Contempt

"Commander!"

Surprised by the unusual harshness of the summons, Gaff turned away from his debrief with Wess and Kase. Commander O'sic stood just a few steps away, gesturing peremptorily for Gaff to join him.

"Carry on," he told his people and jogged towards O'sic, who turned and walked away as soon as Gaff was at his side. The marshal commander had his helmet tucked into the crook of his arm and so Gaff saw that the tick in his scarred cheek was moving at a furious pace.

"You've handled civvies before?"

Gaff was as taken aback by the question as he was by the commander's unusual behavior. He'd never seen O'sic so out of sorts before.

"Yes, sir. Running planetary security on Gaftikar required me to liaise with the civilian government, as well a closer interaction with the population than I am told is usual." But you already knew that, so why ask?

"Good." O'sic's strides were quick and slightly jarring, as if he were trying not to stomp his feet. "Then perhaps you can liaise some sense into these mongrels."

Gaff almost stopped dead in his tracks at hearing Blazer Corps' second in command use the offensive term for non-clones. It wasn't uncommon to hear the ranks bandy the word about, but the officers tended to be more careful about what came over their lips. Though Gaff had no doubt that more than a few of Blazer's officers thought in those terms, he privately considered it a bad idea to fall into such a pattern. There were many non-clones in the GAR, must holding high positions and it wouldn't do to start thinking of your captain, commander, general or admiral as a mongrel only to have the word slip out at an inopportune moment. And he never would have pegged O'sic as susceptible to such biases.

They passed a squad of troopers setting up the First Aid Station under the careful watch of a medic, moving steadily towards the edge of the growing base camp. Preparations for the upcoming battle were going well and Gaff felt a twinge of gratitude and satisfaction at being ahead of the Seps for once and having this time to prepare.

Then O'sic led him onto the landing field and Gaff saw the problem immediately.

Whynge was trying to shout down a group of the local freedom fighters, an idling larty nearby, the pilot peering down at the scene through the canopy, clearly reluctant to fire the engines with the civilians so close.

"You will return to your station immediately!"

"The Republic is here now. You don't need us anymore!"

Gaff grasped the situation upon first glance and felt a sigh of resignation escape him. Shab. He half hoped that O'sic would lead him past the arguing group, but no such luck. The marshal commander stayed right on course, coming to a halt just a step behind Whynge.

The civilians must have recognized O'sic as the man in charge, for they stopped talking to Whynge and turned as one towards him and Gaff.

"No more delays," the leader of the group announced. "We're getting on the next transport."

Whynge's body was a study in barely suppressed fury. "And I told you, there's no room on the transports."

O'sic jerked his head at Gaff, indicating he should take over. Unlike his subordinate, O'sic had himself well under control once more; only the rapid tick in his scarred cheek indicated how agitated he was by the entire situation.

Gaff stepped forward, spreading his hands in the air in a gesture of openness. Pulling off his helmet so the civvies could look him in the eyes, he asked, "What seems to be the problem?" As if he couldn't guess.

"You in charge?" the leader challenged. She was a tall Togruta, with dark purple skin and impressive montrals. The tips of the lekku streaming past her chest were twitching in agitation, reminding Gaff of O'sic's own telltale tick. He quickly glanced back at his commander and saw O'sic nod.

"Yes, I am."

To the side, Whynge went rigid at the words.

"Now how can I help you, Miss..." He trailed off, waiting for a name to be offered.

The Togruta braced her fists on her hips, flashing him a quick look at her pointy teeth. "Toree and no missy about it. That shiny boy isn't allowing my people on the transports and we won't have it."

Gaff tried very hard not to glance in Whynge's direction, wondering if Toree knew the depth of the insult she'd just dealt the commander. "Ma'am," he strove for a tone that was conciliatory, but not submissive. Respect; that's what this came down to. He had to make her understand that he respected her and her band of fighters, but ensure he did not lose an ounce of their respect for either him or the uniform. "Ma'am, you have to understand that the transports are currently needed to bring down the supplies necessary for us to build up an effective defense of your homeworld."

She was unimpressed by his logic. "But the transports are going up empty. No problem filling all that empty space with my people." And she gestured past the landing area and her tight-knit band, towards the locals who'd begun to gather at the edge of the Forward Command Station, still too spooked by the clones to completely leave the ruins of their houses.

"You're right," he said and she blinked furiously, trying and failing to hide her surprise at his admission. Whynge turned his helmeted head sharply towards Gaff and he sensed more than saw O'sic taking a half-step towards him, ready to interfere. "It would be no problem taking your people up. But ma'am, all that's up there are warships. Once the Sep reinforcements arrive, they're not going anywhere but into battle."

"We were promised safety once the Republic arrived." She wasn't giving up and neither were her followers.

"And we will do everything in our power to keep you safe," Gaff agreed. "Which is why we cannot allow you to board those transports. Your people will be far more vulnerable aboard those ships when the fighting starts than dirtside. Here, you have cover. Aboard a ship, you'll only have the shields and the hull to keep you alive. Your odds are better down here." He deliberately let his voice carry to the larger group beyond the camp. It was important that these people understood that everything the troopers did - even the restrictions - were designed to ensure the safety of the civilians. If Gaftikar had taught Gaff anything, it was that most civvies saw the Republic not as their champion, but as just another acklay waiting to take a bite out of them. He had to change that image, at least for now, and do so quickly.

"We can't just let them hide in their burrows, for us to do all the work. They have to cover our left flank."

Of course, changing minds was a hard thing to do when your own people were acting like the proverbial ronto in the porceplast store.

Toree whirled on Whynge and several of the other freedom fighters stepped closer to her, closing the ranks against the commander's words.

"What you say?" the Togruta demanded. "You think we've just been hiding like womp rats? We've been fighting, clone, long before you've stepped a boot on our planet. We've been doing your work."

Gaff kept his expression calm and placating as he neatly stepped between Toree and Whynge, though personally, he would have liked nothing better than to order the commander to a week's worth of KP duty. The man was worse than Kase. His captain at least understood the rules of diplomacy. Whynge wasn't even bothering with tact, let alone hiding the scorn in his voice.

"I apologize for my colleague," Gaff said, deliberately slipping into civvie slang. "He did not mean to belittle the efforts of you and your resistance cell." He raised his voice slightly to cover Whynge's muttered protest. "You've held the Separatists at bay and the Republic cannot thank you enough for your efforts. But now that we are here, we do need your help."

Toree's eyes flicked from Whynge's helmeted face to Gaff's open expression, seemingly uncertain whose interpretation of events she was willing to trust. But perhaps she did see some of Gaff's earnest admiration for her and her people. They had done something astonishing here; rebelling against the Sep invaders from day one and doing so at great cost to themselves and with none of the clones' years of extensive training or equipment. Gaff did respect the freedom fighters for that, because he'd seen how easy it was for the civilian population to either sit back and do nothing, or turn on themselves.

Or perhaps Toree simply liked being flattered. Either way, she demonstratively turned her back on Whynge and focused solely on Gaff, sending a clear signal to her followers.

"That's not what we've been promised by our senator in Coruscant," she said. The tips of her lekku curled with disgust, but with nowhere near the same agitation as before. "We were told, once the Republic's here, my people wouldn't have to fight anymore. That we'd be protected by Coruscant."

It would be wrong to point out that promises were often broken during war or the fact that Coruscant alone wasn't able to protect this planet or any of the planets in the Outer Rim. If the Republic had that kind of military might, then this war never would have happened.

"I can see that there has been a grievous miscommunication here, ma'am." Gaff shook his head, his eyes quickly taking in the growing crowd at the edge of the field, gauging their mood, before turning back to Toree. Apprehensive, but attentive. He could work with that. "Blazer Corps was promised your cooperation in its efforts to liberate your planet."

Toree narrowed her eyes and the corner of her lips curled back in the beginnings of a snarl. "That so?"

"Yes, but if I might suggest a compromise, ma'am?"

Toree settled back on her heels and glanced at the men and women standing behind her, no doubt reading their reception of this proposal. "Go on."

Gaff folded his hands behind his back, ducking his head slightly so as to appear both thoughtful and humble, trying to phrase the orders they'd received as a suggestion instead. "If a few of your resistance cell could volunteer as scouts, my men and I would be very grateful. You know the land, the best means of setting up supply routes; ambush points and potential dead ends. Your people do not have to fight, but if you could help us become familiar with your home, that would be extremely helpful. You are the locals here, we and the Separatists are the strangers. You can go where we clones would only stand out. You can get closer to the Sep lines and probe their weaknesses than we could ever hope to do."

With each bit of barely disguised praise, Toree and her freedom fighters looked more and more mollified.

"Suppose we could do that," she finally said. Then she straightened her shoulders and threw back her head, looking at him with a slight touch of hauteur. "I'll have to discuss this with my troops. We're a democracy after all."

That, Gaff knew, was a lie. It was as clear as the duracrete beneath his feet that Toree made all the decisions here, but if that was the image she wanted to cling to, then he wasn't about to argue. Instead, he stepped back and gave her a respectful nod. "Thank you for your time, ma'am. We appreciate it."

As soon as the group was out of hearing range, Whynge was on him.

"What the shab was that all about?" he hissed. "You made us sound like incompetent di'kut, groveling at their feet."

Gaff grabbed Whynge by the shoulder bell and pulled him further along the landing pad, back to where O'sic was waiting for them.

"No, I made it sound like we needed their help. Which we do."

Whynge wrenched himself free of Gaff, turning on the younger commander. "They would have come running soon enough once the shooting started."

Gaff stared at the man. Whynge couldn't really be that stupid, could he?

He's never fought on a populated planet before, he reminded himself. All his previous postings were already evaced of civvies. Gaff, on the other hand, had experienced first hand the kind of chaos that could ensue if you forced an unwilling and resentful population into cooperation. But this was more than a mere lack of personal experience. Gaff could see it in the other mans' posture, in the way he spoke. Whynge didn't just dislike civilians. He was contemptuous of each and every one of them.

"Once the shooting started," Gaff said quietly, "it would have been too late and the only thing we'd be left with are their bodies."

The T-shaped visor gave away nothing. "Better them than us."

"That's enough, Whynge." O'sic finally stepped in. "Get your men ready. I just got word from the general. Stalwart's picked up a sensor trail. The Sep reinforcements will be here in another rotation."

Whynge was a good soldier, despite his other faults. He saluted O'sic smartly and ran off, throwing Gaff one last look.

"Sir, he's wrong," Gaff told O'sic. "Our purpose is to protect civilians. The entire idea behind the clone army was so that real soldiers could do the fighting instead of the innocent."

O'sic looked at him, his expression inscrutable. Gaff was beginning to believe that his superior donned that particular mask whenever he was evaluating someone anew. Or when he was about to voice an opinion that was - but wasn't quite - what he really thought on the matter.

"That's what our flash-training tells us," O'sic said, then jerked his head towards Toree's retreating group. "But it's surprising how attached those innocents get to their blasters and how well they can learn to tote them. Think they'll fight?"

Gaff looked at his commander sharply. O'sic's tone had been utterly neutral, but there was something in the man's hard eyes that spoke of a contempt that was somehow different and yet the same as Whynge's.

"I challenged them, sir," he said slowly. "I admitted they're better than us in some things. Now they'll want to prove it. Helping us scout the terrain will mean they'll need to carry arms and sooner or later, they'll want to prove they're better with a blaster than we are. Yes, sir, I think they'll fight with us."

O'sic raised one eyebrow. "Good enough. Now get moving, Commander. We've got Seps incoming."

It was Gaff's turn to salute. "Sir, yes, sir." He raced off in search of Kase and Wess.

"Commander."

Gaff stopped abruptly at O'sic voice. "Sir?"

"Good job." O'sic didn't look at him as he said the words, but kept his gaze fixed on the retreating civilians. "General Arhen would approve."

But do you? Gaff wondered. "Thank you, sir."