Corellia: Are We Not Merciful?

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Corellia: Coronet City - Forward Operating Base Osk, on the outskirts of the 42nd Ward

The Ubrikkian ITT transport was spotted three kilometers away by the western observation post, and called in to the commander.

"OP West to Command. I have visual on the VIP."

Further within the FOB, Colonel Ersk Graylor picked up on the message. His headquarters had at one point been a school. After Warspite had scourged six entire city wards off the map, it had become a military holding point. An ad hoc staging area for nebulous peacekeeping operations, designed to keep the peace for a planet full of Corellians who didn't seem to have the stomach for laying down arms. From the former headmaster's office, Colonel Graylor watched the flickering image of the Sergeant in his Army khakis give his update.

VIP

Dispatched directly by Moff Xaanan, thought Graylor icily. The implications were rarely good. It could be a new General had arrived to tour the circuit of FOB's around Coronet. Some Coruscanti blowhard who'd kissed enough asses to be seen being seen. Or worse than that, it could be change. A specialist sent in to shake up the status quo of seek and destroy patrols. Some combat doctrine revolutionary who had convinced enough people that their way was the right way of things.

At any rate, what Colonel Graylor needed wasn't a VIP to sort out the mess. He needed more men. More guns. More close air support coverage. The Corellian resistance in The Scar, as it had been informally named by the men, was at best a rabble. People with nothing better to do than take pot shots and loot anything slow enough to not get out of the way. Of course that was met by counterattacking fire support teams, and the rebel jackals never managed a significant victory. The current system worked fine. It just took time to strangle an insurgency out.

Nevertheless, even in a forward operating base, one could not escape the politics of battle. Colonel Graylor dismissed the OP, then sent a general message to his staff.

"Assemble the battalion for inspection in the courtyard."

Stormtroopers without a mission were restless, bored things. It barely took a nudge for them to pour from the classrooms that had been repurposed as barracks. Along with the support elements from the Army, the manpower of FOB Osk arrayed in the square as the ITT slowed to a crawl, moving past the armed gate. Colonel Graylor stood alongside Captain Lansk and Lieutenant Kallen. Neither of his subordinates had any more of a clue as to the nature of this visit. That wasn't surprising. No need in useless conjecture. The Colonel squared his stance, gloved hands meeting behind his back as he waited for the repulsor transport's passenger hatch to open.

He'd expected a General. What he didn't expect were a tall Selonian and a petite, scarred human woman. No uniform. No apparent sign of hierarchy. As he searched for these things, Graylor saw the lightsaber each woman carried with her. And he knew that his situation was that much worse.

The Selonian loomed over him as she came to a stop. Graylor managed to keep his staid expression as the beast rumbled inscrutably at him.

"Colonel Graylor..."

His eyes watered at her potent breath.

"I am Matatek Sel Vissica. This is Alexia Sturkov. We are Her Majesty's Imperial Knights."

Graylor willed his boot heels to touch, standing a bit more at attention than he had before.

"Knights?" he stammered, then swallowed. "We are honored by your presence, of course."

Vissica's eyes narrowed at the human as she licked her muzzle.

"You are dishonored by your lack of results, Colonel. We are here to relieve you of your burden."