Training Camp

[Catalys Maijora]

Six years ago the Primeval arrived at Irn for the the first time, their fleets quietly contained the world whilst their infiltrators incited an impending civil war, ending the peace that they once enjoyed. Most of its citizens are blissfully unaware of the shadow government in place, instead going about their day-to-day business; the outspoken few written off as conspiracy theorists or warmongers.

The rest who know tend to keep their mouths shut on such things, better to have food on the table than blood on your hands.

Orbiting above, a small freighter began its trajectory pattern towards the upper atmosphere. "Unidentified vessel. This is restricted space, state your identity or be destroyed." A Primeval Cruiser intercepted the starship's signal and sent the transmission.

Walking up to the cockpit, Catalys sat in the co-pilots seat. "Identification number TWO-A-THREE-B-FIVE-F," he spoke plainly.

"An Exemplar? Granted--identified as friendly." With that the Cruiser's lock on vanished from the sensors.

Catalys turned his head towards a figure in the back. "Ever been to Irn before?" [member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

"Never," replied Betna.

Truth be told, he really had never heard of the planet before. He'd glanced through the dossier on the place, saw that the planet was mostly agricultural, and wrote it off as yet another breadbasket world. Sure, he was a farmer by trade, but he was a mercenary by choice. That was the Mandalorian way and the way he lived his life.

The Mandalorians were faltering, he felt. He could almost sense the great cracks of a schism wherever he walked when in the presence of the other clan leaders. The Mand'alor was indecisive and overly cautious in many ways, often mulling over minor decisions while events cascaded in all directions. Betna knew it in his heart that the Mandalorians were stagnating. They'd rested on their laurels for so long that they had forgotten what it was to act, to topple empires and stand tall and strong. Change was the constant call for the Mandos, but none came now.

And so Betna sought it out, sought the proper paths for himself and his clan. He wiped the galaxy clean for himself, gave the universe he knew its own Cin Vhetin and stepped out into it. For him, there were no closed doors, only ones he had yet opened. No dead ends, only opportunity. No enemies, only employers. He'd feel the pulse of the galaxy once more and then he would know for himself where the Mandalorians path lay. From there, he and his clan would walk along that road and, if the rest of his people saw fit, they would follow.

For now, though, he had a job to do. Hired by the Primeval, a group he'd considered an enemy months before, he was to help build a combat unit, one based from the population of the planet they approached: Irn. It was an easy job with good pay so he'd taken the opportunity and now sat aboard the ship taking him planet-side.

He had no idea that he was about to make a fairly substantial discovery for himself.

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

The starship shook against the aggressive torrential storms as it sliced through the atmosphere and descended on a particularly gloomy day. Sensors indicated flash flood warnings, and possible cyclone formations near their destination. "Well, I hope you didn't plan on getting tanned today," the Exemplar joked. Although it was a laughing matter in the defensible confines of a durasteel hull, outside it was quite dangerous; Catalys wondered if they'd even be able to train at all in this weather.

That said, he also had to see if their mercenary was afraid of getting a little muddy. "Perhaps we should hold off and wait for a better day?" The Umbaran's head twisted again to face the Mandalorian.

Still on approach, the starship continued to drop at a rather alarming rate, the winds above began to force air downward and atop the vessel which fought against gravity among other things. For a moment it seemed like the entire ship would twist over and crash into the ground... Now that would be something.

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna's faceplate showed nothing, the T-shaped visor of his buy'ce staring forward. Under the helmet, his eyes were closed and while his body was relaxed, he was ready to move at a moment's notice. It was a different ship with different people over a foreign world and while the shuddering was caused by stormy winds and skies, it felt like just another drop for him. Another drop into a hot landing zone where he had no control of the ship and had to trust the pilot in all things.

He'd learned early on while others were fearful or sought to distract themselves from the possibility of annihilation in the sky that if such was fated to happen, there was nothing he could do about it. And, if it were not, then he would land to fight on the ground. It was a strange set of mind, he'd readily admit, to simply lean back and relax while fate ran its course, but it was one that he was used to by now.

At the Primeval soldier's question, Betna simply shook his head once.

"If they have rain gear, they will learn how to use it. If not, they will learn how to go without it. Either way, they will learn to fight in all weather, all terrain. An enemy force will not stop and wait for the storms to clear or the snow to melt and so they must understand how to fight even when the elements are against them."

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"You Mandalorians are the real deal, then?" Catalys couldn't actually recall a time when he actually fought a Mandalorian. Certainly he's been in engagements with them, but the Exemplar preferred to sit back when he could and watch until there was an opportunity to strike. That being said, the Umbaran could feel that the armoured man wasn't just speaking out of his ass. This was a guy who had experience, and Catalys had to wonder what kind.

That would have to wait.

The pilot looked over, "We're about to touch down. Grab onto something," he said as the nose dove forward before dragging up, slowing the starship enough that it simply hovered over the landing pad before slowly touching down. The vessel's feet hissed as the hydraulics lowered it enough for the landing ramp to press into the steelcrete. "You know who to call when you need a lift," he nodded to Cata.

Maneuvering through the back, the Exemplar exited the starship. Droplets of rain fell down onto his armour, clinking off the metallic plating. Luckily most suits of armour had communications built into it. Otherwise trying to talk through a helmet in pouring rain would result in a lot of unintelligible mumbling. "Our destination is only half a klick from here, let's go!"

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna didn't answer the question. He didn't really need to. Mandalorians were both a scourge and a legend in the galaxy at large. Something to be feared, yet respected. Though tarnished, they still held held that status, earned in warfare and christened in the blood of the slain of Mandalorian and non-Mandalorian alike. Many thought them brutish thugs more fit for mercenary or guard work while others saw them as skilled warriors and hunters, capable of breaking the front lines equally as well as dragging in high value bounties. Either way, though, Betna had seen with his own eyes how both viewpoints knew enough that Mandos were to be respected, or at least kept clear of in some ways.

When the pilot called, Betna shrugged once. He unbuckled his crash harness and stood, gripping an overhead stanchion for stability as he activated his magnetic boots. Once the craft juddered to a halt on the ground, he deactivated his boots and turned to follow the other man, Maijora, out of the ship.

Rain met them, torrential and cold. The sound of the water pounding on his armor almost deafened him, but Betna's audio sensors dampened the noise to a dull roar from the thunder it was. As Maijor called out, Betna moved into action.

"I'll set the pace," he said calmly before breaking into a full run in the direction their destination lay, water and mud splashing high with each step. He remembered where it was from the dossier he'd been handed before and it only took a brief moment to orient himself to the proper direction. "Try and keep up."

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Catalys wasn't necessarily quick, but he endured. The rather enigmatic Exemplar specialized in hunting down Jedi, so to say that he ran a lot was an understatement, the Umbaran managed to keep up, even though he wasn't as quick as the more youthful Mandalorian. Just by the way he moved, Catalys could tell that Arrbi liked to lead the charge. Few people focused so much on physical conditioning anymore due to how advanced technology became, but this also meant the Primeval definitely chose the right man.

It didn't take too long for the two of them to arrive within eyeshot of their destination, a camp of labourers by the looks of it, these were militiamen and recruits drawn up by the Primeval's various agents, intended to be trained into an elite unit--the Irnish Guard.

"Nearly there," he said as the rain still battered down upon him, the pressure managed to take a toll on him, forcing his body to exert itself just to push through the wind and the rain.

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna pushed himself onwards, maintaining the breakneck speed. He wore heavy armor and carried his weapons, but kept his body in motion. He could feel his muscles begin to burn from the strain, but ignored it. Training and conditioning would keep him going and a body in motion stayed in motion. Betna knew he could run until his legs literally gave out on him if needed and so he kept running.

The key was breathing. It was always breathing. In through the nose, forced out through the mouth. It kept the oxygen flowing and the body from tiring too quickly. It also brought in more air into the lungs and prevented each step from unintentionally jarring the air from the lungs instead. Breathing through the nose moved the chest and diaphragm; through the mouth worked the abdominal area where the force of each step's impact shocked the muscles. More air flow, less air loss, and better breathing ability allowed better long distance and endurance running, something Betna knew quite well at this point.

As the pair reached the entrance of the camp, the rain failed to let up. Mud and water flowed free and Betna knew his lower half was easily coated in the muck. He drew to a halt at the camp's edge, gazing at the structures as best he could through the rain.

"This looks to be the right place," he said, his breathing close to normal with a mental note to increase the intensity of his regular run times at home. He pulled up the dossier and it's map on his HUD system. A quick glance told him he was correct and he shunted the program away, the images and text condensing and disappearing into the corner of his vision. "I take it they're inside?"

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"Unless they take pleasure in being soaked? Probably," Catalys chuckled.

The Exemplar marched down the hill and towards the camp entrance, the building's viewport revealed several men huddled together, and certainly it was more of the same in the other building. Whatever they were huddled over, he couldn't tell. Probably some form of gambling or other entertainment customary to the world. He knew so little of Irn, other than it was a bad idea to get into a bar fight. That he learned very quickly, and he had a scar to prove it.

Walking up to the door, he punched in the key code given to him by their leader and the door slid open. None of the folk inside seemed to be aware of the two new people, all of them were still focused on whatever it was hey were doing.

[member="Arrbi Betna"]