Scout’s DiaryYou have to see the funny side of things in the army. I think they have a real sense of humor in the Tech Department. I used to. But now, humor is lost to me. What is humor? Why do they laugh? Why do they act so stupid? I acted like that a lifetime ago. I don’t laugh anymore. I cry. I cried a lot when I found out we couldn’t leave the planet. I still cry just to get myself to sleep.
I ask myself ‘Why me?’ Why do I always have to be the victim? Why? Did I do something wrong? Is God punishing me for something? For killing Vader? For killing those Imperials?
It’s scary on the battlefront. I want to go back to Sora and the others. I want to be thirteen again. I want Sora to hug me, to tell me it would be all right. I want Nait out of jail. I want off this stinking planet!
I want to die.
Every day I go on is like a part inside me dies. The memories of the ‘crew are getting fainter, replaced by the screams of dying children. I can barely remember what Sora looks like, or Fi, or Selas…
I write to them every day, though. I write to Nait, too. Even my parents. I tell them about the battles I’ve been in. I tell them of all the close calls I’ve had. I’ve even written about Nait’s arrest. These letters, I know, will never get to the ‘crew or Nait. It’s a hazard to be on the street, where Emergence Holes could pop up at any time. I try to stay strong, but every night I dream of being captured—not killed, because I don’t care any more. I’ve known people who have been captured and rescued. They were brainwashed, the lot of ‘em. They try to kill us. We have to kill them. We can’t afford no therapy.
Odie Subu has been imprisoned by Hoffman for treason. Seems like everybody commits treason, now. The prison is crawling with Locust. No one else will go. We will, though. We do what others won’t. And somehow, we survive. Alpha Squad always survives.
And I cry even more.
OoOoO
Scout smiled in relief when the sun creeped above the city’s edges. Only two hours of sleep had graced her that night, but she felt refreshed and ready. She turned towards her Squadmates, undisturbed by the waking sun. She watched the steady rise and fall of Kossi’s breathing, Jon’s occasional twitch in the eye as he dreamed, and Farid’s knuckles turn white as another nightmare graced him as well.
“Up and moving, guys,” she said, touching each one with the muzzle of her unloaded gun. “Crack of dawn.”
They woke instantly to the touch of the gun. Jostled out of pleasant dreams, nightmares, and deep sleep, they stood at attention. “What time were we supposed to set out?” asked Farid.
“0615,” Scout answered, throwing them their armored suits. “It’s past that. So hurry up.”
Farid made a grab for the Hummer keys, but Kossi grabbed his wrist, preventing him. “No noise,” he growled. “Period.”
Scout felt Farid swallow an angry reply, and she directed a condescending look at his way. “Come on,” she said, sealing her own protective suite. “Now or never. Most Locust kills wins my food.” Food was scarce, so it was a good way to motivate them. Even though it made her hungry. Both Kossi and Jon gave her back her food, while Farid ate hers greedily. Both had a sweet spot for their Sergeant, and made sure that they got more kills than Farid.
“I’m going to meet Oroo and get our additional supplies,” she said, stalking out the door. “And the room better still be intact when I get back.”
xXx
Oroo had more weaponry crammed into the back of his shuttle than most security forces had in their entire arsenal. Every inch of space had a power cable screwed into it or a rifle dangling from a hook. The large, bulky man sat in the center of all the chaos, fine-tuning a Neutrino handgun. He tossed it to Scout as she entered the van.
She caught it deftly. “Hey, a little warning next time, Or.”
Oroo snickered. “Don’t worry. The trigger hasn’t been coded, yet. Nobody can fire this weapon until the computer registers an owner. Even if this weapon did fall into Locust hands, it’d be useless. One of my latest developments. After the B’wa Kell rebellion, I thought it was time to upgrade.”
Scout smiled lightly at Oroo and ran her hand along the rifel’s butt. A red scanner light ran down her fingers and palm, giving her a slight tickling sensation, then switched to green. “That’s it: you’re the owner,” said Oroo. “From now on that Neutrino 3000 is a one-female gun. Get your squadmates to run their fingers over it, too, so you can each use each other’s blood-blasters.”
Scout hefted the rifle up in her hands, studying the translucent material. “It’s too light,” she clarified. “I prefer the 2000.”
Oroo brought the gun’s specifications up on the screen. “It’s light, but you’ll get used to it. On the plus side, there’s no metal parts. It’s powered by kinetics, the motion of your body, with a backup mini-nuke cell. Naturally, it’s linked to a targeting system in your helmet. The casing is state-of-the-art, and if I do say so myself, a fine piece of hardware.”
“You’d marry your hardware if you could, Oroo,” said Scout.
Oroo typed something on the keyboard, and four hissing sounds of escaping gas made Scout look over to the place intonating the obnoxious sound. “These are next-generation Recon suits. I was planning to unveil them at the next convention five years ago, and I finally decided who to give them to. With what you’re assigned, you better have them today.”
Scout took out one of the suits of armor. It glittered briefly before turning into the color of the shuttle walls. “It’s made from the hull of a ship and cam-foil,” Oroo explained. “Sensors outside of the suit pick up the texture and color of the things around you, and mirror that image on the suit. You can turn it off at any time. It monitors your heartbeat, breathing, and all that other—“
“Pathetic crap?” Scout asked, finishing the sentence for him. He looked at her for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Wow, this is awesome, Oroo. Walking weapons system, huh?”
Oroo graced her with a larger smile. He was proud of himself. “Yessir,” he said. “Retractable vibroblade inside the right hand, and the left carries a portable plasma shield. A completely retractable whisper-design, a brand new concept here on Apatros. The shield takes its power from the cell on your belt, and the vibroblade has a built-in heating feature. Almost like one of those lightsabers, you know? Cut through metal like laser through Bothan jelly.”
“You’ve outdone yourself, Oroo,” she said.
“These four are the only operational ones I have, so I would appreciate getting them back. They are shockproof, fire resistant, practically invisible to rader—not that the Locust have any—and relay a constant stream of data back to this shuttle. The helmet sends me back basic vitals data, but the armor itself sends a second stream of data that can tell us if your ateries are blocked, diagnose fractured bones, and even detect dry skin. It’s a bloody clinic, I assure you, Scout. It would save you from almost everything.”
Scout held her new uniform to the green plasma screen. The suit instantly turned emerald. “I like it: green is my color.”
X
Naos and Fi circled each other, lightsabers held out at a ready stance. Fi’s breath came in small gasps, still worn out from the earlier training session. Her strong stance indicated she was trying to intimidate her smaller opponent, which worked on most people. The last time Naos had faced Fi she had lost badly. Now, though, she was intent on winning. It was going to be more of a challenge.
Fi lunged out with a simple overhead strike, but Naos responded with a quick parry to deflect the blow to the side. The cracking and hissing could be heard as the lightsabers clashed together. Immediately the combatants spun away from each other and assumed their ready positions.
Fi rushed foreword again, her emerald blade ascending diagonally from the right in a long, swift arc. Naos managed to redirect the impact, but lost his balance and stumbled back. Fi tried to press her advantage, her lightsaber arching from left to right. Naos spun out of harm’s way, backpedaling quickly to create space. Fi broke off the half-completed form and settled back into a ready position. Back at the Temple, his strong power in the Force had allowed him to anticipate and react to the moves of his foe, far more advanced than they were. Here, however, the rest of his trainees enjoyed the same advantage. As a result, victory here required a combination of the Force and physical skill.
Fi, obviously, had worked on acquiring that physical skill over the past months. As this ability grew, she was able to devote less and less of her mental energy to the physical actions of thrust, parry, and counterthrust. This allowed her to keep her mind focused so she could use the Force to anticipate Naos’ moves exactly how he taught her, while at the same time confusing her opponent’s own battle precognition.
The last time Naos and Fi fought, Fi had still been a novice, unused to the lightsaber and it’s mysterious properties. She had only learned a handful of forms. Now she knew almost a hundred, and she was able to transition smoothly from one to the other, opening a larger range of attack-and-defense strategies. And more options made it harder for her enemies to know where she was coming from, or when.
Naos, though, despite his strong connection in the Force, was smaller and lighter than Fi. He could still beat her easily, but he didn’t want to damage her pride too much. Physically outmatched by Fi’s Form V, Naos relied on Soresu to keep Fi at bay.
Spinning her training saber in a quick flourish, Fi lept high in the air and came crashing down from above. Naos parried the attack, but was knocked off the ground while doing so. He rolled on his back and barely managed to get his saber up in time to block Fi’s slashing attack. A chorus of light and sound erupted as Fi rained down blow after blow on Naos. The smaller boy kept her from landing a direct hit with a masterful defensive flurry, then swept Fi off her feet with a leg-whip, leaving them both weakened and down.
They flipped to their feet at once, mirror images of each other’s movements, and their lightsabers met with another crack before they disengaged once again. There were some whispers from the trainees surrounding the Circle, and Naos tuned them out, concentrating on Fi. They had thought the battle was over. He felt Fi’s disappointment that she wasn’t able to land a direct hit on him, but that her own victory was near. Naos’ survival had extracted a heavy toll: he was breathing in ragged gasps, now, his shoulders slumping.
He leaned to the side to deflect the blow, and Fi’s foot came up, powered by the Force, and kicked him in the chest. As he struggled to get his breath back, Fi scored a light hit on his ribs with her emerald lightsaber.
Sora signaled the end of the match.
X
Sora watched the fight get intense from the sidelines. The whispers of awe and amazement at Fi’s skill traveled around the Yavin Temple like wildfire. Sora had only been on a quick supply run, checking to see if Nait or Scout called in. They hadn’t. They hadn’t showed up at the annual meeting at Dexter’s Diner, leaving only a message that said not to worry and that they promised to make it up with a fancy dinner and a food fight. They had not said where they were going. It was a mission they couldn’t refuse. Five years ago.
Outside, on the hot, humid night on Yavin 4, Sora looked to the stars. He would be sailing the sea of stars soon. He promised himself that he would take a break from the supply runs and start looking for Nait and Scout. Some strange feeling inside his chest was growing bigger and bigger. The space inside his mind cried out for attention, seeking help and… release. He had talked to Naos about this feeling, and he had deducted that someone was trying to contact him.
Sora’s first guess would be Scout. He had a bond larger than life with her. He and Nait were on good terms, also, but not as much as Sora and Scout. They shared a connection of sorts, like father and daughter. Now, Sora knew what Scout felt like when ripped away by someone you loved as a father—or daughter, in this case.
A tongue licked his shoulder. He smiled softly and turned around to face the giant wolf that had creped up on him. The wolf was larger than life, for sure. Big enough to reach Sora’s shoulder. Scout had befriended him on Yavin while she helped Naos set up. He was a good, faithful friend. Sora had Naos feed him once a week.
Spikes nuzzled his huge head into Sora’s shoulder. Spikes looked at the man with a clear expression, undaunted by fear, total clarity and assurance. He seemed to ask
Where’s Scout? Sora had no response, and rubbed the beast’s great head. “She’ll be here soon,” he said soothingly. “She’s thinking about you every night.”
Spikes titled his head to the left slightly, trying to figure out what Sora was saying. He scratched the dirt with his paw and licked Sora one last time before disappearing back into the woods.
Sora looked back at the stars. He would find Nait and Scout. And the ‘crew would help him. He knew they would.
A good crew would die for its Captain.
--
“Crap, you’re big.”
Iris dodged the Locust’s sword, breathing hard. She ducked again and brought her foot up to hit it in the face, but before she could, it took her ankle in it’s rough, green hand and pressed down. Iris hit the metal floor with a thud, and struggled to catch her breath. As the Locust’s foot came up to bash her face in, Iris grabbed the knife in the mini pistil holder—how stupid were these things?—and stabbed the inside of it’s ankle. It’s scream was terrifying, echoing in the small jail cell and bouncing back into Iris’ ears.
She rolled to her feet, her drooping shoulders indicating that she was getting tired. She was tired. Very tired, and hungry. They had practically starved her in the prison, and Iris lost about ten pounds. She would have only lost five if she hadn’t tried to starve herself this month…
She pressed forward, sticking the knife into the Locust’s neck. It let out a gurgling gasp, frothing green at the mouth. Iris watched the life flicker and die in his eyes, his shocked expression becoming his only expression now and forevermore.
As every muscle went limp in it’s huge body, now only held up by the knife that was slowly cutting it more with every passing second. Iris pulled it out and wiped it clean on her pants. She coughed, aware that it hurt her throat every time, perhaps the beginning of bronchitis—and sat on her small bed for a moment, thinking.
She had been arrested by Elite Squad three months ago along with General Nait on acts of treason, so Hoffman wouldn’t want them together. Nait would probably by on the far side of the prison, weary from food, cut off by his mystical Force. Their weapons were probably in the hands of Hoffman himself and they couldn’t just ask for them back. Also a problem. And the Locusts. How the hell had they found the prison anyway? Were they looking to steal some from Sergeant Jim? Or maybe they were on a killing spree. It fit their… personality.
Iris calculated the issues in her head, still weary, and figured that she would need her attacker’s weapons. She stood and turned the dead Locust on it’s back, unbuckling it’s weapons belt and strapping it to her waist, putting the metal link through the belt hoop to tighten it around her wiry form. She put the Locust’s guns in the right place, and stowed the knife on her arm holster.
I am so damn tired, she thought, rubbing her eyes. Iris wanted to lie down, but what good would that do? She’d just fall asleep, and her General would die. It would be an act worse than treason, something that would haunt her forever.
Maybe that was her inner voice talking. Or maybe it was the right thing to do.
Iris stood and took out the automatic. Cocking it, she proceeded foreword. She pressed her back against the door and waited, listening for movement. She peeked out, gun aimed. Instead of a big hulk of gunk at the end, Iris was met with an empty hallway. Sighing in relief, she drew back from her only cover and hesitantly took a step foreword. Nothing.
Her walk turned to a run. Her hair
That's all I got.
