Miles Away From Yesterday

Chapter 10 - Whispers in the Silence

Author's Note: All the boys are going through a rough time. :P

~ Amina Gila

Rampart promotes Hunter to the rank of commander and puts him in charge of the Elite Squad before giving him his new orders. "There are rumors of a Jedi on Onderon," Rampart tells him, "And we have pinpointed a group of rebels working with Saw and Steela Gerrera. Wipe them out, and perhaps that will be enough to lure the Jedi out of hiding."

"Yes, sir," Hunter answers, as is expected.

"What? You're gonna kill kids now, Hunter?"

Good soldiers follow orders. The Jedi are traitors, threats, and he dreads to think of what might happen to his brothers if they happen upon a rogue Jedi. He can't let them be hurt, for all that he's angry at them. They might have disobeyed him, but it's still his duty to protect them. Protecting them supersedes everything else.

Or at least it did.

He... doesn't know anymore what the right choice is. They left. They're traitors – like the Jedi are. By all rights, he ought to kill them, but... but –

Good soldiers follow orders.

Hunter knows that, but he has a duty to his brothers, too, and he doesn't know what will happen if his orders conflict with his duty.

The natborn troopers aren't happy that he's in charge, but Hunter doesn't care. He's experienced, skilled, and he's a good leader. At least Rampart respects that. He doesn't know how well he'd be able to work for natborns who so obviously look down on clones. Or at least one of them does.

"Why would they put him in charge?" grumbles one of the troopers as their shuttle comes out of hyperspace over Onderon.

Hunter doesn't want to react, but he has to make it clear that he's in charge and they're expected to listen to him. He can't let insubordination fester. "You got a problem?" he asks, narrowing his eyes as he glances toward the talkative trooper. The warning shut up is obvious, but the natborn ignores it, huffing as he looks back at him, unphased.

"Tell me this, clone. If you all are so efficient, how come the Empire's scouting soldiers like us?" he challenges. Hunter doesn't miss the way the other troopers look away. He doesn't know – or care – if they agree, but at least they're respecting protocol if nothing else. "Sounds to me like it's time for a change."

Well, the truthful answer is one that the natborn won't want to hear, but Hunter isn't Crosshair. He's not one to dish out harsh truths bluntly. "Good soldiers follow orders." He knows his voice is just shy of mocking with the way he's so carefully enunciating each word, but he can't help it. He's angry. Taking it out on these natborns won't help, isn't ideal, and it doesn't make him the best leader, but... yeah.

Right now, he's too angry to care.

They arrive on Onderon before long, and all internal conflicts are forgotten in the face of the mission. Hunter doesn't trust them, can't trust them, but he can trust that they want to impress Rampart with their skills. That means he can trust they'll follow his orders since he's the one in charge. They might not like him, but they must understand the importance of following orders when in the field.

He draws his blaster and his knife, and then gestures for the squad to move in. The insurgents are taken by surprise, overwhelmed almost instantly by the blaster fire through the trees and the smoke bomb thrown to disorient them. Hunter picks them off one by one, the ones who are fighting back. There are civilians down there, too, but they're panicking, not fighting. He doesn't see any children.