Disheartened
The insert into Felucia wasn't going to be easy.
One look at the disheartened remnant of the 121st Regiment disembarking from their scorched and dented larties was enough to convince Gaff of that. Doing a quick headcount, he realized not even a fifth of the 121st was gathering aboard the Stalwart and fervently hoped that the rest had simply been evaced before the final push.
In his heart of hearts, though, Gaff knew that it wasn't so and the implications didn't bode well for Blazer Corps.
No one wanted to call it a retreat, but the ugly facts were that aside from a small contingent of clones barricaded in Har Gau, Felucia was now in Separatist hands, with a ring of cruisers orbiting the planet that had ambushed and devastated the retreating Republic forces.
It was a testament to the skills of the clone pilots that the 121st had made it out at all.
And now the 49th Blazer Corps was supposed to go in and save the day; reclaim the lost territory, secure Felucia and oust the Commerce Guild from their headquarters. Capturing the Guild's president, Shu Mai, would be the icing on the uj cake, as his ARC instructor, Alpha-17, had been fond of saying.
Watching the bedraggled lines of 121st troopers file past him, giving the attending officers weary salutes when they could, Gaff found his confidence in a quick victory on Felucia wane. He didn't doubt that they could succeed, Blazer Corps was that good, but with a sinking feeling in his stomach, the commander thought they might be in for a prolonged campaign, like the ones being fought on Mygeeto and Mimban.
Ahead of him, General Arhen's shoulders tensed, as if the man could feel the tread of Gaff's thoughts, before relaxing once more. The general was watching the 121st as well, his face impassive except for the tightening of his lips and a slightly darker tinge to his normally teal eyes. Gaff had heard the expression, 'eyes darkening with emotion' but had never actually seen it before. If he interpreted the minuscule reaction correctly, then the general's eyes turned a darker blue when upset - or angry.
Good to know.
"Sirs." A clone captain, bald atop and sporting an incongruous moustache, saluted the group of officers. "CC-9970, Captain Dion, reporting all men aboard and secured."
The general nodded graciously. "Welcome aboard the Stalwart, Captain Dion. I am sorry our meeting has to be under these circumstances. Please consider the resources of this ship at the disposal of you and your men. Commander O'sic here," and the Jedi nodded to his second, "has my permission to prioritize any of your requests. Within reason." This last, the general added with a tiny wince that might have been regret or embarrassment or both, but was gone so fast that Gaff wasn't even certain he'd actually seen it.
There was no mistaking, however, the surprise and gratitude that flashed over Captain Dion's face, before resettling into a clone's standard mask of stoic professionalism. Crisply, the captain clicked his heels and saluted the Jedi general. "In the name of the 121st Regiment, my sincerest thanks, General Arhen."
General Arhen did that odd little Jedi half-bow, half-nod in answer. "I would also appreciate a private debrief of the Regiment's time on Felucia, before the official debrief with the rest of the command staff, Captain. Whenever Commander T'reek is available…."
"Jedi Commander T'reek is KIA, General," Captain Dion injected softly. "She covered most of our retreat, before her Delta-7 was intercepted by a pack of Hyena droids." There was an uncomfortable pause, before the captain added, quite self-consciously, "The kill was confirmed by our own fighters, sir."
The general blinked rapidly, before fixing his eyes on a point over Dion's shoulder. His face became distant, distracted, like a man searching the sand for footsteps already washed away by the incoming tide. After another second or two, the Jedi closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Yes," he said, his voice audible only to their small group. "Perra T'reek is one with the Force now." When he opened his eyes again, the general was composed, distant and devoid of grief. Gaff might have been repelled, if he had not seen that exact same expression before on officers of the corps, informed of the death of their men and forced to move on despite the loss. An officer could not afford to let grief come to the surface, at least not until he was alone and the threat of enemy fire well behind him. Jedi or clone, an officer could not allow his own feelings to demoralize his troops, or cloud his judgement.
"Are you the highest-ranking officer, then, Captain Dion?" Commander O'sic asked, buying his general a few more seconds to fully compose himself.
"Yes, sir." Dion nodded respectfully to the marshall commander, but addressed himself to the general. "Commander Frenz is still in bacta and evaced to the Kaliida Shoals Medical Station." His face twisted in momentary anger, the edges of his moustache trembling. "Seeing as how the Seps blew the Felucia station to slag. Can't tell you how many of our injured died because we were lacking sophisticated medical equipment. There's only so much those medical transports can do, especially under fire."
"I understand, Captain." The general was back and taking charge of the conversation once more. "In that case, please meet me at 1800 in my office for that private debrief. I've read through the reports of your efforts on Felucia and have questions regarding the more….unusual events that occurred."
A shadow passed over Captain Dion's face, deepening the grooves around his lips and over his brow; dark rings gaining depth beneath his eyes. The man looked to Gaff, for lack of a better word, haunted.
"Yes, sir. I will…do my best."
"I have no doubt, Captain Dion. If you'll excuse me and Commander O'sic," the general inclined his head towards Gaff, "Commander Gaff and Captain Kase will see to your needs. Commander O'sic and I have a conference with the Jedi High Council."
The three officers saluted as General Arhen and Commander O'sic left the hangar bay, allowing the slowly receding lines of walking-injured to proceed them.
When Gaff looked back at Dion, he found the captain was staring intently at Gaff's second, who'd remained respectfully quiet at his side throughout the meeting.
"Kase?" Dion asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"
The two captains examined each other carefully, leaving Gaff very much in the lurch.
"The question is neither necessary, nor cognizant, Captain Dion," Kase finally said, "as a quick scan of my armor tally would have provided you with an accurate identity."
The moustache that stretched over the captain's upper lip quivered once more, before Dion threw his head back and laughed. "It's you, alright," he said and clapped Kase heartily on the shoulder. "And still alive to boot. Guess me and the rest of the batch were wrong after all, eh?"
Kase glanced down at the hand still resting on his pauldron, looking for all the world as if a vine snake had just dropped on him from above.
Dion snorted and retrieved his hand. "Yeah, same old Kase."
Gaff had tried not to draw attention to himself, far too fascinated by the interplay to want to interrupt for an explanation, but he must have moved in some small way, for the two captains suddenly remembered his presence and turned towards the superior officer.
"My apologies, Commander," Dion said, back to his former respectful self. "I meant no offense. I just wasn't expecting to see Kase here again."
"You two know each other?" Gaff asked, striving for a nonchalant tone.
Dion smiled, while Kase took to observing the hangar crew and small squad of astromechs as they began servicing the Regiment's much-abused larties, under the wary supervision of their pilots.
"Captain Kase and I go quite a ways back, Commander. We were batch-mates back on Kamino, before being assigned to our respective companies."
"Oh." Gaff's eyebrows shot to his hairline and he cast a quick glance at his captain, but Kase continued to study the hangar crews, either oblivious to his commander's close scrutiny, or intentionally refusing to make eye-contact. Both, Gaff had to admit, were possible and utterly unlike the stolid, dependable man Gaff had come to know and respect.
But how much did he really know about Kase? The captain had surely seen Dion's number on the roster of incoming troopers. It was one thing for Dion not to immediately recognize Kase after...What? Over eight years apart? But surely Kase - thorough, perfectionist Kase - would have known his former batch-mate was coming aboard and said something; given Dion some small sign of recognition. Right?
Finding himself suddenly at the center of the conversation, Gaff struggled to bridge a silence that was threatening to become awkward. But all he could think of was to echo his general's earlier sentiment. "I'm sorry this reunion couldn't have happened under better circumstances."
Dion's smile dimmed slightly. "That's war for you, I suppose. Never the right moment." Expectantly, the captain turned to Kase. "Well, Kase? We haven't seen each other in almost nine years. The least you can do is offer me a meal in your mess hall."
"An excellent idea." Gaff grasped at the straw. "I believe seaweed rolls and mynock stew are the special of the day."
Captain Dion's face convulsed in disgust and just loud enough for Gaff to hear, he muttered: "I think I was better off with fried Felucian fungus."
"Captain?" Gaff and Dion turned to Kase.
For his part, Kase glanced over at his superior, then at Dion, before dropping his gaze to study the tips of his boots: a tell - one of the few the captain had - that he was considering all his options and comparing each to the running log of regs in his heads. Finally, he gave a stiff nod. "I would be willing to accompany Captain Dion to the mess and bear him company. However, I have other duties that I must attend to first."
"Always the conscientious one," Dion said indulgently.
It was, as the civvies liked to say, opportunity come knocking and like the well-trained trooper that he was, Gaff didn't fail to notice the opening. For a brief, intense moment, the commander wrestled with himself and an ingrained sense of propriety. He'd never before actively pried into his captain's past - not that Kase wouldn't have told him whatever Gaff wanted to know, if he'd ordered the captain to do so. Kase was not a private man, in that few clones actually understood the meaning of true privacy. But neither did his stoic demeanor invite questions or intimacy and Gaff had been left to negotiate that thin line between professional respect and cool indifference between an officer and his second-in-command.
He'd always been careful not to upset the delicate balance and mutual respect he and Kase had managed to achieve, but with Captain Dion standing right beside him, Gaff found himself in the thralls of sudden, overpowering curiosity.
What had Kase been like in his earliest years, before being assigned to the then F-Company by the Kaminoans, at the age of three?
Clearing his throat and banishing any lingering sense of guilt, Gaff inclined his head towards the 121st captain. "Seeing as Kase is currently indisposed, why don't I accompany you, Captain Dion, until Kase's schedule has cleared?"
Kase jerked painfully upright at this, staring outright at his commander, but Dion merely tilted his head towards Gaff, the edges of his moustache curling slightly upward as he studied first the commander, then the other captain's expression.
"Of course, Commander," Dion answered promptly, a sly gleam in his eyes as Kase's expression went from surprised, to something that might have been outright dismay on a less controlled individual. "I'd be honored. I'm positive we can find a...worthwhile topic of discussion for the duration of a single meal."
"Commander." Kase hastily stepped forward, effectively blocking the way out of the hangar bay.
Gaff quirked an eyebrow at his captain's behavior. This was the most unsettled - even emotional - he'd ever seen the man.
"Commander, in accordance with the Manual on the Rule and Conduct of Officers, paragraph seven, forty-nine A, a visiting officer of second-lieutenant rank or above should be assigned a corporeal of the unit in question, to ensure all due formalities are observed and assistance rendered as needed. This is not a duty appropriate for a company commander, unless the VIP is a Jedi or officer of equal rank. Allow me to dispatch one of the men to attend Captain Dion for the duration of his stay."
"Do that, Captain," Gaff agreed smoothly. "Until you do, I will make myself available to Captain Dion. Company courtesy, Captain Kase," he interjected hastily as his second opened his mouth to protest the notion. "It wouldn't do to dispatch the 121st with a bad impression of Blazer Corps, now would it?"
Kase swallowed once, but bowed his head with the grave air of a man accepting defeat with as much grace as he could muster. "Certainly, sir. I will hasten to assign a trooper escort to Captain Dion and will join you and the captain in the mess in a timely manner."
Promise or threat? Gaff wondered. "Excellent, Captain. Captain Dion?" Turning, Gaff gestured to the hangar exit. "If you'll follow me?"
"Certainly, Commander." With a final smile, Dion clapped Kase once more on the shoulder, almost rocking the solid trooper where he stood. "See you later, Kase."
Kase's lips tightened almost imperceptibly at the informality, but dutifully stepped aside to let the pair pass, before returning to his own duties. With, Gaff noted wryly, quite a bit more than his usual efficient haste.