[Short Story] Lesson

[Daki]

((Warning... more Star Wars fan fic stuff here. You have been warned.))

Beneath the great Monolith on the planet Mandalore, thousands of recruits learned the ways of warfare from warriors from each division of the armed forces. While most students were learning the basics of War Mount operation or combat strategy, there were a select few culled from the best. Their instructors were some of the best warriors serving in the Mandalorian Army and today as they waited for the class to begin they speculated on who it might be that morning. Just two days before a member of the ruling Triad spoke of the history of their race and the role they would play in the future. They were the best of the best and would have the honor of serving in the Taraq'Qualim... the Holy Terrors of Mandalore.

The quiet whispers ceased as they heard the footsteps of someone approaching in the hall. All eyes were focused on the door... all jaws fell open slightly when an enormous figure wearing the jet black armor of the Holy Terrors into the room. Unlike most Terrors, this one wore a blood red cloak draped over his back and the markings on his chest were those of the highest rank... with one exception. A single red line over the right breast, the mark of the Triad given only to those warriors who had served under the personal command of the Dy'eDrin. This was a Scion of the Warrior Emminence and his dark eyes pierced every student. He said nothing until he had surveyed the entire room

"I am D'vassik D'ael'mor and I will tell you of honor and service. You will be the dark cloud on the horizon of our enemies. Our army and navy will serve with you in battle, but it falls to the Terrors to strike at the very heart of those who would stand against us." The Terror took a dagger from a sheath at his back and drove it into the table. Forged of mandal iron, it easily penetrated the metal of the desk and stayed standing. A darkened blade marked with a date and location. Those students near the desk gasped in awe. "I will telll you of Dantive IV."

...

Dantive IV was a small planet orbiting a red sun in the far Outer Rim. It was mentioned on only a handful of star charts and was virtually ignored by the traders of the galaxy. It would have remained unremarkable for all galactic history had the Sith not decided to place a starbase and training facility there. The Sith had assumed control of the remaining Imperial forces and re-doubled their efforts in the battle against the New Republic. Generations passed... war unending with the Sith slowly gaining back what was lost. Their numbers grew with each passing year and the Jedi were hard pressed to hold them back.

It was at this point in the war the Mandalorian Empire made it self known once again and began attacking both the Republic and the Empire. Whereas the Empire and Republic measured their victories and gains over decades, the Mandalorians moved quickly, striking key targets and securing a large foothold in the galaxy. Imperials and Republic forces could never ban together to fight the Mandalorians... the old hatreds would never allow it. Mandalore was free to fight a war on two fronts. Victory was the only goal and to that end they began to strike at the very hearts of the respective armies. Coruscant say it's might Golan-III space platforms turned to rubble that would rain down on the planet for weeks. Their defenses cut... the home fleet destroyed... but the Mandalorians never made an attempt at landing. Once the space battle was over, they left.

The Empire took the opportunity and sent a large fleet to capitalize on the Republic's misfortune. 14 parsecs from reaching Coruscant, the Imperial fleet was pulled form hyperspace by a massive wall of interdiction fields. Never did they think it might be a trap and it showed as the whole of the Mandalorian fleet opened fire on the unshielded Star Destroyers. With such heavy casualties, the Empire was forced to spread itself thin to repel any attacks. Unbeknownst to the Sith commanders, all the attacks had led up to a single point of attack.

A small detachment of the Mandalorian fleet entered orbit over Dantive IV and launched transports with fighter escort. This was the Crimson Brigade of the Holy Terrors. The Warrior Emminence of Mandalore had chosen them to raze this planet. He knew the secret of Dantive IV... the Sith cloned their greatest warriors here. No one could be left alive and no building could be left standing. There was a slight thud as the transports landed and over one hundred Terrors ran into battle. War Mounts walked beside them, their large cannons raining fire on the approaching defenses. Imperial Walkers could be seen in the distance moving towards them. Directly ahead was a sea of metal... the droid defense army. A melting pot of different models... long range scanners saw standard trade federation models as well as very sophisticated IG-88 assassin droids.

The Crimson Brigade ran at full speed, blades drawn, at the approaching army. Ranged fire bounced harmlessly off their armor and the War Mount pilots targeted the stationary defenses, reducing the heavy cannons to rubble with well place torpedo strikes. Droids in combat were only effective when they had the majority in numbers. They could overwhelm an opposing force with firepower and win the day. Against a hardened military strike force, their tactics could be used against them. Once in range, the lead Terrors activated their personal shield devices. Thousands of battle droids opened fire but saw their shots reflected back at them as the Terrors closed to combat range. Metal struck metal as war blades sliced through the droid army. Terrors did not pause in their run. Run... kill anything in your way... never stop.

Amid the piles of fallen droids, several Terrors fought until their end. The rest pushed forward until the target was in sight. A long squart structure set in a low mountain. War Mounts rose to the air and streaked through the sky. Imperial Walkers fired and the bolts flashed bright as they struck the shields of the Mounts. If someone watched from the horizon, it would appear the most beautiful of displays in the wanning hours of the day. Amber light from the sun faded as the Terrors began their charge towards the facility. Black armor faded into the darkness. Night fell on Dantive IV as the Terrors stormed the Sith base and came face to face with an equal force. Mandalorian Terrors... their features masked in the same armor stood facing an army of Sith all sharing the same features. As one, the cloned Sith army activated their sabers and the snap-hiss was the only sound.

No one moved. Every Terror looked upon the face of the enemy. What gazed back had been burned into their minds for the whole of the war. It was Arik Suur. Dark Lord of the Sith. They faced an army of their most hated enemy. One Terror stepped forward from his rank and pulled his dagger. One hundred pairs of the same eyes watched him. Without a sound... without a cry of battle, the Terror threw the blade and imbedded it in the chest of the nearest clone.

Two armies closed and became a combined mass of blood and death.

---

D'vaasik pulled the dagger from the table and placed it back in its sheath. "Questions?"

No one dared speak for a few moments. The story was told with the same cold tone of voice the Terrors always spoke in but there was a passion in the words. It left most speechless. Most, but not all.

"Who threw the dagger? Did he survive?" That question was from a young member of the Krei'ger clan near the front of the room.

"Her name was Erit and, no, she did not survive. In the melee that followed, she was lured into a trap where a circle of the clones closed around her and stabbed at one. Her name is inscribed upon the Monolith above us." D'vassik's eyes stayed on the young Krei'ger. "Only nine warriors were left when the mission was complete."

Not expecting any other questions, D'vassik turned and marched towards the door. He was stopped by a voice from the back of the room. "Why did you do it?" The tone of the voice... D'vassik turned to look at the speaker. A young boy, very young for the company he was in, now stood against the wall. His eyes were sharp and focused. He kept the Terror's gaze without unflinching.

"What do you mean?"

The boy took a step forward and put his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry sir, but I was just wondering why you all went into the base to destroy it when you could have bombed it from orbit and turned it to dust."

D'vassik let a smile spread across his face. "We wanted them to know they were beaten. In the end, one of the Imperial Walker pilots was left to take a shuttle from the planet to bring news of what happened. Our Warriors marched into their base and destroyed their greatest soldiers." The old warrior pulled his helmet on and strapped it in place.

"You will be Terrors. We are the best... second only to the Emminence himself. One day you will be told where to go and you will prove through action why we are to be feared."

His steps echoed in the hall as he left the quiet classroom. People moved out of his way as he climbed the stairs in the facility, reaching the light of the mid-afternoon sun. It was the perfect time of day to look upon the Monolith and visit friends lost during the many years. The stairs continued up into the monument and it was there, near the very top, that D'vassik slowly walked a hallway... letting his fingers glide over the names.

Names... carved into the walls. Warriors. Their blood freely given for something that was greater than themselves. Something that was only great because of what they had done. The fallen 93 of Dantive IV. His soldiers. Every day he fought to make sure that what they gave their lives for remained as great as they made it.

[ak404]

As I said before, Daki, good shiznit, my nigga.

[MissTeja]

Daki, you never cease to impress me. Keep it up man. You definately have a talent for writing.

[Daki]

Thank you both.

[Gunny]

He was always far better at writing about the Mandals than I ever was. I'm only good at writing my own character's demise and painful anguish. Okay okay, I lie. I'm also good at writing violent, aggressive and bloody fights.