Star Wars


My standard form of writing applies.

" " - Spoken

' ' - Thoughts, usually in italics, as well.

( ) - Commentary. I'm a smartass. You should know what goes here. My smartass commentary. Usually funny, always interesting. Details and explanations, or my personal opinions, unfiltered.

Italics- Usually things of importence. Flashbacks and certain things are in italics to seperate them from the rest of the story.

Bold!- Things like this are things that just stand out. Usually pretty badass, or just really scary.

Underlined words are oddball parts; anything that stands out, but doesn't fall into the two above categories.

Things in this font are sometimes Author commentary, or truly profound statements.

Those things just below this line, are seperators. They seperate different sections. Simple, yes?


I am a Conscientious Provocateur.

...Which is just a fancy way of saying I'm an asshole.

This is a trial chapter that I put together in my spare time. If people like it, then this fic will be continued. I'd like to apologize in advance, the first two sections of this are very "Rough," and rushed. The remainder of the chapter is, by all accounts,(All my accounts) awesome.



And there's the Archer reference.


#1 The Ramikad


Reference include, but are not limited to: Archer, DBZ Abridged, Star Wars KOTOR 1/2, Bulletstorm, Halo ODST, Code MENT, The Dark Id, and Resident Evil 5.


"He's too old."

The young Zeltron woman who stood before the Jedi council knew that was how they would answer, but Cynthe was never one to walk away from a fight, or an argument, without winning. "But Master Windu, surely you recognize his potential. Even without training, he has-"

She was once again interrupted, this time by the small, green-skinned figure seated in the center of the room. "Too old the boy is, as Master Windu has correctly stated. He has experienced too much of the world for the training to take. Grave, the repercussions were, last time an exception was made."

Her crimson eyes narrowed. "If you will not accept him into the academy, then I'll train him myself. That's the old way, isn't it? A master training her student from the time they can walk."

Mace scoffed at the thought. "You're hardly fit to train anyone, let alone someone who hasn't even learned the most basic principles of the Jedi Code. I remember when you first walked into this sacred temple, still wearing the blood-stained colors of the-" Before he could finish that statement, the air in the room seemed to change, suddenly dropping to near-freezing in an instant.

The sudden change in atmosphere did not go unnoticed, as did the look in Cynthe's eyes. "Do not speak of me as though I was a desperate child with nowhere to go. I came to the Jedi because I was sick of the constant betrayal and bickering of the Sith; I could've gone anywhere I pleased, but I sought to help the people of this galaxy. And the Jedi are sworn to protect the innocent, are we not? If the boy is not trained, the Sith will find him, and they aren't picky about who they turn or how they do it. The boy deserves better than that." She closed her eyes, reigning in her temper. "I know I am far from being the best suited to train him or anyone else. But it's better than letting him experience the same horrors I went through."

The little green man finally opened his eyes, staring intently at the young woman. "Determined, you are. Nothing to be done, there is. Go, youngling. No problems teaching, if the boy is as gifted as you believe."

With that, Cynthe nodded stiffly, "Thank you, Master Yoda," And turned on her heel, heading out the door before any of the other Jedi could protest.

As soon as the door closed, Mace spoke. "...If I might ask, why did you concede to her request, Master Yoda?"

The little green man smiled rather cryptically as he chuckled. "Corrupted, she is. But strong, her convictions are. Gained nothing, we have, by denying her. And nothing have we lost, by allowing her to mentor the boy. But if her intuition is correct..." He trailed off, letting the remaining Jedi come to their own conclusions.

Mace Windu slowly nodded, understanding what Yoda was insinuating. "Shrewd as always, Master Yoda. Nothing to be lost, but a possible ally gained. Chances are, she'll probably get both the boy and herself killed. But there's still a risk; if one of them turns to the dark side, both of them will."

Once more, Yoda smiled that cryptic smile he was so well known for. "Underestimated, the boy is."


When Cynthe left the Jedi Council and proceded to the lobby, she found the subject of their entire conversation on the floor, sitting upside-down.

Literally; his head was on the floor, legs crossed and hands folded together in some mock-up of a prayer pose. His face was scrunched up in concentration, which would explain why all the chairs, plants and tables around him were floating some three or four feet off the floor.

After blinking back the shock, Cynthe found her hand slapping against her forehead, an irritated groan escaping her lips; why couldn't the boy have done this earlier, when she first paraded him in there? It would've made things go so much smoother. "I see you're having fun. Pray tell, why didn't you show the other Jedi this when I brought you in to see them earlier?"

His eyes popped open, and suddenly, all the furniture-


Immediately hit the floor. He rolled over onto his back with a sigh, rubbing his forehead. "That's why. I can't get anything to do that floaty-thing unless I'm upside-down, and it really hurts my head. Ow."

"Oh...Kay." Cynthe blinked owlishly. "Are you alright?"

The boy sat up, looking straight up into the woman's eyes. "Yeah, I'm as well as I ever am. So am I coming with you, or do I have to go back to the orphanage? If it's the latter, can I get a headstart, Sis?" This kid is something else; at least he has his priorities straight.

She found herself smiling at his nickname for her, despite how hard she was trying not to. "You're stuck with me now, kid. So can you tell me your name, or am I gonna have to call you 'Majestic Space Duck' on a long-term basis?"

"QUACK!" He called, grinning that cheeky grin that only little kids can pull off. "My name is Alexander Roidsworth the 42nd, but you can call me Al. Or just 42, that's what the wards called me."

Cynthe smiled. "Alright, Al. That reminds me, the ward said you're an empath like me. Do you know what she meant by that?"

"Yep. It means I can sense the feelings of people around me, but for me, it lets me remember things that I shouldn't know."

Puzzled by this, she asked, "Remember things? What do you mean?"

Alexander emphatically odded. "Yeah, I can remember stuff that I didn't do. Most of 'em don't make much sense though, probably because I was seeing things through someone else's eyes. But he looked just like me, and his name was Alexander Roidsworth the 31st. Same name, so I think he's my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. I started remembering them after our field trip to the Jedi Archives. They had an old sword displayed in there, and when Hroikuh dared me to touch it, all sorts of things came rushing into my brain. They called it the Sword of Ajunta Pall; I think my ancestor used it, 'cuz it felt... Familiar, somehow."

Cynthe swallowed back the taste of bile in her throat. 'A force-sensitive empath, who can recall the memories of others in his bloodline? Force-sensitivity is strong in bloodlines; he must have the potential to become one of the greatest Jedi Masters of his time! And here I'm supposed to train him?! I don't know if I am the luckiest woman in history, or the unluckiest. Either way, things aren't going to be boring anymore.'

The young Zeltron woman smiled kindly, trying hee best to conceal the sudden rush of giddiness she felt. "What sorts of things?"

"A Sith blaster rifle is a really cheap piece of ossik made by the dumbest chakaars Czerka can find, their armor couldn't stop the fingernails of an old Twi'lek prostitute, and their vibroblades are even worse."

Al frowned, scowling darkly. "Damned thing shattered and nearly took my- I mean, my ancestor's gett'se clean off. I almost wasn't born. He cussed that Czerka saleswoman up, down, left, right and sideways in six different languages until she gave him his credits back for every Czerka product he had. Including all eighty-seven explosive devices he had on his person at the time. The rest of the horde he gutted for the baradium, which he rewired into his own homemade goores. I can also tell you exactly how to sabotage a blaster rifle so's it'll explode into millions of tiny pieces, which will most likely wind up embedded right in some poor chakaar's face. And how to rework a speeder's repulsorlift engines to go either really, really, really fast, or make it explode the moment you get it into gear. Some ways to fabricate or acquire weaponry and explosives on occupied worlds, common weak points in powered armor and a lot of other cool stuff. There's also some things to do with hacking computers, breaching security systems, breaking locks, finding ways into secure comms, and how to fix droids and most of the different machinery you'll find on starships. Of course, he preferred percussive maintenance. You know, kick the ossik out of stuff until it works. Heh, heheh, I also rememeber how to make a heat-activated glue that looks and works like personal lubricant until it's waaay too late. Heheh."

Cynthe swallowed drily. This kid was going to be a handfull, she already knew. "Can you tell me about the earliest memory you can remember?"

Al shrugged. "Sure, but I kinda forget who I am when I go digging too deep, and my ancestor was really violent, used lots and lots of dirty language and had a really dirty mind, so don't hit me for telling you everything." Before she could get another word in edgewise, he closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath.

Wait. A really dirty mind? Oh, no.

It was then that those clear, curious blue eyes snapped open, but they weren't the same; his gaze was cold, analytical, and... Hard, for lack of a better explanation. No, a complete and total stranger was looking out of those eyes, and judging from how he sized her up... He was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

In that moment, she could literally feel him reaching out for her through the Force, his intoxicating power enchroaching upon her own like a net of rose-scented razorwire, probing her defenses and testing her reactions.

Cynthe then realized just why the boy was so gifted; this man's power was immense. She could feel the currents of the Force shift and bend around him, leaving a strange, echoing absense where he stood; it was almost like a form of camouflage, like bending light around oneself to create optic camo.

Only, the phenomenon was absolutely massive, leaving a starship-sized patch of sheer nothingness where life once flowed, her own echoes drowned out by the deafening silence.

Then there was what little Cynthe could perceive of his emotions; the sheer bloodlust she felt rolling off of him drowned out everything around them, leaving her shaking as a cold sweat began sliding down the back of her neck.

And yet, this was not the man himself, only an echo of his presense. Cynthe swallowed drily; the legends say that compared to the ancient Jedi, the current generation of Jedi Masters are mere children, playing at being Jedi. If Alexander Roidsworth the 31st is this powerful as an echo...

Just how strong was he, at his peak?

"Another Zeltron, I see." He finally spoke, and while his voice hadn't changed, his tone definitely had. He sounded like an old soldier awoken from his slumber by a child, revealing little beyond his irritation and amusement at her curiousity... A soldier who had just spent an entire day breathing nothing but helium. It would have been absolutely comical, if not for the fact that it made him seem even more intimidating than she could've imagined; like dressing up a drexl to look like a gizka. "So tell me; what is it you wish to learn, little dar'Jettai?"


A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...


I couldn't help but groan at the ungodly waves of arousal flooding my consciousness as I looked up at the pair of beautiful women, languidly grinning from ear-to-ear. Revan let loose a throaty chuckle as she started moving down my body; despite the mask, I soon felt her lips pressing against me again and again, her tongue tracing tantalizing lines up and down my thigh, moving closer and closer to the throbbing ache of longing that made itself known.

But all the while, Meetra was pressing those mesmerizing breasts of hers against me as we kissed, our tongues violently fighting for dominance.

This had been going on for several long, mind-shattering minutes, my lust competing against my endurance, and with these two buxom beauties working me and my mighty shaft like true professionals, my legendary endurance was losing.

Quite badly, in fact. "UNGH! I'm gonna-"


[Cue Music: Out ta Get Me, by Halestorm]

'The fuck-?' Was all I had time to think before I was ripped from their warm embrace and back into harsh, cold and frelling cock-blocking reality. My body was forcibly torn from my warm, almost-comfortable bunk and yanked through my weightless room aboard the Endar Spire as all the air was sucked out through a massive breach in her hull.

Hitting every single piece of solid, heavy and/or flailing debris on my way out. "Ossik-Ack!-fierfek-Oof!-slana'pir-Fweugh!-frelling-Guah!-kriffing-Augh,motherfucker!"

It was at this moment I decided that today, someone is getting my boot up their ass.

I'd just barely managed to snatch my helmet out of the sky when I was pulled into the black, latching the modified Commando helmet and pressurizing it by rote muscle memory. Unfortunately, my squadmates weren't as lucky, probably because I was the only one who had been sleeping in his armor.(Started doing that back during the Mandalorian wars. But their armor is much more comfortable to sleep in, the lucky whoresons)

After enduring a few more minutes of bouncing off of pieces of the ship, my dead and/or dying comrades and our furniture, I finally managed to right myself and took a moment to catch my breath and take stock of the situation. After that moment, I cursed rather fiercely before glancing around and finding out what just happened; the ship I was on, the Endar Spire, was taking fire from a massive Sith warship; looked like a Hammerhead-class cruiser.

...Or three.

"I swear to Haran, these godless fucks always seem to attack whenever I'm in the middle of taking a nap," I growled to myself, snagging a rifle that had been floating nearby. It was the standard issue high-powered, short-barrelled Commando unit based on Cinnagaran Carbines and reverse-engineered Mandalorian blaster rifles; they don't get as many shots from each power pack as a standard Republic rifle and aren't as powerful as a full-on disruptor, but they're compact, and they work wonders against these Sith hut'uuns.

They also use the same packs and gas canisters as the el-cheapo Czerka ossik those Sith call blasters, so yeah.

I refill when I kill.

This one in particular looked to have been Corporal Huighlar's; neat kill marks along the grip and receiver, fresh blaster pack and tibanna gas, sights are just a smidge to the left of target.

Guy always did like to challenge himself...

I glance over to where he was currently floating in nothing but his green jumpsuit, blue in the face with his eyes bulged out. Chakaar still owes me fifty creds, but I'll call it square for taking his blaster. I leveled the weapon at the Spire, switching the selector to the underbarrel grappling hook and squeezing the trigger.

After the magnetic 'hook' took hold of the ship's hull some twenty meters away, I clipped the weapon to my belt and began the tedious task of reeling myself in. Some sixteen seconds later, I was back in my quarters, angrily marching towards the door.

I activated my commlink, calling, "Roidsworth to Captain Onasi. Somebody just killed my squad and interrupted the best dream I've had in the past decade. Unfortunately for them, I've decided that I'm a little behind on my murder quota."

Carth responds, "That you, Lieutenant? Good to hear you're still kicking. I thought the Sith vented that entire deck with that last torpedo."

"Aye, they did. Someone forgot to tell them the golden rule."

"Never wake a sleeping Commando... Heh. We're about to get some uninvited guests, so why don't you go give them the traditional Commando greeting and show 'em why the slot-faces still call you Prudii be'Jettai?"

"Aye-aye, skipper. One bloody, screamin' ass-kicking comin' right up!"

I exited my quarters with the help of my magnetic boots, fusing the door shut to keep idiots from getting sucked into vacuum, and brought up a map of the ship on my HUD, checking to see where the Sith were landing. A moment later, I found no less than six entry points being flooded with hostiles.

Right-o; we are green and very, VERY mean!


"Shock troopers!"

"There's too many!"

"Fuck this, fall back!"

"Belay that! HOLD THE LINE! This is their main force, the backbone of their assault! If we beat them here, we've won! Now push these Sith whoresons back into whatever void they crawled out of! FIGHT, MARINES!"

"Fierfek! Assault droid incoming!"

"Frag ou- GUAGH! HIT! I'm hit!"

The Sergeant glanced around the corner he had been shouting behind, muttering curses to himself. "Fuck me sideways..."

As the panicked Republic marines and crewmen valiantly tried to repel the Sith invaders, they found themselves vastly outnumbered, and terrifyingly outmatched. That is, until a certained red-headed soldier sidled up to the Sergeant and spoke, making the older man jump. "Not even if you paid me, you ugly old son of a gun."

"W-WHAT THE HELL?! Ossik, I never thought I'd be so glad to see you, Lieutenant!"

The Commando ignored his outburst and asked a very simple question. "Status?"


As the force of the explosion knocked the Sergeant flat on his ass, a staggering number of blood-covered human body parts flew by their heads, which the two veterans calmly ignored. None of them were wearing silver.

The valiant Sergeant remained exactly where he was on the floor as he answered, "Fucked."

Lieutenant Alexander Roidsworth the thirty-first sighed melodramactically, shaking his helmet-covered head. "How the Haran you managed to survive the Mandalorians for ten years is beyond me..." The Commando then bravely stepped over the cowardly NCO and around the corner, taking in the scene.

All he said was, "If you want something done right..."

Moments later, three thermal detonators flew by the remaining Republic Marines' heads, landing square in the middle of the Sith formation, shortly followed by a portable shield generator, which landed directly in front of the Marines before activating, throwing up a bright blue barrier that sealed the entire hallway.


And like that, the deadened sound of an explosion heralded yet another small breach in the Spire's hull, sucking the majority of the Sith assault force straight up and outward to die a slow death, floating in space.

Sometimes, all it takes is an officer who's willing to get his hands dirty.

Roidsworth sighed once more. "Now I can hear myself frelling think. Alright Marines, field strip the dead for supplies and start setting up traps for the enemy. They'll regroup and return soon enough." He activated his comm, hailing the bridge crew. "Ensign, close emergency bulkheads Bravo-42 through Echo-27. Tell the Captain I'm redirecting what's left of this squad back to rally point Whiskey to fortify our position outside the Bridge."

A young female voice answered his call. "Understood, Lieutenant. Knight Tisika is currently engaging a Dark Jedi just ahead of the defenders on Theta deck, and requires immediate assistance."

Alexander nodded. "Aye-aye. ETA four minutes." He deactivated the comm and looked up, glancing at the remaining Marines and crewmen whose lives would, more than likely, be over within the next hour. "Alright ladies, you're falling back to regroup with the Bridge defenders at rally point Whiskey. Fresh blaster packs and heads on a swivel, you know the drill. Move out, and don't get yourselves killed. I'll rejoin you with reinforcements shortly."

With that, the twenty-eight-year-old veteran started off, jogging in a different direction that the others went, only stopping when he came to an elevator. He hit the consle next to it, and when the door opened, he found that the elevator was at the bottom of the shaft, its repulsorlifts completely destroyed.

He shook his head, muttering to himself, "Ossik. Guess I'm doing this the fun way!" He then leapt into the darkened shaft, readying his grappling hook.


"DIE, Jedi whore!"


Crimson collided with Cerulean as Tisika Korvel hastily blocked the Dark Jedi's overhead strike, her feet sliding across the deck from the sheer strength behind the blow. She deftly twisted her weapon as she stepped around him, skirting her blade across his own, aiming for his throat.

She came close, but didn't quite reach her mark when he slashed at her and ducked backward, twisting away from her with a snarl. While he didn't manage to actually cut her, his blade passed through her belt and a number of the pouches on it, nevermind the painful burns spreading across her hips and buttocks.

Amidst the clatter of her possession hitting the floor, he raised his lightsaber once more, preparing to charge her when they heard something else ominous.


Tisika looked down between the Dark Jedi's feet as he did the same, watching as a small cylidrical object rolled to a stop against his shoes. She just barely had time to think, 'Oh, krif-!'

When it exploded.


Deaf and blind, Tisika deactivated her blade and dropped to the deck, rolling as far away from the Dark Jedi as she could; she could just barely make out the sound of distant blaster fire over the ringing in her ears.

After rolling to a stop, she pushed herself up on one knee and activated her lightsaber, fully surrendering herself to the Force as she reached out for the life around her, and felt nothing but bloodlust.

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she struggled to hear his words. "Easy, Jedi. He's dead." Tisika couldn't focus enough to hear his thoughts, but she could now sense that his anger was not directed at her, as he pulled the Jedi Knight to her feet. A minute later, still blinking back the spots in her vision, she found herself faced with a Republic soldier dressed in battered Commando armor, who was holding something out to her.

"Think you dropped this."

Tisika blinked owlishly, numbly pulling the vibration cell from his hands and stuffing it into one of the undamaged pouches on her belt. "Thank you, ah-" He had officer's bars on the collar of his armor; he was a Lieutenant. "Lieutenant."

He shrugged. "No trouble, sorry I couldn't give you a heads-up. You injured?" He asked, indicating the swathe of burnt robes and bright-pink skin across her backside.

"N-no," She stammered, fighting to keep from blushing. "I'm fine, it's just a graze. How did you manage to shoot him? I could still sense you, even while blind and deaf." The Dark Jedi in question was lying on the floor in a distinctly undignified position, a considerable portion of his head missing.

The Commando jerked a thumb behind himself, towards one of the- The perfectly polished mirror-like wall decorations directly across from the door he had entered from. "Shooting a Jedi or Sith head-on is like shooting yourself in the shebs. But if they're in the middle of something and you aren't directly aiming at them, well..." He shrugged, miming his head exploding with an accompanying sound effect, not unlike a wet fart.

"I saw a lot of Jedi killed during the wars, and near the end, I saw some Mandalorians using reflective objects to lay ambushes for Jedi. It was clever, but it didn't make much of a difference. Besides, flashbangs are still pretty effective for disorienting Sith, and that chakaar was no master; better men than him have died trying to kill me."

Jedi Knight Tisika shook her head once more before asking, "Where's the rest of your squad? There were supposed to be-" The Lieutenant stiffened just a little, and she could feel the tiniest hint of sorrow coming off of him before she shut her mouth. "Oh... I'm sorry."

"It's alright. By the way... Why were you carrying a vibration cell?" He asked, deflecting her apology; she could sense the perversion behind his question.(Classic misdirection)

Tisika fought hard against the burning that crept up her cheeks, but eventually lost out as he began chuckling. "Forget it. We've got company." He turned and raised his weapon, the humor suddenly gone from his emotions as he levelled his blaster at the nearby door she'd fused earlier; someone was cutting through it. "How many?"

The Jedi Knight was having difficulty sensing whoever was on the other side, but one thing was clear; they were not Sith. "Two. I don't think they're Sith."

Moments later, it finally opened, and they found another pair of Republic soldiers on the other side. "Hold fire!" One of them shouted, the white-haired male with the Alderaan accent.

"You good, Ulgo?" The Lieutenant asked, lowering his rifle.

Trask Ulgo,(Tisika had seen him around before) nodded, replying, "Yeah, I found Aoniken, but everyone else back in the barracks was dead by the time I got there."

Lieutenant Roidsworth(His surname was emblazoned on the front of his armor) cursed fluently. "Slana'pir... Well, that makes for one Ensign, a Jedi and two Commandos against an entire frelling Regiment of Sith shock troopers and a handful of sithspawn saber-jockies."

The other Commando, an armored woman called Aoniken, quipped, "Sounds like an even fight to me, LT."

He nodded, chuckling darkly. "True enough, Sergeant. Alright, we're heading for Rally point Whiskey; hopefully we'll regroup with at least two other squads. If they don't report in, we'll make for the bridge and have our heroic last stand. B-Formation; Aoniken, we've got the strongest armor, so we'll take point. Ulgo, you're in the middle, just behind us. Jedi." He turned towards her, and she could tell he was looking her straight in the eyes. "I need you to bring up the rear, make sure if we get hit in the shebs, we don't go down before we can shoot back. Everyone clear?"

Tisika nodded; she disliked taking orders, but she could recognize the wisdom in his words. This was not his first time leading a squad, and most definitely wasn't his first time working with Jedi; he knew their strengths and weaknesses, and how to best deploy them. Tisika also noted that, as a Jedi, the Lieutenant considered her too valuable an asset to place her in the front of their formation, where she would be the most useful, deflecting enemy blaster fire.

As an explosion rocked the Endar Spire once more, the Sergeant raised her hand, asking, "Sir, shouldn't we be heading for the escape pods at this point? This tub is done."

Roidsworth nodded sagely. "Obviously, but the escape pods are right next to the bridge, so we at least have to show the semblance of martyrdom. Besides, we need to secure Bastila, and we're too far from Taris to jettison, anyway; those cruisers would pluck us out of the sky. We need to hold out for a few more minutes before we can safely abandon ship."

Aoniken blinked owlishly, rubbing the back of her helmet as she thoughtfully asked, "...Is it even possible to 'safely' abandon ship?"


[Cue Music: Trenches, by Pop Evil]

"Sergeant, get that door open NOW!" Alexander's voice was barely audible over the screaming and blaster fire as the Lieutenant returned fire with one hand while simultaneously blocking Trask's body with his own, struggling to jab a stim pack in the injured man's leg.

The Jedi was doing her best to deflect as much of the enemy fire as she could, but no Jedi could possibly catch every single bolt that passed by their heads.

Raven Aoniken could feel the occasional blaster shot impact against the backside of her armor, and she found herself immensely thankful for the Commando kama that hung from her belt, protecting the vulnerable backs of her knees from blaster fire. The half-skirts were originally a Mandalorian garment, but Republic Commandos adopted them along with numerous other Mandalorian tactics. A cortosis weave through the tough synthetic leather helps to protect the wearer's legs, particularly from shrapnel and-


Ow. Stray blaster shots.

Raven took one hand away from her vital task of slicing the door controls to swat the small flame that sprang up from where a crimson bolt had slapped into her kama. Besides being uncomfortably warm under fire, they tend to occasionally burn when repeated hits melt away the flame-retardent finish.

As a Combat Engineer, Raven is expected to perform duties that require the skills of a specialist, ranging from demolitions to cryptology, and usually has to be done while taking fire from the enemy, whom is usually shooting at her while she is bent over whatever she's working on; this is the reason Engineers almost always wear an armored kama. Burnt asscheeks are a common complaint amongst Commando Combat Engineers, earning them the nickname 'Baboons.'

Still better than the alternative of structurally-superfluous new rectal orifices.

"Sergeant, where are we on that door?!" Roidsworth roared once more, still body-blocking Task's unmoving form against the overwhelming number of Sith troopers that encroached on our position, almost heedless of the hail of blaster fire that slammed into his armored body, never budging an inch. Whatever he used to reinforce the plastoid must be really frelling tough. Beskar?

As she stopped herself from being distracted by the Lieutenant's remarkable lack of self-preservation, "Fifteen seconds!" She called back, her vambrace-mounted computer still plugged into the door console. Whomever fused this door shut did a damn good job of sealing it; but Raven was better. "Got it!" And as the words left her mouth, what felt like a sledgehammer made of pure molten lead slammed into the back of her head, sending her spawling through the doorway as everything started to go dark.

Roidsworth got to his feet, dragging Ulgo along the floor as he moved backwards, still firing on the rapidly-approaching Sith platoon. He'd just made it through when he nearly tripped over Aoniken's body. "Gah, krif! Jedi, get over here!"

Tisika continued to retreat, swatting every blaster bolt that came close to hitting her. "Lieutenant, now would be a good time to close the door on them." She called, her voice surprisingly calm.

"That's what I'm doing!" He shouted back, his hands buried up to his elbows in the console on the opposite side of the door. "Ossik, Sergeant, why couldn't you wait until after closing the door to get shot..." Roidsworth muttered darkly, ignoring the excruciating pain each time he endured an electric shock from the exposed wiring.(Whenever he touched a wire in the wrong spot, he got shocked and his arms twitched, touching more wires. This meant more shocks, more twitching, etc. Bad day all around)

His armor was a mishmash of plastoid and beskar, and while his armored undersuit offered some insulation, the heavy Mandalorian iron plates were an excellent conductor.

A solid half-minute passed before the redhead finally shouted, "ELEK! Door's closing!" And within seconds, the heavy bulkhead shut. "Tisika, fuse this console."

The Jedi Knight nodded, walking over and jabbing the blade of her lightsaber through the console as far as she could, working it around to ensure it was destroyed.

Roidsworth nodded, satisfied, and got to his feet to move over to the two downed Republic soldiers. He rolled Trask onto his back before shaking his head, and closing the soldier's blank, unseeing eyes. "Damn it all... Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. I'm sorry, vod."

Tisika couldn't help but feel out of place, as though she were intruding on something she shouldn't. "Is... Isn't that a Mandalorian prayer?"

The Commando shook his head, taking Ulgo's holotags and pocketing them. "No. It is a promise; though you are dead, I am still alive. I will remember you, and so you shall be eternal. It is a Mandalorian funeral chant only spoken when a warrior has fallen in battle. It is an honor that cannot be explained in words. I fought alongside Ulgo back during the wars... He deserved better than this." He got to his feet, hurrying over to the injured Commando. "Hmph, she's still breathing. Jate'kara, lucky little soldier."

He took a few moments to thoroughly inspect the burned back of her helmet before he unlatched it, gingerly pulling it off of the unconscious woman; the back of her head was lightly burned through her jet-black hair, and there was a definite knot forming where she'd been hit. 'Mesh'la dala,' He thought to himself as he saw her face. Though marred by a thin scar that went from the corner of her mouth all the way up her cheek and past her right eye, she was undoubtedly gorgeous.

Roidsworth quickly reached into his pouch, and found that he had no more stimpacks nor bandages left; just a small kolto phial. He glanced at Trask's body; the man's uniform was absolutely shredded from repeated blaster hits. "Ossik. Jedi, you got any bandages?"

Tisika patted herself down, finding that her medical kit had been destroyed along with half of her equipment belt. "No, sorry. Oh, hang on." She then turned away from him and reached into the top of her robes, fiddling around with something between her shoulderblades.

A moment later, she procured a long, thick strip of black cloth, which she wordlessly handed to the Lieutenant after readjusting her robes.

Roidsworth blinked owlishly under his helmet. "Is- Is this your-?"

"Yes," She curtly replied, blushing fiercely when Roidsworth fully realized what she'd handed him. "But we've no other options at this point. Just do what you need to."

Alexander blinked once, twice. He had never before constructed medical supplies out of someone else's underwear. Shrugging it off,(He'd had to do weirder things to save people during the Mandalorian Wars) He doused a section of the long cloth with kolto, placing that section against Aoniken's burns before carefully wrapping it around her head and tying it off like a bandana.

That done, he glanced over her helmet; the rear of the casing was cracked and the interior stank of stale sweat and singed hair, not to mention the visor and rebreather were fried.

Useless. This is why he hated plastoid helmets.

Shaking his head, he tossed the broken piece of junk aside and got to his feet, hauling Aoniken up on his shoulder. "Alright, that's enough rest. Come on." He slapped his rifle against the magnets on the back of his armor and activated his commlink. "Roidsworth to Captain Onasi. The other squads didn't make it. We're pulling back to the bridge pending final contingency. We are down to myself, Knight Tisika and Sergeant Aoniken; but the Sergeant's been injured, and she's unconscious. If you've got anyone with medical training, tell them to get prepped for a headcase."

Carth sighed on the other end. "Understood, Lieutenant. Get up here as quick as you can, we're coming into Taris' orbit now."


Amidst the crimson chaos of blaster fire and the screams of dying soldier, the Commando retreated with his comrade over his shoulder, counting on the Jedi's saber to prevent the approaching enemy from ventilating the injured Sergeant while Roidsworth worked on getting the last bulkhead shut.

"Door's closing, ten seconds!"

"Acknowledged." Tisika replied, an eerie calm brought on by the sheer exhaustion of constantly deflecting hundreds, if not thousands of bolts over the last few minutes. Despite her fatigue, her focus was getting better, bringing everything into perfect clarity as she immersed herself in the Force.

And as the massive durasteel hatch slammed shut, a second one just behind them popped open. "What took you guys so long?" Captain Carth Onasi called from his chair, hardly looking away from the holographic display in front of him. His tone was light and friendly, even as his ship was being shot down out of the sky by his hated enemy.

I stepped forward, setting the injured Commando onto the floor as I checked over her injuries again, a wry grin hidden by my helmet. "Had more muppets than blaster packs. It takes time to reload, sir."

Carth chuckled, hitting another sequence of haptic keys on his chair's console. "Fair enough, Lieutenant. You got an ETA on when we should be expecting company?"

"Aye, sir. Cap'n, we need to scuttle this ship and get to the escape pods as quickly as possible. We've got no more than seven minutes before the Sith stop playing with their gett'se and breach the hatch."

"Seven minutes?!" Carth jubilantly exclaimed, an expression of mock horror on his face.

"Seven minutes," I drawled. I knew where this was going.

Carth melodramatically slammed his fist into the armrest of his chair as he shouted, "But seven minutes is all I can spare!"

I couldn't help chuckling at the running joke that had been one of Carth's little quirks he had picked up during the Mandalorian Wars. His wingman had broken formation to save an escape pod before Carth's wing engaged a squadron of Mandalorian starfighters; apparently, Carth warned him that he only had seven minutes before the shooting would start, and the man's last words were, 'Seven minutes?! How did you know how long I last?!' Or so the story goes.

That sorry joke is probably the only reason Carth can laugh instead of cry whenever he hears the phrase 'Seven Minutes.'

He was the only one situated here in the Bridge; all the other crewmen, and Bastila, must have aleady made for the escape pods. Heh, the Captain is always the last one to abandon ship.

Anyway, the Jedi behind me sighed. "Is now really the best time for jokes, Captain?"

Carth spun in his seat, all traces of that easy smile of his completely gone. "Yeah, it is. I find that if the Captain can't keep calm under adverse conditions, then he can't expect his crew to do so. Now come on, I've scuttled the computers. There's nothing left to keep us here."


"Augh..." Raven groaned, opening her eyes for what felt like the first time in months, her entire body aching like the morning after shore leave. But most disturbing of it all she could see nothing but darkness. "Fierfek. Someone please tell me the lights are off and I'm not blind."

Suddenly, the painfully-bright, blinding light returned as something warm and moist was pulled off of her face, and the Sergeant found herself staring up at Captain Onasi's bearded face. "Good to see you up and about instead of thrashing around in your sleep."

Raven blinked back tears and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes; she then noticed that someone had removed most of her armor, leaving her in the undersuit. "What happened? Last thing I remember, I was trying to open a sealed hatch on the Endar Spire."

"You got hit, but Jedi Tisika and the Lieutenant got you to safety. We got to the escape pods and crashed on Taris two days ago, you've been slipping in and out of consciousness ever since. We're in an abandoned apartment right now, but we should be fairly safe for the moment. Try to take it easy, you took a nasty bump on the head, and the crash landing sure didn't do you any favors." With that, the Captain retreated to a small table on the other side of the small room, sitting down and returning to cleaning his prized sidearm.

Raven then noticed the other person in the room; the Jedi Knight that she and the Lieutenant met up with. Tisika was currently sitting on the floor not far from the Captain, legs folded and her eyes closed. Some kind of meditation, she guessed.

Just then, the door to the apartment opened, and just as Carth raised his hastily-assembled pistol, Lieutenant Roidsworth stepped inside, hauling a pair of Sith durasteel day packs. "Oy. Breakfast is served." Before he'd even taken three steps, he retrieved a small parcel from within one of the packs, tossing it to the Captain.

Having caught the object with practiced ease, Carth said, "Good to see you made it back in one piece, Roidsworth. Heh, say what you will about the Sith, but they have damn good field rations."

After setting down one of the packs and passing a second meal to the seemingly-asleep Jedi, Roidsworth pulled off his helmet, revealing his shaggy flame-colored hair. "Aye, not half bad for Czerka." He then proceded to approach Raven, sitting down on the bed adjacent to the one she currently occupied.

He reached into the pack, procuring both a rifle, and a pre-packaged meal. "Here. You may have survived the crash, but most of your equipment wasn't as lucky, so you'll have to make due with this Sith ossik."

She nodded, allowing herself a small smile as she looked over the Czerka knock-off. "Thanks. Did my armor survive?"

"Yeah, a little beaten up and minus a helmet, but it's in the footlocker over yonder." He jerked his head towards the far wall, where there was, indeed, a footlocker. "You're a Commando too, right? Heard you got pulled from your unit by the Jettai for some 'special' op, same as my squad. "

Raven nodded once more, tearing into the cheap, ready-to-shit Czerka meal. "Uh-huh, though I still have no idea what it is. Probably never will, now. That was Mando'a, right? You fought in the wars, I take it?"

"Yup. First Commando Regiment, third Battalion, Delta Company."

Upon hearing that, she grinned a little wider. "Meetra's Maniacs. I should've known a Roidsworth wouldn't be anyplace but where the fighting was thickest."

"Hah, so you have heard of us." The LT stood and brought his heels together, raising his hand in a crisp salute. "General Surik's adjutant, Lieutenant Alexander Roidsworth the thirty-first, second son of Admiral Alexander the twenty-nineth, at your service, Madam...?"

She returned the salute. "Sergeant Raven Aoniken. I was in Echo Company."

Alex's expression softens as he retakes his seat, breaking open his own meal. "Ah... So you're one of the survivors of Serroco. I'd heard a handful of the Commandos stationed there to train the Serrocans managed to dodge the nukes."

Raven quirked a brow, scoffing. "Dodge? Hah! That was sheer dumb luck on my part." She indicated the old scar that ran across her cheek, the only thing marring her beauty. "That chunk of shrapnel would've taken my frelling head off if I hadn't tripped over a power cable. I'm just glad I'd been facing away from the blast; my corpsman wasn't that lucky."

"None of mine have been lucky. I've had sixteen different medics in the last ten years, and every one of them was crippled or KIA. Oddly enough, now that I think about it, none of them were directly killed by a Mandalorian."

"I think they understood better than anyone that if they killed ever baar'ur they met, there'd be no one left to patch them up at the end of the day. What's with the bandana?" She finally asked, fingering the thick strip of soft, black cloth tied around her forehead.

The LT hooked a thumb towards where Carth and the Jedi were sitting. "A gift from the Jedi. Didn't have any bandages on me when you got hit. Frankly, you're lucky as hell that helmet saved you, and luckier still to not have some kind of permanent brain damage from the crash."

She nodded, not even suspecting just where on her person the Jedi had procured that cloth from. "So, what's the situation?"

Al stroked his chin, glancing over to where the Captain was stuffing his face before answering. "Long or short version?"

Quirking a brow, she responded, "Brief, if you would. I'd like to have time to get a nap in today."

His answer was short, concise, and accurate. "Fucked."

Raven nodded sagely, somehow drawing all the information she needed from that one crude summary. "Rodian, or Trandoshian?"


She blinked owlishly. "Oh. That's bad. Well, at least it isn't Gamorrean."

Alexander added, "Or Thakwaash. We'd be really screwed, then."

The Captain just now seemed to pick up on their conversation, and palmed his face with a groan. Tisika looked over at him, asking, "What are they going on about?"

Carth sighed. "You really don't want to know. On second thought, you'll just ask them or read their minds, so I'll try to explain it gently. Okay, Commandos usually wind up undertaking suicide missions in enemy territory. Almost all of their operations are insanely dangerous, and they are put into terrible situations. They have a fairly simple, intuitive covert ranking structure for explaining just how bad a certain situation is very quickly, without giving away anything if they're being spied on. In this case, 'fucked' means being trapped in enemy territory. Understand?"

The Jedi reluctantly nodded, finally realizing just how crude this system must be. "I'm with you so far."

He continued the explanation. "So, they use the different races to explain just how bad their perdicament is."

Tisika rubbed the back of her head, asking, "So what do the different races mean, in that instance?"

"Some describe the type of environment they're in, others describe the type of enemy resistance."

In the middle of this, the Sergeant chuckled, calling, "Basically it explains how bad the situation is by saying we're getting fucked by a Wookie. It sucks, it's hairy, it's painful, but it's not as bad as it could be."

All of a sudden, it's like a switch was flipped, and the Jedi understood. "Ah-ha. I see why you said I'd rather not know, Captain. I have only one question, and I'm probably going to regret it, but... Thakwaash?"

Alexander answered with a single word that summed up the entire reasoning why the codeword 'Thakwaash' was considered far, far worse than Wookie or Gamorrean. "Horsecock."

As soon as the word left his mouth, both Commandos started giggling to themselves like it was the funniest thing in the world.

The Jedi Knight sighed. "You were right, Captain. I think I would have rather not known."


Hey, Let's learn some Mando'a! Check for the best dictionary I've found. I'm not affiliated with the site, and if your computer gets "Teh SUPER-AIDS," I claim no responsibility.

Ossik: Shit. Bullshit, horseshit or other meanings revolving around fecal matter, depending on the situation.

Chakaar: Generic insult. Idiot, moron, dumbass, etc.

Gett'se: Dual meaning. Balls, or Guts/courage/nerve, etc. Literal or metaphorical, depending.

Hut'uun: Coward. One of the worst and most serious insults that can be levelled against a Mandalorian.

Goore: Grenade.

Haar'chak: Damnit.

Slana'pir: A more serious way of saying 'get lost,' or 'get out.' It essentially translates to 'Fuck off.'

Ramikad: Commando. Other translations include; 'Dangerous motherfucker,' and 'Big-dick whoreson.'

Vod: Brother, comrade or close friend.

Mesh'la: Beautiful

Dala: Woman

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: Mandalorian funeral chant. "I am still alive, you are dead. But I will remember you, so you shall be eternal."

Reference include, but are not limited to: DBZ Abridged, Star Wars KOTOR 1/2, Bulletstorm, Halo ODST, Code MENT, Resident Evil 5,