Epilogue IV

Order 66 – 224th on Mimban

Punch sat wearily on the boulder and rubbed his hand over his face.

He had wanted to be captain.

Captains could reassign or request troopers. As a captain, he would be able to reassign Sketch to join him no matter where they ended up.

He'd done very well in the Mudjumpers. He'd been driven, obsessed with becoming captain. He sighed then winced as the medic tended his shoulder. Rather say he'd been obsessed with being reunited with his brother, Sketch.

He'd made sergeant's second in just a couple of weeks. That had been easy; he simply did the opposite of what he thought Gus would have done or what he thought Slick might have ordered.

Sergeant Night had thoughtfully nodded. "You didn't strike me as much when you got here, Punch; no better and no worse than any other trooper." Night leaned forward and handed Punch his copy of the personnel chip with his new position on it. "But everyone in the squad has separately told me they think you'd make a good second. They say you're involved with them, that you cover them not only on the battlefield but in the mess or in the gym. They say you offer good suggestions and have even taken on extra work like helping Card with his helmet transmitter and keeping Tack company when he messed up and I had him on extra sentry duty.

"Yes, sir," replied Punch.

He'd made sergeant when they'd been caught in a cross-fire and he'd gotten half the troopers out. Sergeant Night had told the captain that Punch would make a good sergeant and Captain Top approved it. The surprise had been four volunteers into his squad; new brevit sergeants usually had to have troopers assigned because they were both untrained and untried.

It had been a year before he'd made lieutenant but the Jedi, General Nyrm noticed him.

"Great things, young man, I see great potential in you," Nyrm had said during Punch's original courtesy call on the general soon after Punch's reassignment from Christophsis; even before Captain Top had him assigned. He had given Punch a wry smile, "I see you're working up to that great potential, Punch."

Punch had been proud until one of the older troopers told him Nyrm said that to all the new lieutenants. Punch had wondered why Nyrm said that to all troopers but, after thinking about it, decided the general was correct. Great potential resided in all of them.

General Nyrm was one of the more mystically-minded Jedi and most of the troopers tended to smile good-naturedly when General Nyrm went into one of his usual diatribes about the Force; his thin arms moving as if manipulating physical objects. Sometimes he spoke to inanimate objects - the rocks and trees of this world. They must has said things to him; the General kept them out of ambushes.

Punch glanced over to General Nyrm's body; his stick-like limbs broken and crooked.

Captain Top noticed Punch also and began including Punch into planning sessions and strategy meetings. "You made lieutenant quick, Punch. Are you gunning for captain?" It had been a laughing question, not in the least serious.

"Yes sir. I'm working for it."

Punch had wanted to be a captain and for that, he needed the general and the captain to sign off on the training to Kamino as well as give him opportunities to lead, opportunities to prove himself. They couldn't do that if they didn't know.

Noting Punch's serious demeanor, Top lost his grin and looked over Punch with calculation in his eyes then nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, lieutenant."

Once, a civilian, an old man with eyes blue like the sky, had landed on Mimban to deliver much-needed supplies. He had asked General Nyrm if he could speak with Punch. "I'm subcontracted," he told General Nyrm - a near twin of wrinkles and white hair. "Things are going well for the Republic, but after the victory on Geonosis, there's a slight shortage of supply transports."

He had handed Punch a portable holo-maker. "One of my children has a friend in the Coruscant Guards, name of Sketch." He shrugged. "Said if you wanted, she'd deliver the message. She also said to tell you she's also friends with Chopper of the 501st, Sergeant Jester of the 212th, and medic Gus of the 41st." Then he had turned back toward his ship. "I figure it will take two hours to unload then I head out. You've got two hours."

Two hours? It wouldn't take him two minutes to say Mimban was muddy, he was lieutenant and working on being captain. "I'll ask for you as my second, Sketch. Count on it."

Two hours later he was still talking, explaining why he had cut his hair, and changed midsentence as he saw the pilot walking over. "I miss you, my brother, and we will be together again."

"Thank you," he told the man as he handed over the holovid. "And thank your daughter for me as well."

Punch looked at the body of General Nyrm, a dozen blaster holes through him, a dozen troopers surround him – brothers in deaths.

"I'm sorry," Nyrm had said softly as he turned toward his troopers just receiving a transmission in their helmets; his light saber was in his hand, it's deadly hum the only noise.

"Execute Order 66."

"I'm sorry," Nyrm repeated, "that I was only able to save a few of you." Then he had lashed out with the light saber taking Garl in the throat and moving like the smoke and mist he often about.

There'd been chaos, Nyrm laughing and singing a wild song until cut down in the cross-fire of blaster bolts. When Punch inspected his body, he saw tear tracks down Nyrm's cheeks.

Punch had wanted to be captain.

The medic handed Punch Captain Top's helmet; Top was split from shoulder to gut by a single sweeping light saber wound. "You'll do fine, Captain Punch," he'd told Punch in a breathless whisper as the living light faded from his eyes in the first moments after Nyrm's death. "Take care of your bro..." His whispered had faded into the afternoon's breeze.

Punch had wanted to be captain.

As a captain, he could reassign Sketch to join him no matter where he ended up.

For the first time in his life, Punch felt the blood on his hands, felt bitterness start to choke him. There was something so wrong about all of this and he could feel something intrinsic to him shatter. If there was great potential in all of them, there was also the potential for great wrong. Punch suddenly recognized that he'd been wrong in some fundamental way.

Punch had wanted to be captain.

But not like this.