Analysis of submitted Mandalorian Tank examples and designs, 3973

Ballistic projectile weapon system not used in past 500 years. Against current armored vehicles, it is extremely effective.

The targeting system for the ballistic projectile weapon system is an obsolete scope-based manually aimed system, with no known use in past 2000 years.

Armor on most models range from 50mm-140mm or more, 2x-4x the thickness of most comparable vehicles.

There is no shielding system.

There are no ion-based defense systems built into the tank.

Engines are powerful, but inefficient and old, with no computer-based aid. These machines are not always reliable, but easy to fix.

The movement system is based on a tread system, which has not been used for the past 600 years.

When accounting for all these factors, Mandalorian armored vehicles were not considered a threat. After analyzing and testing their vehicles, we have discovered their armor is extremely deadly.

Ion based-weaponry is useless due to a lack of computer and electrical systems. No practical field-based anti-vehicle laser weaponry can pierce the armor of heavier tanks, but lighter tanks can be penetrated. Infantry cannot close with it due to several mounted Heavy Repeating Blaster Rifles.

In closing, the Mandalorians now have armored vehicles that we simply cannot destroy without bombers or fighters.

Chapter 2

I was surprised by the bureaucracy of the Resistance, given how easy it was for me to become a sergeant with no previous paper work.

After getting off the transport, and following Gunny's lead, we were checked in from the battle. Gunny had them put in a record for me, showing I was officially a sergeant with the Resistance.

We were then told to go central processing. Central processing was where a soldier could claim their belongings, if they had any they left on a ship with the Resistance's fleet. After Gunny collects a large duffel, we are issued our new arm patches. Mine had three stripes, just like the old one, but underneath was a shield with the number 110 printed on it.

Gunny explained to me that shapes meant which corps, division, brigade, or even regiment a soldier belonged to. The shield denoted a corps, an inverted triangle for divisions, a circle for brigades, and other shapes I couldn't remember for smaller units.

We were then told what room we could store our belongings in, and told we would have rec time until we got our new orders.

I set my tray of food for breakfast down on the table next to Tanner, and sit down. He was eating with Bork, and it was the first time the three of us were alone after everything that had happened. Or at least, the first time we were alone and didn't have to worry about artillery, or mortars, or a surprise attack.

"So how you two doing?" I ask.

"My people are dead." Bork replies coldly, not even looking up from his food.

"Yea, that happened," I tell him. "And our home world was engulfed in an inferno."

"Kell," Tanner cuts in, "There is a difference."

I let out a sigh, knowing he was right. "So, how you two holding up?"

"Miserable," Bork answers.

Big surprise. "You?" I ask, turning to Tanner.

"Just the shock of it all is finally sinking in. They're all dead," he says.

"Don't think about it," Bork tells both us.

"About what? Those we lost and loved?" I ask him.

"Thinking about it, keeps you from moving on. You need to move on. We need to move on," He says.

I think on those words. Bork never did have an excellent grasp on basic, always speaking in short sentences, but there was wisdom to that.

"Any idea when we'll be getting some new orders?" Tanner asks me.

"Not a clue," I tell him. "At this point, I would really just enjoy some training."

"Isn't that the truth," Tanner mutters.

I walk back from breakfast to the room I shared with Gunny. But Gunny had told me once we were assigned a squad, we would get more NCO's for roommates. As I enter he was already up and dressed, and lying on his bed reading something.

"Ah, you're here. Good!"

"Something come up?" I ask.

"Yea, new front world. It is a small hub in this sector, but Mandalorians can't advance without taking it," Gunny explains, getting up from his bed and laying the datapad down. "So if we hold them there, we keep their advances contained."

"Is that possible?" I ask him.

"No. But that hasn't stopped the Resistance before. Besides this battle is going to be very different," Gunny says, walking over to the desk.

"Why?" I follow him over to the desk, wondering what he was looking for.

"All the past deployments were on worlds with cities. This battlefield is as flat as this desk. So the Mandalorians will deploy their tanks in force. And artillery, and mortars, and whatever else they got," Gunny says, wiping his hands over the clean desk to illustrate his point. He opens a drawer, and pulls out a datapad.

"You mean those ancient looking antiques? Like the one I killed with a few grenades?" I joke. Those machines were laughable.

"Yea, but we faced a much older model. The newer ones are not easy like that. They are far more dangerous, and the Mandalorians have improved on the designs with each reiteration," he explains, walking over to the lockers, opening his. "Will that trick work on the old tanks that we will likely face there? Yes. Will it work on their younger cousins? No."

"When do we get there?"

"Five days Gunny says.

"What?!"

"We are moving there now. Things are desperate," he observes, staring blankly at an empty desk.

"How desperate?" I ask.

Gunny shuts his locker, and then tosses the datapad at me. "Really desperate. You'll want to read up on artillery we'll be issued."

Before I can even respond, Gunny hits the doors to the room and leaves.

I get on my bed and turn on the datapad, and begin reading.

I was curious to see what the Resistance had designed and built to take on these infamous Mando tanks.

"Wake up Kell!"

I nearly fall out of bed when I hear Gunny yelling.

"What the hell is it?!" I ask.

Gunny runs in, and drops a datapad on my bed.

"What the hell is this?" I ask.

"I was promoted to 2nd sergeant, so I am in charge of the fire team. And you'll be my XO. These are the names of the poor shmucks we'll be leading," Gunny says.

I take it and ask "Did you get Tanner and Bork?"

"Yea, I did. Now I need you to read over the other recruits, and tell me what their skills are when I get back."

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To meet my 1st sergeant, our lieutenant, and possibly our captain," Gunny says.

I grab the datapad and sit up in bed. "Well, let me know what you think."

"Why bother," Gunny asks. "Half of them will probably be dead when the campaign is over."

I shudder hearing that, and Gunny leaves the room.

I grab the datapad, and look it over.

It had the names and ranks of the various soldiers, their weaponry, and everything else in their file.

I select mine, and read it over.

Kell, 25. Rank of Sergeant. Riflemen. No prior service exists. 6'3" 170 lbs. Served with distinction on Liana 3.

I was surprised by the sheer lack of information under my name. It was so minimal, I barely even felt like a soldier in the Resistance's army.

I go back, and look over everyone else's.

I select Gunny's, curious what it said about him.

Gunny (name not given), 2nd sergeant, 41, volunteered on the Blue Nova Space Station, no basic training. Said he has over 25 years of mercenary combat experience. Offered rank of Major, choose Gunnery Sergeant. 6'0" 210 lbs. Repeating Blaster Rifle.

I stare at Gunny's records, feeling confused. It listed him as 41, yet 25 years of mercenary work? So he would have started at 16? I didn't buy that. And why not take the rank of a major?

I go back and read over the other soldiers, noticing one of them was a cute looking female.

Tura Red, 20, private, recruited in Jaminere System, received basic training in the Quermia system. 5'6" 140 lbs. Rifleman. Blaster rifle.

Her picture showed she had hazel brown eyes, and shoulder length brown hair. But little else was shown.

Nothing else was listed. Oh well.

I look at the other recruits, and one stands out. Everyone was ranked private or corporal, but one was a specialist.

Atol Bard, 23, specialist. Recruited in Makem System, no basic training received. Hunter and tracker background, prime sniper candidate. Sniper rifle. Suffered accident during basic. 5'9" 165 lbs.

I go back to the list, and continue reading down the line.

At least the reading wouldn't take long if everyone's information was confined to a few lines on a datapad.

Gunny walks back into the dorm, looking far more tired than I thought possible.

"What's new?" I ask.

"I had to meet a bunch of ass holes that will be dead inside of 6 months," Gunny says. "What did you learn?"

"Am I included in that number?" I ask.

"If you listen to my advice, you'll stick around," he says.

"And how do I, following your advice, avoid death?" I ask him.

"I got 30 years of mercenary experience," Gunny says. "You don't survive as a mercenary for 30 years by being stupid." Gunny walks over to his bed and falls on it, letting out a sigh before he asks "So, the new recruits?"

"Nothing really stands out," I tell him. "Except a cute girl."

"Let me give you some advice," Gunny says, twisting around on his bed and staring at the ceiling. "Don't get involved with love, sex, women, any of it. You'll cloud your mind, make poor decisions, and get yourself killed."

"That's somber," I tell him.

"That's war," he says coldly.

I look at Gunny, wondering if he had lied on his recruitment papers. 30 years of experience would put him at 11 when he became a mercenary. Someone was wrong.

Gunny then gets out of bed, and says "Come on, let's go."

"Where?"

"To meet the fire squad."

I look over the fire squad that I would be the XO for.

I still don't understand the various teams, but I understood what the fire squad consisted of. It was led by a 2nd Sergeant, Gunny, who was assisted by an XO, or second in command, me, a sergeant.

We commanded 11 basic soldiers, armed mostly with blaster rifles, pistols, a few frag grenades, a knife, and basic armor. I wasn't able to remember all the various soldiers in this large number, but a few stood out: Tura, the cute female, Tanner and Bork.

The fire squad also had a sniper specialist, named Atol, who was missing his left eye.

The last group was a pair of soldiers who toted around a Heavy Repeating Blaster Rifle. And they were an odd pair. A rodian and a Twi-lek.

"Greetings soldiers. I am your Second Sergeant, Gunny," Gunny says, walking past all the soldiers. "And the handsome kid behind me is Sergeant Kell, my XO. His commands carry just the same weight as mine do."

Gunny stares at the soldiers, no one saying anything.

"How many of you have seen combat? With Mandalorians?" Gunny asks, walking around, holding his hand up. "Raise your hand."

I raise my hand, as do Tanner and Bork, and another man I didn't know. No one else raises their hand.

"I thought so. I am going to tell you all something. You are going to want to get into the fight. Get into this war. And prove yourself. XO Kell, what happens to the soldiers that do that?" Gunny asks, turning around to look at me.

I am startled by the question. I clear my throat and say "The ones I knew like that are dead sir!"

"Exactly!" Gunny says. "I don't want you to end up dead. So don't go into this war with a chip on your shoulder. Don't think you're a Mandalorian's equal in combat. You're not. You want friends. You want allies. You want the squad behind you," Gunny says.

"Now, let's go meet the entire squad, shall we?" Gunny exclaims, heading for the exit.

"So what did you think of my little speech?" Gunny asks as we get back in our room.

"Could've been…more optimistic," I tell him. "At least the first sergeant made us all feel gun-ho."

"That will get you killed," Gunny quickly counters.

"Yea, but is it so bad to make them think they can take a Mandalorian on?" I ask.

Gunny swivels around in his chair at the desk, and leans forward. "Kell, the 19th Corps, what you informally joined, was formed a year ago in the Jaminere System. We numbered over 80,000 then. After Liana 3, we number less than twenty."

I stare at the floor, feeling guilty. I had no idea it was that bad.

"That's why you need to listen to me Kell," Gunny says softly. "I want you to survive."

I grab my dinner tray, full of food and drink, and make my way through the dining hall to Tanner and Bork.

I sit down next to Bork, and look up to see an unfamiliar face staring back at me.

"Sergeant Kell," the man says.

"This is Dave," Tanner says. "He fought on Liana 3, like us."

"Good to meet you," I say, nodding to Dave.

I continue eating until Dave asks "So, your buddies tell me you crashed on Liana 3 with them. How did you pull sergeant?"

I look at Tanner, who briefly meets my eyes before looking down and away. "I killed a tank," I quickly tell Dave, looking at him.

"Small tank," Bork corrects me. Whether or not the tank I destroyed on Liana 3 was big or small was anyone's guess. And I didn't even know if my grenade was what killed the damn thing.

"That so?" Dave asks. "So if I down a Mando cruiser, what does that make me? A freaking commander?"

"Admiral more likely," I tell him.

We all laugh at that. At least we could laugh in this war.

48 hours later

"First squad, move out!"

I turn, and follow Gunny's lead as we march up the loading ramp and onto a transport.

I had never been inside a transport like this. The freighter that crashed on Liana 3 was nothing like this large military transport.

This transport was far larger, and designed for hauling soldiers around.

Inside it were rows and rows of seats, with harnesses, many of them already occupied by other platoons or companies or whatever they were.

Gunny takes a seat at the end of the row, and I take my seat right next to him. I reach up and grab the harness, and pull it down, securing myself in.

I take a deep breath, with Tanner taking his seat next to me.

I close my eyes, and take deep breaths. I grip the restraints on the harness, my palms sweating, and I can barely relax.

"You all right?" Gunny asks.

"I don't know, just…last time I was on a ship like this, it crashed," I tell him.

"That can't be all," Gunny says. "Ships crash all the time."

"Well, that poor trandoshan got ripped apart by that piece of flak," Tanner says, interjecting himself into the conversation. "You caught the spray from it too."

Gunny opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Yea…that did happen," I admit. "And I would prefer to not think about the number of times I've had someone blown to pieces in front of me, and find I'm wearing them."

"Good stinger," Gunny says. "Now both of you shut up."