Spirits are low throughout the rebel camp. Still upset about the untimely loss of Kingo, the rebels have been beset with further losses in the form of abandonments. Updating the records, a footsoldier brings his commander a list of those no longer available for active service.
“Bouet?”
“Gone, sir.”
“Bouhanni?”
“Same.”
“Kessiak?”
“Off.”
“V4N D3N?”
“V4N D3N broke, sir. Sorry.”
“God damn it man, he looked like an 8th place droid if ever I saw one. Brajkovic too? Oh for fuck’s sake, I had him down for 9th. At this rate what’ll happen is we’ll not see Zubeldia for three weeks then he’ll pop out of nowhere, take all the credit in the final battle and end up President of the sodding galaxy or something. ”
“Zubeldia, sir? Not sure I’ve seen him.”
“No-one sees him, that’s the point. You don’t see him, then BLAM! there he is at 6th, and no-one knows how he got there.”
“Some sort of Jedi mind trick, sir?”
“Possibly, son, possibly.”
——————————-
Grrreipel, still smarting from his loss to Cavrissian in the training exercise the day before, rallies his squadron for a further practice session. Blessed with an outstanding military tactician in the form of Henderson, a former associate of Skyrider and an excellent addition to the rebel cause, the two of them treat the rest of the squadron to a quick and shouty lesson in tactics. This pays off, as Grrreipel and Henderson are able to shape their squadron into a slick unit combining top speed with perfect formation, not just once, but twice. Grrreipel rubs his hands, gleefully anticipating another showdown with both Darth Sagan and Marco Cavrissian.
Meanwhile, the Oricans have been busy yet again. Having established themselves as some of the most important weapons in the rebel arsenal, they have been chosen to lead the next rebel military campaign. Meeting amongst themselves, the Oricans decide to pass control of their tribe to Impey, adorning him with the traditional yellow robes of command.
To be continued…
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