Chapter 28: Lir Sey'les
MGX-93776
Sitting in the co-pilot's seat, Sey'les's fur twitched with impatience as their AT-TE lumbered towards Azagor City. Skipper stared ahead out the front window, deep in attentive focus at the controls as he piloted the beast down the hill.
The Clones were all in some state of undress varying from full armour without a helmet or gloves, to no armour and wearing a black physical training uniform, to wearing a tank top. After spending five days on a hill, three days where all combat operations ended, everyone knew their mission was complete and utter nonsense; just to keep them out of Master Olgar'kla's way.
Sey'les was actually surprised at how equally upset most of the Clones were with that Caamasi. In some ways, being stuck up on that hill for five days really built up her team's camaraderie. She felt like, for the most part, she was now in the same rhythm as Wulf, Dub, Dubs, Knot, and Grath; a bit more distant with the AT-TE Clones, but still closer than before.
An hour ago, when they had been given the news that they now had permission to come down the hill into town, Sey'les's fur had danced with excitement. Within fifteen minutes, they were climbing down the hill. Forty-five minutes later, they were still climbing.
Wulf and the Clones were having an animated discussion in the back of the ATTE. Occasionally, Sey'les would listen in, but for the most part, she was eagerly staring out the cockpit window down the hill.
"So… what do Bothans do for entertainment?" Skipper asked out of nowhere.
Sey'les grunted neutrally. Two months ago, she would have been offended. Now however, she was used to Clones asking childish questions. "What do Clones do for entertainment?" she asked back.
"Uh well…" Skipper paused thoughtfully, then continued speaking in his exotic accent. "We play sport, tell jokes, draw stuff… draw tattoos on our bodies." He pulled up his black training uniform sleeve, revealing a dragon's head with the Bothese Cyrillic ЕЯгсал[The (salty-smelling) Yagsal.]
Sey'les cackled with laughter.
"What is it ma'am?"
"Skipper, who the kriff did your tattoo?" Sey'les snorted.
"Oh, ma'am, I did. It's the words 'E Rascal' in funny backwards and forwards letters," he explained. "Captain, do you want me to do a tattoo on you?"
"No," Sey'les snarled incredulously. "Besides, you can't tattoo fur, can you?"
"Nah, but your nose looks like a nice little black canvas," Skipper muttered.
Sey'les winced at the very idea. She opened her snout to reply, then her ears perked up.
"Then! The grapes!" Wulf laughed, his voice faintly coming into the cockpit from the passenger section.
Sey'les scowled. What the kriff is he telling them?
"She ate an entire vine of them! She ate it all! Even the vine! It was vicious man. Almost terrifying to watch."
Sey'les fur stood on end as roars of laughter echoed through the wall. Holy shtak Wulf.
Knot asked "sir, do you think the Captain would let me feed her grapes?"
Sey'les flicked the intercom button on, then snarled into it. "WULF! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TELLING THEM?!"
"I—I am…" Wulf stammered, then his voice died.
"WULF!" Sey'les yelped in outrage, not waiting for him to respond. "That is so…" shtak? Inappropriate? Not rogue? "Wulf, that is so shtak, inappropriate, and not rogue! Not rogue at all!" Sey'les snarled.
"I am sorry ma'am," Wulf sighed.
Sey'les hung up and groaned in exasperation, balling her fists.
o-o-o
An hour later, Sey'les was still fuming. How is Wulf so dumb? How could I ever trust him? How could I ever trust such a stinker?
Three hours later however, she was so bored and impatient that she would have let all of the Clones feed her grapes—if they actually had any.
AT-TEs turn a thirty second speeder flight into a five-hour commute. They turn a two-and-a-half-hour march on foot into a five-hour commute. This is ridiculous.
As the sun hung low in the sky, the AT-TE finally crossed the town shields.
"Only twenty minutes to Joint-Base Golshten-Myyydril ma'am," Skipper said in an excited voice.
"Really?!" Sey'les asked in shock. Her fur twitched with excitement. "How fast would it be on foot?"
"Uh… maybe five minutes ma'am. Two minutes if you ran, but—"
—Sey'les started unbuckling from her seat.
"Captain, you heard the general orders, right? No leaving the Joint-Base on foot without prior authorisation."
Kriffing annoying, "Well Skipper," Sey'les snarled. "Have I ever been in the Joint-Base?"
"No ma'am," Skipper admitted cautiously.
"Basic is your first language, correct?" Sey'les growled.
"Uh… yes ma'am?" Skipper asked in a question.
"Can I leave a place I have never been to?" Sey'les demanded.
"Uh… no ma'am," Skipper said more nervously, continuing to stare out the cockpit window.
"Then stop this damn thing!" Sey'les ordered. "I am walking into town on foot!"
o-o-o
Sey'les, Wulf, Dub, Dubs, Knot, and Grath now stood outside the AT-TE, hauling their many bags of gear. Skipper and his men all elected to stay in the AT-TE.
"Okay," Sey'les yelled in her rile-'em-up voice. "ARE YOU ALL TIRED OF BEING STUCK ON A HILL!"
"Yes ma'am!" her men chanted.
"WE ARE GOING TO SHOW GENERAL OLGAR'KLA—THAT CAAMASI WEASEL JUST HOW FAST OUR LEGS CAN GET US INTO TOWN! WE ARE GOING TO RACE! HOOOOAAH!"
"HOOOAH!" they all yelled enthusiastically.
"THIS IS GOING TO BE THE JOG OF A LIFETIME! A HUNDRED KILOS OF GEAR AND—" Sey'les stopped. An eerie green and red glow was overhead.
A series of deafening booms impacted on the city shield. A terrifying orbital bombardment set off a hundred ripples. Stones and dust were kicked up, passing through the shield. A flaming rock his Sey'les's helmet with the force of a Crashball. Her fur was flat, and she swore under her breath but maintained her bearing.
"EVERYONE! BACK ON THE AT-TE. HOLY SHTAK!" she snarled, running to the base of the lower ladder. "GET UP! MOVE!"
Standing at the base of the ladder, underneath the AT-TE, Sey'les looked back. The hill they had been on for five days was being bombarded directly. Everything outside the shields was being pummelled. A massive Savannah fire was beginning to erupt; smoke thickening the air.
Inside the AT-TE, Sergeant Fras reached down and grabbed Dub's rucksack, then Dub climbed. Dubs was next, then Grath, Knot, Wulf, and finally Sey'les. All of Team Muun were covered in dust.
"Are you okay ma'am?" Fras asked.
Sey'les took her helmet off and shook the dust out of her face, her ears flopping around.
"Where are you injured?" Fras asked worriedly.
"I'm fine," Sey'les mumbled, tapping her ears. They would not stop ringing.
"Damn that was close!" Wulf whistled in shock.
"Get us to town as fast as possible," Sey'les ordered, plopping back into the co-pilot chair.
One paranoid thought made her fur swirl nervously. Prococia might have known. That Caamasi weasel might have had a real dream like I do. Was he really leaving us out there to die until he had a change in heart? Does that Jedi hate me that much? Or was this supposed to be a trust lesson? 'Trust me, I'll get you at the perfect time! The Force is my ally!'
The thunderous orbital bombardment continued as the AT-TE lumbered on towards Joint-Base Golshten-Myyydril.
