Private Gone to Seed

[Damsy Callat]

Form: Humanoid Equipment: Dauntless armor (greaves) + blacks (top) | dartgun | electrotrident |
ID10 seeker droid (in back docking port)
Tag: STaCLO

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Nothing short of matricide.

Kinyen was a shadow of itself. If it wasn’t for the telltale coordinates on a navcomputer, one might not know what rock they were suddenly on anymore. Nim'Harra's Hive had carved canyons and opened potholes across the planet's surface, and the CFC's had done it no further favors. The earthen scars of warfare never sat well with Damsy. Being a native of Kamino, having relied for so long on its natural, stormy seas, she just couldn't stomach it - not that she would speak up to anyone about that much. Dauntless captain and citizen environmentalist were mutually exclusive occupations.

“Mingan?” Damsy finally vocalized as she set down the supply crate on the loading dock. The Dauntless had somehow, miraculously, pulled through the fight and were now getting ready to return to orbit. The sithspawn shielded her eyes with her hand a gazed up into the sky. She couldn’t see anything through the thick post-battle smog, but she knew a transport waited for the commando squads not too far into atmosphere.

“Mhm?” the private hummed in acknowledgment and curiosity. When she didn’t answer, the young man dropped the datapad manifest he had been looking over carefully into an open box and reached out for Damsy’s shoulder. She flinched only a little at the touch, not used to being without her chest or arm pieces. “What’s up, Sarge?” He scanned the skies too.

“I think I heard something,” she answered, dropping her eyes to find Mingan’s. “Wanna check it out.” It was only a half lie: she had heard a lot of sounds coming back, but none of them served to generate any concern.

Mingan was halfway through a frown as if he had caught onto his CO’s fib, but then nodded. “Right, ma’am. I’ll finish up here. Stay in contact.”

After giving a casual salute, off went the Vicelord's little monster. She reentered the base and wove her way through the droves of returning troopers, some wounded, fewer unscathed. Fortunately she did not run into any she personally knew and none that knew of her asked her neither her destination nor purpose. For that little mercy, she was grateful. It would have been hard to explain to a comrade, though almost certainly not one man, woman, or being had enlisted in the Legion to destroy world after world. No but, though that was no one's conscious goal, it had to be accepted as an unfortunate collateral. One of the possible costs of doing war. One of the many of being good at it. Protecting civilizations, their constitutions, and atop all the Confederacy's interests was to Damsy a worthwhile endeavor. Everyday, thought she, was a good day to die for any of those three reasons. The only issue was how unsure the recent battle had made her if those things were still as valuable to her if the tradeoff was nature.

Finally, Damsy stepped back outside and started towards the vacant foxholes speckling the landscape well into the horizon.