What Is Death To You? (Darth Metus, Galaar)

[Revenchent]

The past few weeks had been very long, and very arduous. The challenge of leading the Dreadguard demanded charisma, a good attitude, and undying confidence. In truth, Calico really hadn't used any of these qualities to define himself. In truth, he was a simple NCO whose opinion really shouldn't have mattered in the big picture. In truth, he was forever lost in a foreign land; left to guide this new generation of soldiers to achieving their birthright--something the clone had fought long and hard for so many years ago.

Now, however, the Clone Wars were over. They had ended so very long ago, but to Calico, it only seemed like months. The loss of his mentor, his fellow soldiers, and the betrayal of the Jedi had torn far deeper into the Commander's core than he had ever dared to let on. It had not only shaken him; it had forced him to become an entirely different person. It was for these reasons that he found himself wasting away in the ordnance room while the rest of the soldiers--his soldiers, were readying to deploy to Kwenn. That wasn't his battle, he wouldn't participate. There was a far more important war to be fought in the shadows that Calico would take part in, but not yet.

He sat on a massive weapons crate in the typical black army fatigues of his brethren. A scruffy beard and a prickly head of hair helped identify him from the other soldiers--along with splotches of darker pigment along his neck from the carbonite freezing process. His fingers danced over the requisitional datapad; brown eyes twitching erratically as he made sure nothing was unaccounted for.

Four packs for the 'Deece's...that leaves the two that Null asked for...

His brow furrowed as the datapad shut off. The power had slowly drained away while he was busy reading lines of code. "Damn thing." The commander grumbled, setting the datapad gently down upon one of the many workbenches.

He took in a deep breath and made ready to move. Calico was halfway up from the crate when his heart seemed to plunge down into his stomach. The Commander fell down hard on the crate as an immense pain formed in the pit of his chest. At first, he wrote it off as the wound he had sustained a few weeks before; yet, it was too immense to be physical. He rested his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, and the world simply melted away.

I'll do it when I make my way back to Bothuwai. When I have the cure for my boys' aging, and I find Galaar a girl. Then I can do it.

He couldn't help himself. Hot tears pushed against the lids of his eyes as he braced against one of the workbenches; nothing was going right. He didn't belong anymore. His family, the men and women he'd fought beside, the most important woman in his life, were dead. Even his closest brother seemed to be enjoying this torture. Galaar had always been a better person than Calico was, he would make it through. He would thrive, as he already had begun to do. Calico was...alienated.

Everything about Calico was his duty. At first, the duty to the Republic, then his brothers, now, the new batch, but why him? The Jedi already took Visri away. That image burned in his mind--a bright flash of blue and Visri's slender frame falling in two pieces in that dark alley on Coruscant. He felt the weight of the Padawan's hand against his throw, and remembered the smell of burning ozone. Then, nothing more.

The Commander opened his eyes and stared through the blur of moisture around his eyes. His gaze fell on one of the many DC-15s stocked within the armory, and he decided it looked very welcoming at the moment.

I've done enough. Isley will take care of them. I've done my duty. Why should I slave away to have it happen all over again? I'll never have a family, I'll never live a free life. They can, I've made it so they could. Galaar will forgive me.

Calico reached over for one of his beloved sidearms. The pistol felt light in his palm; though he knew it to be much heavier. The room suddenly felt very stale. The drives sounded muted, and the lights became unwelcoming. With a quivering hand, Calico forced the dead weight in his hand up to his exposed temple. The cold metal of the muzzle pressed lightly against his forehead like it had to so many of its wielder's enemies beforehand. This wasn't suicide, this was retribution. No matter what he did, this was the only way to atone for his sins.

The clone closed his eyes tight. Time slowed down. His finger drifted over the trigger. "Live a good life, Galaar." He whispered to himself. Calico stared at the dancing light burned into his retinas in childlike fascination. Such an odd thing to see the moment before death. It was comforting in an oddly familiar way.

Click.

Spoiler

Nothing happened. What the hell? Calico pulled the trigger four more times, yet nothing happened. With a look of mired confusion, the clone checked the weapon. It's charge pack was empty. "Kriff..." And with it, so was Calico's courage. The Commander slumped forward, letting the pistol hang lazily in his hand as he forced the tears back. If he was destined to live out more of this torture, then he would do it like a soldier, not a child.

@[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar had a datapad in his hand and for once without a smelly strill at his side. He had just attended a briefing with Sigma, Fox, and Echo. He was in his full civilian attire despite the fact he was just giving a military briefing to some of the best trained, and deadliest commando's in the Legion. He had to hand it to Sigma, they had really started to shine since they came under Calico's direct command. The new Fox reminded him of the old Omega, they were overly moral and cautious yet effective in their own right. They reminded him of himself and Fi. Kark do I miss him and Sev. Huh... Never though I'd miss that chakaar.

The HQ they had made here seemed almost deserted. It was eery and lost, much like the old barracks back in the clone wars day when every other squad besides Fox or two others were on deployment. He thought about the old squads everyday, the old world. He never, ever thought he'd miss the GAR with they were treated but he did. His heart tugged to see Bralor, Skirata, Gilamar, even Vau as well. Haar'chak Sergeants. He smiled to himself and went over the 'pad once more as he neared where he figured Calico had made his hidey-hole.

As he strolled down the final stretch of the hall, he remembered the day on Kamino so long ago that Fox was assembled. He remembered that nervous pit in his stomach the first day he set his eyes on his new squad mates; how imposing they felt compared to himself. They were the drop-out squad on Kamino, all four of them tossed in by their training sergeants merely to keep them alive and kicking. The squabbles they had, he even had a fist-fight with Calico on a mission. They became brothers in the end, one saber, forged by the fires of combat. They had to back then, even their training was lethal. That was something that'd always set himself, Calico, and Jackpot apart from the rest of the Dread Guard. They never managed to grow on their own, to find their own ways and roots in life, they were forced to adopt brotherhood, forced to adopt the basic tenants of Mandalorian life, it was necessary to survive. They had no choice to leave and even their training was live and deadly

He finally arrived at the door he was rather certain Calico was hiding behind, it was the store room. The old karking NCO always seemed to be taking stock nowadays. His hand reached down and thumbed in the code for access and the door opened with a faint, metallic whooshing sound and what he walked into was a sight he hadn't seen since... Well... he didn't want to think about the last time he'd seen this. It was Calico, pistol in hand, slouched forward. He never lets his barring go to kark like that. Galaar was Calico's second-in-command despite his lack of leadership desire. Galaar was likely Calico's closest brother. He knew something was wrong and his own jaw clenched.

"Vod... Me'bana?" For once, Galaar was entirely serious.


@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"]

(Translation: What's happening?)

 

[Revenchent]

Calico felt the eyes of his closest brother bearing down on him. Oh, how times had changed; yet, this was all very familiar. Nostalgic, even. The night Visri had been killed, it was just like this. The only difference was, however, that it was only Galaar and not the rest. Galaar was the only one left, even Jackpot had gone off on his own way. That didn't hurt. It destroyed.


The senior soldier set his sidearm on one of the nearby crates halfheartedly. He stared up at Galaar with an empty gaze to his bloodshot brown eyes. His jaw was set firm, but all the charisma, all the confidence and no-nonsense was gone from his expression. All that remained was a shallow husk, and Calico hated that. He wasn't a broody Jedi, or an attention loving child. No, Calico was simply, Calico.


"Tayli'bac. Me'vaar ti gar?" He mumbled in Mando'a, a language he knew very well, but rarely spoke. Calico hadn't defined himself as Mandalorian after hearing what they did to Dromund Kass...it was nothing like he'd been taught by Bralor.


He chewed down on his lower lip and sat up straight, staring Galaar right in the eye. He could tell from Galaar's little nuances: the set of his jaw, tone of his voice, simply the way he thought, that he was worried--and why shouldn't he be. His CO was on the edge of collapse and not another living soul had any idea.


That was one of Calico's talents; something every leader needed. Bottling up the things that bothered him, and storing it away for later. None of his boys and girls knew just how far he had fallen into a pit of grief and despair--the issue was, he never let it out. It stayed on a dusty, crowded shelf, never to be touched.


"Bic Vis'ika's gota'tuur ibi'tuur." His voice cracked slightly, and he motioned toward himself. "Celebrating."


(Translation: I'm okay, how are you? It's Visri's birthday today.)

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar watched Calico for a good minute or two, everything buzzed through his head. His first reaction was to hit Calico, to beat this, whatever this was out of his brother by brute force. The Mando way as he'd been taught. But then Calico brought up Visri's birthday and he visibly relaxed. His own shoulders slumping, he remembered that all too well. How bad it hit Calico. Galaar instead clicked his comms, buzzing @[member="Darth Metus"] before moving into the room.

He'd pull up another crate and look Calico square in the eyes. This was Galaar, he was blunt and deep when he had to be and this was one of the times he had to be. Everything about his posture and even his eyes would signal what he meant to say before he even said it. "Vod... You can't keep going like this. Gar liser naa shukur. Mhi linibar gar bah alorir mhi." His deep, brown eyes focused in on Calico's like lasers with all the intensity of a sniper aiming down the sights at a target.

@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

A lump was forming in the back of Calico's throat. For a moment; the horrifying memory of Visri's back alley execution was replaced with a very strong need to say what was eating at the back of his mind. "Why?" He raised a brow, and for once, he was very real with himself, and it frightened him.


"Why do I always have to take care of everyone? Why is it our responsibility to take care of these people? We earned our freedom. Karking Visri died because she didn't want us to live like this. We're not droids." Calico couldn't stop himself; the words simply flowed out, and there was no holding them back. "Everyone we know, all the plans we had, Galaar, it's all gone. All dead. Omega, Delta, that pretty waitress down at Skippy's, dead."


Tears were no longer stinging at his eyes. No, a sense of...betrayal, perhaps, cut into his voice. "We were going to leave the GAR, remember? We did our time. Now, some idiot has gone and made another army of clones because he can't be bothered to ask for volunteers. We're slaves, AGAIN Galaar! And we don't belong here. I don't belong here." He jerked a thumb toward himself. "Hell, even my religious beliefs are out the airlock. The Mandalorians are monsters, they aren't our family. They destroyed a planet."


"But, you feel fine here, right ner'vod? Everything is happy and nice, right? Just take it with a grain of salt." Calico reached up to rub his temples and squished his eyes shut. "Visri is gone, and I'm preserving the lives of these boys...but...I have no idea what I'm alive for anymore Galaar."

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar's face instantly turned to a hurt glance. The rant Calico gave, it... Well. All he could describe it as was pain. That was all he could feel at the current moment, his heart lobbed and chest pounded. The brother he put everything aside for had just insulted him and pegged him for just letting everything slip by like a cheap salt.

However, that look wouldn't last long. It soon turned into a burning, intense, but cold anger which boiled over and could been seen rather clearly in his eyes. It was for these moments that Bralor had given him his namesake - Galaar- Hawk. All of that became one focus of rage, one clean, long-ranged focus. In an instant one hand would snap forward to punch Calico hard in the jaw. The other hand instantly reaching to grab the collar of his commander. He knew this was sheer disobedience but he found it warranted. Or atleast he tried to attack his brother

"Haar'chak! You think I just let this all slip past me? You think I act this way because I just don't care? No! I do it because I care! Because I promised my first sergeant that I'd always keep my hope as he lay bleeding to death in my arms in that karking murder house of Kamino!" Calico would have more than likely seen this rage before, but never directed at an ally.

"We're not slaves! We're men! Mandalorians! Things happen in war! They just happen but you and I? We could get up and leave right now if we wanted. The whole reason I'm still here is because I want to be, I want to be here because of you and these soldiers. Of course everyone is dead... People die, you di'kutla chakaar! I'm going to, your going to but moping around like this isn't honoring their memory, their sacrifice. Its spitting on it! We can rebuild!"

@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

Calico went down with a thud. The blow sent him flat against the bulkhead, arms splayed out and his expression contorted in surprise. Ah, now he understood. Galaar wanted to be here. He wanted to fight wars that weren't theirs to begin with, and he was passionate about it. Passionate about the soldiers, too.


That was when it occurred to Calico, in the depths of his mind, this wasn't his choice anymore. His duty was to these boys and girls.


I'm their Vau, and Galaar is their Skirata. Is that who I was designed to be, Bralor? The cold-hearted one?


That realization was sobering to say the least. Visri would be looking down on him, laughing. His people would be staring down in disgust; his soldiers turning their back on him, and at the end of the day, he had no right to care about it. He'd wanted to end it--wanted, he noted. Not anymore.


No, he watched over these soldiers, and he would give them long lives. He would make sure Galaar was safe and happy. He would make sure the freedom of those within the Confederacy was protected, and he would not betray Isley's trust. He would hide the rest of his worries and fears--because that was his job. Visri was dead, and he wasn't going to feel better about it. It just had to be accepted.


And accept it he did. "You know you're a di'kut, right?" He grumbled, climbing up to his feet. His arms folded over his chest and he did his best to ignore the dull throb of pain in his lower jaw. "Forgive me for taking a moment to think things over, Galaar. Man needs to mope at times." He didn't smile, but his expression did soften slightly.

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar watched as Calico pulled himself back up, the junior commando was already hyped up for a fight as if he expected to Calico to hit back and was indeed rather surprised when he didn't. His fists slowly slackened along with his own expression. "Yeah, I'm a di'kut too. Its why we get along so well." He had finally let Calico know why he acted the way he did.

"And yeah, I know, but every now and then a man needs to smack his vod around for good measure. Don't worry, I won't go Vau on you. I'm done." He plopped back down on his crate and closed his eyes before holding his face in his hands. He felt guilty, not about hitting Calico, but about not being able to understand his emotions in entirety. They were brothers, they were always supposed to be on the same ground.

"Look... I don't blame you. I really, really don't. You're my brother, my big brother in fact. You were always there to pick me up when I needed it, you helped teach me to move on after I lost Kath. Don't feel guilty over this, else I'm going to dope you on spice every standard hour from here until I end up killing us both in some horrible accident likely involving a rancor and carbonite."

@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

"I've just about had enough of carbonite for a lifetime, thanks." Calico fell back on his haunches and shook his head. He would deal with things as they came along, and let go of everything else. Like Galaar said, they were dead, and the dead didn't do much at all.


"Try going Vau, little man. I'll show you what ARC genetics did for me." A faint smile tugged at Calico's lips. He stood up from his crate and slapped a hand on Galaar's shoulder. "I've got your back, you have mine; make sure to catch me if I start falling for any crazy women."


The silence permeated the armory for a moment. The only sound coming from the rumble of the frigate's drives; soothing and constantly familiar no matter what time period they were in. "And I'll make sure no one eats your strill. Yet."

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

"Oh, if anyone eats my Strill I'll pin them to the viewport of Isley's ship with Durasteel links as a hood ornament." He'd look up at Calico and grin back, it was the same old Kark-faced Galaar grin that Calico would have seen and likely would see so many times in his life.

"Your fancy special kid genetics didn't help much since I just laid you out with one punch." His own hand would then move to rest on Calico's shoulder and Galaar would look back up at his Sergeant again. "Tion'ad hukaat'kama, or else I'll fry you and I don't think Is'ika would appreciate us killing one another... Also... Did I tell you that Bluejay broke my jaw?"


@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

"I let you do it. You're small, fragile self-esteem and such." He paused and raised a brow. Bluejay broke his jaw, that was new. "Can't say you did, inform me....and did I tell you about a little Jedi lady that reminded me a lot of you on Tund?"

A soft sigh escaped him. Things were back to normal, as they always tended to be. Normally, he simply faked being content; yet at the moment, he truly was. "If it wasn't for the Jedi-burning-down-and-exterminating the inhabitants, it would have been a very nice trip." His brow contorted as he thought over his own words.


"I think it's the bathrobe. Just made her look mesh'la."

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

"Oh... Please don't tell me that you're going native." Galaar then broke out into all out, roaring laugh at his brother. He could certainly switch moods when need be and he was doing his best to cheer Calico back up. He'd calm down the laughter rather quickly though and then pull his datapad up.

"Alright, how about I help you finish up the stocking as we tell old stories annnnnd then I tell you my report about the Elite Squads. Also... You'll be pleased with Sigma, they stole more creds for you it seems."

@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

"Native? She's pretty to look at ner'vod..and talk to but..." He trailed off, joining the junior clone in his fit of laughter. This was a whole lot better than sitting alone. "She's just a comrade. Another soldier."

Calico motioned over toward one of the many tables in the middle of the room; striding over to take a seat. "Alright, give me the numbers. I have a few hours."