The Bitter Taste of Medicine

[Lamar Starworth]

The Bitter Taste of Medicine

"Colonel?"

The words rung in Lamar's ears far too much. Over the past month he had taken the title and it's burden. People always ran up to him, interested in his input on daily affairs. For the most part he was lenient commander. Most of his orders weren't out of the ordinary, and were subjected underneath the guide of his superior Generals.

Although the young Imperial wield so much strength, he remained nonchalant about much. Titles were titles, and his existence in the Empire was still as a meaningless soldier. There would be no grand funeral if he died, and the rewards were only medals for death. Nothing lavish.

Killing had become an impulse over the time he threw on the Stormtrooper uniform back on the Imperial Academy. All the rudimentary assignments he and his tier were thrown into never allowed him the chance to slip. Ever since the first day Lamar locked on the fearful helmet, he was no longer his own man. Death consumed his world, and despite the occasional nightmare, he wasn't bothered by it. At least he merit a decent amount of credits to buy, not that he was materialistic.

Much of his time off-duty was spent at run-down cantina, on Spira or back on Coruscant. The life of a high-official wasn't all that it seemed to be. There were more responsibilities than joyous endeavors. Every step on the ladder of power weighed out, for it had too. If the steps were uneven, the whole plateau would falter from the discord and Lamar had never had the chance to witness such catastrophic behavior in the Empire.

"The garrison has sent it's clearance. We are prepared for unload the regiments."

The annoying, wheezy voice of the Lieutenant Handje crept into the Colonel's ears. Even the distortion of the standard Stormtrooper helm could not dilute the agitation. The man just had a funny voice, and nothing could be done about it. Most of the time Lamar and his underlings had a good laugh about it, but the moment was all too different. The solitude of the office absorbed all the humor that became a regular during missions. Never before did life seem so dull and boring. From the documents Merisee had more problems than one.

Many of the locals were greatly disturbed by the Imperial presence on the planet. Some of the neutral planets in the Merisee Medical Center trades contracts were coming to an end, and weren't too interested in continuing. Even some freight sponsors that were disinterested in being entangled in the benefits of the Galactic Civil War dwindled from the business affairs of the planet.

Few citizens wanted to mingle with the Galactic Civil War, and even the slightest association with the Empire or Rebellion could warrant angst. Far too many times freights had been sabotaged in protest by young off-shoot Rebels, or tracked by the Empire on the basis of Alliance planetary shipments. In one way or another the Galactic Civil War was affecting everybody in the galaxy, even the rare ones that knew nothing about it.

Lamar gather himself, and the documents. Attire in the finely pressed black garments, standard for an Imperial Stormtrooper Officer, he strolled around his desk. The top of his work station was overwhelmed by stacks of documents sent in about their recent affairs of his regiments on Toola and visit to Varonat. Lamar and his little army were building a name for themselves.

It matter not. Until he finally grapple the status of a Grand General, his efforts were worthless. Despite the rash amount of affairs he had to handle as a subordinate, he felt the top of responsibilities would be the best fit for him. However, one thing did not fit. The darn caps, and without a doubt he fleed the room without one dropped upon his head. Far too many of his co-workers wore the foolish caps, but his braids weren't nice match for awkward hats. Instead, he proceeded with no heed as the only Colonel amidst the Star Destroyer.

Soon the Lambda would come to shuttle them down take absolute control over the perils. The Merisee Medical Center wouldn't be able to resent the Empire so privately anymore. Full control over their business would secure any plausible reaction to their garrison, that was for sure.

[Brett Onasi]

Caronath was quiet, too quiet. In the space port of Merisee Prime, civilians and businessmen alike went about their daily routines, but something was not quite right. Perhaps to the untrained eye, it was not visible, but to those with adequate training it was clear. For weeks now, the city had been tense. There were murmurs of the Empire having an unknown agenda for the planet, that they were planning on making a move of some kind, yet none of them had been substantiated. All of the worry, all of the stress, was setting the local security forces on edge. They were used to the calm before the storm, but in this case the calm was stretching out far too long.

In light of this, the Alliance to restore the Republic had dispatched a team of its own to Merisee, with the intention of providing back-up support should any Imperial advance occur. Rather than detailing a large squadron of soldiers to the post, they had instead sent a small unit of SpecForce Urben Guerrillas. Though Merisee was an agriworld, it's populated areas were atypical of urban settlements throughout the Elrood Sector. As such, they featured terrain that the SpecForce operatives had been specifically trained to operate in.

Since there had been suspicion of an Imperial attack for some time, the Rebels had spent almost a month living and working undercover in Caronath and had come to know the highways and byways fairly well. At the end of every day, they would meet together to discuss the daily happenings and exchange stories of short-cuts or hiding holes that they had discovered in the city. It was their ultimate goal to know the city inside out. Once they had a grip on the land they were working with, the odds of their successfully defeating any attacker were increased sevenfold.

[Lamar Starworth]

Patience wasn't a hard subject to gather for any militant. Always there was someone foolish that waned on someone's time, or situations that requested the logical route of waiting. Every man bundled about in the Lambda shuttle had dealt with the uncomfortable grouping before, and to Lamar it had become routine. Instead of allowing his mind to stray from the subject onto the stench of the shelled soldiers, he focused on the growing troubles abound.

The crew was only moments away from meeting ground, and initiating the assault. Orders had been sent from the hierarchy to confirm control over Merisee supply. Much of the medicine about the sector would be useful commodities for future conquest in the war. Many soldiers would be in debt to Lamar's victory over the Merisee abo, and whatever rebellion they may muster.

It was another topic of patience, however. He would have to wait only a little bit longer as the ship treaded through space toward the planet below. There were many other in orbit awaiting the region of the landing bay, and specifics on deployment. All of it was quite remedial and agitating before, but the young Colonel had addressed such perils before. Triumph would lead to only greater stance beside the Empire's flag on a land that worthy of it's conquer.

Merisee would soon see the day of Imperial control. There would be no neutrality in deals in the Galactic Civil War. Not if Colonel Winfield or anyone else in the Imperial Arms could say anything about it. Neutrality was a pitiful, cowardly, selfish excuse to avoid the growing war. To evade the inevitable was stupidity in eyes of all the soldiers, especially the Army. Many had enlisted to fight for an honorable cause for there was no other way. Such behavior of middle-ground could only be seen as a mockery to their own interest.

They wouldn't allow it.

Lamar wouldn't allow it.

The Empire...wouldn't allow it.

"Prepare for landing."

[Lamar Starworth]

The ship hit the surface, and with it came the troops. Lamar's squad was up and out of the shuttle without heed. Their trots echoed through the hallway, Colonel Winfield at the head with his hands clasped behind his back. A familiar shimmer caught the fluorescent white armor of the Stormtroopers, giving the lead a secure comfort. All the men within his immediate squad became pleasant acquaintances. Anything in the depth of relations could become a tumultuous fall to displeasure.

Discomfort was not a profound placement for any Colonel, much less a man of the Force. Servitude to the tide of the Empire and the newly introduced way of the Jedi conflicted the growth of the young Colonel as a soldier. Time and time again perils confronted Lamar to choose between the indifferent lifestyles.

It was troubling.

"Reports to the Director have been made. You know the drill, head to the quarters, and return for our first assignments. Employment will be soon."

A smile brightened Lamar's handsome features before the dismissed crowd rustled out. Trot after trot sent a chill down the Colonel's spine. He had grown too comfortable with the Empire. Times had changed since his entrance as a runaway, falling into the uncertain Imperial arms. Taking up those arms Lamar had fought, tore, and pulled his way into the routine Imperial life.

He hated it.

He loved it.

The relationship with his comrades called for care, trust, but men died. Somehow along the way he had learned to hate many and love, and his sense of discrimination was at an all time high. The Empire was an every-working workshop that carved the best toy soldiers for every child and the coal of the bad kept the toys on full fuel. Lamar was just another toy soldier, and he knew it...and he hated it. Jedi ways had managed to open a gateway out of the formalities...and he loved it.

"Hey there Colonel," the whisper carried off from the room. It was a peculiar, but welcomed tone.

A female.

A smile.

And so the assignment began.

[Lamar Starworth]

"That sexy barve!"

Mucus sprawled against the durasteel floor. The polished ground decimated and disrespected by a displeased assail. A concrete anger overhauled the smile once on the man's face. Humans were renown for their dynamics in personality, but this man was infamous. One of the most moody characters of the "Starworth" unit, he retained a disdain for most things. The rest he managed to be mixed on, but playing guard wasn't exactly his love.

Once considered a prime candidate for a TIE Fighter Squad, he got sent in for a bit of testing and recognized as an absolute warrior. Hale was his name, but all things considered he brought more hell to others than himself. Battle was always another place to put on a fun display, and sitting around was a waste of time. Despite the previous missions the unit had been sent on, his taste had only recognized the scrimmages as appetizers. Teasers for the main event he would never return to.

Space was his field. Twirling, spinning and flashing through the stars to blast some scum into oblivion. Even as a kid he watched holovids of old battles recorded by explorers. He was made for adventure, battle, death and smiling through it. Not a punch to the fast could hurt him, it just wasn't dangerous as being confined to a cockpit in the bundle of darkness with a few bright stars to give him light.

Just wasn't as dire...

"Why did Colonel go and try to flirt with her?"

The soldier twisted his head about, glancing off back at the rest of his crewmates. One by one the team was trickling out of the waiting room down a trail to the garrison's outskirts. Word had spread that combat was on the horizion, and "Starworth" unit was the most ready for such an engangement. Rumors had spread around about the young Colonel's capabilities and attributes with his men.

Few had managed to pierce through his defense, nor undo his divine skill and keen precision. Once before he had been consider a weak as an ace, but much had changed since his first days as a Stormtrooper.

"Sith's Blood! I dont know?! But atleast were not doing no recce."

Jrade was different. The young mouth on him was deserving of a few visits to the refresher with his mother, but he had been established with a different grace. Eloquence sewn his family together, and after few ambitious experiences at higher education he leaped into the field of combat. Instead of going head in, he contemplated the choice very carefully before he took up arms. Studies in all fields of marskmenship dived him deep in the books he once forsaken as a student.

Straight from the districts of Coruscant, he managed through the bustle to merit more than just a few eyes. Popularity was mandatory amongst his family, and every education level was considered another plane for idiolize ganders. Athleticism encouraged his shots at cups and other forgotten objects around the house. Before he even jumped into a battle-ready suit at the Imperial Academy he was proficent enough to handle his own against some of the best Bounty Hunters in the Outer Rim. Nasty he wanted to be, Jrade was always mistaken for some celebrity at any function the grouping went off too.

He just had that...look.

"If they sent us on a recce, I'd blast someone's brains out!" Hale exclaimed, throwing his helmet on as the daylight sprung from outside the door. The splash of the sunrays caught a glare off the shine of his armor.

More of the unit would be coming soon enough, but until then he would hope to sneak a cigarra underneath his helm. He loved that taste of roshallo leaves on his lips.

"Don't get caught this time, okay?"