Ramikadyc-A Star Wars Call of Duty AU
ramikadyc: commando state of mind - an attitude that he/she can do anything, endure anything, and achieve the objective.
Part One
Five Years Before the Battle Of Geonosis
Sundari, Mandalore.
In the wake of the cleanup of the Deathwatch attack (Kryze and Almec say that Deathwatch no longer exists, was shattered a long time ago, but everyone knows better) on the Sundari Dome, blue and red lights flashing against shattered glass-Gaz can’t stop staring at Alor’ad Price’s EE-3 carbine blaster rifle.
It’s not like Gaz had never seen a blaster before. In fact he had held one, shot one before Clan Garrick gave up their arms and beskar in exchange for pacificism, for a promise of no more blood, no more war, no more senseless violence.
So much for that.
Even as a Mandalorian police sergeant, working in tandem with the Mandalorian Protectors assigned to guard Duchess Satine Kryze; he didn’t have a blaster. Gaz had always secretly, blasphemously considered a blaster the true weapon of the Mandalorians.
Even when his cousin brought back a broken, smoldering carbine to his aunt, the only thing that was left of his uncle after Galidraan and his aunt collapsed in his mother’s arms. Even when his family melted down their beskar and Gaz managed to snag his late father’s helmet and hide it away. Even when he had witnessed innocent civilians be slain by the same blaster bolts Gaz yearned to wield. Gaz looks down at his electro-baton and shield, then to the lights bouncing off of Price’s scuffed armor as Alor’ad Price talks with the Alor’ad of the Mandalorian Royal Guard.
If Gaz had a blaster, maybe he would be able to save more people.
If all Mandalorians had a blaster, maybe less innocents would be dead, and more of the enemy would.
Price snaps Gaz out of his thoughts.
“You saved lives today, Ruus’alor.” He says in that gruff voice, barely different from when Price’s voice was distorted by the vocoder of his helmet, which he currently has tucked under his arm.
Gaz creases his eyebrows as he looks at the sheets laid over corpses, scattered all across the city square. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, sir.” He says, tearing his gaze away from the bodies and turning around to meet Price’s flinty blue eyes.
“They sent us in half-assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we’re not at war anymore, pretending that Kyr'tsad isn’t-” He cuts himself off, lips pursing as his eyes flicker away from Price’s steely gaze.
Kyr’tsad. Deathwatch. Like speaking the damned name will bring another explosion, another attack, another war.
“...Sir.”
Price simply juts his head slightly. “Go on.”
Gaz bites his tongue for a moment, jaw clenching as he looks at the carnage laid out before him-part of his home, now festering with a violence that could have been put down faster, quicker, maybe if he and the Guard had been allowed to investigate the previous threats beforehand, maybe if Gaz had a goddamn blaster-
Gaz turns his attention back to Price. “We don’t stand a chance in hell with these rules of engagement, Captain,” He nearly hisses, voice low. “They can tell us where, they can tell us when…but don’t tell us how.”
Gaz’s gaze subconsciously flickers to the carbine strapped to Price’s waist, before he tears it away again in a millisecond.
Alor’ad John Price, of course, notices. He leans in just a little bit, as if shielding the rest of the galaxy from their conversation.
“You’re tired of the inaction.” Price says. Gaz clenches his jaw again, looking away; he says nothing, but his silence speaks for him. Price keeps going.
“Mandalore and Her people deserve peace, yeah...but peace is won with violence, in a way. With putting the enemy down-completely. ‘S the natural order of things.” Price says in a low, gravelly voice.
Gaz shakes his head. “But we didn’t put the enemy down. Not completely. Maybe it’s Kyr’tsad, maybe it’s not, but…something’s not right. There’s not as much stability in our system as everyone claims. Just ‘cause the war is over…” He trails off, exhaling deep and silent as he views the carnage again. When did the violence stop? Did it ever really stop? Would it have been better or worse if Mandalore didn’t give up Her arms?
…Would Deathwatch still exist, otherwise?
The Great Clan Wars, the Mandalorian Civil war, whatever you called it-was a tricky thing. Gaz had been taught it like every Mandalorian child, had heard the stories from plenty of viewpoints, angles, perspectives, first-hand experiences. Peace against violence, violence against peace, Deathwatch, New Mandalore, Old Mandalorians, True Mandalorians, Traditionalists, the Faithful, the Faithless, and-
None of them were happy stories, and every word, every story, every belief of nonviolence weaved into Gaz’s psyche just confused him more when he saw what peaceful inaction led to-
-Bodies, bodies, and more bodies...in his humble opinion, of course.
Price snaps him out of his thoughts again. “...but the war’s never truly over, isn’t it?” He says gruffly. Gaz bites the inside of his cheek this time, shifting slightly.
Price doesn’t say anything else; patiently waiting for the Sergeant to speak, waiting for Gaz’s piece which they both know is not going to be in disagreement.
Not now.
.........................................................................................................................
alor’ad: captain
kyr'tsad: Deathwatch-breakaway Mandalorian sect
ruus'alor: Sergeant
Thoughts, comments, concerns, anyone? This is my first time writing fic in awhile! Hope whoever reads this likes it lol <3
