Chapter 13: Lir Sey'les
Aboard the Polycaste
Lying on her back, Captain Lir Sey'les allowed a refreshing Alderaanian grape to drop into her open snout. She bit down ferociously, savouring the juiciness.
Operation Seesaw had been delayed another twenty-three hours. The Polycaste was now lingering in deep space. The bored Clone ground-troopers, for the most part, were cleaning their armour. Lieutenant Commander Archard, as well as Lieutenants Fenron, Rigel, and Captain Oryon were playing card games, illegally gambling on deck eleven—staying up late, in anticipation of possibly the last late morning they will have in months.
Naturally, Sey'les and Wulf were instead doing something so unbecoming of an officer, that it would have made any Admiral or Jedi General in the Republic scream; their calm and bearing shattered by the horror. If they were caught, they would be fortunate to return to Coruscant in orange jumpsuits; as opposed to simply being jettisoned into space with the garbage on some vague General Order signed into law by Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda.
If the Clones were witness to this, they would have been utterly confused; a spectacle completely beyond their ken.
Sitting up on the bed over the ashy-furred Bothan, the Ardennian teasingly dangled an entire vine of grapes over her face with an innocent expression of pure fascination.
On the floor, below the bed, were three empty bottles of Ruge Liqueur. A few hours ago, Sey'les had stolen it from the confiscated materials locker on deck sixteen. Ro'val says I can't drink while taking anti-psychotics, she had thought, well, one drink wouldn't hurt.
"Lieutenant!" Sey'les snarled in a slurry voice. She opened her snout, expecting more grapes. A deep Bothan growl emanated into the room.
"Sorry Captain," Wulf chuckled, lowering the entire vine down.
As Sey'les closed her jaw, Wulf retracted the grapes. Her jaw snapped shut on empty air.
Sey'les sat up impatiently, stuck her face into the grapes, and began viciously attacking the vine in a series of angry snarls and snaps. Dozens of grapes popped open in her mouth, a few fell onto her body and onto the bed. Alderaanian grape juice streamed down her snout, onto her neck and chest. The musky smell of wet Bothan mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of grape.
"Holy shassa you Bothans are scary eaters," Wulf shuddered. He picked a loose grape from the bed and ate it, deep in thought. "Glad we decided to do this not wearing clothes," he muttered in a distant voice, stroking the grape juice mess on her neck.
Sey'les blinked up at him, also with a look of deep thought. Her look of deep thought however, appeared entirely mad with her fur stained in grape juice.
"Sex?" Wulf asked crudely, then added, in an awkward inebriated stammer, "ma'am."
"Sure," Sey'les mumbled, busily digging pulling a grape stem from between her teeth.
o-o-o
Sey'les woke up feeling very sticky. She nudged Wulf's face with her snout, then moaned in despair. "Ugh… Holy shassa… Holy shtak… Holy kriffing shtak!" By the end, it was a panicked yelp.
All over her bed were the remains of popped grapes. Her white sheets were stained by their purple juices. Well, it is my last day on this ship, so I don't have to sleep here again, she thought optimistically. Shtak! It's my last day so even the officers will have our quarters inspected. Her fur fell flat.
"Wulf! Lieutenant!" Sey'les yell-whispered. "Wake up!"
Wulf woke up and rubbed the crusty mats from around his eye. He snorted. "Damn you are a mess Sey'les." He started standing up out of bed with a lazy stretch.
"This is you too Wulf," Sey'les whined desperately.
"I'll… I'll—gross," Wulf groaned. He pulled a squashed grape from the bottom of his foot with one of his lower arms.
"Huh. At least I don't feel hung-over," Sey'les noticed, still sitting in the middle of her grape mess. "Amazing!" Her fur danced excitedly, proud at her own foresight and ingenuity. "Grapes! It's the grapes! That holovid was right!"
o-o-o
"Ma'am, before you begin, I want to formally object against holding our pre-battle brief in the laundry room," Dub said sternly.
In one of the Polycaste's massive laundry rooms, Ranger Team Muun sat on durasteel chairs.
"Noted," Sey'les growled. "Are there any other objections? Knot, Grath? Any objections? Already got one from Dub, how about you Dubs? Wulf, do you object?" she added pointedly, flashing a few teeth in Wulf's direction. You could have helped a bit more. You have not two but four kriffing arms.
"Uh no ma'am," Wulf stammered nervously. "No objections. Captain, this is a fine place to hold a… a briefing?"
Sey'les's comm buzzed. Her ear batted in annoyance. Buzzing me in the middle of a battle briefing, this better be important. "Muun Leader here."
"Captain Sey'les," Master Prococia Olgar'kla's sing song Caamasi voice echoed into the room.
"Yes General?" Sey'les growled nervously, not expecting to hear from him.
The washing machine filled with Sey'les's grape-stained sheets began rocking, banging around loudly.
"Captain, just because you are so compulsively disorganised that you need to spend hours washing your sheets on the morning of battle, does not give you the authority to discuss classified battleplan…," the Jedi took a deep breath, having ranted himself empty of air. After catching his breath, he yelled, "IN A LAUNDRY ROOM!"
"I am sorry sir," Sey'les said professionally. "It won't happen again." She began opening her datapad to the map of MGX-93776, and then opened her snout—
"—No Captain, you misunderstand me," Prococia said sternly. "It isn't happening. It is not happening now, in the present. You are not conducting a mission brief in the laundry room. This is a fact."
"All right sir I—"
"—Captain, you were not taught to make your entire team's life revolve around yours at the Judicial Academy, were you?"
"No General," Sey'les stammered, her fur swirling nervously, "I—"
"—Good. Well I have some news for you, Bothan: The whole universe does not revolve around you. If you are going to be a Captain in my army, you are going to need to at least pretend to be reasonable, responsible, and mature. Am I understood?"
"Yes General," Sey'les replied gruffly. Her fur now also swirled with embarrassment as Dub and all of the Clones glared at her incredulously.
"You and your team are to report to a room I have reserved for you: 1138B, deck two."
Well isn't that helpful, Sey'les scowled. "Thank you, General."
o-o-o
Team Muun now sat in 1138B, deck two. As if to make the fact Sey'les was on notice clearer, Master Prococia Olgar'kla dropped by two minutes into Sey'les's brief.
"General on deck," Sey'les yelped in surprise, standing at attention.
Sey'les and the five other present members of her team hopped out of their seats, standing at attention.
"At ease," Prococia said calmly. "I am just here to observe, if that's all right."
No, this isn't all right. You Caamasi piece of shtak. We are literally here, three hours before we are jumping into combat. This is not some teacher evaluation at the kriffing Judicial Academy! This is not all right! This is an outrage! This is appalling! This is— "Of course General," Sey'les stammered nervously, tightening her green uniform sleeves.
"Excellent," Prococia said, blinking his beady eyes. He looked around the room, force-pulled an empty chair into his hand, then passive-aggressively set it down between Sey'les's chair and Wulf's.
Wulf licked his lips nervously.
All right. He knows. Sey'les's fur swirled as she took her seat. She cleared her throat. "To continue," she said, clicking a remote and turning on the holoprojector. "Our element's role has changed. We will now occupy the high ground and provide overwatch. We will have limited air support as the 31st Company advances into Azagor City, but Separatist tactics will be to focus on the attacking element. We likely won't need to worry about aerial attacks. We will have artillery capabilities thanks to…" she clicked to the next portion.
The map's image was replaced by an ATTE.
Knot and Grath muttered in excitement.
"An ATTE," Sey'les said with a dramatic flourish, pointing a laser at a hologram of the beast.
o-o-o
Sey'les and her team rode to the surface of MGX-93776 in an ATTE, which, in turn, was in an LAAT-C. Also placed under Sey'les's command, and joining them, was a mobile infantry squad consisting of AT-TE crew and security: Lieutenant Skipper, Sergeant Log, Sergeant Fras, and seven other Clones whose names Sey'les had completely forgotten. Like all 12th Army Clones, these Clones wore armour painted blue and white.
I am in charge of fifteen soldiers, the Bothan thought. I am awesome. Her fur danced with excitement.
"I didn't know Bothans got so excited about battle ma'am," Skipper said with a smirk, sitting across from Sey'les.
"Oh—I uh," Sey'les straightened her face.
Wulf smirked, clearly knowing she was thinking of something else.
"Bothans are full of surprises," Dub said matter of factly. "Sometimes pleasant ones, sometimes unpleasant. We'll be running in the morning and then the Captain passes us, running faster than a Slicehound. Another time, we got dragged into some strange funeral and meet a famous Wookiee who, for some reason, was sleeping in the Captain's abode. On the other hand, sometimes, well, no disrespect ma'am, but sometimes, we end up doing a briefing in a noisy laundry room or at some random cantina in a bad part of town."
"Lieutenant!" Sey'les snarled in outrage. "Dex's Diner is absolutely not a cantina in any way, shape, or form!"
"Sorry ma'am, as I said, I mean no disrespect. Your species really is just full of surprises."
Sey'les shook her head with an angry snort.
"Sounds like you men have had all kinds of adventures!" Fras exclaimed in awe.
o-o-o
"How are we this slow?" Sey'les groaned in exasperation for the fourth time.
"I am giving her it all she's got!" Log yelled from the cockpit.
To Sey'les's surprise, AT-TEs were slow. Very slow. As the battle raged below, Sey'les's element climbed the wall of a plateau; on its way to provide overwatch, slowly. Every few minutes, a shell would go off nerve-rackingly close, causing the AT-TE to shudder.
The plateau itself had been hit with so much firepower already, that the savannah grass on top had burned away to ashes. Without the grass, due to the recent rains, the plateau was now mostly mud.
"ETA, twenty-five minutes!" yelled a Clone whose name Sey'les had never remembered.
o-o-o
By the time they finally neared the top of the plateau, their AT-TE had become a target for Separatist artillery fire.
Sey'les grabbed a hand bar near her seat. The interior of the AT-TE shook violently from the explosions all around. Her fur was flat.
"Don't worry Captain!" Skipper yelled. "This armour is rated to handle a direct hit from a heavy laser canon."
But the occupants inside are not rated to survive such a shockwave, Sey'les thought grimly.
Knot and Grath looked up at the ceiling of their compartment, as if expecting it to be hit by a shell at any moment. The interior vibrated once more, this time, from the right.
Sey'les yelped as one of the six AT-TE legs slipped.
Dub swore under his breath.
For a moment, the beast slid backwards, straining to regain its foothold on the cliffside. All of the passengers remained strapped in their jump-seats, grabbing a hold of whatever handlebars they could.
Skipper yelled, in a worried voice, "Sergeant we—"
"—On it, sir!" Log was now frantically shifting levers.
With ominous machine noises, the AT-TE groaned. After what felt like an eternity, it finally began climbing again.
Once the AT-TE finally levelled out, transitioning to flat ground, Sey'les's fur relaxed. She, along with most of the beings inside, exhaled in a huge sigh of collective relief.
"We have contact!" Fras yelled, swivelling the spotter electrobinoculars around.
Small arms fire began impacting the AT-TE fruitlessly. The impacts sounded louder than hail but were far less sonorous than the artillery that had nearly hit them earlier.
Sey'les pulled out began unbuckling from her seat then drew her blaster. She took a step towards the ladder.
"Ma'am, my men and I can handle this," Skipper said. "We need to get you Rangers to position, and that's what we're gonna do."
o-o-o
"What the kriff are they doing?!" Sey'les snarled angrily, standing behind the driver.
Skipper and seven of his men had disembarked. Rather than covering the AT-TE from behind the tank, as Judicial training had taught Sey'les, these Clones were gallantly walking in front of the tank. Blaster shots were flying over their heads, impacting the tank's front as it lumbered forward. Occasionally, their boots would get stuck in the muck. Sey'les was afraid the tank might run them over.
"Are they doing something wrong Captain?" Log asked as he continued to move the AT-TE forward on the mud. Each step forward landed with a thick thwap.
Wulf groaned. "This is hard to watch."
"I agree," Sey'les grunted. "Who the kriff trained you guys?" she yelled back to her own Clones in the passenger compartment.
"Well ma'am," Dub said, "mostly computer simulators. We also had some hands-on training from mercs."
"Mercs?" Sey'les asked. "Any info on who they were?"
"Not really Captain," Dub admitted with a shrug.
More battle droids emerged ahead, firing blindly into the group of eight Clones. The rearmost Clone was hit square in the chest, he fell backwards.
Log pulled the lever to "STOP."
"FRIENDLY DOWN!" Sey'les yelped. Wulf, Dub, Knot, Grath, Dubs, gear up, we—"
—The AT-TE took one last step as it was stopped and stepped on the Clone who had just fallen.
Log swore under his breath. "I am sorry ma'am I didn't—"
"—UGH!" Sey'les snarled, pushing past Wulf and Dubs as she approached the ladder, blaster drawn. Her fur stood on end. "This is just too kriffed! Wulf, everyone! Team Muun on me!"
Climbing the ladder with a blaster in one hand, she opened the hatch. Blasterfire flew overhead as she cautiously peered out.
To the front, eight battledroids stood amongst the scraps of already fallen droids, to the left and right, stood a few droids too.
Sey'les methodically fired at the droids to the right of the ATTE. After they went down in smouldering ruin, she hopped out of the hatch, laid prone to the left, and fired at the droids in that direction.
Wulf clambered out and joined her, followed by Dub, Dubs, Grath, and Knot.
Within ten seconds, Team Muun were all lying prone on top of the ATTE, the droids were down, and the now seven Clones on the ground were staring up at them.
"Thank you for the assist," Skipper started, "we—"
"—We are going to march behind tanks from now on," Sey'les snarled in fury.
"Yes ma'am."
