I woke up in a medbay, a dull ache in my stomach, slightly groggy and quite grumpy. However I was clearly not as grumpy as R4 who immediately starts hitting me in the arm and whistling at me angrily about not being allowed to leave her behind again and to delegate more and to stop being so selfless. Not to mention being called about every insult under the sun.

  “I didn’t think you’d pick that up.” I mutter, in reference to ma’s swearing habit.

  I receive the equivalent of a fuck yeah from her and I sigh in exasperation. The Chief Medical Officer Alwi Tevre, a Togruta male, was giving me a side-eye as I was arguing with R4.

  “You can’t just hit people.” I say.

  “I will agree with that.” The medical officer mutters under his breath

  Her reply consisted of saying that I can’t just jump in front of dozens of droids without telling the other people in the room of my plan and saying cover me doesn’t count.

  “I’m sorry, but do I look like someone who gets into firefights often?”

  Her simple affirmative made me want to memory wipe her.

  “I dispute that.”

  She starts listing off every firefight I’ve ever been in and estimates I’ll be in another by the end of next month.

  “Oh yeah?”

  She whistles a fuck yeah you fool of a flesh-thing.

  “Alright. If my ever so wise droid thinks so I’ll start wearing armor.”

  That finally stuns her silent. Then she snaps her struts and begins rushing out.

  “Oh my Maker. She’s going to pilfer the armory.” I mutter in horror.

  “Nothing less than what you deserve, sir.” Captain Chain says as he enters the room.

  “I suppose this is my dressing down?” I ask.

  “No, sir. We figure the droid already did that. This is the debriefing.”

  “Alright. Casualties?” I ask.

  “One of the techs is dead, as are five arms-men and three Clones who began sweeping the ship. In the rescue operation we suffered a further six dead, though the shield tactics appear to have allowed any of the other wounded to be pulled back easily enough.”

  “Alright. Fourteen dead for how many droids?”

  “Two hundred and six who activated prematurely. We also seized the ship and the cargo. It had ninety thousand blaster cartridges for the droids, fifty thousand power-cells and another thousand droids.” The Captain answers.

  “That’s not as many droids as we were expecting.” I supply.

  “There were also a bunch of feed of unknown origins. We’ve not been able to classify it properly.”

  “Best post loyal arms-men on the ship until we know what the kark is going on with it’s contents.” I suggest.

  “Already done, sir. Junior Captain Mi-Kus and Senior Captain Strom have both been negotiating with the locals to open an investigation on the target recipient of the droids and bumped it up to Republic Intelligence, Navy Intelligence and the S.B.I. to see if any of the analysts can make anything out of all this. Locally both the Mon Calamari and Quarren are stalling. This may have been one of the earlier shipments for a potential revolt.” The Captain replies.

  “Is Luis staking out the less open routes of transport?” I ask.

  “He is, sir. He thought he would get to it before you do.”

  “Good, tell him to grab a couple local crew members to help him.” I order.

  “I’ll pass that along. Also an Elix Riderman has requested to meet with you.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I brighten up at that and speak: “Best send him through.”

  “Yes, sir. I hope you recover quickly.” The Clone says.

  “Thank you Chain.” I reply.

  I sag further into the bed and enjoy the cool feeling of Bacta on me. I take a look at my healing chart to see I’ll be stuck on bed rest for a couple days before I’ll be allowed partial mobility. Apparently they managed to hit my large intestine. A relatively minor surgery had fixed myself up and apparently I had spent a day in the bacta tank. I take a sniff of myself and find myself void of the usual smell bacta staining my skin. Instead I simply smell of soap.

  “THRAKEN OWEN REND DERICOTE YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD!” I hear before Elix storms through the open doors of the medbay.

  “Shush, there are other wounded here.” I reprimand, which seems to fly over his head.

  “YOU BETTER BEG THIS WAR DOESN’T END IN A WEEK OR ELSE MA’S GONNA MURDA YA HERSELF YA FOOLISH PIECE OF LIZARDSHIT!”

  “DON’T YOU CALL ME LIZARDSHIT! WHICH ONE OF US STILL CAN’T MANAGE TO GET OVER HIS FEAR OF COMMITMENT TO HITCH ALICE UP, NEVER KARKING MIND FINALLY ACCEPTIN’ THE ADOPTION ALREADY YOU DIRTY SMUGGLING SPICEPEDDLING RAILGOWER!” I bark back, feeling a slight tug on my bandages as I adjust myself.

  “WHAT WOULD I KARKING DO, HUH? WHAT’LL MA’ OR PA’ DO WHEN THEY FIND OUT YA DIED FIGHTIN SOME DUMBASS DROIDS!?” He deflects placing his fists on his hips.

  I shut up, damn it all: “Fine Elix. I ‘spose first of all, you’ll be gettin’ the slugthrower. Then I ‘spose Ma’ and Pa’ll finally get ya hitched to ya Alice before the month’s out cuz I sure as kark know I’ve left a bunch of my karkin money to ya and her, let alone any fancy ass bonus I get for kickin’ the damn bucket.”

  That shocks him out of his shouting: “I’m in your will? Wait you’re giving me the slugthrower!?”

  “No, I just left you out for funsies. Yes you’re in the fuckin will ya sand for brains and who else would get it? I sure as hell ain’t leavin it to some cousin I’ve only ever met once or twice.”

  “We’ll sorry for not believing you when it comes from mister, don’t worry Elix I just wanna go get a drink durin’ a sandstorm, I’ll be fine.”

  “I was fine!” I argue.

  “Only reason why was ‘cuz a mudpuppy thought you were one of her whelps and dragged you into the sewers.” Elix retorts.

  I place a hand over my heart and feign insult: “I told you about my mother in confidence!”

  “Yeah, and she bit me.”

  “Can’t say I remember that.”

  “I won’t dignify that with a response.” Elix says.

  “I assume you’re here for more than simply berating me.” I ask.

  “Yeah, yeah. I would hand it to ya, but you’re still stuck in that damn bed.” Elix answers with a sigh.

  “Hand it over to R4, she should be able to carry it to my office.”

  “Where is the little droid anyway?”

  “Getting me body armor, since she thinks it’ll stop myself from getting injured.” I reply.

  “Knowing ya you’ll just end up wounded worse for it. Reckless lizardbrain.”

  “If I was even half as reckless as you think I am, do you think I would be a bloody Commodore, never mind alive.” I shoot back.

  “Fine, I’ll drop of the packages with R4. Now, who do I need to bribe to get a drink?”

  “No one, you can find a couple techs brewing moonshine in the engine room or you could raid my liquor cabinet. I should still have some guestfood for ya.” I answer.

  “Well, once you’re done you comm me and I’ll show up again.” He says before patting m shoulder and moving to leave.

  “You should check on the rails. There might be more than just spice peddlers on em now.” I say.

  “Don’t you already have one of your guys on em?” He asks, his back to me, but his head turned towards me.

  “Yeah, but better have two pups guarding the pack than one. Need a railgower to find another. See if any of em are peddlin spare parts for R4 why don’t ya. She could use a new blowtorch.”

  “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see ya in a couple days. Elix says.

  “Be safe, Elix. Would hate to have to re-write my will.”

  “Sure, sure. Don’t go dying on me neither.” He says as he leaves.

  I sure hope I won’t.

  Kamino had apparently just survived a Separatist assault. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I had just been allowed to move about a couple hours a day and have been using the time to check with my officers and begin formulating future expansion plans. I still needed more men, and preferably a Jedi, to finally seize Targonn. I had a not inconsiderable chunk of my direct firepower there and I wanted to finish off the blockade sooner than later.

  The convoys were still rolling in on schedule, with replacement troops and supplies alongside materials for Dac’s shipyards. I was itching to go after some more Separatist shipping. I hadn’t done that personally for months and with the Separatist ship attempting to get to Dac I felt it prudent to do so sooner than later.

  Elix was still in system skulking around the shadier cantinas and more questionable docks to see if he could find who was receiving the shipments while Luis was meeting with some lower level bureaucrats to see if their tongues were loose on anything we might want to know.

  As always I needed reinforcements. Preferably a battalion of Kaminoan Clones alongside a regiment or three of those new Spaarties or the more reliable Volunteers . I should file an official report to request a second Clone Company and some Volunteers, it probably wouldn’t be approved, but I should at least have a paper trail to support my thoughts. I should also prepare a final draft of the AT-TE/b, the effectiveness of the walker with combination of the LAAT/c to create unconventional or surprising boarding action entrances.

  Apparently General Skywalker hadn’t had the chance to utilize the AT-TE/b in combat, but I could use Kenobi to add a layer of further credibility to the design, since he had lead a successful boarding action with one alongside two LAATs. I should order the materials for another AT-TE/b LAAT/c combination. Though it would certainly strain the hangar space even further than I would like, maybe I could increase the hangar size? It would definitely clash with regulations. I sigh, unless an Acclamator falls into my lap it seems I will be stuck with limited hangar space and dangerous Jerry-rigged suspensions to be able to house everything inside of it.

  At least the Targonnian ships were still under lock and key at the moment. It was Navy protocol to not use the ships unless there was literally no alternative and technically I had alternatives, though I was an inch and a half away from just screwing tradition, protocol alongside two conventions on what war-crimes even were and getting on with crewing the ships.

  I sigh again, not like any of those conventions were conclusive. Technically it wasn’t even illegal to execute your prisoners, or to torture them, or maim them, or torture them psychologically or starve them, or bury them alive, or just not take them. It was a mess. Sure some conventions had actually agreed on some rules of war, but the Sith never cared for them, the Mandalorians never signed them, the Republic said it was up to her member worlds to sign individually and the Hutts, well they’re the Hutts for a reason. It was an entire mess.

  Technically holding a military office broke three rules of war based off of six conventions, never mind that fighting in a war technically broke about twenty rules of war as agreed upon in twenty seven conventions, the latest of which had been about a year after the invasion of Naboo and the oldest of which was about as old as the Pius Dea Crusades. Nine Hells, if I was being technical about it every single person in the Grand Army and Republic Navy, let alone the Separatists were war criminals by the standards of those Humano-centrist religious nutjobs. If not for working alongside non humans then for not being one of their cultists.

  Though now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure the military conventions of the Pius Dea were absconded after the Navy and Jedi overthrew them. I should have R4 double check the record. This seems like the kind of thing over ten thousand years of politics might have forgotten and I’d prefer making sure no one has a way to dismantle the Navy by pulling some eleven thousand year old piece of legislation from their ass.

  I stop myself realizing I had gotten off topic. Sometimes the past seemed easier. The Pius Dea were crazy and if I remembered correctly attempted to create a human empire in the core and colonies, never mind the thirty odd crusades into the Mid and Outer Rim they conducted. Hells fighting against the Sith would be more black and white than fighting against the Separatists. Maybe I should just desert and join Hondo. I’m sure he’ll pay better than the Navy does. Though I doubt he does hazard pay.

  I shelve the idea for whenever Diretor Isard decides I’m no longer useful as a propaganda piece and tries to off me. My eyes flick over to the transceiver Elix had gotten me. It should work. It should be safe, but. But was I willing to risk it? Risk contacting General Solomahal? Risk finally talking to my old man and Ma’ again? I hesitantly punch in the codes and wait for someone to pick up.