Log inRage Against The Dark Ch 9
Good! *looks at clock* afternoon y'all!
I had a pretty good writing week despite work doing its best to sabotage that! So I finished this a bit earlier than usual. I had just about all of it done yesterday, and today I did editing and finishing touches.
Had a good bit of fun writing this chapter. Bit of a lower pace, but important for setting up some stuff for the future.
Lemme know if you liked on a comment!
Or don't. I continue to not be the boss of you.
Hope you enjoy!
=][=
“But I've a rendezvous with Death
“At midnight in some flaming town,
“When Spring trips north again this year,
“And I to my pledged word am true,
“I shall not fail that rendezvous.”
I finished my dramatic reading of I Have A Rendezvous With Death, the grim faces of roughly a third of the men of Torrent looked back at me, a few of them wiping at moist eyes.
Let’s back up a bit.
Once Obi-Wan had gotten the screaming out of his system, Anakin had insisted on lifting the spaceship he’d crashed into the desert, out of the desert, and into the Negotiator so he could ‘bring it up to spec.’
That way, he would be able to crash it properly at a later date. At first estimates, the Resolute was expected to be in dry dock for a couple of weeks while they repaired the damage to the ship’s hangar.
However, as it turned out, nobody had thought to bring Poots into the Negotiator when they moved the 501st onto the ship, and the not-so-little Engineer had been going rampant in his repairs. And due to the fact that nobody other than me could tell him not to work on something and he’d actually listen, the Resolute would probably be ready to set figurative sail again in a few days.
Armed with this knowledge, Obi-Wan dropped the whole lot of us at the Republic base in the planet where repairs were being handled, then went off elsewhere to do Obi-Wan things.
Anakin promptly dumped me on Rex so he could go on ‘an important secret mission’ and fucked off to Coruscant, probably to do degenerate things with his wife. Like talking, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, and judging by the traces of deleted files I found in the fabricator…
So far I’d spent the last couple of days taking tests to make my honorary rank eventually become legitimate, and Clone watching. And Clone watching made me realize why the Force kept persistently poking at me to ‘fix the thing, fix the thing now’ without telling me what the ‘thing’ was.
In short, the Clones lived like robots. They were either on-duty, or training. The closest thing they had to a hobby was reading the latest edition of the regulations book issued by the GAR.
The sheer, fucking, inhumanity.
Once I got my temper under control, I set out to fix this glaring issue.
And it all started by making breakfast.
Yeah, I had to get up at ungodly (unForcely?) early in the morning and reprogrammed the cook droids prepping the sad excuse the base had for meals when they wouldn’t shut up about my taking over the kitchen. But that’s on them for not listening to me.
I threw out what looked to be months old grease that looked like motor oil and smelled faintly of ammonia and sent a droid to have the big pan I needed for the eggs scoured clean at the shipyard because I did not trust industrial cleaning detergents to sterilize that level of ugh. When the droid commed back that they were refusing it, I nearly made the supervisor at the shipyards shit himself when I informed him that he was speaking to a Jedi, refusing a Jedi’s orders, and had the credentials to back that up.
I teleported in many twelve-gallon pails of Agri-World Dried Foods™, just add water, heat optional, breakfast blend.
Each ten-kilogram pail had pouches with powdered egg, brown sugar oatmeal, powdered milk, banana flavored grain cereal, grits, powdered gravy, refried beans, a mixture of sausage (both patty and wieners) and bacon, canned biscuits, compressed-fruit-CRTs, and buttermilk pancake mix, with included packets of syrup flavored syrup.
If consumed for every meal at the quantities indicated, it would last a single adult baseline human twelve days.
There was also the lunch, dinner, vegetarian, meatatarian, variety, and for those with more bravado than sense, the ‘mystery’ bucket.
Completely aside from my ability to simply summon a random sandwich, water, and drink.
I familiarized myself with the kitchen, rolled up my sleeves, and got to work. It was fairly easy all things considered. Commandeer large pot that the droids had spent the better part of an hour cleaning, pour contents of various pouches, add water, set on heating element, forget about it for twenty minutes, stir occasionally for best results.
The big pan I wanted came back with a mirror finish. I rinsed it, and into it I dropped many pouches of powdered eggs and a couple gallons of water. The only meal I really bothered to pay attention to was the eggs, had to make those things be the exact right level of watery to have proper authenticity.
After that, it was just a matter of putting the food in a buffet style ‘pick up as you go’ line with a few thermal radiators to keep them warm (seriously, why not just use heat lamps? Much more efficient), and at the end, the dessert consisting of oatmeal, buttermilk pancakes, and crayon-shaped pressed-fruit bars that could double as actual crayons so long as you didn’t mind the ants.
At the start of the line I set a sign with simple printed instructions. ‘If you want food, you give me your name, then stuff your face.’
My labor bore fruit as…very well put together spick and span soldiers rolled into the mess, looking pleasantly surprised.
They could at least have had the dignity to walk in like barely unliving zombies.
“Sir?” One of them asked as he walked up. “Is this…our meal?”
I shrugged and crossed my arms. “I was bored and wasn’t allowed in the Resolute to remodel the launch bay, so I made breakfast.”
The two Clones looked at each other. “Sir, do you have permission to remodel the launch bay?”
“Asking permission’s for squares.” I said. “Now quit yapping and eat.”
“Yes sir!” They said, coming to attention. And flinching back when I tapped the top of their hands with a clean wooden spoon as they reached for mess trays. “Sir?”
I grunted and used a knife-hand to point at the sign.
“Oh! Uhh. I’m Jax.” Jax said, looking sheepish.
I nodded, grunted, and knife-hand pointed at the mess tray tower.
“Boomer, erm, sir.” Boomer said as he stepped forward next. And received a nod, a grunt, and a knife-hand, unknowingly to him his name now hovering over his head in my HUD.
“Tip-Top.”
“Graviton.”
“Fareon.”
“Newt.”
“Melu.”
“Ribs.”
“Ankles.”
“Slapper.”
It wasn’t long before I had over a hundred names floating about in my vision.
As the next Clone stepped up and opened his mouth, I held a hand up to stop him. He blinked but closed his mouth.
I took a deep breath. “BOOMER!”
The Trooper in question stood at attention at my chastising shout. “Sir!?”
“You don’t eat pancakes by themselves, trooper!” I shouted, pointing to the piles of syrup packets. “You pour syrup on them, then eat them!”
“Oh! Uh, yes sir!”
“Good man!” I turned back to the Clone in front of me.
“Erm…Rabbler. Sir.”
Nod, grunt, knife-hand at trays, name on HUD.
Eventually, I had the whole of Torrent seated at the mess tables and still hadn’t run out of food because of how much I’d prepped. Which was good.
Eventually, Rex showed up, looking in surprise at the men eating breakfast.
“Sir?” He asked.
I grunted and pointed at the sign.
“But sir…you already know my name?” He asked.
“I don’t accept nepotism in my Legion, Captain Rex.” I answered haughtily.
He coughed something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Well sir, my name is Rex.”
Nod, grunt, knife-hand. “After breakfast, prepare a meeting with all the men. I have some things to go over with Torrent.”
“Yes sir.” He said, filled up his tray and on he went.
I was then treated to the sight of three very pretty blondes and one adorable barely-unliving vixen-eared young woman respectively walking and stumbling into the mess hall.
“Rylanor, what’s going on?” Charlotte asked.
“I am Padawan, Lord of the Kitchen.” I intoned gravely.
Charlotte snorted as Iris said. “You’re a dork.”
“Coffee.” Sussurro begged.
“Best I can do is choccy milk.” I said, handing her a glass.
She grumbled but drank the sweet treat eagerly.
“So are you going to be the Legion’s cook now?” Aegis asked, the ears of every Clone in hearing range perking up.
I shrugged. “Eh, when I feel like it. Come on, grab a tray, I’m famished.”
Yup, I had gotten the eggs the perfect level of watery.
“Okay ladies, here’s the plan, and where you’ll be coming in.” I put my elbows on the table. “Now which of you knows how to play an instrument?”
=][=
I stood at the podium I’d commandeered, a hundred and thirty-nine Clones staring back at me. Over the last few days Iris and Sussurro had managed to get all the wounded clones ambulatory, they were fine enough to walk around but were on light duty until my girls did another round of healing.
I was twenty-nine short. Nine that I had lost at Teth, twenty who didn’t make it back from Christophsis. The 501st as a whole had lost a few hundred troopers to Christophsis, but Torrent had taken the fewest casualties during that conflict.
Say whatever you wanted about Anakin, but he took care of the men directly around him.
“Alright boys, here’s the long and short of it.” I said, pacing back and forth. “I won’t call myself the most learned man in the Galaxy, hell, I’m not the most learned man from the Jedi Temple. And I’m probably the least learned man in soldierly matters in the 501st, let alone Torrent.”
There were a few grumbles of dissent, but they were quickly quelled by the NCOs.
“I will, however, say that I feel you have been done something of a disservice, a disservice I aim to rectify, to the best of my ability.” I waved and used the Force to press a button on a datapad I’d hidden under the podium, making it look like I was doing something far more impressive than I actually did as I made a list be projected onto the large screen behind me. “So! Here’s how things will stand. My Command Squad and I will teach lessons on playing musical instruments, arts and crafts, games both digital and analogue, and poetry. You may attend any of these classes that you want, as often as you want, so long as we have the time to give them and you do not skip your duties to do so. You will all attend at least one of these classes, no less than once per week, again, duties willing. Questions?”
The men all looked at each other, before Rex did as Rex does and stepped up to ask the question they all had in mind. “Sir, why?”
I paused.
How to explain to these men that they had been robbed of an essential part of the human experience? How to make them understand that I was trying to give back to them something that was theirs by right? Something they needed as a man needed water, but didn’t know it purely because they had never before been allowed to sample it?
“You will come to understand in time, Captain.” I said instead. “For now, just humor me, or consider it a standing order if you must. Now, Iris and Aegis will provide lessons in musical instruments, Sussurro will do so for arts and crafts, Charlotte will be games, and I shall teach poetry. Please choose which of these lessons you’d like to attend. They will begin in thirty minutes at these rooms. Until then, you are dismissed.”
I was surprised when a whole fifty men had shown up to poetry. I would have thought the other classes would have been more popular.
And that’s how I ended up in a room full of some of the Galaxy’s best and bravest men, all of whom had faces seemingly carved from marble, some of whom were weeping.
“That was I Have A Rendezvous With Death, by a human by the name of Alan Seeger, not much information remains of the man, so ancient were the times that he lived. The poem is well over twenty thousand years old, it’s a miracle it has survived at all.” It hadn’t if it had existed at all, I was just talking bullshit. But nobody else knew that. “The only information we have about him, is an annotation that he died bravely in combat shortly thereafter, fulfilling the poem’s premonition.”
I began to pace. “That’s the beauty of poetry. You may find a brother-in-thought who lived hundreds if not thousands of years ago, and connect with them, the eons that separate you ephemeral. You may leave your own poetry behind, so that someone hundreds of years from now may also connect with you in such a way.” I paused and took a breath. “Now, don’t assume that all Poetry is created equal. I may have read a few for you, among them Invictus, and I Have A Rendezvous With Death…actually I just thought of another one, the only surviving excerpt from a lost story called A Knights Tale, ahem: To trudge: the slow weary depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in his life, except the impulse, to simply, soldier on.” I shook my head. “Point being, don’t expect all poetry to be as impactful as what I read for you today, I cherry-picked and looked high and wide to find these poems for you. Now! What I want you lot to do; I want you to search the holo, read, find poems, you will find most of them are shit.”
They snorted, a few of them chuckling.
I nodded. “Yep. My own favorite poem to hate, was one I ran into equating firefighting vehicles to penises.”
The chuckles became outright guffaws.
“Laugh it up!” I shouted to be heard over their laughter. “You’re not the one who had to read that stupid thing! Anyways! Class is over, go out there, read some bad poetry, and maybe run into some good poetry, we’ll meet again in a few days and discuss what you find! Chop chop, I got shit to do!”
After they all filed out in an orderly line, I stretched and decided to check up on the other lessons, see how the girls were doing.
Charlotte was the closest, and she was currently in the middle of a big match of what looked like an RTS. On the big screen, I could see what looked like the standard ‘forces of light versus the forces of darkness’ set-up, with Republic army troops fighting what were probably the military of the ancient Sith empire.
Most of the clones were spectating, shouting encouragement to both Charlotte and Shimmers, who were sitting opposite each other. Judging by the actions per minute, Charlotte had the edge on micro, but Shimmers had a solid grasp of macro, his economy not overwhelming Charlotte because she kept sabotaging his building efforts.
Nearly fifty excited men could be very loud indeed, and not wanting to bother them while they were clearly having fun, I left without making myself known and checked on the arts and crafts class.
“A steady hand is important, but honestly, when you’re starting out just make something you can be happy with.” She was saying as she painted a large flower with a somewhat crude bumblebee landing on it. “Complexity will come with time so long as you put in the effort. Just practice and make something. Try and get your lines mostly straight.”
“Yes ma’am!” Said Redeye, drawing a…an AT-TE with extra legs? Maybe?
I once again stepped back without bothering them. Huh, maybe I suck at teaching? My class was over in next to no time. Maybe I should have added a discussion section, even though I had initially planned that for the second ‘class’?
I stepped over to the last room, opened the door, and got hit by a blast of off-key noise that all but blew me physically back. I caught a glimpse of Aegis standing with her fingers in her ears and a pained grimace, while Iris sat; the very picture of a prim and proper princess, her face locked into a cherubic smile. But I could see the slight glow of magic on her fingers. She was either deadening the noise or actively healing her ongoing hearing damage.
I slowly closed the door, sparing the rest of the building from…that.
I’m sure it will turn out alright.
Probably.
“Wellp…time to look for something to do!” I said quietly to myself and walked off to do exactly that.
That was how I learned that the Separatists had themselves some mysterious new super weapon, and had used it to destroy eight fleets, totaling several dozen ships, at least half of them warships. Leaving no witnesses or survivors.
Well…with my luck, finding that was going to be my problem.
Sure, Palpatine would probably try to keep Anakin away from something that doubtlessly was extremely expensive and that he was hoping to use as a way to intimidate the Republic voter base into giving up more of their rights for the illusion of safety. And if Anakin was put on the job, it would end up broken, exploded, or on fire.
Probably all three.
But, judging by the fact that the Force literally seemed to like him in particular, it was likely tha-
A feeling akin to standing close to a blasting furnace suddenly smacked me in the Force-Face.
Well, it seemed that Anakin was back in the system, which meant my short ‘work vacation’ was over.
I was going to have to figure out a schedule to keep up the classes for the Clones in the Resolute.
Hmm…actually…taking into consideration the possibility that we were going to have to go fight the…what did they call it? It was something drama queenish…
Taking into consideration that we were probably going to have to hunt down the Space Bismarck, it would be for the best if I went to Strategically Transfer Equipment to Alternate Locations and speak to Poots about turning said equipment into something interesting to surprise the Separatists.
As I went over space fighter designs in my head, my comms unit chirped. I dug it out of my pocket and put it up to my lips. “You’ve reached Jedi Pizza, the Force is in our cheese. Our special today is the Intelligent-Pretend-Meatatarian with one-hundred percent guaranteed sentient-plant protein expertly disguised as non-sentient meat. May I take your order?”
[Uhh…] Anakin said awkwardly.
“Just messin’ with ya Skyboss.” I said with a chuckle. “Watcha need?”
Some grumbling mutters came over the comms before he said. [I can’t raise Rex.]
Well, guess I knew which of the classes the Captain had joined. “He’s busy doing some R&R I talked him into. Watcha need?”
[I received word that the ship will be ready in a few hours. That weird cybernetic gas-bag of yours is a very good engineer and mechanic. We’re getting deployed to the Bith system, some new Separatist weapon has some Senators spooked, so we’re going to have to play babysitter to some cargo ships.] He said the last part bitterly.
Yeah, blowing up the Space Bismarck was definitely going to be my problem.
