Author's Note: If you have any writing tips, please feel free to comment.

As always, I continue to hope that I am doing justice to the spirit of Star Wars as well the respective authors and characters from which I borrow. Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

Mandalorian (Mando'a) words

Beskar'gam (BES-kar-GAM): armor  

Ner vod (nair-vohd): "my brother/sister"; colloquially also "my friend"

Ba'vodu (BAH-vod-oo): uncle (plural bavodu'e) or aunt (plural bavodu'e)

Ba'vodu Gan: Uncle Gan

Oya! (OY-ah!): Many meanings: literally "Let's hunt!" and also "Stay alive!" but also "Hoorah!", "Go you!", "Cheers!" Always positive and triumphant.

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Chapter 4

Our clone soldiers are humans with the same basic needs and wants as any of us. Just because they live out of an armored shell, it doesn't diminish the character of the man beneath. Just as many of us are humans beneath our beskar'gam, they are the same. The Kaminoans had discovered, much to their disappointment, that they just couldn't remove the humanity from a human being, no matter how bio-genetically engineered that human is.

Rav Brahlor, clone training sergeant, overheard with the other training sergeants, in discussions regarding her squad

Infiltrating the Separatist base located on Tochin Moon II, 783 Days ABG

"That escort fleet is probably going to be taking the merc out of there soon, and if he's got the objective stashed on board, we're going to lose our chance," Dusty said as they were separately surrounding the hanger in their assigned recon positions, just awaiting Gath's order to infiltrate the base. "We've got a flawless record right now. I'd hate to see that change."

"Agreed," Gath answered. "We need to take the Tinnies around the perimeter of the hanger and then get a good look inside Hazar's ride. Mercs tend to favor hidden compartments in their ships."

"Great. Now, we have to snoop around some strange ship that's probably full of bobby traps," Jas sighed. "Too bad our sensors can't just look inside for us."

Dusty answered this time. "Relax, ner vod. If we can get close enough, we'll see what we need to see. We're just too far away right now for our scanners to get a good look at the hidden compartments."

When did you become the optimist?" Jas asked.

"About the same time, you became the pessimist," Dusty shot back.

Gath cut in this time. "Save the squabble until we're clear again. Mouse, on my mark, you clean out the roof."

"Been wondering when you'd say that," Mouse replied. "I need those two to shut up for a while so I can concentrate."

Gath talked quickly to keep the other two from snapping back at Mouse. "Dusty, Jas, we're going to need to move fast. We'll take out the Tinnies and get inside the hanger. After that, you're on the merc, and I'm on the communications array so they can't send help or fire up those Vulture ships."

Jas answered, "Copy."

Dusty responded, "Acknowledged."

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Mouse smiled silently. The truce was laid amongst his brothers, and he could concentrate once again. Staring down the scope of his rifle, the sniper mentality picked off each Tinnie while he waited for Gath's signal. He loved the stillness of sniper work. It was a peaceful, graceful dance as he watched the enemy fall silently in the distance. 

There was no guilt about it. As one target fell, the next one lined up in his sights. In minutes, his work was done, and he was nothing but a shadow. He liked the solitude. Chatter was for civilians. Ba'vodu Gan never had a complaint about Mouse's lack of social interaction. 

He told him that his strength was his solitude and that he should never let anyone tell him differently. 

His brothers would learn to work with him, and he would learn to work with them. It had taken a long time, but Gan never gave up on getting Crimson Squad to gel, and now there was no doubt that why would protect each other and their squabbling was more of a façade than it was their true sentiments.

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Dusty allowed his adrenaline to wash him. He loved a good firefight and took pride in every Tinnie that got one of his blaster bolts. Occasionally, he had the horror, or privilege, of taking out a wet - a humanoid - on the battlefield, depending on how he viewed that humanoid. Sometimes they were "collateral damage," a living being that happened to walk into the path of his blaster bolts and was shot by their own stupidity for not staying low. 

The flash of pity Dusty felt about those uncontrollable mistakes usually got to him at some point later, and when he was alone he dealt with the guilt in his own way. 

Ba'vodu Gan gave him the suggestion to meticulously clean his weaponry and his body armor whenever he felt remorse after a battle, regardless, if it was a training exercise or the real thing. 

Gan explained that if Dusty took the time to wash away every last grain of grit, it would eventually begin to wash away his own dirtiness in his soul. 

At first, it didn't make a whole lot of sense to Dusty, but he continued with the ritual anyway, trusting that his training sergeant had knowledge from his experiences. Over the course of his short life, Dusty found that he could deal with every battle and every death, knowing that he had a way to cope when it was over. 

The only time there was no guilt to feel over his actions was when he was taking out the Tinnies. Battle droids were as dumb as scrap metal and he never needed a moment to justify his kill to himself.

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Jas swallowed down familiar nausea that always tried to creep up on him just before he was about to go headlong into something dangerous. It left him feeling cold, as a million pinpricks would jam into his spine. 

He knew it was the surge of adrenaline, the moment that the logic of his brain told him he was about to do something stupid and life-threatening. In his short existence, Jas had learned that if he felt the adrenaline, he was still alive, and when the time came that the adrenaline stopped pumping, that was the time to worry.

 Often, it was during the moment of the adrenaline rush that Jas found his thoughts roamed with wild abandonment, and now right now his thoughts were running rampant. He knew he had to get his concerns back under control. 

If not, he risked his life as well as his brothers' lives. Thinking about the mental box the Ba'vodu Gan had taught Jas how to create, Jas reigned in the stray thoughts and concentrated on protecting himself and his brothers. 

The box was nothing but a visual of a crate with a lock on it, and it was used to store everything that was irrelevant to the moment of the mission. The box could be locked just seconds before they were to engage an enemy, and it could only be opened when the danger had passed. 

Jas found it always cleared his mind and gave him the clarity to act on his training and instincts without the fear that his stray thoughts would cause a distraction.

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Gath took a deep breath, preparing himself for the moment of execution. It was always the worst feeling for him. He was about to order his brothers into danger and potential death. His orders, whether right or wrong, always gave the risk that one or more of them would not make it out safely. He hated that split-moment of realization, and how many times he ordered them to engage an enemy it never got any easier. 

In fact, it seemed to get worse... like they were pushing their luck every time they were successful. He knew the orders were simple: they would snipe what they could, grenade what they could, and then run headlong into the mess of whatever was left. It was never pretty, and commandos were never given many options. 

That they were the last ones called and the ones who did the dirty work. Still, it put fear in his stomach, the kind that froze his innards for the few seconds it took him to get the mission orders past his lips. 

Ba'vodu Gan could never make Gath's job easier. He simply told him not to forget the sensation of fear and dread because it meant he was doing the right thing. When the day came that he stopped caring about his team, that was the day he was unfit to be a leader.

The order finally passed Gath's lips in the simple command, "Oya!" It was Mandalorian for "let's hunt," and right now, they had become the hunters.

Within moments, Mouse reported in, "Four down, no replacements. Moving to the south now to see what you left me."

Dusty and Jas had managed to take out three Tinnies from each of their assigned positions before the droids began firing back. Gath took out two and then launched a grenade into the remaining three. Dusty and Jas each fired grenades into the remaining droids and then began their runs towards the hanger. Shrapnel from the droids' bodies flew in all directions.

"Aw, come on, I just polished this!" Dusty shouted at the pieces of shrapnel that scratched and dented his armor.

Jas felt his armor pelted by a few blaster bolts from the last couple of droids in his way. He swung the Deece around and blasted them into scrap metal.

Mouse took to taking out what he could of the south side. Then he launched a grenade into the few droids left behind.

After only a couple of minutes, the commandos had taken out the small garrison of Tinnies surrounding the perimeter of the hanger. Holding their blasters in crisp, attack positions, they scattered inside the hanger and took cover as another squad of battle droids greeted them.

A shadow of a darkly covered man blurred past, heading for the Fatal Bliss.

"Hold them off!" the man shouted.

The voice caught Dusty's attention, and he turned to the human quickly noting the black wrappings around his head and body. He chased after the mercenary, trying to not kill him just yet until they got the information they needed. 

Blaster bolts slammed into Dusty's armor, and an explosion forced him to fall back behind a crate of supplies. Momentarily frustrated, Dusty muttered, "Fierfek."

Jas tossed a grenade into the small garrison of droids taking out half of them. "Shab, couldn't they have spared us a Jedi? Everyone else gets one."

"Reject Squad isn't allowed the same privileges," Mouse grumbled as he rolled onto the floor and crouched behind a pile of plasteel shipping cartons, using the unloaded cargo for protection.

"Cover me!" Gath shouted as he slid his way under the communications desk. He pulled out a device about the size of a thermal detonator and tapped a small button on it that extended out an input plug. Shoving the plug into the port of the communications console, smoke began to waft up from the keys and lights, burning out every last circuit card and melting the wires into a mess of slag.

 Gath realized that he rather liked the small computer cookers, and the more he used them, the easier it made his missions. 

Once they were planted, everything inside was melted to become irreparable slag. Poking his head up from beneath the console, Gath turned his attention back to helping his brothers in their continued firefight.

"Crimson doesn't need Jedi," Gath responded no to Jas' question in the pauses between firing his Deece. Addressing Mouse, he admonished, "And, we are not a Reject Squad."

The rest of the battle didn't last long, and within the next ten minutes, the small garrison of droids had been defeated.

"Get me some backup here!" Dusty yelled as he ran towards the closing ramp of the Fatal Bliss.

Jas was right behind Dusty, keeping him covered. Then, Gath and Mouse hurried to catch up. They rolled up the closing ramp, following their brothers inside.

Once inside, the four members of Crimson Squad quickly required in the cargo hold that was immediately up the ramp. After a few silent moments, they disappeared like ghosts as they split off in different directions, trying to locate Hazar and get a reading on the princess.

 They knew better than to expect any mission to be easy, as overconfidence would be the first step in either losing one their squad or a defeat so horrible, they would have preferred death. 

Crimson Squad had a flawless record, and that win percentage was what motivated them. They were going to find Tochin's princess and get her back safely. Failure was not an option. 

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