The First Contact War

by 1Ragnarok1

In 2621 a Galactic Republic vessel is found in the Orion Arm, this springboards the United Earth Government into a galaxy at the start of the Clone Wars. A war that will test the 2nd UEG Expeditionary Force as well as the UEG finding out where it fits in this new galaxy, and their new neighbours.

10. The Mandalorian Militiamen part 1

The First Contact War

Chapter 10 The Mandalorian Militiamen Part 1

22BBY, Ijaat Ordo, Mandalor, Werda Kurs(Dark Forest) Mandalorian Militia Base.

Ijaat Ordo climbed off the small transport with a grateful sigh. The Flight from the capital hadn't been long, but it had been cramped. He walked down the terminal with his ditty bag casually slung over his shoulder. He turned and saw a holo-projection of the newly appointed Col. Tar Mav "Each of you came here to help protect our home from those who would dare challenge the Mandalorians! Today, we will fight with the OAG to stop the Death Watch! for too long they have caused a great disgrace for all Mandalorians! They dare call themselves Mando'ad! They dare say they want help the Mandalorians! It's all a lie. While they may be some who are Mandalorians, those like Pre Vizsla are just idiots who can't understand how much has changed." He noticed the first sign directing him to the Mandalor Militiamen Receiving Station at the end of the terminal and grinned.

Jon took note of the bored OAG Ranger behind the desk. She was watching him as he approached and was trying to mentally will him away. He almost laughed when he saw her mental 'damn'. Frowning at his grin, she snapped, "Last Name?"

"Ordo"

"Orders," she stated as she held out her hand. He deftly placed his copy in her hand and waited for her to read. She typed away at the computer terminal and with a resigned sigh, began her well-rehearsed speech. "As of now you are under the control of the 5th Training Group at Werda Kurs Mandalorian Militia Base. You are not to go anywhere without the express permission from one of the Training Instructors. This reception area is your last chance to get rid of any contraband. Tobacco products, alcohol, and any drugs without a prescription are strictly prohibited, including over the counter drugs, like Nyquil. The pay phones at the back are your last chance to contact home before Sunday. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am," came Ijaat smart reply.

He continued to grin at her as she frowned, "Take a seat. Your name will be called when the bus arrives"

"Excellent, thanks" Ijaat moved into the reception area just as another group approached her desk.

Scanning the benches in front of him he decided to try the quiet corner away from the TV. Apparently, Galactic News and Orion Broadcasting Galactic (OBCG) were the only authorized channels, because one guy was busy switching between the two and failing to discover a third option. Jon settled down to read and to tune out the general air of nervous tension coming off of the other recruits. He looked out the window at the jungle, it's lush vegetation hiding all the dangers that lerked in it, from Reaper Raiders to Blackstalkers, Jai'galaare or Shriek-Hawks, Mover Roots, Cackle Birds, Kalo Wolves Razorback Sharks, Echo Snakes.

An hour and one Air & Space Magazine later, Ijaat heard his name called. He left his magazine on the table, grabbed his bag and lined up where directed. The Training Instructor, or TI, was busy assessing the recruits with a practiced eye.

Using sheer force of personality, the TI herded the new recruits to the awaiting bus. Some of the recruits began to relax, thinking that the BMT horror stories were just stories. This TI was nice and asked them to do everything nicely. Reprimands were few and softly given. Ijaat just smirked and waited for the TI to move the bus out of sight from the 'poor civilians.'

A short time later the bus pulled to a stop outside one of the training dormitories. A new TI climbed on board and called a few names out. Those recruits left and the bus moved to the next set of dormitories. This time Ijaat's name was called. He lined up exactly where directed in line with the other recruits. The bus pulled away.

This TI was short and stocky. The kind of man that screamed boxer. He eyed the recruits several times before finally coming to the front and center. "Welcome to the 5th Training Squadron. I am your primary Training Instructor, Technical Sergeant Vega of clan Shysas. Over there is my Assistant Training Instructor O'Neill, He's from 775th Rangers. This squadron holds one of the highest standards for training in the 5th Training Group. Our motto is 'Second to None.' I will accept nothing less than perfection from you. From here on out you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?"

A pathetic chorus of 'Yes' and 'Yes, Sir' echoed from the group. Jon winced inside as the TI reacted to the sad display by shouting, "WHAT WAS THAT? You will respond with your answer, followed by 'Sir' or 'Ma'am.' You will address everyone who is not a trainee this way. Now, is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the trainees began in unison.

"WHAT?" TSgt Vega asked again.

"YES, SIR," the trainees shouted louder.

"WHAT?"

"YES, SIR," the trainees shouted even louder.

"Better. I can't believe that this is the quality of recruits coming into my Air Force today." TSgt Vega backed up a few paces. "Now, on my command, you will form 2 lines in front of me. Luggage to your left side. Ready! FALL IN!"

The recruits grabbed their gear and shuffled forward to create the two lines. Ijaat made sure he was in the left line and once in place dropped his gear on the left side. The recruit to his right snapped into place quickly, but dropped his gear on his right.

"Good grief? Are you recruits deaf? You, you, you, and you. Out of formation and drop! I want 15 push-ups now! Come on! I didn't say you could get up!" he yelled at the one recruit who had cranked out 15 push-ups and had started to stand up. "15 more now! The rest of you, back in formation! Hurry up, recruit! The rest of the class is waiting for you! Now, back in place. Didn't your mama teach you to listen. Now, I don't like to repeat myself. It makes my normally bubbly personality fade away. I get a bit testy. SO DO NOT MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF AGAIN! BAGS ON YOUR LEFT!" The four recruits quickly shifted their bags to their left side.

TSgt Vega stalked around the group inspecting their work. "Pathetic! I know that MY Militia requires a high school education. What I don't know is how your pathetic excuses for trainees can think that THIS is a LINE. THIS is not straight. THIS is bowed and curved in all the wrong places. STRAIGHTEN IT OUT NOW!" The trainees jumped to straighten out the line.

"Better. But far from perfect. Now, I am a simple man who likes everything in order. Order is good. Chaos is bad. On my mark, I want everyone to pick up their bags and turn to their right. NOT YET! You will determine if you are taller than the recruit in front of you. Understood?"

"YES, SIR."

"Ready. Pick 'em up!" the recruits grabbed their bags and stood. "That was too slow. Put 'em down! Pick 'em up! All together now, put 'em down! Pick 'em up! This is just sad! I can't believe that I am wasting my time on you! RIGHT – HACE!" Half a dozen of the recruits were caught by surprise and failed to turn with the group.

"WHAT? ARE YOU NANCY'S PAYING ATTENTION? OR ARE WE MOVING TOO FAST FOR YOU? LEFT-HACE! RIGHT-HACE! LEFT-HACE! RIGHT-HACE! YOU ARE MAKING ME REPEAT MYSELF! COVER!" Recruits shuffled the tallest to the front. Jon was glad that he matched the other trainee in height. He would at least stay in the second row.

"LEFT-HACE! COVER! Tallest to the front!" Ijaat shuffled forward. Unfortunately, he was now taller than everyone else in his row. When the last of the recruits had shuffled back into line, TSgt Vega began to address them again as he continued to circle the group like a shark with the scent of blood. "Now that we have a bit of order, I will instruct you on reporting. When addressed individually by any Training Instructor, you will give a reporting statement. The reporting statement is as follows, 'Sir, Trainee – state your name – reports as ordered.'" TSgt Vega came to a stop in front of Jon. "Trainee, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE ORDO REPORTS AS ORDERED!" Jon shouted and waited for criticism. He braced himself for the shout and was surprised when nothing came forth.

Nodding, TSgt Vega continued around the Flight. "Trainee, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE CADERA REPORTING AS ORDERED!" came a confident reply.

"And just what are you reporting, Trainee cadera?"

"Uh, Sir?" came the confused response.

"Trainee Cadera, are you too stupid to follow the simplest directions. I asked you for a simple reporting statement. I don't want the weather and traffic of whatever podunk town you come from. I could care less about the prices of oil in the Middle East, except that it takes more of my money to fill my tank. I have no idea why you would want to be reporting any of this to me. I don't care. Your fellow trainees don't care. The word that is so casually eluding your thick monkey-like skull is 'reports.' A trainee 'reports' as ordered. They are not reporting anything. Do I make myself clear?"

"YES, SIR."

"Trainee, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE CADERA REPORTS AS ORDERED!"

"Trainee, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE CADERA REPORTS AS ORDERED!"

"Trainee, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE CADERA REPORTS AS ORDERED!"

Circling back around to the front, "Trainees, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE A'DEN REPORTS AS ORDERED!" the group chorused.

"Trainees, REPORT!"

"SIR, TRAINEE AWUAD REPORTS AS ORDERED!" the group chorused.

"It'll do for now. SrA O'Neill, if you will be so kind as to escort these unworthy souls to their new home," TSgt Vega address the other TI, for the first time, in a normal tone of voice.

"Yes, Sir" The young man approached the front of the group. "You will enter all facilities by column formation. YOU," he pointed at the first column on the right, "are Element One. YOU are Element Two. And so forth. When given the command to enter a facility by columns, on the 'harch' command, Element One will begin to enter the facility. After the last person in Element One passes, the Element Two Leader will lead Element Two to follow Element One. Understood?"

"YES, SIR"

"Good! BY COLUMNS, FOLLOW ME, HARCH," and the SrA sprinted off towards the door.

Confused the first trainee in Element One started running after him, followed by the rest of his column. As the last one passed him, Ijaat started after them at a quick walk. He entered the door and started up the stairs easily catching up to the tail of the first element. As he reached the first landing, the hapless leader of Element One was standing there and briefing all the trainees. "Walk. Do not run. Use the Hand Rails. Walk. Do not run. Use the Hand Rails. Walk. Do not run. Use the Hand Rails" Ijaat barely suppressed a smirk as he passed the trainee and continued up the last Flight of stairs.

Upon entering the dormitory, he was directed to deposit his bag on a bunk and proceed to the day room. He dropped his gear on the nearest empty bunk and quickly found a spot to sit in the day room on the floor staying carefully away from the tempting walls. No sooner was everyone in the day room than they were directed back to their bunks to collect the black pouches sitting on the chairs by the bunks. This activity, of course, was done too slowly, so they practiced a few times to increase speed.

Apparently satisfied with their progress, the TI's told them to open the pouch. "Inside you will find your Militiamen's Training Order. Memorize it. It has all the information you need inside it. You will be required to pass two written tests based on the information in this ATO. It is your new best friend. DO NOT LOSE IT! In the clear view pouch on the front of your ATO, you will write the first letter of your last name and the last four of your social security number. This is your laundry mark. This is the only way you will be able to distinguish your ATO from your fellow trainee's ATO. Is that understood?"

"YES, SIR."

"Good, start studying," TSgt Vega stated. He turned and whispered something to SrA O'Neill and then left the dorm, nodding to the guard at the dorm door.

Jon began to scan the ATO, but was disappointed that there was nothing new in it. It was a basic primer on the Mandalorian Militia (MM). Rank structure, history, policies, Supercommando doctrine. Things that Ijaat had memorized so many years ago, he had forgotten when, he had always been fascinated with warfare both by Mandalorians in the past and the current ongoing conflict. He tried skimming for any changes to what his memory supplied and found that nothing was different. Well, nothing but the tobacco policy and the lengthy section on nutrition and fitness. He began tapping his foot in frustration.

Ijaat took a deep breath. Settle down, Ijaat. You don't want to call attention to yourself. Breath in, breath out. As he calmed his nervous frustration down, Ijaat began to feel the pull of the others in the room. Curious, he carefully lowered his shields and scanned the room. Most of the trainees were anxious and excited about starting training. The yelling had stressed them, but they had expected it. One or two were panicking, but nothing serious. Just the standard, 'what the hell have I gotten myself into' doubts.

Borrrring!

Ijaat was beside himself trying to keep his fidgety hands and feet under control when the dorm door was opened by the guard and a whole bunch of new trainees marched in looking hot and tired. Before long, they were running through the ATO fetch game again. Finally settled back into the day room again, TSgt Vega introduced SrA O'Neill to the new folks. He repeated his speech about the ATO and glanced at his watch. Frowning, "Alright, it's almost time for dinner. Pack up your ATO's. On my command, you will line up at the dorm door and wait for release to chow. You have five minutes to use the latrine and line up with your ATO's. Go!"

In short order they were once again, lined up in formation on the patio deck next to the dorm. Ijaat was once again stuck as an element leader. TSgt Vega marched the group to the dining facility in the dorm building. Because they were the rainbow squad, all the other BMT training squads were given priority. Finally, they entered the facility hungry, hot, and tired. Once there, SrA O'Neill was poised at the start of the chow line. "You will all take 4 glasses of water. You will drink all the water on your tray before being allowed to get any other beverage. Take as much food as you want, but you will eat all the food on your tray. You will not eat again till breakfast," he instructed the new trainees.

Ijaat ate quickly and cleanly. He took plenty of food the first time to ensure he didn't have to go back for seconds. Already, one trainee was being harassed by the TI's taking their leisure in the Snake Pit.

The Snake Pit was the table where the TI's ate. It was positioned in the dining facility in such a way that a trainee had to pass it to sit down, go to the latrine, pick up additional beverages, drop their dirty dishes off, or exit the dining facility. It was always staffed by at least one supervisor TI, or Blue Rope, for the bright blue rope that circled their TI hat. Their sole purpose in life was to find fault with the trainees and thus with the trainee's TI.

Ijaat downed his water and added a few more glasses of milk. He used his bread to clean up the plates and then made his way past the Snake Pit to deposit his dirty dishes in the cleaning hutch. His first pass was clean, no TI called him out. But he didn't make it past the Snake Pit a second time. "Trainee."

Shit! Ijaat whipped around and locked at attention instinctively, "Sir, Trainee Ordo reports as ordered."

"How old are you, Trainee?" one TI asked. Ijaat could tell that they were bored and just wanted to poke fun at the newest trainees. All he had to do was act as scared as the rest. He didn't want to call attention to himself. Yup, just another green trainee. Nothin' to see here.

"Seventeen, Sir," he lied. Yeah, like they would accept two years old of 50 for that matter.

"Well, good golly gum drops, Sergeant, we's robbing the cradle now. Just goes to show you that there is nothing good left in this generation of recruits. We've had to start on the next."

"Where did you learn to stand properly, trainee?" a second TI asked while inspecting his stance. This caused the others to inspect his stance more closely.

Damn it! I got careless. Ijaat had planned on slacking on his knowledge of military formations and drill until they had taught the rest of the squad. "My uncle, Sir. And my mother"

"Was they soldiers trainee?"

"My Uncle was. My mother is an ex bounty hunter, Sir" Uh oh. I don't like where this is leading.

"What branch of service?" the first TI asked.

Double damn! "Corellian Navy, Sir." Don't ask. Don't ask. Please, don't ask.

"What's his name and why didn't you join the Corellian Navy, Trainee?" the second TI asked.

Ok, let's just try to slide it by them. "Han Ordo, Sir. I joined the Mandalorian Militia as my mother is Mandalorian and I consider myself so, Sir"

"TRAINEE, YOU WILL GIVE PROPER RESPECT TO THOSE PEOPLE SERVING IN THE ARMED FORCES. YOU WILL ALWAYS USE THEIR RANK WITH THEIR NAME EVEN IF THEY HAVE RETIRED FROM THE ARMED FORCES EVEN IF THEY ARE IN A FOREIGN ONE. THEY HAVE EARNED THEIR RANK AND DESERVE THE RESPECT THAT COMES WITH IT. NOW, WHAT IS HIS NAME?"

Ok, you asked for it. Using his slightly rusty command voice, Jon responded, "MAJOR GENERAL HAN ORDO, SIR" Ijaat tried not to smirk. But his ability to hide his smirk behind a blank face was easily out done by the skills of these TI's at spotting a suppressed smirk.

All the TI's faces went blank. The whole dining facility went quiet. And into the quiet, one of the TI's replied, "Do you think that makes a difference to me, Trainee Ordo?" It wasn't a shout, yell, or otherwise in any kind of loud voice, and that made it that much worse.

Shit! Shit! Shit! They knew his name now. Ijaat preferred being yelled at as a random, nameless trainee over having the TI, scratch that, TI's plural, knowing his name. I sooo didn't want to stand out in BMT. Oh well, too late now. "No, Sir!"

The TI with a blue rope on his shoulder leaned forward, "Trainee Ordo, does this relation of yours plan on attending your graduation ceremony?" the blue rope asked with a predatory gleam in his eye.

Effing hell! How the heck was he supposed to answer that? If he said yes, then they would badger him about 'assuming' he would graduate. If he said no, they would call him a liar or a quitter, especially when Jack did show up. "Only if I graduate, Sir," Ijaat replied carefully.

Nodding to himself, the blue rope TI turned to the others. They all shook their heads. Apparently, they didn't want to stir this particular pot any more. "Dismissed, Trainee"

"Yes, Sir." Ijaat turned and walked off quickly.

He knew that the TI's were just screening and instilling discipline in the trainees. Their job was to break down the civilian and build a Mandalorian Warrior. That meant erasing all forms of individuality and creating a group that conforms to Militia standards. But now Jon would be singled out. He would be criticized and chastised until he was ready to retaliate. And this special treatment wouldn't be for anything that Ijaat actually had control over. Nope. Not for the lame joke, or insubordinate tone, but for the simple, sad fact that he was related to a General.

Ijaat needed an outlet. A way to get back. To retaliate without his finely honed survival instinct kicking in. Why not give back as good as he got? With a few well-placed practical jokes, Ijaat could test his rusty skills and get back at the TI's without disrupting the BMT system. Good old fashioned sneakiness would work twice as well as any cosmic voodoo. Jon allowed himself one shit eating grin as he passed a blank wall on his way out to the patio. This could be fun.

The next day after a quick breakfast, the trainees were marched to the processing centre. Here they were given the ever popular BMT haircut, issued ID cards, visited military pay, completed security clearance paperwork, given the standard round of shots, examined by medical, and asked for a urine sample. After lunch, they were escorted to a classroom where they were instructed on proper nutrition and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Throughout it all the TI's were yelling, screaming, and shouting.

Nothing the trainees did was correct. They couldn't stand correctly, walk correctly, sit correctly, talk correctly. No one was exempt from their roaring voices. They questioned motivations, parentage, and mental capacity with a flair that was giving Ijaat a new perspective on comprehensive verbal communication. Because in all this yelling, they didn't utter a single profanity. Ijaat was impressed.

However, Ijaat's particular torment was the random questions and demonstration requests the TI's would throw at him. Not just the TI's in his squad, but all the TI's in the squadron. This was his punishment for being related to a general. Anything in the ATO was fair game, from pop quiz questions to formation movements. He was perpetually quizzed on customs and courtesies, rank structure, military history, and the Code of Conduct. Ijaat refused to pretend ignorance and instead successfully answered all their questions, demonstrated every drill movement. But this just seemed to piss them off more.

Currently, the squad was in the quiet class room listening to the local JAG discuss the UCMJ. The quiet times were all the more noticeable for the decided lack of yelling. Classroom instruction was relatively free from the constant verbal abuse, but the slightest bit of inattention would change that in a heartbeat. Halfway through the UCMJ briefing he zoned out and let his mind wonder to what sort of pranks he could pull, he needed to do some recon.

Ijaat's recon of the dorm had given him some vital intel. For example, the fire alarm on the emergency exit could be easily bypassed with a small stick, if it truly worked at all. The roof was never used and had accumulated junk and trash. And there was a Starbuck's coffee and McDonald's within sight of the dorm, a few companies from the OAG. So, Ijaat snuck up to the roof and hid his debit card, a change of clothes, and a few miscellaneous items amid the debris. He just needed a bit more information and the fun would begin in earnest.

The next day, the Squad was marched to the logistics building where they were finally issued their uniforms. PC gear, sneakers, Durasteel armour, flashlights, and the other gear they would use during the next few weeks. They were even issued underwear and socks. They also were fitted for their blues, though they would not be ready for pick up for a few weeks. Finally, in uniform, the TI's locked all their civilian possessions away.

That afternoon was spent learning how to fold clothes, make the bed, clean the locker, bathroom, etc. Ijaat knew that none of this would matter in a few weeks. So after initially perfecting his folded underwear technique, he spent the majority of his time plotting his first few pranks.

That night Ijaat found that the access door to the maintenance room was left unlocked. It gave him free back door access to the whole building. He snuck back to the dormitory past the dorm guard to his bunk. Tomorrow, Operation Payback would begin.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early. TSgt Vega walked to the dorm quietly. Not that it would matter, the newest trainees always slept soundly. They were too stressed and exhausted to do anything else, especially at 0430. He had a few minutes to wake SrA O'Niell and let him get sorted. He walked into the TI dorm office and kicked the bunk. SrA O'Niell opened his eyes and nodded, before grabbing his things to wash up.

TSgt Vega did a quick walk through of the dorm to ensure everyone was in their bunks before he woke them up. The first few weeks of basic were exhausting for both the TI's and the trainees. The TI's were up the before the trainees and went to sleep after, but were not supposed to show the slightest bit of discomfort or exhaustion. Thank God, the trainees were too zoned out by the third day to realize how exhausted the TI's really were.

When he returned to the office, the smell of fresh coffee enticed him back inside. He was about to yell at SrA O'Niell for brewing the coffee, when the Ranger in question thanked him for picking up breakfast. The mystery deepened when TSgt Vega denied bringing it into the office. They both shook off the odd incident when reveille sounded and they had a squad to wake up.

"GET UP! GET UP! GET UP! RISE AND SHINE, CUPCAKES! IT'S ANOTHER DAY IN PARADISE!" TSgt Vega and SrA O'Niell strode through the two dorm bays yanking back covers and banging their sticks on the bed frames. Most of the trainees jumped out of bed to stand next to their lockers. "PC gear and ready to leave in 5 minutes. GO!"

Trainees scurried left and right to empty their bladders, get the correct uniform on, and in line by the door on time. He was surprised to see 4 of the trainees correctly attired and ready to go within 60 seconds. The squad was lined up within the time limit. Not having that excuse, TSgt Vega hollered about the general state of their PC uniform, their unshaven appearance, etc. before leading the whole squad down to the parade deck for physical conditioning. Today, they would be evaluated for general physical fitness.

"ALRIGHT, LADIES! LET'S SEE JUST HOW UNFIT YOU ARE TO BE IN MY MILITIA!"

First, the squad of trainees was timed while running individually on a track. The TI's continued to yell at the trainees to ensure they gave the jog their best effort. Regardless, the trainees couldn't seem to run fast enough to the TI's. But after the last few days, the trainees had learned that they couldn't do anything fast enough for the TI's. So why would running be any different.

After the run, the TI's formed up the trainees to test for strength training. They ran the trainees through a series of exercises, including push-ups, reverse push-ups, sit-ups, leg lifts, flutter kicks, squats, and pull-ups.

They started off with push-ups. The TI called down and then waited in the down position until the TI called up. Anyone who failed to hold position, or worse, let their chest hit the ground, received special attention by the TI's. This also caused the rest of the squad to wait, usually in the down position, until the TI was done yelling at the one individual.

Next, they did reverse push-ups. Imagine doing a push up while belly up. Not as easy as it sounds. After push-ups, they went into sit-ups. One trainee would hold the feet of another trainee as they did full sit-ups, not those sissy crunches.

Next, came the leg lifts. It sounds so simple. Lay flat on the ground, lift your feet a few inches off the ground, and hold. Not so easy when TI's are yelling at you for lifting your feet too high, too low, or not holding them still enough.

Then, as if your abs didn't hurt enough, the TI's called for flutter kicks. Flutter kicks are leg lifts with a scissor kick movement. Rumour has it that some demented Marine Drill Instructor invented this particular form of torture. Trainees are expected to keep this up as long as the TI can yell. Needless to say that the trainee's muscles failed long before the TI's voices.

Squats came next. Standing with hands on hips, feet shoulder width apart, then squat and hold until the TI lets you up. After a few minutes, you forget about your aching abs in favour of your aching thighs.

Finally, the Flight goes through pull-ups. Hands facing out, never in. For this lesson in humility, the TI's yell at the trainees attempting the pull-ups. Five pull-ups are the holy grail in pleasing the TI. Anything less, is 'proving how pathetically weak you really are.'

After PC, the whole Squad of 50 had 10 minutes to shower and change for breakfast.

Almost two hours after reveille, TSgt Vega was hot and tired and ready for breakfast. Not a good combination. He could already tell that at least 3 trainees would have to be washed back just for fitness. Well, he would start pounding on them to get them at least half way there. Then their next TI would be able to get them passed through. As for the rest, almost all of them needed work. The body builders needed to learn how to run, the runners needed to learn how to condition for strength. But overall, they were about average for a new squad. Hopefully, just the 3 would have problems getting into passable condition.

The true enigmas were the 5 trainees that could pass the physical evaluation right now. They had obviously been coached on the exact standards and what they needed to pass. His challenge with them would be in keeping them in condition while the other trainees caught up to them. He already knew that Ordo had been coached extensively, probably by his uncle. The others must have had good recruiters. Well, five is a good number for formation runs. They could set the pace for the less fit members. Hell, why not make them the Flight trainee leadership? It's not like this group had any older trainees. Summers were usually just the high school graduates. So, what the hell.

"Katan, Ruso, Ordo, Skoke, Korkie. FRONT AND CENTER!" TSgt Vega grinned at the trainees as they hustled from the PC formation to the front.

"SIR, TRAINEE KATAN REPORTS AS ORDERED"

"SIR, TRAINEE RUSO REPORTS AS ORDERED"

"SIR, TRAINEE ORDO REPORTS AS ORDERED"

"SIR, TRAINEE SKOKE REPORTS AS ORDERED"

"SIR, TRAINEE KORKIE REPORTS AS ORDERED"

"You five appear to have listened to your recruiters and actually tried to get physically fit. Since I am a firm believer that no good deed should go unpunished, I have selected you five for leadership positions. Which of you has knowledge of basic drill and formations? Take one step forward." He stared directly at Trainee Ordo as he stated his question, knowing that the trainee couldn't deny knowledge after the pounding the TI's had been giving him the last few days.

The Trainee cautiously stepped forward. The others stayed in place. "Good. YOU… are my new Dorm Chief." He pointed to Ordo. "YOU… are the leader of Element One." He pointed to the tallest of the four, Skoke. "YOU… are the leader of Element Two." He pointed to the next tallest, Katan. "YOU… Three." He pointed to Korkie. "And YOU… Four." The last was directed to the shortest of the four, Ruso. "I will brief you on your specific duties and responsibilities later. Now, line 'em up for chow," he ordered.

Usually, when he selected the trainee leadership, they failed spectacularly in getting the rest of the group to follow their commands. At least initially. He grinned at the confused looks the four element leaders gave him. Yep, prime entertainment.

"SQUAD, FALL IN BY FOUR" Trainee Ordo's voice rang out, startling the TI. He usually had to coach the parade voice out of new trainees. Hell, the kid could have been a TI in a former life. TSgt Vega was unsurprised to see the trainees react to 'the voice.' He knew that at this point they would follow anyone with a loud voice, even if dressed in a tutu. "DRESS AND COVER" Ordo ordered before the TI could remind him. The squad shuffled to get into place and square the formation. "SOUND OFF! ONE!"

"TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!"… the trainees conducted a quick roll-call. "FIFTY!"

Upon completion of roll-call, Trainee Ordo, executed a perfect about-face and salute, "ALL PRESENT AND ACCOUNTED FOR, SIR!"

TSgt Vega was impressed. Of course, he couldn't show it. "Sloppy, but it'll do for now. Take your place to the right of the last person in Element One," he directed, not sure if he really wanted to know if the trainee knew that as well. Then he marched them to chow.

That whole day TSgt Vega was plagued by weird events. First, he was called away to the CQ for a phone call, but when he arrived, no phone call was waiting or even logged. Next, the mysterious breakfast was followed by a fresh two cups of Starbuck's coffee after lunch. Then, the mysterious handouts on sexual transmitted diseases started showing up all over the building. He left them in the CQ for the other TI's.

On top of the oddities, TSgt Vega didn't feel like he was in top form. He had tried everything in his power to rattle the Ordo kid. Nothing. The kid was immune to yelling and insults. In fact, he damn near laughed at several of his best insults. He almost thought that he had him with the Code of Conduct question the other day. When the kid went pale, he thought that the kid didn't have it all memorized yet. But then the kid had started to recite the Code like a mantra, not missing a single word. And he had a distant look in his eye, like he was reliving a memory. A very bad memory. TSgt Vega found it very odd. In fact, it creeped him out.

He hated to admit that this trainee was any different from the thousands of other recruits that he had molded into Mandalorians. His almost savant-like knowledge of the ATO and his picture perfect drill, led the good sergeant to believe that the kid had already been through military training. But at seventeen, he couldn't have been. Not even JROTC was this thorough.

TSgt Vega was looking forward to a break during the afternoon lectures. He needed to check the roster and schedules for the next few weeks. He walked into the CQ and waved at the Staff Sergeant on duty.

"Hey, Vega. Could you mind the phone for a minute? I need to answer a call of nature."

"Sure, Metcalf."

The SSgt disappeared into the small latrine and TSgt Vega checked the pass-on book. Nothing happening. Good. Nice quiet Saturday with a new baby Flight. Happy Day! He couldn't wait for Week Three when he could have his evenings off again. He was getting too old to stay up these kinds of hours anymore.

He heard a muffled curse from the latrine. SSgt Metcalf came bursting out of the latrine pale and shaking. "Wow! What's wrong?"

"I… uh… I need to go to sick call," came Metcalf's shaky reply.

"Easy, when is your relief?"

The SSgt looked at him with wide eyes. "Lunch, any minute now."

"Okay, easy. Just a few minutes and you can go. Do you need someone to take you?"

"NO!" he shouted quickly. "I mean… no. I'm good… good."

TSgt Vega nodded, yeah right! "I'll be in the office. Let me know if you need anything."

The SSgt picked up the STD pamphlet and started to read, "Sure."

Later that afternoon, he walked back into the CQ. Two of the other TI's were gossiping.

"I'm telling you, if Metcalf finds out who spiked his food with that red dye, there is going to be hell to pay."

"What?" TSgt Vega asked.

One of the grinning TI's started laughing, "Oh, someone played a practical joke on Metcalf. They spiked his coffee with natural red dye then scattered these STD handouts all over the place. When he went to take a piss, it came out red and he thought he'd caught an STD. But the test came back negative and the doctor asked him about eating or drinking anything with red dye in it. Man was he pissed."

"Wow! That's one mean practical joke. I'll have to remember that next time I need a little revenge. So, you get a fax for me?" TSgt Vega asked.

"Right, here," the sergeant on CQ duty replied.

"Thanks."

Off base coffee, weird prank calls, and now a full blown practical joke on the CQ. Looks like one of the other TI's wanted to start a practical joke war. Great! I just keep me out of it. I got enough on my hands with a baby Squad. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder for practical jokers too. With a sigh, he headed back to the dorm.

Week One Agenda: Weapons Issue, M-16 Breakdown & Reassembly, First Week Briefing, Records/ID Processing, Medical & Dental Processing, Dress & Appearance I, Rank Recognition

Ijaat woke to the sound of reveille Sunday morning and the shouting of the two TI's. He hoped they liked his gift this morning. He had left a six pack of No-Doz on the desk after returning from his latest recon and acquisition trip. Since TSgt Vega had appointed Ijaat the Dorm Chief, Ijaat found it easier to slip in and out at night. The Dorm Chief was the bunk right next to the TI's office, which also happened to be well out of site of the Dorm Guard. And since the Dorm Guard was the only one awake all night long, he was easy to bypass.

The TI had made Ijaat and the other Element Leaders switch bunks to 'make them more accessible.' The Element Leaders were in the first bunk in each row in the bays. Bay A housed Elements One and Two. Bay B housed Elements Three and Four.

Since Ijaat and the other element leaders had to switch bunks anyway, Ijaat had made the decision to have everyone bunk in element order. This way the trainees would always be in the correct order. And as TSgt Vega had made perfectly clear on their first day; order is good. Chaos is bad.

"LINE UP FOR PC IN 5," SrA O'Niell barked.

Ijaat dressed and immediately got to work pushing the stragglers towards the front. He was the last to line up after he and his element leaders cleared the bays and the latrine.

Ijaat didn't mind being Dorm Chief. In reality, it involved absolutely no leading. It was just a way for the TI to piece out the responsibility of herding the trainees to their various appointments. Ijaat figured that if he was going to be singled out anyway, why not be Dorm Chief and save one of the other trainees the grief. Besides, as Dorm Chief, he would be more mobile than the other trainees and thus abler to pull off some of his more elaborate pranks.

Speaking of which, it was almost time for his most elaborate prank. On last night's acquisition mission, Ijaat purchased a tablet. It's amazing what you can find in a 24-hour electronic store. It took nearly an hour, but he was able to program the tablet to call the public address (PA) system for the squadron through the internet. His next programming feat was to set it up to dial the system at specific times and play pre-recorded messages. The first of which should play at about 0630 this morning, during breakfast.

Ijaat ate his breakfast quickly and departed for the patio with the rest of his Flight. Just as TSgt Vega exited the building, the PA announcement warning was heard. All around him, trainees snapped to attention.

"Attention in the squadron. All trainees are to make the following change in their ATO, page 15. Insert the following into the diagram for Chain of Command, above Trainee and below Training Instructor – All Creation, including dirt. Repeat – All Creation, including dirt. Contact CQ for details about this change."

Ijaat had a clear view of TSgt Vega's face as the message registered. Surprise and shock were clearly visible. Dutifully, trainees around him began to pull out their ATO's to make the change. TSgt Vega stood in shock for a full minute, then immediately and loudly started countermanding the order to change the ATO; dressing down any trainee that didn't immediately put the ATO away.

"ORDO! GET 'EM BACK TO THE DORM NOW!" TSgt Vega hollered and then strode away for the doorway to the CQ, leaving confused trainees in his wake.

Once he was gone, Jon was unable to contain his smile. Grinning he called out, "SQUAD 5, FALL IN!" His Flight quickly formed up and they marched the short distance back to their dorm. Once back in the dorm, he told them to clean their bunk areas and their assigned common areas.

A half hour later, TSgt Vega and SrA O'Niell still hadn't shown up. Ijaat was running out of things to keep them busy. So, with nothing else, he started an impromptu ATO class in the dayroom; starting with rank recognition.

"I'll never get the order for the flag officers right," one trainee announced. "I mean, why is Lieutenant General higher than Major General, when a Major outranks a Lieutenant. And why in the hell are they called flag officers instead of Generals."

Ijaat grinned. They were trying to apply logic to the military. "Because they post a flag outside the building when they are in residence and an Admiral is a flag officer, but not a General. Just memorize it. Don't analyze it."

"Right, just memorize it," came another trainee's dry response.

"Let me make it easy for you. Brigadier General, Major General, Lieutenant General, General. Be My Little General," Ijaat laughed at their reactions to the memory device.

"Cool! Where did you learn that?"

Ijaat shrugged, "My uncle gave me a few pointers. Of course, it helps that I've been around Military bases for most of my life"

"You have another one for the other ranks?" a third trainee asked.

Ijaat thought carefully, "Not as good as that one. Let's see…

"Private Basic – basically knows nothing, so no stripes…

"Private – may know something but isn't sure what, one stripe for still being a baby…

"Private First Class – is absolutely sure that they want a First Class ticket home, two stripes...

"Senior Private – been a Private so long they qualify for social security benefits, three stripes...

"Staff Sergeant – had staff surgically implanted upon promotion, four stripes...

"Technical Sergeant – technically a sergeant, but acts like an officer, five stripes…

"Master Sergeant – slave driver, six stripes, one over the top to protect from all the shit from above…

"Senior Master Sergeant – been a MSgt so long they qualify for social security benefits, seven stripes, two over the top since the shit from above has doubled…

"Chief Master Sergeant – God of all he surveys, eight stripes, three over the top, immune from all the shit from above…

"Command Chief Master Sergeant – Base Commander's pet Chief, eight stripes with a star, often thinks he is equal with a Brigadier General…

"Chief Master Sergeant of the Force –Force Chief of Staff's pet Chief, eight stripes with an eagle and wreath, having learned from being a CCMS, he now thinks he only outranks full bird Colonels…"

Ijaat heard a snort from the hallway and froze. Shit! He whipped around and peeked out the dayroom door to see SrA O'Niell taking deep breaths to try and control his laughter and wiping tears away. Ijaat turned and jerked his thumb at the door and mouthed 'O'Niell' The rest of the Squad quickly became quiet and studied their ATO's closely.

A few minutes later, SrA O'Niell entered the dayroom looking as serious as ever. He chewed Ijaat out for daring to 'sully the honorable ranks' with his trite comments. Then he dispersed the Squad to various cleaning duties and for the various religious services.

That afternoon, the trainees were escorted to the break patio and allowed to call home. However, they were only allowed three minutes to let their loved ones know that they had arrived safely and here was their new mailing address. The quick call both helped and hurt. Ijaat called his mum knowing she wouldn't be home and left a message on her machine.

Later, through the gossip chain, Ijaat heard that someone had placed fake vomit in every water fountain in the building, including each of the guarded dormitories. Trainee speculation was high on which TI had masterminded the prank as they polished their boots on the patio that evening. The trainees turned in to bed exhausted, but ready to face the coming week.

The Squad woke to the sound of Manic Monday by the Bangles instead of the usual reveille, followed by a very pissed off TSgt Vega shouting at the PA speaker. Ijaat was sure that that particular shade of red indicated a dangerously high blood pressure. He would have commented on it, but found that he liked his head firmly attached to his shoulders.

As PC and breakfast seemed to progress without any more practical jokes, TSgt Vega seemed to regain some of his equilibrium. The Squad proceeded to the processing centre and completed their tasks without incident. TSgt Vega and SrA O'Niell were back into top shouting form. Well, they were loud anyway. Lunch was the typical eat on the run and execute escape and evasion (E&E) techniques when near the Snake Pit. However, the TI's in the Snake Pit were impossible to evade. Finally, free from the dining facility, the Squad was just forming up on the covered deck when a blue rope TI stormed out of the CQ doorway.

"YOU," he shouted at TSgt Vega. "HAVE YOUR SQUAD FORM A BUCKET BRIGADE AND FOLLOW ME."

"ELEMENT ONE, RETURN THE DORM AND BRING THE BUCKETS AND MOPS. ELEMENTS TWO THROUGH FOUR, STAND FAST. ORDO ON ME," TSgt Vega ordered and followed the blue rope back into the CQ hallway. Ijaat followed closely. What he saw as he entered the main CQ area was a vast wall of bubbles, floor to ceiling, pouring out of the CQ latrine doorway. The three TI's were valiantly trying to contain the mass from spreading further into the room while the Squadron Commander, Colonel Harding was wading into the latrine trying to find its source.

"TRAINEE, HAVE YOUR SQUAD START TRANSPORTING THIS MESS TO THE PARKING LOT!" the blue rope barked.

"YES, SIR!" Ijaat replied, before running back to the Squad. "SQUAD, FALL OUT AND FOLLOW ME!" The Squad hurried after him into the hallway.

Ijaat directed the element leaders to coordinate the Squad into a bubble transport team. Before too long they had eliminated enough of the bubbles for Colonel Harding to find the cause of the mess.

The practical joker had struck again. Someone had dumped a bottle of dish shop in each of the toilets in the latrine and then added dry ice. The bubbling toilets had quickly filled the small latrine with bubbles. They only stopped when the dry ice was removed. Colonel Harding was pissed. No, pissed didn't quite cover it.

Livid and soaking wet, Col. Tar Mav stood in the latrine doorway angry enough to eat nails. The joker would pay. Article 15, loss of a stripe, no make that all their stripes, correctional custody for at least a month, maybe more. Mumbling about Article 15's and correctional custody, Col. Harding exited the latrine and surveyed the damage.

The latrine was soaked and still had bubbles in every nook and cranny, even the ceiling tiles were wet. However, everything in there was water proof. So, no real damage. The CQ reception area, however, was another matter. The carpet nearest the latrine was soaked. The posters and other notices on the walls surrounding the latrine door were wet and in some cases unreadable. The bubbles hadn't reached the desk or any of the electronic equipment. So, physical damage was limited to some posters and paper. However, the damage to the unit's reputation was more extensive and harder to repair.

"Have this latrine and carpet cleaned and replace that," he pointed to the paperwork on the walls. "And just where in the hell are those damn Captains of mine?"

The TI on CQ duty, looked up, "At lunch, Sir."

"Lunch. Great." Col. Tar Mav continued to scan for physical damage when he noticed the sneakers. What? Then he noticed almost an entire training Squad lining the hallway. A baby Squad. Sneakers meant they were still in their First WOT. Just perfect!

The other practical jokes had been harmless, but more importantly, they had been relatively invisible to the trainees. A few harmless prank calls, a bogus PA announcement, and a sudden rash of red piss didn't harm the morale of the unit. If anything, it helped to relieve some of the strain the instructors were under.

But this prank had gone too far. It was visible to the trainees and undermined the authority of the TI's. And not just any trainees, but a whole baby Squad of trainees.

Mother-effing hell! Someone will pay! He wound up to give good verbal tongue lashing on all the TI's present, when the PA sounded. Surprised, he glared at the TI on CQ duty who was well away from the controls.

"Attention in the Squadron. All Training Instructors are required to report to the Anger Management Class in Room 104 in lieu of dinner. Repeat, all Training Instructors are required to report to the Anger Management Class in Room 104 in lieu of dinner. Contact Col. Harding for details"

The colonel's eyes snapped to each of the three TI's present in the CQ office. "What a good idea," the colonel replied in a very low and dangerous voice. "This ends today. I want all instructors in the conference room at 1800. The rest of the squadron is on lock down at that time."

"YES, SIR!" the TI's chorused.

"Dismissed!" Col. Tar Mav spun around and headed to the locker-room to change into a clean uniform.

"SQUAD 5, FORM UP OUTSIDE."

TSgt Vega left the classroom after the commander had dressed down the entire cadre of instructors. He spent extra time dressing down the poor CQ TI in front of the entire cadre. The Colonel then made it perfectly clear that anyone who played a practical joke would be immediately sent to correctional custody, or CC, for an attitude adjustment. He also made it clear that it was everyone's top priority to determine who the prankster was and to report them and any of their pranks immediately.

And as if that wasn't enough, Col. Tar Mav had pulled him aside and asked him if he would need any help controlling the potential damage this incident did to his baby Squad. TSgt Vega was to report on the status of the discipline and morale of his Squad to the commander daily. DAILY! Hell, no, he didn't need any help. He wasn't even sure if any damage was done. He was on his way to CQ now to do a 'listen in' and find out what his Squad had been up to during the lock down.

The CQ intercom could be activated in the dorm without the dorm residents knowing. This allowed the CQ on duty to listen in on any conversations. It was usually used with the older Flights that had earned some TI-free time. If the Flight violated that trust, the TI would know and the Flight would be clueless as to how the TI had found out.

"I want to listen in on 5-A," he told the CQ.

The CQ hit the mute and then the intercom button for 5-A. Muffled voices could be heard, "Pick it up… faster… Ruso, have the Latrine Queen and the rest of the Bowling Team finish up and join the rest of us in the drills… Everyone to their bunks… Ready. Line up… Nope, we need to be faster… Back! Let's try it again. Ready. Line up…"

"Well, I'll be damned!" the CQ muttered.

TSgt Vega grinned, "So much for damage control. They don't seem to be slacking off on the discipline at all. Heck, they've been unsupervised for almost an hour and they are still working."

"…Come on, Ordo. It's not like the TI is here. We should be kicking back…" a voice drifted through the speaker.

"…Look, Tinney, this isn't about the TI. It's about getting our shit together as a Squad. We have this opportunity to practice without the TI's yelling at us. Seize the damn day, already. Now, either line up or get the f—k out of our way. Understand..." TSgt Vega recognized his Dorm Chief's voice.

"…Yeah, fine, whatever…" came the second voice again.

"…Alright, again. Let's make this one our personal best… Ready. Line up!"

TSgt Vega smiled. The kid may not scare easy, but he sure knew how to build teamwork. He would rather have a competent Dorm Chief over an intimidated trainee any day "Shut it off. Thanks for the help," he called as he left to rejoin his Squad.

Tuesday dawned bright and early to the normal sound of reveille. TSgt Vega was in a good mood as a result. Hopefully, Col Harding had scared the prankster into hiding permanently. By breakfast, TSgt Vega was almost whistling. He ordered the Squad into breakfast and headed to the CQ to pick up some requisition forms. He had almost made it to the Snake Pit to sit down for breakfast, when he heard a snap, like a mouse trap. Looking up, he watched in horror as a cloud of blue and silver glitter fell from the ceiling right onto the four TI's in the Snake Pit.

Oh my God!

Taking several steps back to avoid the drifting glitter, TSgt Vega did a quick scan of the room to see that the entire room was watching the TI's in stunned silence, even the trainees on KP. Shit! Shit! Shit!

The blue rope TI in the Snake Pit rose to his feet slowly, sending glitter drifting in every direction. He glanced at the other victims. When one tried to speak, he stopped them with a single finger. Then spoke with deadly calm, "Gentlemen, please go change. TSgt Vega, please coordinate with the KP team to clean this mess up. I'll go inform the Commander."

In silence the glitter-covered TI's exited the dining facility. Once they left, the trainees immediately started shovelling breakfast down as quickly as possible. Apparently, none of them wanted to remain for the commander's arrival. TSgt Vega couldn't blame them. He didn't want to stay either. Sighing, he left to find the contractor in charge of the dining facility.

TSgt Vega began to tense up again as his Squad approached the squadron area. He was dreading the return to the practical joke free-for-all at the squadron. Once he had marched his Squad away, he had been able to relax a bit without worrying about becoming the next victim of a practical joke.

Of course, he had taken most of his frustration out on his trainees, as it should be. Though, he honestly didn't see too many mistakes or errors. They still couldn't drill quite yet, but they had only been at it a week. They still bounced too much, but that would go away with time.

They had worked well this morning at the armoury. Each trainee had been issued their training weapons, and received several hours training on breaking down and reassembling the EE-3. They would practice and clean the weapons tonight and attempt to qualify on the range tomorrow. That left this afternoon for drill practice.

The only unusual incidents outside the practical jokes had involved his Dorm Chief, as usual. When the Combat Arms Technician handed the rifle to Trainee Ordo, the trainee had quickly cleared the weapon without instruction and nodded to the technician before moving on to the next station after only a few minutes.

Later, the trainee had asked him if they were required to sling the weapons over their shoulder or could they cross-hang them, as long as everyone hung them the same way. When asked to demonstrate, he repositioned the rifle so that it hung free on his chest, leaving his hands free. Seeing the advantages to this position, TSgt Vega approved and watched as the trainee instructed the others in how to hang the rifle correctly.

Throughout the morning, TSgt Vega felt vaguely uneasy at the casual way the trainee handled the rifle, like it belonged there. In a way, he guessed that it did. He had caught the trainee casually resting his arms on the weapon. Another time, the trainee had been directing the other trainees with his left hand while his right rested ready on the grip of the rifle, but his finger never strayed to the trigger. He was obviously familiar with the weapon and had handled it loaded many times before. That kind of training always showed true.

The other thing that bothered TSgt Vega was that Ordo almost acted like a different person carrying the EE-3;. He oozed a command presence that no recruit should have, especially in First WOT. TSgt Vega felt that he was catching a glimpse of the man that the kid would eventually grow into. TSgt Vega felt a surge of pride that he would have a hand in shaping that future man, to help him grow to reach his full potential.

Yup, some days being a TI was worth every sleepless night and every bout with laryngitis.

"SQUAD, HALT," he called out, having reached the dorm. "CLEAN UP, RACK THE WEAPONS, AND RETURN HERE FOR DRILL IN 5. FALL OUT."

That evening, just before lights out, the PA activated again. "Attention in the Squadron. Until further notice, God may not contradict any orders given by the Training Instructors. Repeat, God may not contradict any orders given by the Training Instructors. God must contact the Chaplin's Office directly to request a change of orders. Contact Chaplin's Office for details"

TSgt Vega sighed and called lights out as his Squad settled in to sleep.

And so the week progressed.

Wednesday morning saw the floors of the dining facility covered in a snap power concoction made from mixing iodine crystals and ammonia and allowed to dry. It would pop and spark with each step. KP detail was ordered to carefully clean it up and to dispose of it in a metal trash can for pick up and disposal. However, SrA O'Niell had heard from another TI that the occasional snap could still be heard throughout lunch.

The Squad spent Wednesday at the firing range, taking MRE's for lunch. Ten trainees initially failed to qualify at all and had to be coached into Category III. Another 12 qualified as Category III, 9 in Category II, and the reminder in Category I. 7 shot expert. And one trainee had a perfect score, a first for TSgt Vega. However, TSgt Vega was unsurprised to find that Ordo was the trainee.

The evening prank announcement came over the PA just after 1900 hours. "Attention in the Squadron. Until further notice, the proper form of address for the Squadron Commander is Colonel or Sir. Anyone found addressing the commander as 'His Majesty' or 'Dad' will be reported to the First Sergeant"

It was quickly followed by another not so bogus announcement, "All Squads send a runner to CQ. Repeat, all Squads send a runner to CQ."

Thursday was spent in the classroom and on the parade ground drilling. It wasn't until late evening that TSgt Vega learned about the latest prank. The trickster had snuck into the Commander's office and using a single piece of string, connected everything in the office. Once the commander opened the door the whole room was disrupted.

The commander had the phone number to the PA system changed the night before, but the trickster had found the new number and dinner was greeted with: "Attention in the squadron. Each squad needs to send a runner to CQ to pick up the monthly supply of Squad line. Repeat, each Squad needs to send a runner to CQ to pick up the monthly supply of Squad line" The two TI's in the Snake Pit were unable to hide their snorts of laughter from the trainees. The trainees in-turn shrugged confused about the joke.

Friday morning greeted the trainees with the Finally Friday song by Kenny Chesney. TSgt Vega just grinned and pushed his trainees down to PC. At breakfast, they found all the sugar dispensers were superglued to the tables.

TSgt Vega actually sighed in relief. The main prank was over so they could get on with their day. Only the PA announcement was left, and that wouldn't ruin his day. He thought that it should bother him that these pranks were becoming routine. But then made a conscious decision not to care. So with a clear mind, he formed up the trainees and led them off to Wilford Hall Medical Centre for final medical and dental screening.

That evening over dinner he actually cracked a grin at the prank announcement, "Attention in the Squadron. Any trainee interested in donating funds to the Anti-Mime campaign in Concordia, please contact your TI. Repeat, any trainee interested in donating funds to the Anti-Mime campaign in Concordia, please contact your TI. Please, help stop this silent killer"

By Saturday, the whole unit had adjusted to the new atmosphere. Everyone was on pins and needles until the prank, and then everyone relaxed and enjoyed the brief respite from the all too serious task of training.

Overall unit morale had improved and for this reason alone, Col. Tar Mav had backed off of his 'zero tolerance' stance. However, he was still ready to jump on any training Squad that failed to demonstrate the proper level of discipline in or out of the squadron area.

Saturday's prank didn't manifest until lunch. This time, the salt shakers were sabotaged using baking soda and lemon juice separated by tissue paper. When the victim tried to get some salt, the tissue dissolved and triggered a chemical reaction that popped the lid off the salt shaker and sprayed foam everywhere. Four of the booby-trapped shakers had gone off before the remaining shakers were carefully removed from the dining facility.

TSgt Vega had just finished turning over the Squad to SrA O'Niell and was just leaving the squadron area for some well-deserved rest at home, when the day's bogus announcement came over the PA.

"Attention in the squadron. All trainees are to make the following change in their ATO, page 42. Add the following as an additional detection technique in the ATSO section. Final determination for dissipation of detected chemical agent will now be 'rip the MCU-2 mask off the closest 2Lt.' Repeat, 'rip the MCU-2 mask off the closest 2Lt.' If 2Lt continues to glare steadily at you, the chemical agent has dissipated. All questions should be directed to the Readiness Office"

Chuckling, he climbed into his car and headed for home.

Original text

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Second WOT Agenda: Rendering Courtesies, Human Relations, Self Aid and Buddy Care, Law of Armed Conflict, Code of Conduct, Cultural Sensitivity, Weapons Cleaning, Warrior Role, Job Classification Interviews

Reveille sounded on the second week of training. Ijaat pulled himself out of bed slower than usual. Setting up today's prank had taken longer than he liked and as a consequence, he had only gotten about three hours of sleep.

Good thing it was Sunday. No PC on Sundays. Man, how sad was it that he was so very grateful for the tiniest respite. You're losing your touch, Ordo. This is a cake walk compared to some of the missions you've been on. You've worked harder on less sleep.

Today, only SrA O'Niell was in residence. And while he didn't fail to reinforce the unit's extremely high standard, Sunday's were technically a day of rest. So, after the dorm was cleaned to his exacting standards, for the first time in a week, the TI let the trainees go to the break patio and call home. However, this time the trainees could do more than just quickly recite their new mailing address.

Ijaat had gone out with the others to the patio to enjoy the summer Jungle heat. He sat out of the way and stared through the decorative cinder block wall, not even bothering to get in the line to use the holo-projecter. He wasn't really looking at anything in particular. Just setting his mind free. The whole Squad was under an acute amount of stress, including Ijaat.

But it was Sunday. The rest of the squad, heck the squadron, was starting to relax. However, instead of relaxing himself, Ijaat was tense. He felt closed in. Trapped. He knew, cognitively, that none of the doors were locked and the patio didn't even have a gate. He really could walk away at any time. Heck, he could go to the Chaplin at any time and quit, just like any other trainee. He wasn't really trapped or locked up. But, even though he was here by choice, he felt like he was in prison. He really didn't like feeling captive.

Maybe it was the lack of privacy, or the lack of sleep, or the lack of respect from the TI's. But he could feel their conditioning kicking in and his natural instinct was to fight it. MT and OCS were exactly the same. Take a bunch of individuals and strip them down to emotionally blank slates, then rebuild them the way you want them.

"Attention in the squadron. Training Instructors are reminded that they are not authorized to purchase anyone's soul on government time. Repeat, Training Instructors are reminded that they are not authorized to purchase anyone's soul on government time. All soul transactions must be conducted in off-duty hours. Contact the Chaplin's Office for details"

Itaaj smiled. That was something that mum had never accomplished. She had been able to pull a few pranks in her misguided youth. But nothing as elaborate and lengthy as the pranks that Itaaj was pulling now. He wondered how the TI's handled the rooster in their locker-room. He could just imagine the mess the thing had made. Of course, that damn bird wouldn't shut up. Who knew that chickens liked to cluck in their damn sleep? Jon had almost smothered the stupid thing just to get it past the CQ.

"Ordo, you all right?" Itaaj looked up to see one of his element leaders, Skoke, looking at him with concern.

"I'm fine," Itaaj was quick with a practiced reply.

"Then what's with the face?" Skoke sat next to Itaaj and started to watch the outside world with him.

"Face?"

"Yeah, like someone just killed your cat. You get bad news from home?"

"Nah, I didn't make a call. Just pondering life, the universe, and everything," Itaaj quipped.

"Pretty hefty stuff for a Sunday afternoon."

Itaaj snorted, "Yeah, but I got nothing better to do than solve the riddles of the universe. What about you? Sick of the ATO already?"

Skoke shrugged, "Yeah, but what else is there to read?"

"Too true."

Skoke turned to Itaaj and asked quietly, "Is it really like this? The Militis I mean? I don't think I can hack this for four years, if this is all there is to it."

Jon gave him a small frown, "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you know things. You don't ever read the ATO, but seem to be able to answer all the questions the TI's have thrown at you. You have an uncle in already. I was hoping that maybe, you know, he told you what it was really like. We all know that the recruiters feed us a line of bullshit to get us in. But… I mean, I think I can make it for a few weeks, but four years of this would drive me nuts."

"Ah… well, the best answer is yes and no. Yes, it is at times exactly like this… sometimes worse… But also no, most of the time it's not. It's something completely different than civilian life. Just not like this either. I remember…." Itaaj said "My uncle would talk about deployments where the stress… operational stress… was as bad as BMT. That's why BMT is so tough. It's teaching you about this kind of stress and how to deal with it. Push past it and still do the job, regardless, the mission comes first. But, here instead of an enemy shelling the dorm area, we have TI's yelling at us constantly... Oddly enough, the effect is the same… Anyway, the TI's also use BMT as a way to screen out those people who just aren't cut out for this type of life." Itaaj considered BMT, its stresses, and his uncle's memories. "It shows you up front how bad it can get. So you can decide if it is worth it. Better to have a trainee quit in BMT rather than later, after they have been trained. Or worse, to have them crack under the strain when on a mission..."

"I've never thought of it that way before. I guess, when put that way… well, I do think it's worth it," Skoke's quiet statement brought Itaaj out of his depressing thoughts. "I mean; I'll be protecting my little sister's freedom. I know, its cliché, but in my heart I know it's true. And ensuring that she continues to play, oblivious to the threats to her freedom, well, THAT makes it worth it. For me, anyway."

"Yes, it does," Itaaj replied before lapsing into a comfortable silence.

"Monday, Monday… so good to me… Monday mornin', it was all I hoped it would be…" The sound of The Mamas and the Papas rolled through the dorm waking the Squad. Followed quickly by the TI's.

"COME ON LADIES. THIS SHOULD BE OLD HAT BY NOW. MOVE IT. TIME FOR PC."

Itaaj jogged through the bays one last time and lined up. Today was strength training. They would skip the running today in favour of the ever popular push-ups and sit-ups. The Squad marched to the parade ground and paired off.

After PC, the Squad changed and formed up for breakfast. This was the first week they were allowed to wear boots. Jon was glad to get that small bit of comfort back. The sneakers never did feel right when in uniform.

As he approached the serving line, the trainee in front of him pointed to the first empty tray on the serving line, grinning, "Skip that one, it's glued down"

Itaaj grinned back, "Thanks" He passed the information on to the next trainee. It was the little things that made him happy. Boots on his feet and a prank gone well. Eating quickly, Itaaj was in a relatively good mood when the TI marched them out for drill practice.

This week had the Squad drilling every morning with classes in the afternoon. Itaaj assumed that was because the jungle weather was rapidly heating up past red flag and into black flag conditions. This basically meant that all their outdoor activities were curtailed in the heat of the day to prevent heat stress injuries.

Also looking at the schedule, Itaaj noticed that this week was going to be extra boring for him. All the classes were right out of the ATO. Customs and Courtesies, Dress and Appearance, Human Relations, and Law of Armed Conflict were all old friends to him. Weapons cleaning, come on, really, he could clean the EE-5 in his sleep, in the dark. Hell, he could remember doing just that from when his mum let him clean her weapons.

Self-Aid and Buddy Care would be a good refresher, but he doubted that the class would go beyond basic first aid in the field. It was the last few classes that had Jon worried. The Code of Conduct and Cultural Sensitivity were back to back with the LOAC briefing. With the present political situation in the galaxy, the only culture that would be covered in any detail would be the Mandaloians living on Concordia, maybe the OAG, but most likely, just the Concordians.

That evening after dinner, TSgt Vega pulled Jon aside, "Dorm Chief."

"Sir, Trainee Ordo reports as ordered."

"Do you think the Squad is ready for an inspection?"

Now, why in the hell would he ask me? He is the one to thrash the lockers on almost a daily basis. Crap! This is another damn test. Another game of double jeopardy. I'm getting so sick of these games.

"No, Sir. I don't think that the Squad would pass inspection at this time, Sir. However, I do think that an inspection would assist them in learning exactly where their deficiencies are, Sir. It would also allow the Squad to see exactly how an inspection is performed, Sir. So, I believe that the Squad would gain some positive benefit from an inspection at this time, Sir."

"Very well, Dorm Chief. Have the Squad ready for inspection in one hour. Dismissed," TSgt Vega remarked, before turning to leave the dorm with SrA O'Niell.

Great! Itaaj let out an audible sigh. "SQUAD, REPORT TO THE DAYROOM, STAT." The trainees left off their assigned tasks to hurry to the dayroom. "We have exactly one hour to make this dorm inspection ready. Finish your assigned cleaning task then report to your element leader or myself for additional assignment. Latrine Queen, leave the first stall for last. Anyone needing to use the latrine, go now. In ten minutes, the latrine will be off limits until the inspection is over. Double check everything. Dust every surface. Set your lockers in order after you complete the common areas. Buddy checks on your bunk-mate. Questions?" He paused, waiting for a question. "Alright, let's go!"

An hour later, Itaaj had the trainees stand by their lockers in preparation of the inspection. The Flight was called to attention as the TI's arrived.

"Dorm Chief."

Jon walked up to the blue rope TI heading the inspection team, one of the few female TI's in the unit, MSgt Crawshay. "Ma'am, Trainee Ordo reports as ordered."

"Is your Squad ready for inspection, Dorm Chief?"

Not by a long shot. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Report back to your position."

"Yes, Ma'am," Itaaj executed an about-face and walked back to his bunk.

For whatever reason, the TI's had left Itaaj for last. They had worked their way around both bays and the common area. They were inspecting his bunk mate, Trainee Skoke, when the PA activated, "Attention in the squadron. Until further notice, sock puppets are not authorized to take control of any Entry Control point. Repeat, sock puppets are not authorized to take control of any Entry Control point. Sock puppets must first complete the required Entry Controller training. Contact CQ for details"

Itaaj had managed to stifle his smile and maintain his position at attention. He heard the blue rope sigh. "When are they going to catch that guy?... Shirt unbuttoned. It's getting a bit ridiculous… Socks folded backwards. The commander has changed the PA phone number three times so far… Hangers not evenly spaced"

"That's all, Trainee." TSgt Vega told Jon's bunk mate. "I don't know. I was steamed at first… Trainee, open your locker and step back… But now… It's not hurting anyone."

"Yet," the blue rope replied. "T-shirts not flush… I'm just surprised that no one has any idea who it is… Everyone in the unit has been accounted for during at least one prank. You don't think that one of the other units is behind it, do you?"

TSgt Vega, chuckled, "Not likely… ATO not square and flush… I would think that someone would notice a stranger in the squadron. Remember quite a few pranks were pulled during daylight hours… That's all, Trainee." TSgt Vega and the blue rope walked away to inspect the common areas.

Itaaj smirked, they didn't even suspect a trainee. Sweet! He heard the dorm door open and close. "SQUAD, REPORT TO THE DAYROOM."

Tuesday was essentially a repeat of Monday with only minor differences. PC was cardiovascular training, i.e. running, rather than strength training. And the afternoon classes were on Human Relations and the proper way to render Military Courtesies.

By mid-morning half the Squad was peeing blue or green. The trainees dutifully reported the prank. Apparently, the morning coffee at the Dining Hall had been spiked this time. The ones peeing green were chastised for not drinking enough water.

That evening the TI allowed those trainees who had received less than five marks on their inspection to go back out to the break patio as a reward. And Itaaj was, once again, staring out across the parade ground through the decorative brick, trying to find his centre. He was a bit melancholy when he heard the PA announcement.

"Attention in the squadron. Trainees entering Warrior Week may not line their helmets with tin foil. Repeat, trainees entering Warrior Week may not line their helmets with tin foil. The tin foil interferes with the mind control lasers used by the Training Instructors. Trainees caught with tin foil will be recycled to First WOT for re-education" Around him, Jon could hear the other trainees snicker.

"I knew it. Mind control lasers," one laughed out loud.

"Oh, come on, it's not so bad," another trainee remarked. They were from one of the older Squads. "What week are you?"

"Second," replied someone from Itaaj's Flight.

"And you're on patio break already? Damn. Your TI is soft," a different trainee sneered.

Itaaj laughed out loud at the trainee, startling the group.

"What the hell are you laughing at?"

Itaaj stood up to face the trainee. They were about equal height. The other guy outweighed him by a few pounds and was trying to loom over him. That made him smile. He was a bully. And I love bully-baiting. Granted this guy was no System Lord. But, hey, you take what you can get.

Itaaj gave him a maniacal grin, "Someone too stupid to know the difference between lax training and superior leadership." Itaaj felt his Squad-mates close ranks behind him as he baited the bully. "Between brute force…" Itaaj pointed to the bully, "… and superior quality…" Itaaj motioned to the rest of his Squad-mates. "Obviously, your TI has had to work twice as hard to beat the rules into your thick skull… Of course, that would take longer than simply instructing a quality trainee." Itaaj gave him a raised eyebrow for good measure.

The bully turned a deep red. Itaaj stood ready and loose, waiting. When the bully finally lost control and took a swing, Itaaj simply stepped aside. The bully stumbled nearly falling. "Careful, wouldn't want you to fall down and get hurt," he called after the bully, taunting him more.

The bully recovered and turned to try and swing again. Itaaj saw a flash of blue in the corner of his eye just as the bully swung again. This time as he side-stepped, he grabbed the bully's fist. With a quick twist and turn, he had the bully on his knees an arm locked straight out behind him. "I said, be careful, you could hurt someone falling down like that. Now, are you done? Got your balance back?"

The bully's only response was a whimper and a nod. He had obviously given up the fight.

"Good." He released the other trainee and stepped back. Once the bully seemed to catch his breath, he reached out a hand, ready for trouble, just in case. "Here, let me give you a hand up." Itaaj helped the bully up and stared directly into his eyes. "Drop it. Leave the young trainess alone and go back to your dorm"

The bully seemed to nod in agreement. "Thanks. I'll… I'll be heading back to my dorm now," then he abruptly turned and left pushing past a Blue Rope TI.

"WHAT'S GOING ON OUT HERE?"

Itaaj glanced around at the terrified faces of the other trainees. Okay, this is getting out of control. That's what you get for having a little fun, Ordo. Did you forget? You're not allowed to have fun in BMT. It's against the cosmic order or some such. Itaaj walked up to the blue rope, "Sir, Trainee Ordo reports as ordered. The trainee fell down and needed a hand up, Sir. He returned to his dorm to hydrate, Sir." The other trainees immediately seized the explanation like a life preserver and started nodding in agreement.

The Blue Rope's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Really." He considered the trainees one at a time, but couldn't detect a break in ranks. "Very well. Return to your dorms. We wouldn't want anyone to get dehydrated now, would we?"

"NO, SIR!" the group chorused. The group filed past the Blue Rope quickly, trying to make their escape.

"Ordo, one minute please," the Blue Rope called just before Itaaj could take more than a single step.

"Yes, Sir."

The Blue Rope waited until the last of the trainees had disappeared into the building before speaking, "Trainee, off the record, I can tell a fight when I see one. Even if it was decidedly one way." The Blue Rope TI paused, as if considering his next statement. "Ordo, why are you here?"

Itaaj was immediately confused. Cautiously, he replied, "I was granted a patio break by TSgt Vega for receiving less than five marks on my inspection last night, Sir."

"Not, here on the patio. Here in Basic," the Blue Rope clarified.

"I'm not sure I understand, Sir."

The TI looked him over carefully, "I've been watching you and you don't fit. Your ASVAB scores are too high for a high school student. Your SAT scores would guarantee a college scholarship just about anywhere. Your connections could get you into the ROTC program of your choice. Hell, they could easily get you into the Academy. Yet… here you are, just another trainee at BMT. You. Do. Not. Fit... So, I ask again, off-the-record, why are you here?"

Jon was surprised that the TI had done that much research on him. What little was available. He didn't think that he had been that transparent. He closed his eyes to hide the range of emotions that swam past. He couldn't think of a single answer that would be accepted. He couldn't even think of an effective lie. And the truth sounded false.

Finally, he opened his eyes and let the knowledge seep into them. "Because, I want to be here, Sir."

"Really? I've been watching you since your first day. You are bored out of your mind. You don't need this training. With your contacts, you could probably waiver it. So, why do you want to be here? Make me understand."

Itaaj abruptly, turned away from the TI. "I don't know if I understand myself, Sir," he said. "I just need to do this… Sir."

"Does this have something to do with your uncle and your father?"

Jon visibly flinched. Yes, it had everything to do with his uncle and father… and absolutely nothing to do with him.

The TI continued, "Yeah, I guess that IS the most obvious answer. He's a highly decorated Major General on the fast track, special advisor to the Governors of Corellia, with an obviously sanitized biography. He must be a hard act to follow. Especially, since you were named after him. Not to mention your father was killed in a Death Watch attack" the TI continued to prod.

Itaaj gave a short laugh and turned back to the Blue Rope. And you don't know the half of it. "You could say that, Sir."

"Well, I'm going to give you some advice, take it or leave it. You can't change who you are and you can only hide from who you are for so long. Don't make your choices to spite your uncle. Make them for yourself. You have a natural talent for leadership. You belong where that talent can be developed. The Militia has plenty of warriors. But we are short on good leaders. If that takes you on the same path as your uncle, then so be it. But don't avoid that path to prove something that has never been in doubt." The Blue Rope held Itaaj's eyes for a few more moments, before nodding. "There, I've said my piece, take it or leave it. Now, get out of here before your TI comes looking."

"Yes, Sir," Itaaj gave him a final considering nod before returning to his dorm.

Wednesday copied Tuesday. Itaaj felt the days starting to run together. His nightly forays were even beginning to blend together. Last night, he had setup another glitter trap, this time it was an obvious trip wire established in CQ. But the trap was activated when the wire was cut, not pulled. He wasn't sure if the trap had been tripped or deactivated, since squadron gossip hadn't illuminated today's prank.

The Squad spent the morning in drill practice and the afternoon in Self Aid and Buddy Care class. The Self Aid and Buddy Care class was as basic as a first aid class could get. Itaaj was disappointed that the class couldn't distract him from his conversation with the Blue Rope TI last night.

That conversation had been preying on his mind all night and wanted revenge for his father and to surpass his uncle, to be better than him. He just hoped that the TI's didn't notice his distraction. He didn't feel up to addressing their particular need to give him the 'special treatment' today. Maybe later, when he could put a bit more effort into his answers.

That evening he sought solitude in the dayroom. His Squad-mates could tell that something was bothering him. He was usually all over the place, sharing a smile of encouragement and helping in the various tasks. Today, he had been quiet and still. They didn't quite know what to make of it. They all thought that he had been chewed out for the fight last night and that was causing his mood. Eventually, they selected his bunk-mate, Skoke, to find out what was going on.

Trainee Skoke was considering how best to approach his bunk-mate when the PA announced, "Attention in the squadron. Until further notice, no military equipment may be traded for 'magic beans.' Repeat, no military equipment may be traded for 'magic beans.' Equipment is the sole property of the MM and any magic beans will be purchased exclusively through logistics. Contact the Contracting Office for details" He smiled, moved over to Itaaj, and sat down next to him.

He gave Itaaj a quiet smile, "Magic beans, huh?"

Itaaj turned away from the window and acknowledged his bunk-mate with a curt nod, not completely pulling away from his thoughts.

"Okay, I get it. You don't want company. But, did you know that your kind of freaking out Thomas?"

Jon turned back to Skoke, "Ruso?"

"Ruso, you know, short guy in charge of element three? Yeah, well, this new silent treatment is kind of freaking him out. All of us, to tell the truth. So, I got tapped to see if you could use some help working it all out."

Itaaj's eyes wandered back to the window, "You drew the short straw, huh?" his voice full of bitterness at the memory that phrase evoked.

Skoke looked at him critically. Itaaj still seemed lost in his thoughts. "No, actually. I volunteered… What is up with you? What the hell did that TI threaten you with?"

"Threaten? What?" Itaaj asked confused, finally pulling himself fully back from his dark thoughts and old memories. "No one threatened me. What are you talking about?"

"The Blue Rope. He didn't threaten you with recycling or getting kicked out for fighting?"

"Hell, no."

"Then why are you walking around in a dark haze?"

"I…" Itaaj stopped. "We talked about… stuff. It's just made me think, that's all."

"Well, stop it." Then he grinned at Itaaj, "You got enough crap on your plate for now. Save the thinking for Tech School, deal?"

"Deal," Itaaj replied, visibly pulling himself out of his funk. "So, what's the gossip?" he asked trying to make an active effort to leave his self-doubt alone for now.

"Well, you know Tinney, right? See, he heard from a trainee in Fourth WOT about…"

Thursday started out just like Wednesday. The days are definitely starting to run together. Last night, he had decided to go easy on the pranks and instead just setup the computer to call in about twenty times during the day playing "Danny Boy" on a five-minute loop, starting after breakfast, he found the OAG had a wide range of music to choose from. He could hear the old tune playing while his Squad was drilling on the parade grounds. The sad notes drifting on the breeze were oddly comforting.

Lunch was a more leisurely affair than usual. The afternoon promised to be another round of classes. Itaaj didn't even pay attention to which ones would be taught this afternoon. He was still trying to pull himself out of his funk. His bunk-mate had been right. Now wasn't the time for thinking. It was the time for doing.

Itaaj was busy cleaning the catsup off his plate with his fries when the PA made his next prank announcement, "Attention in the squadron. Trainees may no longer keep rats as pets in the dormitories. Repeat, Trainees may no longer keep rats as pets in the dormitories. Rats my carry plague. Exceptions may be made for talking rats with ninja training. Contact the Public Health Office for details"

Itaaj was close enough to the Snake Pit to overhear, "At least it's not that damn song again. I don't know how sane I would be after another round of 'Oh, Danny Boy.'"

"Hey, it could be 'Tom Dooley.'"

"Ah. Don't even think that. I'll take 'Danny Boy' over 'Tom Dooley' any day."

Finished, Itaaj cleaned up his plates and deposited them with the dishwashers on KP. He went outside to wait for his Squad to form up. He joined some of his Squad already outside waiting.

"So, what's on the agenda for class today?" he asked.

"Yeah, like you need to know," ribbed one of his Squad-mates.

"You never know, it might be new information to me. Why? You don't know either?" Jon asked.

"Nope. Like you, I will go where told and listen to whatever. I'z been brainwashed. It's the mind control lasers, I tell ya… Oh, here comes O'Niell"

"Ordo"

"Sir, Trainee Ordo reports as ordered."

SrA O'Niell glanced at his watch. "Have the Squad form up in three minutes and proceed to classroom 106"

"Yes, Sir."

As SrA O'Niell walked off, Jon turned back to his Squad-mates. "I guess we'll find out in a few. I'll go scan the dining facility to see if everyone is out yet"

A few minutes later they filed into the assigned classroom. Jon identified the JAG as the same one who taught the UCMJ class. He frowned momentarily as he tried to recall which classes the JAG would teach. He felt that it was important. That he had wanted to remember for a reason.

"Welcome, Trainees, at ease. This class will be about the Law of Armed Conflict or LOAC. Can anyone tell me what LOAC is all about?" The JAG instructed.

Oh crap! I forgot about the Code of Conduct briefing, right after the LOAC briefing. Okay, no big deal. You have an hour to get your head on straight. Deep breath. That's it.

The JAG continued to discuss the details of intergalactic law and its application to war and other armed conflicts for the next hour. Jon sat quietly in the back.

"… So, the principles governing armed conflict are; military necessity, distinction, and proportionality…"

Itaaj flashed back to a time when it had been deemed a 'military necessity' to eliminate a political leader from the shadows. And another time when a drug lord was eliminated the same way.

"… The Geneva Conventions of 1949 of the OAG distinguished between lawful combatants, noncombatants, and unlawful combatants…"

Itaaj longed to point out that LOAC usually only applied to the OAG and other superpowers. That the Separatists and Death Watch had never cared to follow intergalactic law, let alone during war. Or that Outer Rim planets only followed intergalactic law when it was to their advantage.

But Itaaj succeeded in keeping quiet. He was even able to swallow his laugh when the JAG stated that the Rules of Engagement were always strictly adhered to and that the Geneva Conventions Treaties protected Medical and Religious personnel from POW status.

Yeah, keep believing that, Sir. I hope it helps you sleep at night. I know of one too many medics that refuse to wear the Red Cross because it makes them a target. They joke about the invisible bubble the Geneva Conventions has thrown around them that can deflect bullets and mortar rounds, like magic. And wish for world peace while you're at it.

"Alright, let's take a five-minute break before the next class," the JAG wrapped up the class and started to setup for the next class.

Itaaj went outside for some air. He was starting to feel closed in. Taking several deep breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. Go to your happy place. Sunshine, palm trees, nice beach, little bikinis. See, no problem.

"Time to go back in, Trainee."

Already? Deep breath. "Yes, Sir." Itaaj took his place again and immediately started to fidget. I'm not ready for this. STOP THINKING! Focus on… on… shit! 99 bottles of beer. That's it! Anything to distract me from this class… 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, take one down and pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall…

- WARNING - CODE OF CONDUCT BRIEFING -WARNING -

The JAG's voice broke into his internal singing, "'Article I: I am a Mandalorian, fighting in the forces which guard my system and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defence.' Can anyone explain what this means to you?" the JAG asked the class.

Oh come on! You have to ask? It means I signed up knowing that I might have to DIE to protect the good ole' Mandalor. Death before dishonour and all those pat little clichés. You know, it doesn't say anything about how many times you have to die to adequately satisfy Article I. Once? Ten times? Twenty? When is it acceptable to crack just to stay dead. Wait! That's the catch

The JAG's voice broke into Itaaj's attempt to distract himself, "'Article II: I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command while they still have the means to resist.' How would you define that last part, 'while they still have the means to resist'?"

Again, this one is too easy. Fight or evade until you can't fight anymore. Death is not an option the Mandalorians likes to take. So if the choice is capture or death, the government prefers capture, except if you are on a covert mission that is not sanctioned by 'official' policy. Then they prefer death. It's easier to leave you behind if you're dead. It's easier to forget about the 'spy' then to acknowledge that you were trying to assassinate a political leader against 'official' public policy. And that you forgot to get all the team out, namely yourself.

The JAG continued to drone on, "'Article III: If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and to aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favours from the enemy.' Can anyone give an example of 'special favours'?"

HA! Yeah, I could give you a long list of special favours. Like I'll stop beating the crap out of you if you tell me know many Mandalorians were in your team. Or I'll turn off the electricity if you give me a name. I'll let you out of the box if you simply sign this document. I'll give you food, water, a blanket, whatever… if you just tell me why you are here on this planet. How about, I'll stop torturing this poor kid if you will only tell me what you know about the attack on the palace. Or, my personal favourite, I'll let you die permanently if you just tell me what the they want with the girl. Yup, I could give you a long list of special favours the enemy likes to bring out during a good torture session.

The JAG recited the next Article, "'Article IV: If I am a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information or take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior, I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will back them up in every way.' Could you ever be senior ranking in this kind of situation?" the JAG asked the class.

The PA warning sounded "Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…" As the last notes faded, he slowly opened his eyes to see the JAG looking directly at him. Shit!

"Trainee, so pleased you could come back to us. Please read Article V for the group."

Great! Just push the drowning man under da water, why don't ya. Fine! Ya wanna quote? I can give ya a quote. But I'll be doing it on my terms, laddie. "Yes, Sir." But rather than reading the Article, Jon stood and walked slowly to the front of the class, his steps tightly controlled. The JAG stepped aside, confused.

Itaaj recited remembering what the Death Watch did to his father, "Article V: When questioned, should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability. I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my system and its allies or harmful to their cause. And when you feel that you can no longer evade answering their questions, and you WILL feel like giving in, keep in mind that answering will not make the 'questioning' stop. It will merely inform your captors of your breaking point. If you answer one question, they will ask more, and now they know one of your weaknesses. When that day comes and you want desperately to break, remember Article I and pray to whatever God you follow for salvation or peace."

Eventually, the JAG shook off his surprise and continued the class. "Uh, yeah, thank you. The… um… last one is 'Article VI: I will never forget that I am an MAndalorian, fighting for freedom, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my country free. I will trust in my clan and Mandalor.' Any questions on this last one? No? Okay, let's take a ten-minute break before the last section, while we wait for the Chaplain."

- END - CODE OF CONDUCT BRIEFING - END -

Finally, Itaaj let out a deep sigh and looked around the room. TSgt Vega was in deep conversation with the JAG. The Chaplin had arrived and was setting up for the next lecture. His Squad-mates were moving about the room in small groups. A few were sending him quick glances.

Good job, Ordo. Now they all think you're just a bit whacked out of your mind. Of course, they could be right. Itaaj turned and went outside. He walked to the edge the concrete pad surrounding the building. He let the bright open space encompass his entire vision blocking any further dark thoughts.

"So, what was that all about?" a voice startled him out of his peace.

Itaaj turned to see the JAG. Now what? "Sir, Trainee Ordo reports as ordered. What was what about, Sir?"

"The Code of Conduct briefing. You had a little outburst, remember?"

Jon glanced back at the classroom door. TSgt Vega was collecting the other trainees. Holy cow! Saved by the bell. "Good class, Sir. If you'll excuse me, I need to return to my Squad now, Sir" Itaaj didn't wait for a dismissal. He simple snapped to attention and marched back to class, using one of the many evasion techniques.

"You can't avoid this forever, Trainee," the JAG dogged his steps.

Itaaj stopped and turned to face the JAG once more, "With all due respect, Sir, I've always found that sticking your fingers in your ears and humming loudly solves a whole slew of problems… Sir." Now, bugger off! Itaaj turned and stalked off again, this time humming 'Danny Boy.' He was relieved when the JAG stayed put. He took his seat just in time.

"Good afternoon, I'm Chaplin Moore and today we will be discussing Cultural Sensitivity."

Oh, for crying out loud! Are you trying to kill me?

And with that, Jon quietly hummed 'Danny Boy' the entire rest of the class. Totally tuning out the entire lecture.

Friday, thank goodness, was nothing like Thursday. Even if the days all still seemed the same, TSgt Vega was very glad that Thursday was finally over. However, this morning instead of reveille, he was greeted by Ricky Martin's Livin' La Vida Loca.

He sighed, resigned to the fact that the song would now be stuck in his head. At least it's not 'Danny Boy.' He was very thankful that there were no more lectures today. Yesterday had been weird enough.

First, MSgt McCaffey, his Blue Rope supervisor, had asked him to keep an eye on the Ordo kid. The kid had been off in la la land for the last two days. And when he finally did re-join the group, he had gone all weird in class. Very, very creepy.

And to top it all off, the kid had some kind of nightmare that woke half dorm at 0200 hours. And not just any nightmare, but a full blown screaming and kicking nightmare. TSgt Vega even had the bruises to prove it. He just wished he could understand what the kid had been screaming, but it was in some foreign tongue. Possibly a clan tounge.

Regardless, when he grabbed the kid's shoulder to wake him, he had been surprised at how quickly the kid had taken him out. A chop to the throat and a hefty kick to the gut had left him gasping for air as the kid fled to the corner behind the bunk. The other trainees had enough sense to stay back until the kid had pulled himself out of his nightmare. By the time TSgt Vega could breathe normally again, the kid was using that deep breathing exercise he had used during class to calm down and re-focus.

The final insult had been the kid's parting shot as he climbed back into bed. "Thanks for the wake up. Next time, just kick the bunk." And then like that, the kid was asleep again. TSgt Vega spent the entire rest of the night jittery and wide awake from that adrenaline rush.

Of course, now at 0445, the wide awake part was fading. He turned the Squad over to SrA O'Niell for PC and breakfast. If he didn't get some coffee now, he wouldn't be awake for drill later.

After a nice long shower and a change of clothes, TSgt Vega felt a bit more human. He reached for the coffee pot in the dining facility only to jerk his hand away as he spotted a small snake on the counter near the coffee maker.

Heart beating in his chest, he carefully watched the snake. It didn't move. He cautiously poked it with a straw. Still no movement. He finally grabbed the damn thing to find it was made of rubber with 'Made in OAG' stamped across its belly.

Son of a b—ch! He calmed his frazzled nerves and carefully poured his coffee and made his way over to the Snake Pit. "Mornin'," he greeted the other two TI's. He dropped the rubber snake on the table.

"Ah! You found another one."

"Another one?"

"Yes," the TI pulled up a box that had four of the rubber snakes in it already. "I dare say the trainees will find the rest. These are just the ones the KP found in the kitchen area."

"Great." TSgt Vega sighed. He could hear the first of the Squads back from PC outside. Soon, the trainees were trickling into the dining area and wolfing down breakfast. Before long the entire dining facility was full of trainees.

"Attention in the squadron. Due to a recent noise survey, all trainees are required to wear hearing protection within a five-foot radius of any Training Instructor. Repeat, all trainees are required to wear hearing protection within a five-foot radius of any Training Instructor. Any trainee currently experiencing hearing problems should report to Medical for a hearing test"

TSgt Vega heard a deep sigh next to him. He turned to face MSgt McCaffey, the origin of the sigh.

"You know, eventually, the practical joker will get bored and move on."

TSgt Vega chuckled, "Is that before or after the rest of us all go insane?"

MSgt McCaffey returned with a smile of his own, "Oh, after. Definitely after."

"Ah! There's my Squad. Time to go."

"What do you have today?"

TSgt Vega thought for a moment, "Just drill and job classification on the plate for today."

"Good. Remember what I said about that Ordo kid."

"Don't worry. I've got both eyes on him. Am I looking for anything in particular?" TSgt Vega asked.

"Nah, just a hunch."

"Alright, see you later."

TSgt Vega had already intended to keep a close eye on the kid. Too many odd things were happening around him. But today, his close watch was for naught. Unlike the previous day, Ordo was right on and focused, though quieter than he had been before. He must have worked whatever was bugging him out of his system. As TSgt Vega retired for the evening, he gave a sigh of relief that nothing else odd had happened.

Saturday dawned bright and early. The Squad quickly formed up and left for PC and the weekly fitness evaluation. As the Squad was lining up in the dorm to head out for breakfast, one of the trainees called for TSgt Vega.

Now what? He sighed and followed the trainee to the dayroom. Their dorm was on the third floor of the building. As a result, the dayroom had a perfect view of what HAD to be the latest prank.

In the centre of the roof below the dayroom windows, was a splash of green with a white spot in the middle. It took a moment for TSgt Vega's brain to catch up to his eyes. In amongst the rest of the roof, someone had setup a perfect square in sod. Then they had staked a sheep to the centre of it. The poor sheep was munching away contentedly on a pile of hay seemingly without a care in the world, completely undisturbed by its rooftop surroundings.

"Is that a sheep?" one of the trainees asked.

"Yup," responded another.

"Sweet! Definitely improves the view."

Chuckling, TSgt Vega could make out other trainees across the way, peering through their dayroom windows. Shaking his head, "Ordo, report this to the CQ. The rest of you, form up downstairs for breakfast."

Breakfast was interrupted only by one announcement. "Attention in the squadron. All trainees departing for base or town liberty, the 'no drinking of alcoholic beverages' rule does not imply that alcohol may be imbibed through an IV or enema. Repeat, the 'no drinking of alcoholic beverages' rule does not imply that alcohol may be imbibed through an IV or enema" The announcement only elicited a few rolled eyes, before the trainees returned to eating.

TSgt Vega worked the Squad hard during drill practice, but was very satisfied with their progress. So satisfied that he released the Squad to go to the BX without an escort, and he only demanded a promise to return to the squadron by 1600. They even managed to keep it.

Yup, the Squad is shaping up very well indeed.

Codex update, The Mandalorian Militiamen

"Each of you came here to help protect our home from those who would dare challenge the Mandalorians! Today, we will fight with the OAG to stop the Death Watch! for too long they have caused a great disgrace for all Mandalorians! They dare call themselves Mando'ad! They dare say they want help the Mandalorians! It's all a lie. While they may be some who are Mandalorians, those like Pre Vizsla are just idiots who can't understand how much has changed." Mandalore the Freedom addressing the newly developed Mandalorian Militia army in jungles of Mandalore.

The Mandalorian Militiamen were a Mandalorian army made of volunteers from various of Mandalorian clans, Clan Bralor and Clan Shysa being biggest ones to join. They were not really a standing army as they were only called up to defend the Mandalore Sector and wore various of armor colors or designs. But they were were highly skilled soldiers and warriors, being very well trained in jungle warfare. They saw heavy action against the Death Watch with the OAG, despite Satine's disagreements towards very idea of violent and fighting, she had no longer could say no Mandalore needed an army to protect the people.

The rogue Alpha class ARC trooper Spar would join this army, before he would later found the Mandalorian Protectors in True Mandalorians image.

Home base.
It was within the jungles of Mandalore, very close to the Werda Kurs(Dark Forest), thus the Mandalorian soldiers had lot of training as they on many times had to fight Mandalore's most dangerous creatures, honing their skills.

Equipment.
The Mandalorian Militiaman all owned their own personal sets of Mandalorian armor, each with their own custom designs and symbols. They used beskads, Mandalorian swords made from beskar, thus making it enable go against lightsabers. As for blasters, members of the group were fond of using either WESTER blaster carbines or EE-3 blaster carbines, other members chose their own personal blasters.

Creatures of the Werda Kurs, the Dark Forest:

Echo Snakes: Massive serpents that have lost their eyesight due to their time spent in the murky waters of the jungle's rivers. They have since evolved to use echolocation to stalk their prey both within the water and out. They are highly dangerous constrictor-class snakes that are efficient ambushers and deadly opponents.

Ranger Recommendation: Kill on sight. Teams of six or more Rangers are recommended. Do not engage near rivers or streams and do not engage while in the water.

Kalo Wolves: Large canine beasts with quilled backs and six legs. A distant relative of the strill, Kalo Wolves can be found across Mandalore, often in dense forests or jungles or in mountainous regions. The jungle variants have long, venomous fangs they use to paralyze their prey, leaving them to be torn apart by the larger pack.

Ranger Recommendation: Kalo Wolves are a common cause for complaint among the civilian pioneers living within the jungle. Rangers are recommended to avoid packs where possible and retreat if engaged. If civilians are endangered, use two teams of three Rangers to chase away or exterminate as necessary.

Razorback Sharks: Not technically sharks, Razorbacks are actually a species of aggressive porpoises that compete with the larger Echo Snakes in the jungle waterways. They are streamlined creatures with sharpened, razor-edged scales they use to slice open their prey. Swarm in schools of upwards of ten to fifteen and can be very dangerous to clumsy or inattentive water-goers.

Ranger Recommendation: try not to engage. Razorbacks do not attack if they do not feel threatened. If a school is spotted, try to avoid. If Razorbacks stray too close to civilian population centers, use nets and electro-shock mini-grenades in the water to drive the school away.

Cackle Birds: Strange songbirds that inhabit the upper treetops of the jungle, Cackle Birds are large and multi-colored avians that have a talent for mimicry, particularly when applied to human speech. They often mimic people calling out for help, leading Ranger patrols into dangerous areas such as Kalo Wolf dens. The Rangers are then killed by the larger, deadlier beasts, and the Cackle Birds scavenge whatever is left over.

Ranger Recommendation: Do not trust calls for help or other pleas within the jungle borders. Most often, they are Cackle Birds leading patrols into a trap. However, large flocks of Cackle Birds should be investigated, as they usually point the way toward recent kills or other oddities within the jungle. The avians themselves are harmless and usually do not attack Rangers operating within the forest. Can even be tamed and potentially domesticated, given time.

Mover Roots: Chameleon-like creatures that look like the twisted, gnarled roots of trees. Movers are actually a species of reptile that move slowly and draw their prey in by blending in with the background flora. When unknowing prey drifts too close, their root-like arms snap out and draw their meal in, devouring them over the course of the next few days.

Ranger Recommendation: These reptiles are usually harmless, and do not actively hunt humanoid beings. However, Rangers should be on the lookout for Movers when on patrol. They are difficult to spot, but they will ensnare and devour man sized beings or larger if they get the chance.

Jai'galaare or Shriek-Hawks: Massive, man-sized avian creatures with piercing eyes, binocular vision, and a very long, razor-sharp beak. They prowl the treetops and skies above the canopy and are the top of the food chain in their natural environment. They are viciously aggressive and attack whenever possible, though Rangers sticking to the forest floor are usually sheltered by overhanging branches. Can be identified by their ear-splitting hunting screech. Their feathers are highly prized across Mandalore as badges of honor.

Ranger Recommendation: Avoid at all costs. Jai'galaare are highly respected in Mandalorian society and should not be harmed unless absolutely necessary. However, if engaged, the Shriek-Hawk will not retreat until either it or its prey is dead. In such cases, lethal force is authorized.

Addendum: Any Rangers caught poaching the Jai'galaare to sell feathers on the black market will be immediately stripped of command and tried for disobeying fundamental Mandalorian tenets, the punishment for which is being branded dar'manda.

Blackstalkers: A highly dangerous arachnid species with twelve legs, twenty compound eyes, and the ability to quickly climb trees. Blackstalkers, named for their highly reflective black carapaces, spin nearly-invisible webs through three branches and wait for distracted animals or Ranger patrols to pass through. They then spin their prey up in a cocoon and inject them with a venom that liquifies the internal organs for consumption by the creature. What remains afterward is usually a web-tied husk with the external features mostly intact or even undisturbed, but all the internal organs completely gone.

Ranger Recommendation: Blackstalkers are numerous throughout the Dark Forest and seem to increase in number each passing season. As such, special teams are dispatched on a weekly basis to travel into the jungle and burn out any Blackstalker nests with special liquid flamethrowers designed specifically for the Ranger Corps. Any other Blackstalkers encountered on patrol should be killed immediately either by blaster shots, bladed weapons or, most preferably, with fire.

Clan Askaari: Clan Askaari are a highly hostile Mandalorian clan even to other Mandalorians, who reside in the Werda Kurs. They have been in isolation in Werda Kurs for many years and are hostile to anyone entering their territory, they will kill everyone who enters their territory and steal their equipment. It is firmly believe that because they been in isolation for so long since Great Galactic War couple thousand years ago, they are actually not aware of there are other Mandalorians on the planet up till Death Watch made contact with them. From reports in contacts with them, they are mostly humans who stand roughly 6 foot tall, wearing what looks like ancient sets of Mandalorian armor dating back to Great Galactic War.

Recommendation: Under orders of Mandalore the Freedom, Mandalorian patrols are not to engage members of Clan Askaari unless they are attacked or had taken prisoners from patrol, Mand'alor hopes try make talks with the clan as he is not one fight fellow Mandalorians. But there is a limit to what Mandalore the Freedom will accept. Patrols are to be watchful of trees as Clan Askaari appear be very skilled in ambushes.

Reaper Raiders: The most common threat to civilians living within the limits of the Werda Kurs, Reapers are not actually creatures, but humanoid bandits who raid fishing villages, hunting posts, and other settlements throughout the forests. They are usually not well-equipped, making do with salvaged or self-made weapons. However, in large enough numbers Reaper Raiders do pose a significant threat to both the local settlers and the Ranger Corps.