrill voice to Wulf. Ekos was fourteen years old, purple-coloured, and like Fojo, a Rodian.

"Sorry sir," Wulf stammered. The Ardennian pocketed his chronometer with one of his lower arms. Most of the officers in the briefing room shifted nervously.

Itoll and Fojo rolled their eyes.

Dub folded his arms crossly.

Sey'les scowled. Two days on the Polycaste and she still had not gotten used to being commanded by a fourteen-year-old. She would have rather even had a Clone for a Company commander. At least Clones look like adults.

Archard looked aghast at the Padawan's disruptive overreaction. "All right, let's get back on track… Who here speaks Shyriiwook?"

Sey'les and Itoll shot their hands up. Fojo raised his hand a bit more reluctantly and so did Fenron.

"Okay, I will need two volunteers…" Archard said.

Sey'les and Itoll kept their hands in the air. The two Bothans were bursting with enthusiastic energy. Fojo and Fenron held theirs up less enthusiastically.

"…to accompany Ekos on a relief mission. Why have you all lowered your hands? Captain? Lieutenant? Ensigns? You are—"

"—Apologies sir," Itoll stammered putting his hand back up. Now he was the sole officer in the briefing room with his hand up.

Fojo glared at Ekos, then at Sey'les, then back and forth, clearly making some internal calculations.

Sey'les frowned at Fojo. Right as she began to raise her hand, Fojo shot his into the air.

"All right, Itoll and Fojo," Archard sighed. "Very well sir, it seems you have the Ensigns unless you need someone else."

Ekos narrowed his beady teal-coloured eyes, glaring at Itoll. He had clearly internalised Master Prococia Olgar'kla's own Caamasi prejudices against Bothans.

The heterochromatic Bothan glared back defiantly, looking the Padawan directly in the eyes. Take me or leave me, your choice kid. Every officer in the room stared at the two; many of the Clones' mouths were agape in shock at the alien drama unfolding.

Sey'les's fur began to swirl nervously. The third Bothan in the room, Captain Oryon, began slinking lower in his chair.

"For crying out loud Commander!" Archard yelled exasperatedly.

"I really don't like your tone Lieutenant Commander," Ekos scoffed with a snorty squeal.

"Itoll is a fine officer, sir," Archard said sternly. "I know this is your first command, but this is highly unprofessional. I am certain Master Olgar'kla would not want your behaviour reflecting so poorly on him."

"Very well Lieutenant Commander," Ekos said calmly but snootily, suddenly regaining his serene Jedi bearing. The teenage Padawan stood straighter. "Lieutenant Commander, I have no choice but to take you at your word. Ensigns, follow me."

As Itoll and Fojo grabbed their backpacks and followed Ekos out the door, Archard gave an ahem. "Well, okay, where were we?"

"Operation Seesaw sir," Rigel interjected in a professional tone.

"Right, Operation Seesaw…"

o-o-o

Itoll Oc

Itoll and Fojo silently followed Ekos through the halls as he led them away.

"I am taking you to a separate briefing," Ekos explained, as if to break the silence.

"All right sir," Itoll replied in a professional tone.

Fojo began saying something in Rodese—

"—Oh, I don't speak Rodese," Ekos said matter of factly.

Fojo was so surprised he stopped walking. "Ah-Shyriiyesh…" [Monolinguals…] he muttered in Shyriiwook to Itoll.

Itoll chuckled as Fojo began walking alongside him again. [Yeah. These Jedi. Kev Rel'skar can hardly speak Bothese,] he growled in Shyriiwook. [The Jedi really should—]

"Ensigns?" Ekos asked in a suspicious tone. "Is there a reason you are suddenly speaking in another language?"

"Yes, sir," Itoll answered firmly. "Practice. It's how you don't forget how to speak Wook-Wook," he growled with a hint of a laugh.

Fojo snorted a chuckle in agreement.

"The Wook-Wook. Blasted Direct Action Operatives," Ekos grumbled to himself under his breath as he walked a bit faster. "Confounded Bothans."

Itoll's ears perked up curiously. Confounded Bothans huh? He suddenly wished Sey'les had come along. She was very talented at getting under Inspector Divo's skin. While he disliked the drama and Sey'les's paranoia that he was gunning for her command, he respected the level of uniquely Bothan mischief Sey'les could induce. More Importantly for Itoll, Sey'les's extremely Bothan ability to draw attention to herself made everyone angry at her not at him.

"My first command," Ekos continued ranting quietly under his breath, "and it is blasted Rangers—not even Clone Rangers. It's a kriffing Bothan furball. It's—"

"—Kid," Itoll snarled, suddenly impatient with the Padawan and no longer amused. "Respectfully, sir, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot. This—"

"Blasted Bothan ears," Ekos grumbled angrily.

Itoll paused for a moment, wondering if he could perhaps de-escalate the tension with humour. Kids love jokes right? "Don't worry sir," he growled wryly, "I can't hear your dreams."

"You can hear me in my quarters?!" Ekos yelled in alarm.

o-o-o

"Good evening sir, good evening Ensigns," a Clone wearing black uniform said as the trio entered a small one-tabled briefing room.

"Good evening…" Itoll started then paused as looked at the front of the Clone's uniform saw a Captain rank "…sir."

"Good evening sir," Fojo said firmly.

"I am Captain Hopper, this is Lieutenant Bliss, Sergeant Pebbles, Sergeant Phil, and Corporals Kex, Fighter, and Scalp."

Fojo and Itoll regarded the Clones for a moment. Ekos stood impatiently.

"Shall we take seats sir?" Itoll asked the Padawan. Damn. Jazal would love to hear about this.

"Yes, gentlemen," Ekos huffed. "Please."

While taking his seat, Itoll asked "So Hopper, sir, you aren't a part of the Twelfth Army?"

"No Ensign, we are not," Hopper explained. "We are High Altitude Insertion Troopers, HAITs for short."

Itoll's fur began swirling nervously.

Hopper began passing around datapads. The first image was a map of the cave system the surviving elements of the 224th had retreated to.

"If you turn to page two, you can see our drop zone about four clicks south of the cave system, in the middle of the savannah."

Fojo groaned audibly.

Itoll exhaled slowly shaking his head. "Sir, we haven't been trained in airborne assault. Both of us were extractors before the war."

"Don't worry Ensign," Hopper said confidently. "We'll be bringing you down with us. All of us have trained for years on the simulators for this. You will only have to hold on tight."

Hold on tight, Itoll thought to himself incredulously. A five-minute fall at the speed of sound and then a five-minute fall with a chute, did not sound like fun to the Bothan. His fur continued to swirl as he glared suspiciously at the plans.

"How will we be getting there? To the landing zone I mean?" Fojo asked curiously.

"That is need to know Ensign," Ekos said snootily.