You always come home--Dev thread

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal folded his arms across his chast, watching the stars go by. Hyperspace always made him so anxious, so restless. There was so little to do. So little to accomplish. He was a man of action, and while he could be patient and bide his time--this was different.

"Raxis We have arrived," the captain of this small vessel said. "Get your stuff and be ready for us to land. I got a schedule to keep."

It was little more than a shuttle, lacking real weaponry and armor, a civilian vessel that Ardgal had hired out for this journey.

"Of course," he said before turning on his heel and going into the small and cramped quarters.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

It didn't take long for Ardgal to pack the few belongings he had inside. He had lived on the road his whole life; constantly going with his family from one war to the next. That was all he had ever known, for so long and so far he had been as much warrior as he had been man or Raxis--or Mandolorian. The life of combat hadn't been his choice, but if he had made one, he would have chosen combat. He had missed his family for so long--

"Hey kid, hurry up, I got a schedule to keep," the captain barked.

Ardgal slammed his metal suitcase closed, looking at the fool of a pudgy worthless being. The whole journey had been a graceless, annoying fiasco and Ardgal was sick of it. This was not how he wanted to feel meeting back up with family. He gripped his suit case menacingly, taking a few steps towards the small man. His hulking form loomed over him like a mountain and for once this petty captain was put in his place.

"I'm going," Ardgal growled before shouldering past the small creep.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The loading ramp opened with a squeaking hiss and the young mandolorian made his way out into the hot Felucia surface. They had landed in some small nowhere town, as close as Ardgal could get to his family in the deep jungle here. It was a matter of seconds before he could feel sweat beginning to coat his skin.

The human went and found a battered old landspeeder owned by a small family. It looked like a station wagon that had seen better days. But if had good bones and would get him where he needed to go, even if it looked like there was more rust than style on this thing. Ardgal handed over a fistful of credits he has earned playing bouncer at a small time club. It was a waste of his skills making sure that drunk little boys kept their hands to themselves but it paid the bills.

The station wagon grumbled to life and rolled forward out of the town into the surrounding forest.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

As the jungle rolled by Ardgal, remembered the last time he had been here. Once again a private contractor had outsourced his work--onto some of the most skilled and dedicated mercinaries in the galaxy. All things considered it had been an easy job--a matter of blowing through and taking over some mansion. Minimal damage. Maximal bloodshed in a gory solution for a simple family feud.

The Alpha company has done their job. With extreme prejudiced as requested. The guards, the servants, all of them had gone down in a hail of blaster fire. The clan came through rather unscathed. And Ardgal had been glad. They were more than a war company, they were a family. One he had been proud to be a part of.

A wamp rat suddenly leapt out into the dirt road, lurching Ardgal from his thoughts. The Mandolorian twisted the wheel, swerving to miss it. The speeder roared off the road, it's left side clipping a massive tree and sending it spinning end over end across the road. Ardgal instinctively braced for impact before the speeder smashed into another tree.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal shook hinself, checking for bodily damage. There was nothing major, but he knew he'd be sore tomorrow. He unbuckled and pulled himself out of the speeder. One look at it and he could see that it was trashed. The man sighed before pulling out his suitcase and continuing down the path.

It was a matter of minutes before Ardgal was coated in a fresh layer of sweat. The jungle with the the waking was an intense workout but he was used to it--and worse. He crossed over a pair of hills before his destination came into view.

The camp was placed in the middle of a clearing. A familiar perimeter fence constructed from durasteel chainlink and barbwire. Inside several tents and wooden huts were constructed from local trees. The familiar faces of Alpha Company, Ardgal's framily walked the streets. A guard had been set around behind the fence at intervals. At last. Ardgal was home.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal strode to one of the gates confidently, he quickly was out of the clearing and in the open. It took a fraction of a second for the guards stationed at the check point to see him.

"Who goes there?" one of them shouted when he was closer.

Ardgal raised his hands in deference, "Relax, Vod, it's me. Ardgal."

The armored man beside him on point took a step forward, "Damn, Ardgal. Been a long time."

Ardgal nodded. "Three years. Su'cuy, vod."

"Su'cuy vod," the other replied in kind.

"Why are you back?" the other asked suspiciously.

Ardgal managed a smile. "We always come home. You know that."

"How'd you know where to find us?"

"Like I said," Ardgal replied. "We always come home."

The second guard put his hand on his vod's shoulder, "We should take this to the alor. He'll know what to do."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ordo had been in his late fifties when Ardgal left. Looking in his alor's face, he could see the years weathered on the twi'lek's face. The Raxis Alpha Company had been estranged from the Mandolorian family tree for many years, garnering many species within their ranks, many "untraditional" thoughts, traditions, and mentalities, and a sub-culture of their own. The four hundred men and women who made up their fighting ranks had come to almost compose a sub-family within the family itself. Of course they recognized all Raxis as the vod--but those within the Alpha company were even more so. And then non-Raxis was vod too--but moreso as distant cousins.

Ardgal gave Ordo a smart salute, snapping to attention. The older man gave a salute in kind, "At ease, vod."

Ardgal relaxed, getting at ease within this small, make-shift office and command center. He watched as Ordo eased himself into a chair behind the command desk, "Its been a long time, Ardgal."

"Yes, sir," the younger man agreed before swallowing, "I'm sorry."

Ordo gave a soft wave of his hand, "I understand, son. You lost a lot at Geonosis. Your mother. Your father. And--"

"Yes sir," Ardgal agreed, "A lot."

Ordo studied the young man for a moment, trying to decide if he was being insubordinate--or just trying to keep himself together.

"You know, Ardgal," Ordo said softly, 'I always considered you a son to me."

"Thank you, sir," Ardgal said softly, "You were always a second buir to me."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"The others," Ordo said, leaning forward slightly, "They will be tenative at first. I want you back as much as anyone else. You are family, you always have been and to me, you always will be. We all lost a lot at Geonosis, and to tell you the truth, most of us wanted to find a way out. To get away for a little bit. I respect you for knowing your limits, son. And I respect you even more for being willing to come back to your aliit." Ordo paused for a moment, letting those words sink in, "And I wish the others could see things that way too. But I am afraid you have to be ready to prove yourself."

The young man gave a nod, "I am here for the long game, sir. I want to be back with my aliit again. I don't care what it takes."

Ordo gave a nod and smiled, 'Good, son. I am ready to see you a part of us again. We will be moving out at dawn. that gives you enough time to get familiar with your traat'aliit for the short time until then."

The older man rose to his feet and Ardgal snapped to attention, "Thank you, sir."

Ordo gave a fond chuckle, smiling at Ardgal. He remembered the many years watching the boy grow up, another young man in the clan. Another young man who was earning his way, finding his way and coming to terms with what it meant to be Mando and what it meant to be Raxis. "Dismissed, Ardgal'ika."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal found his seat in the mess hall, next to his new traat'aliit, his squad. He looked at the three others sitting there, he knew them well, and had grown up with them, 'Su'cuy, vode.'

The Sargent, Brian Raxis, was a man in his early thirties, who had seen more battles than most beings on the planet, gave a nod before raising his glass, 'Su'cuy, vod. We missed you."

"Thanks," Ardgal said with a smile. He could tell that Brian meant it, but as he looked to the others, he could see two in his squad alone who felt differently. Rowan and his wife Nina, a pair of Zabraks. Their suspicious gaze said it all; you aren't one of us.

"I knew your father," Brian said with a soft smile, "he was a good good man. One of the best vod. Not a better man you could have fighting by your side in the worst times."

"That he was," Ardgal agreed, cutting off a bite of nerf steak and beginning to chew, "I hope to one day be able to fill his shoes."

"You will, son," Brian assured him with a slap on Ardgal's arm, "You got the right stuff." He paused, giving him time to eat before posing his next question, "You know what our detail is?"

Ardgal shook his head, 'Deets weren't specific, sir."

"That's alright. We are a heavy unit. We specialize in dealing massive damage while keeping our distance."

"What's the focus? Still the 'Cep 'Quad?"

"Not much changes about war," Brian agreed with a chuckle.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

At the crack of dawn, true to Ordo's word, the Alpha company was packing up and moving out. They had another mission, one out in on Hoth, excavating an old base that some freak had claimed was full of precious metals and goods. They didn't know, and frankly, they didn't care, so long as the money was good. On the way, Brian accepted Ardgal as his own, and Ordo warmed the young man up as if not much had changed. Ardgal had a reputation for being a natural tactician, and as such, his eye was valued on plans, large and small. Many of the other vod were beginning to accept Ardgal--but slowly.

When the landing shuttles touched down on Hoth, and the Raxis clan clambored out, it almost felt as if things were getting back to the way they were. Of course, Ardgal could still feel the ache of his lost parents. Everywhere he looked he was reminded of their passing. The armor was the same. The Mando'a reminded him of his mother's lullaby's. The rifle reminded him of how he had learned to shoot while on his father's knee.

The snow crunched under their boots as Ardgal's squad reached the base with three others. The massive blast doors that guarded the entrance to the base came down with a heavy boom, waking Ardgal from his revere. A chorus of "all clears" gave the go ahead and the squad was pressed deeper into the base. The four of them moved like a well-oiled machine, through each room and hall, gathering and searching for supplies. The only fire fight was between a few of the Raxis clan and a few of the local predators.

But for the first time since he left, Ardgal felt whole again.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The mission at Hoth was an overwhelming success, in a manner of speaking. The pay hadn't been massive, however, the brief two days of work it had taken more than made up for the small amount of funds. Ordo, the savvy business man and leader he was, soon had them on a new job in a matter of two days. He had always worked tirelessly to keep them on the upswing. Some said he had a sixth sense for the credit, a nose that could sniff the stuff out from five hundred light years away.

=========

"Where the fething hell is my air support?" Ardgal bellowed into the com.

A thick hail of blaster fire rained down around them, they were pinned on all sides in the street. Brian was leaning against what was left of the speeder as Rowan worked to keep his Sargent alive. The smell of blood, death, and burning fuel filled the air so strongly that even the air filters couldn't stifle it.

"The anti-air craft fire is holding us back," the reply came back over the comm, "We are pinned down pretty hard here too, Vod. Working our way--"

"I don't wan't your fething excuses," Ardgal screamed back into the com.

"We need to get him out of here, and fast," Rowan said, "He's loosing blood too fast."

Ardgal tossed his disruptor rifle onto the ground, slinging the reciprocating Quad blaster over his shoulders, "On my mark you get the bloody hells out of here."

Nina and Rowan gave a nod of their heads, each hoisting Brain over one shoulder. Their eyes gave a flash of doubt, but Ardgal didn't have time to address that right now. He looked to the youngest member of the squad, giving him a nod, this is what courage looks like, kid. "Now!"

The Mandolorian unleashed a hail of blaster fire at the enemy as he popped over their cover, the battered and burning speeder. His squad ran for cover, getting out of the hotzone as Ardgal covered them. The kick of the massive weapon pushed Ardgal back after them in a slow back pedal. A few blaster bolts from the brave and the foolish insurgents in their hidden parts flashed around him, but Ardgal didn't stand down, he had something worth dying and fighting for.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Brain was rushed to the ER, and after a few hours of surgery, he was brought out of the critical zone. Rowan and Nina gave him thanks, and this time, they showed trust. He had stood up for them, he had earned their respect. Ordo promoted the young man to Sargent, saying that it was good and proper to give him the recognition he deserved.

But the job that had brought them to Tatoowine was far from done. In fact, it was just beginning........

Ardgal looked out over his new squad. He had spent a life time reading and knowing people, it was the difference between living and dying in combat more times than not. What he could see form them was nothing less than fear. Distrust. A lack of anticipated hope. He had been over them two weeks and this was their first real mission that wasn't some patrol. He was about to either earn his stripes or show that he was not worth their respect.

"Weapons check," he ordered, "we are going live, you ready?"

He watched as the four lives he had been entrusted with checked their arms and gave him the thumbs up. He was good to go. Their mission was simple; get in, plant the explosives, get out. But, no plan went that simple. As they repelled to the rocky surface of Tatoowine, Ardgal was ready for the worst.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The approach on the target was tragically quiet. Too quiet. The compound soon loomed before them like a temple of promise--or a trap of death. Ardgal could see the dim lighting covering the main entrances, a few guards posted in towers, and the SAM missiles that had made an air strike impossible. Everything looked like they were going as planned. With a quick wave of his hand, Ardgal gave the go-ahead for the rest of their plan, exactly how they had rehearsed it. The Sargent sprinted ahead low and slow as close as he dared. Dak, their demoltions expert flanked far left, gaining a few dozen meters of distance. Ganna, an expert in the heavy weapons made her way around back as Roiz and Xin made their ways to the left and right.

Ardgal raised his disruptor to sights before squeezing of a single, loud round. The shot tore through the skull of one of the guards, dropping him dead. His second shot tore through another as the alarm was raised. His third shot tore through a third as they spotted him.

But it was too late. Dak had gotten close enough to lob a quartet of Thermal detonators over the electric fence into the SAM batteries. The explosion tore through the courtyard, leveling most of the fences, cuing Roiz and Xin to lay down a supressive fire. The guards scrambled in chaos as their precious base was destroyed around them. Ardgal tore through the destruction, slotting his enemies as they went, "All clear, outside, move in."

Ganna stood out side guarding as the others went in. The five guards who had decided to make their last stand inside were not a problem for the seasoned warriors. Ardgal pressed through into the back room, where a stockpile of missiles, rifles, drugs, cash, and explosives were stored. But that wasn't what caught his eye. The young Sargent moved to the trap door that had been uncovered amid the firefight.

"Mission accomplished," He reported, "Looks like this drug war is over."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The cash that Ardgal found from his raid gone right ended up paying even more than the job itself. The spoils were distributed among the Aliit. The trap door had revealed what this whole war was about; their employeer's drug lord rival. The job had ended quickly and rather bloodlessly.

"I told you that you had the right stuff," Brian said to Ardgal in a bar as they were celebrating the victory. The sargent was still looking pale from his wounds, but he was rapidly recovering.

"You were right," Ardgal said with a chuckle, "Thank you, Buir."

"For what?" he chuckled, "You earned all this. All by yourself."

"For beleiving in me. Making me feel welcome."

"Your a member of the vod," Brian said with a wave of his hand, "And now my superior, Lieutenant Ardgal."

"Leu--You must be mistaken."

Brain Chuckled, "Ordo told me this morning. You saved my life and ended the same war in a matter of a few weeks. You should be proud of yourself," he dropped his tone for a moment, "Your father would be."

The statment was bitter sweet for Ardgal. He knew it was true, and he ached more than anything to have his dad here to see it. And his mother. The woman had a smile that made him feel proud to be alive. They had been role models in his life, more than anyone or anything else they had loved him and given so much for him. Ardgal felt proud to be their son, but--part of him also wished he wasn't. Part of him wished he had parents that were easier to hate and harder to miss. "Thank you, vod."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

A month passed of quiet guard duty, guarding a drug base in Kessel for some third or fourth party. Of course the Raxis Alpha Company had been around long enough to know that whoever was having them guard this was some sort of person who didn't want to be contacted. The rumors floated among the ranks but the general agreement was the Black Ties Syndicate was probably at play. Somehow. It was a low skill and even better, low risk job that payed the bills. While Ardgal loved the feeling of unity within combat, of being with his aliit in the thrill of the moment, he was more than grateful to have a quiet job where they weren't in danger--or dying. The morning had started out rather normal; Ardgal rose before the crack of dawn and got his cup of caf in the rented room they were using on world for the time being. He reviewed his daily assignments, the same shade of vanilla they had received the whole stay on Kessel; patrol, guard this, guard that, escort this here, move that there, don't get killed. Don't let the product get stolen. It wasn't rocket science. Ardgal sighed, it was a living and to be fair, the numbers of wars were beginning to get shorter and shorter.

After dishing out the assignments over breakfast, Ardgal dressed in his uniform and made his way to their HQ on the drug mines. For several hours he went through the mundane busy work of going through paperwork--and the more favorable work of being with the men under him. A word here, a pat on the shoulder there, a complement. It was all part of the family. And all part of the family getting to feel better and more ok with themselves. It made the busy work worth it.

After the work the Young Ardgal made his way to Ordo's office to give his customary report--which more times than not was a less formal affair than it sounded. Paper work was handed over, then they went informal and talked like what they were--family.

But today was different. Ordo was sprawled across his desk, dead.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal wasted no time hunting down who was responsible. The clan reeled with the loss, their commander was dead. As the other officers went about securing the Sargents, discussing their next course of action, and comforting their people, Ardgal began his work. First he ran the caliber of the bullet; a .50 caliber coming from a rifle. The officer checked its boring--running it against all known styles of rifles on Kessel. The weapon came positive--and rather specific, to a cult of war-like religious freaks who believed violence was the answer to the world's problem's.

From there, Ardgal triangulated the sniper's position--which wasn't that hard considering the type of weapon it was and the giant hole in the ballistic glass. His results led him to a night club three streets down after a brief bribe to the bartender, Ardgal gained access to the security cameras. He ran through for the day, and the day before, finding that the sniper had set up the night before and waited, he knew what he was doing. He was unable to catch a clear frame of the sniper's face, but the camera to the bakery on the other side of the street was. How did he gain access? With another bribe? No, with a threat. He ran the boney human male's face through facial recognition, coming up with Rattal Ferodi, a disgruntled and unemployed worker who had lost his job for a different drug lord when the times got tough. The net time Rattal walked into his appartment--Ardgal's blade was waiting for him.

Justice was served that night.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal returned to the base that night feeling both regret and relief, but what he was not expecting was what came next when his comm rang as he walked through the door, calling him back to the headquarters.

"What is all this about?" he asked walking into a room of officers.

"We have no time to wait any longer," one of them began, "Its been a week since Ordo died, the time we require to grieve before making the choice for our next commander. You know the rules of how we work, I am sure, Ardgal."

The young man nodded, "Wait a week, time for the pain to settle unless there is no option. Then we vote to see who the successor of the Alor will be."

"Unless," cut in a second officer, "The Alor already had picked a successor."

"But, that doesn't happen," Ardgal said confused, "That's not how it works, the officers decide based on merit."

"That is true," the first agreed. "However, it is customary for the Alor to leave an indication of candidates they believe are viable successors among their personal effects. We search through these and vote on who we think is the most viable, adding in any who we feel are qualified for the job. And if no agreement can be reached, we revert to trial by combat."

"The job of Alor is not questionless," A third added, "If they Alor is not competent, we very well may vote them out--or if that doesn't work, more extreme methods are not unheard of."

"I don't understand," Ardgal said, 'What does all of this have to do with me?"

"You, son," said the first gravely, "Were Ordo's only choice."

The young man was silent for some time, trying to sort this all out, "And the council's decision?"

"We agreed with his choice."