WotH-2 Chpt 17

==War on the Horizon - Chapter 17 / Book 2==
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===Practice with Grenades===
Date: November 1st, 3017 AD/01.11.7956 CRC (Coruscant Reckoning Calendar)Location: Serenno, Confederacy of Independent Systems
Sheppard stood up and turned towards the elevator doors as they slid open, revealing his CO.
 
The look on his face was exhaustion, and there were apparent bags and stress lines across his face.
 
"Whelp, that was productive," he groaned and collapsed into one of the couches.
 
"Good news?" Sheppard asked, taking a seat across from him.
 
"Kinda," Mark leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. "It's all jacked up politically in the meetings."
 
"Even though there's not a lot of red tape, politics and bureaucrats will still get their way," Sheppard agreed. "So, what's in the future for us?"
 
"We're being sidelined on this one," He exhaled and seemingly forced his body to relax. "Admiral Landkai had a lot of good points, and the CIS does need to learn to operate on their own."
 
"He's one of the few officers with field experience," Sheppard agreed. "And it's not his first operation against pirates. This will be a good learning experience for their marines, intel, and ground officers."
 
"That part, we're not sidelined on," Mark sat up straight and opened his eyes, rubbing sleepiness from them. "They want one of our teams to act as SF."
 
"None of us are SF-rated," Sheppard scoffed, nearly choking on his drink. "Aside from Dunham and one or two of his guys. But even then, his CSV had so much black ink when we hired him that we'll never know."
 
"We still have a higher standard of training expected and better gear than most of their guys. We're not the tip of the spear here. We're just being asked to support their own SF teams," Mark tossed a datapad across the room onto the couch next to Sheppard. "But we both know that doesn't mean jack shit."
 
"It just means that Packer's going to cuss both of us out later," Sheppard picked up the datapad and began going through the notes that Hull had taken. "You good?"
 
"I'm just tired," Hull shifted and laid down lengthwise on the couch, bringing his hat down over his eyes. "I'm just gonna lay here and take a nap."
 
"You do that," Sheppard began highlighting sections of the notes for revisit later. "I'll just keep going through this."
 
But Hull was already asleep. The deep breaths and lack of response were evidence of that.
 
"Now, let's see exactly what's to be expected of us in the future," The Marksman XO stood up and headed for a nearby office. 
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===Exploring the Mood among Soldiers===
"The history books never really talk about this part of things," Satele complained to her new battle buddy as they sat at their bunks, bored out of their minds.
 
"The waiting?" Frank asked. 
 
"Yeah," Satele sighed. "No one ever talks about it."
 
"That's because it's boring," Frank laughed. "Besides, I prefer this to being shot at. I've spent enough time seeing friends get shredded by 'Mechs and Tanks to ever want to do it again."
 
Then why stay in?" Satele asked. "You've been doing this for almost as long as I've been alive. Why not retire?"
 
"I find that I'm a bit too old to change my ways," the graybeard shrugged, cleaning out from his fingernails with a large knife. "I joined the AFFS back in '95, did my time as jump infantry, then realized once I got out that the pay sucked, but that I loved the job. But I had a messed up knee, and the 'Suns weren't willing to pay for replacement surgery. Then, a buddy of mine called me up and said there was a merc unit looking to hire wounded and disabled vets and that they'd pay for whatever medical we needed. I signed up, got my knee replaced, and haven't looked back since. I might not like being shot at, but I love all of this shit. I love my gear, I love working with a well-put-together squad, and I absolutely fucking love working with Mithril. Why, if we'd had that when I first joined, our casualty rates might have been lower!"
 
"Sure, now you're going to tell me about the old days again," Satele rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall. 
"Well, if you don't want to hear the stories I've got, then you don't have to listen," Frank sheathed his knife and laid down on his bunk, stretching out and relaxing. "'Sides, there'll be plenty of action to whet your appetite soon enough."
 
"Speaking of which," Satele pulled her legs into her chest and rested her chin on them. "What's your take on the op we're being sent on?"
 
"I don't really care as long as I'm getting paid," Frank shrugged, closing his eyes. "I'm here for the payday, not the politics. Though, shooting at some pirates always feels good, so I guess there's that."
 
"Meant more about us being pulled to support the CIS on this one."
 
"Oh, they should be fine," Frank sighed. "Their training is good, and we've got a whole company on QRF to back up our platoon if things go wrong. I've also heard good things about their pilots. As long as the battle in the void goes well, we should have good support on the ground."
 
"We're boarding space stations," Satele snarked. "I doubt we'll need air support while on a station."
 
"Shows what you know," Frank responded in kind. "See if Hober or one of his buddies bails you out when I tell him you said that."
 
The old veteran shifted a bit and then groaned and stood up. "We might as well go check on our gear. The last thing we need is a malfunction when lives are on the line."
 
"You go on ahead," Satele nodded. "I'll catch up in a couple of minutes."
 
As he walked out, Satele immersed herself in the Force, allowing the emotions and feelings of everyone onboard the ship to slow through her for a second. 
 
It was always so interesting to her to feel the entire gamut of emotions, from joy to boredom and everything in between, in a few minutes. But the Light Side was always a part of this sort of thing. Sure, the Dark Side was also present, but it was always a shadow here or there among soldiers. Despite the dark humor, crass jokes, and general depressive mood at times, there was no place that flourished with more life than a group of soldiers. As she stood and made her way to the exit, Satele exhaled and allowed all those emotions to flow out of her, leaving her calm and collected as she opened the door and left the barracks.
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Chapter 2-17