Star Wars: Saber Battalion/Chapter Four

Star Wars: Saber Battalion

Chapter Four

Ship's night passed in unnatural quiet, with officers, crewers, soldiers and pilots whispering to each other in hushed tones from station to station, or else huddled together in mess halls or sleeping quarters. Nearly everyone was talking about the astonishing success of the Roche raid, marveling at the destruction of a turncoat capital ship on top of the neutralization of the asteroid's docking and repair facilities. The Marines of the Third Battalion, sequestered in their own barracks, were in high spirits. Many of the enlisted men had begun painting representations of crossed lightsabers on their armor, either on their chests or their shoulders, with some of them referring to themselves as belonging to “Saber Battalion.”

When Thedus Bimm broke the news to Laera, she was so taken aback, she couldn't think of anything to say in response. Besh Company's commander grinned wickedly, and reminded her that his transfer from the 83rd Assault Division early in the Mandalorian campaign had been greeted by a mass ration fight in the officer's mess.

“Just my luck,” Laera remarked ruefully. “First I die, then I get suckered into Jedi training, and then they stick me back here with you jokers.”

“Ain't war hell, boss?” Bimm replied with a chuckle.

“You bet your butt-plate, mister,” Laera shot back. “At least this time I get to hand out the punishments.”

Bimm recoiled in mock horror, his eyes wide. “Aw, c'mon Cap'n, we've always done right by you!”

“Yeah yeah, save it for the Sith,” Laera muttered. “Fine. If the men want to start calling themselves Saber Battalion, then so be it, it's now our unit designation. You want to tell Vice-Admiral Dun'vei yourself?” After Bimm's shocked silence, which she knew was only partly genuine, continued for almost a minute, she smiled wickedly. “Tell you what. After the mission, if you survive, that'll be your reward. I'll let you make the full report to Dun'vei. If you do good, I may even let you do it by holocomm instead of in-person. Dismissed.”

Laera had to almost drag the blabbering officer from her room, but she knew that the man had enjoyed the exchange as much as she had. Bimm had always been a jokester in garrison, and she had learned to value his ability to lighten the mood, even when things seemed to be at their worst. When out in the field...well, she had never had to worry about him once the fur started flying. She knew that it would be flying thick and fast soon enough.

With calm once again restored, Laera hit the sack, settling in and falling asleep in moments. She slept restfully, until around 0330 hours...

''Smoke slithered through the corridor, its walls and ceiling flecked with the occasional guttering flame caused by blaster bolt impacts, with silver-armored bodies lying about at infrequent intervals. The platoon of helmeted Marines, crossed lightsabers painted on their armor, strode past their dead enemies, slain moments before, and advanced steadily upon the base's inner command center. The first Marine in line carried not a blaster, but a lightsaber, its cerulean blade lit and poised for defense. As the column came upon the door to the command center, the saber-wielding officer slashed a hole through the door, bolting in even as it collapsed in on itself, its edges red-hot where the lightsaber had cut it. Only a few officers remained at their posts in the room beyond, and those that did not throw up their hands were swiftly cut down by blasterfire. The saber-wielding officer began looking at computer readouts, helmeted head drawn inexplicably toward an unimportant-looking display in the far corner. Gesticulating madly, the officer beckoned for an armored subordinate to come forward and examine the terminal. The junior officer removed his helmet, revealing the furred countenance of a Bothan, and began throwing commands at the terminal with the practiced ease of a professional code-slicer...''

Laera sat bolt upright in her bunk, gasping as she tossed the sweat-soaked blanket from her as though it were alive. She knew what she had just witnessed was no dream, no result of pre-mission jitters, but a sending from the Force, just as Master Lamar had described. But something about it felt wrong to her, like it hadn't been entirely the will of the Force itself. An oily sheen of darkness seemed to have covered the experience, like a thin veneer of mud smeared over a helmet's visor. Laera began to shiver as she sat, clad only in her underwear, and only through a supreme effort of concentration was she able to draw upon the Force to calm herself.

Glancing at her chronometer, she realized that only forty-five Standard minutes remained before it was time to rouse the battalion for the mission. With a slight twinge of nausea, Laera slipped into her armor's body glove, the feel of its semi-elastic material on her body helping her to recover from the feeling of having been somehow used for a purpose that was not her own, and without her consent.

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