Author's Note: What happens when impoeia comes down with a bad case of the stomach flu? No updates. What happens when computers decide to play haywire? Impoeia doesn't update. Again! So, all around apologies for the long delay, dear gentlebeings. Going MIA wasn't exactly on my to-do list, but that's real-life entertainment for you. I want to take this moment to thank all of you faithful readers, for sticking with me for so long, even through uncertain posting schedules. I appreciate each and everyone of you, hence the title for this week's chapter. Enjoy.
Gratitude
Gaff's earlier good - and slightly mischievous - mood was rapidly disappearing as he watched Wag approach their table, Jakk in tow. It wasn't often that he got a distraction from the burdens of command that didn't involve some minor catastrophe and irrational as it was, the commander couldn't help a stab of resentment when he noted the determined look on Wag's face and the more apprehensive expression on Jakk's. Both spelled trouble, the likes of which he'd likely have to dispel.
Gaff bit back a sigh, dividing his attention between Captain Dion and the approaching pair of troopers. It didn't take a Jedi to figure out what Wag was up to: drilling for Intel on Kase from the captain's former batch-mate. Just as he'd planned on doing, Gaff couldn't help but admit. But at least Gaff would have waited until he and Dion could indulge in a private conversation and would have remained tight-lipped about anything Dion might have cared to reveal about his shared formative years with Kase. Wag, on the other hand, would no doubt make any stories concerning Kase as public as possible - especially if they proved in the slightest embarrassing or detrimental to the captain's durasteel-clad reputation.
"Commander Gaff, Captain Dion." Wag snapped off a salute, Jakk just a second behind him. "Permission to join you, sirs?"
Gaff's knee-jerk reaction was to tell Wag to attend to his duties, or go sit with his own company, if he had nothing more productive to do. While the companies that inhabited the Stalwart were slowly merging into a more cohesive whole, Captain Dion was Elix's responsibility: he'd been given into Gaff's care, he was the batch-mate of Gaff's second-in-command and no member of Flash Company had even been on-duty during the disembarkation of the remnants of the 121st Regiment. Wag was sticking his nose where it didn't belong and good inter-company politics or not, Gaff wasn't about to stand for it.
But he made the mistake of glancing over at Jakk and his trooper's obvious distress over the brewing situation made him hesitate for a second too long.
"Permission granted." Dion, unaware of the tensions between Elix and Flash, waved jovially at the empty seats across from the officers. "The more the merrier."
Gaff took a long swallow from his cup of caf to hide the grimace as Wag settled himself on the bench, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"That's very kind of you, Captain."
Jakk hesitantly sat down next to Wag, all the while shooting surreptitious glances towards his commander.
Gaff suppressed another sigh. He couldn't claim to be happy about the relationship between Jakk and Wag. Aside from the continuous rivalry between Flash and Elix - one that had sparked into physical confrontations on more than one occasion - he didn't like the influence Wag was having over Jakk.
Jakk was a good trooper, one of the best in the fire support team, even with his tendency to drift off into a world of his own making. But the more time he spent with Wag, the more he began to neglect himself. Not that Jakk was being negligent in his duties - Gaff would have landed feet first on his errant trooper if that had been the case - but both Fister and Knock had mentioned on more than one occasion that Jakk no longer sat with his squad at mealtimes, or joined in the impromptu sabacc or bolo-ball games - unless Wag was involved - choosing instead to spend all of his off-duty hours with his lover.
And Gaff had his suspicions that this behaviour was being encouraged by the Flash Company trooper.
The problem was that it wasn't Gaff's place to dictate who his men saw in their off-duty hours and unless Jakk started to seriously violate protocol or fail in his duties, Gaff had no legitimate excuse to interfere in what little personal life his trooper had managed to carve out for himself. Additionally, Gaff wasn't certain that he could properly separate his own dislike for Wag from the equation. Did his misgivings over the relationship stem from a real sense that it might prove detrimental to Jakk, or did he just resent the fact that one of his troopers preferred the company of a man he personally couldn't stand over that of his own brothers? Until he'd sorted out his own feelings, Gaff was hesitant to get involved. Which meant tolerating Wag's presence, for better or worse.
In his eagerness, Wag leaned forward on the table, elbows braced. "I hope you don't mind," he said to Dion, for the moment ignoring Gaff's presence. Not exactly a serious breach of protocol, but certainly rude by trooper standards and Jakk winced slightly, shooting his commander - currently the most high-ranking officer in the entire mess - an apologetic glance.
"But I have some questions, concerning a certain other captain you might know." Wag smiled rather engagingly, his entire mien schooled to portray nothing but good-will and raging curiosity.
Gaff fought down the rather undignified urge to slap the man upside the head. Rank had its privileges, but physically remonstrating a trooper who wasn't even under his command wasn't one of them. He could just imagine the stink Whynge would kick up over the incident and Gaff didn't feel like going one-on-one with the commander again.
Even if he had soundly trounced Whynge, Gaff thought, with a twinge of pride and guilt.
Unaware of the turn of Gaff's thoughts, Dion snorted with amusement and turned to regard the commander with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Naturally, Dion had already caught on to what "other captain" Wag was referring to. "Word spreads quickly around here."
Gaff forced a smile. "You know how it is, Captain. Idle troopers and gossip." At this, he shot a pointed look at Wag. "Perhaps the men will find a more productive pastime once we set foot on Felucia."
The grin abruptly vanished from Dion's face and he soberly took a stab at his scrambled nuna eggs. "No worries on that account, Commander. Felucia will give you more than you can handle and then some."
"It's a tough campaign, then?" That was Mekk, with one of his endless questions. Next to him, Ezec looked up from his own meal, glancing first at his brother, before carefully eyeing Dion. Gaff was very grateful all of a sudden that he'd chosen to sit with Ezec's squad. The dour trooper was still getting used to his sergeant's rank, but his squad adored him and most had adopted a certain degree of his quiet reserve. They might not make for the liveliest dinner conversation, but Gaff could rely on Ezec to help him divert the talk away from Kase.
"With over half my men dead," Dion replied sourly, "I'd say so."
Mekk flushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean…."
But Dion waved the apology off. "Don't worry about it, Private. It's not like we haven't been trained to expect casualties."
"I always wondered about that," Wag broke in. "Seems to me training was always a little light on what to expect when things went through the exhaust fan. Especially before we got our company assignments and still trained in batches. Or maybe that was just my batch?" This was directed at Dion.
The captain chewed thoughtfully on some egg, before shrugging. "I'm from a command batch, Private. My training certainly covered how to deal with casualties. Not that that was pleasant."
"Was that Captain Kase's impression as well?"
Every Elix trooper at the table froze at the name. Gaff shot Wag a look, but the trooper was either purposefully ignoring him or too focused on Dion to notice.
The captain, however, was more perceptive than Gaff had given him credit for. Dion's eyes briefly flickered over Ezec's squad, before regarding Wag again. "Kase was always rock-solid," he replied evenly. "Never twitched an eye at anything. Just listened to his instructions and got on with his task."
"Is that where he got it from?"
"Got what from, trooper?" Dion asked, brushing a piece of egg from his moustache with a surprisingly graceful sweep of his hand.
Wag cocked his head to the side, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial pitch. "The captain does love his regs. Always wondered why that was."
Dion laughed, the edges of his moustache trembling violently under the force. "Kriff if I know, Private. Kase always had his nose stuck in the regs."
"More caf, Captain?" Gaff tried to jump in, sensing the conversation was moving onto dangerous grounds.
"It's actually good today," Plex added, clearly trying to help his commander out.
"There's always tomorrow," Ezec said dourly and Gaff did a double-take, momentarily distracted. Had the austere trooper just made a joke?
The things we do for our brothers, he thought irreverently.
But Wag wasn't about to be deterred and Gaff realized too late he'd actually provided the trooper with another opening. "Especially if Captain Kase gets a hold of it." Wag waggled his eyebrows at Dion, who looked intrigued.
"Oh?"
Wag shrugged playfully. "The captain's got some odd notions about about caf. But it's all per regulation." And he rolled his eyes dramatically.
Dion shook his head, amusement and just a hint of nostalgia on his face. "That sounds like the Kase I knew. Guess some things never change; especially those that earn you your name."
"And how did the captain get his name?" Wag fairly pounced, while beside him, Jakk was cringing into his armor.
Gaff set his cup of caf down harder than necessary, some of the liquid sloshing over the rim. Whynge be damned; Wag was overstepping his bounds. A trooper's name was private; the only thing he truly owned and Wag had no business asking for that kind of Intel. Especially when it concerned a superior officer. It was starting to dawn on Gaff that he'd seriously underestimated the friction between Wag and Kase - one-sided though it was, since Kase wouldn't lower himself to a petty dispute with a mere trooper. Though the Republic believed in the greater unity of the Grand Army, the simple truth was that even amongst clones, personalities just sometimes didn't mesh and troopers could stoop pretty low to get the upper hand in a personal quarrel. Wag was getting dangerously close to breaking some of the most serious codes of conduct between troopers in order to ruffle Kase and, Gaff had to concede, Kase's customary strategy of mostly ignoring Wag's posing and insolence was no doubt adding fuel to the fire. Every time the captain took the higher skylane, he was showing Wag up as the childish blow-hard he actually was. And that wasn't something a man like Wag could easily stomach.
"Oh, we all gave it to him," Dion said, chuckling at the memory. "The whole batch of us. It was..." The captain abruptly shut his mouth and Gaff, who'd been poised to jump in - literally, if need be - turned his head to see what had caught Dion's attention. The entire table, in fact, turned to find Kase standing just behind Wag, deep frown lines etched onto his face, his generally immaculate appearance slightly ruffled from the haste with which he'd come to the mess-hall after completing his duties.
"It is my understanding," the captain said, slow and measured, though Gaff caught just the faintest tremor of annoyance in the man's voice, "that meal times should be hours delegated to the maintenance of positive relationships within the company structure. While no doubt advantageous to the betterment of multi-company maneuvers, your presence, Private Wag, is somewhat dubious at this time."
Wag had stiffened as soon as Kase's voice rolled over the table and now he was as rigid as a bulkhead, fingers clenched with the urge to retaliate to the stoically delivered reprimand and shaking because he knew he couldn't go up against a captain for the simple reason of being banished from a table. Especially when said captain was, technically, correct.
"You're not from Elix?" Dion asked in surprise and, for the first time, took in Wag's armor and the disparate company sigil.
"He's from Flash Company," Ritz, another of Ezec's men, offered. "Commander Whynge's command."
Wag, feeling the tide turn, coughed and hastily stood. "Sirs," he saluted the officers, Kase included. "I should return to my duties."
"Do that," Ezec said, never once looking up from his tray.
Wag flushed, but wisely chose to remain silent, staring pointedly instead at Jakk.
Jakk looked around the table and Gaff saw the indecision and helplessness in the man's thoughtful eyes, before the trooper ducked his head and stood, choosing to leave with his lover.
"Traitor," someone mumbled, but when Gaff shot a dark look in the direction of the speaker, no one would meet his eye.
The awkward tension that was still on the group lingered however, until Mekk suddenly spoke up.
"So how did the captain get his name?"
Beside Mekk, Plex slapped a palm to his forehead while the rest of the squad, with the exception of Ezec, groaned.
"Mekk," Ritz hissed.
"What?" Mekk looked from one squad-mate to the next. "You don't want to know?"
"It's actually a pretty good story," Dion put in, not at all fazed. "I think your men are eager to hear it, Kase." He threw Kase a wicked glance, who shifted his weight from his left to his right foot, uncomfortable with being the center of attention.
Gaff tried to object. "That's not necessary."
"I do not believe it is relevant information," Kase said at the same time.
The rest of the squad remained silent. They all respected Kase, even if few of them actually felt comfortable in their dealings with the captain. They wanted to respect his privacy. But they also really wanted to hear the story.
Kamino, eight years ago...
- K.A.S.E: Killed After Single Engagement -
CC-9770 stared at the heading of his performance report, brows lowering as he studied first the words, then his training sergeant's following assessment. It was...less than optimal.
He wasn't sure he understood why. He had followed protocol to the letter during the simulation and acted out every order perfectly and yet, he'd been "killed" during the first enemy engagement. Absently, he rubbed at his chest where the simunition had left a bruise twice the size of his fist. It was a testament to the durability of even the clones' training armor that the skin hadn't blistered.
"If you don't shape up," a voice next to him said, "the overseers are going to have you reconditioned. That's what? Your second time being the first kill in a sim?"
9770 looked up to find CC-9970 standing beside the bench he was sitting on, still in the process of pulling on his cadet's uniform after the evening's visit to the 'fresher.
"My third," 9770 corrected automatically. It was not a number to take pride in, but a fact that needed to be stated correctly. His right foot twitched, but his bare toes avoided contact with the cold floor, since the bench had been scaled to a clone's adult height. It would be another six years, at least, before any of this batch reached their full growth. Until then, small feet were left to dangle in the air.
"Pathetic," was 9970's comment and the other cadet didn't argue. As a member of a command batch, 9770 and his mates were held to higher standards and it was clear from his performance that 9770 was failing to meet those demands. As troubling as that was, the consequences of continued failure weighed just as heavily on the cadet's mind. Although he'd been decanted just two and a half standard years ago, 9770 was not yet prepared to relinquish his hold on life. Though he understood that this was the ultimate duty he was working towards to, ceasing to function because he could not cut the grade was unacceptable.
"I do not understand what I am doing wrong," the cadet suddenly blurted out. "I follow my orders precisely."
"I think the problem is what you do when you don't have orders dictating your every move." 9970's voice was slightly muffled as he tugged the tunic over his head, running one hand over his recently shaved, bald skull. "You just kept shooting when that squad of droids came at you. You should have cut to the left and run, like the rest of us."
"Our orders were to hold the ground at all costs," 9770 reminded his batch-mate, censure heavy in his voice. He'd been confused and more than taken aback when the remainder of his defense group had suddenly disappeared, leaving him to man their post alone. "You all deserted your stations."
"We retreated to come at the enemy from behind." The other cadet rolled his eyes at 9770's obstinacy.
"We were ordered to hold our position," 9770 insisted. "I did so."
"And got killed in the process, while the rest of us retook the ground during the ambush."
"Our orders..."
"Just give it up already, 9970," 3013 suddenly broke in, looking down from where he clung to the rungs of the ladder, halfway up to his sleep bunker already. "There's no arguing with him."
"One-track mind," another cadet commented, noisily closing the door to his locker.
9970 shrugged, but turned towards his batch-mate one last time. "If you continue like you're doing, you might as well have that," and he tapped the words 'Killed After Single Engagement' with one blunt finger, "stencilled across your bucket."
Snickers erupted across the barracks as the other cadets caught on to 9970's words.
"Good one," 3013 said, before hauling himself into his sleep bunker.
"Yeah," one cadet chortled. "I like that."
9770 looked from the performance report to the rest of his batch-mates, aware that some comment was required on his part, but unable to think of more than: "Defacement of trooper armor is against regulations."
Up above in the rows of sleep bunkers, 3013 snorted. "He won't last."
"Seconded," a sleepy voice from the next bunker over commented.
9970 threw his arms up in disgust and turned his back on his fellow cadet. "Whatever you say, Kase."
Dion studied the table for a long, long moment, face set in thoughtful lines.
Still standing, with his hands behind his back, Kase was a study in rigidity; fit to make the coldest corpse proud. And though the captain hadn't so much as twitched a nostril, Dion suddenly shot him a narrow-eyed, calculating look. The two batch-mates locked eyes for a brief second.
With a chuckle, Dion turned back to his rapt audience, lifting his cup of caf in a jovial salute. "Kase was never caught with his pants down. No matter if it meant slugging extra supplies or studying new regs in-between classes, he was always prepared. 'Just in case,' get it?"
The squad quickly exchanged glances with their commander, who shrugged, half in disappointment and half in relief.
"That doesn't sound all that interesting," Ritz commented and with their feelings summed up, the squad turned back to their food and other conversation.
Above the rising murmur of voices and the tops of his men's heads, Kase caught Dion's eye. Barely perceptible, the captain gave his former batch-mate a nod, the gesture filled with gratitude.
Smiling, Dion returned the nod and went back to his food and the good company.
The things one did for a brother. Especially a brother who'd exceeded expectations.