This was the quickest mobilisation Thorn Kord had ever seen.
At the sound of the klaxon and the broadcast that this was the real thing and not just another full mission profile training evolution, the troops, leg infantry, pilots, tankers and commandos started out.
Vehicles were loaded into ships, supplies moved, ammunition drawn from armories – the war machine was in full swing at an instant.
The training had paid off: flash training paired with real-life instructions proved their value.
Kord was one of the Original Ten, the first ten Mandalorian warriors recruited by Jango Fett to serve as training sergeants for the Republic’s Clone army on Kamino.
Fett had been contracted not only to donate his genes for the creation of the Clones, but also to furnish a staff of one hundred instructors, preferably Mandalorians with years of experience under their belts.
It had almost worked, as Fett had indeed managed to recruit 75 Mandalorians. Aruettiise of quality had to supplement them to reach the needed number of 100 instructors.
It was good Mandalorian tradition to be ready to march or be shipped out at a minute’s notice.
Kord had grabbed his deployment kitbag, slung his Deece over his shoulder and with his helmet tucked under his arm stepped out of his quarters into the mass of men getting ready for war.
On his way to the designated assembly area for his Company, Kord met fellow instructor Rav Bralor, one of the few female sergeants among the Cuy’val Dar.
“Where are you going?” she asked by way of greeting.
Kord set down his kitbag and pointed down the corridor.
“Assembly area. Time to go to war! Are you not going?”
She shook her head. “Nah. Our contract ended when they blew the horn. I’m going back to Keldabe on the next available transport.”
“Your decision.” Kord said, picking up his luggage.
Technically, she was right. Kord knew that it was not his job to lead his men in battle. The contract had ended when the Clone army was being called up for war.
The Cuy’val Dar were supposed to turn those Clones bred to be Commandos into the best warriors possible. Each sergeant had been responsible for the training of one hundred Commando soldiers, but Kord wasn’t ready to let them go into their first battle alone.
He had no idea against which enemy they were going to fight, but that didn’t matter. He knew that his boys were going to do very well. They could outshoot, outmarch, outflank, outsmart and outperform any enemy.
When Kord arrived in the assembly area, his Company snapped to attention.
Like most Commandos they had opted to individualize their armor by painting it. For some reason, the prevailing colours on them were subdued: Olive Drab and various tones of brown or sand yellow, pretty much like Kord’s Beskar’gam.
“At ease!” Kord ordered his men. He made the tactical sign to circle wagons. On the other end of the hangar, he could see the armored silhouettes of fellow Cuy’val Dar Gar Ahab and Grim Rage and two other Mandalorian instructors, but besides them, none of the instructors had chosen to join their respective Company.
“You have trained for this moment for several years!” Kord shouted. “Day by day you have prepared yourself for battle. You have rehearsed every conceiveable scenario over and over. Now it is time to take our show on the road!”
Buzz, the Squad Leader of Rancor Squad pointed at Kord’s kitbag.
“Are you going with us, Sergeant?”
Kord grinned. “As sure as night follows day. Alright, Commandos. Buckets on and let's get aboard!”
Together they marched up the ramp into the belly of the huge transport.
It took a while until all supplies, equipment, vehicles and sundry bits of kit had been loaded, but the troops made themselves comfortable quickly.
Most simply took off their packs and sat down on them, balancing their helmet and rifle on their knees.
The airlocks had barely been closed when the first squads were huddling together, starting a brew.
Kord had thrown his kitbag into a corner, sat down on it and leaned back.
He had seen this scenario countless times before and he knew that the same things were going on in the cargo bays of the other transports.
One of his Commandos approached him, holding a drinking cup with steaming hot caf.
Kord took the caf and raised the cup. “Kandosii!” he said.
A shiver ran through the ship’s structure as the transport pushed itself out of the hangar. Wherever possible, the men tried to see something through the small bulleyes. Although they all looked like grown men, they still were like children in some respect. That, Kord thought, came with the accelerated growth of the Clones.
He had joined his fellow Cuy’val Dar who had chosen not to stay behind on Kamino.
The transport picked up speed as it gained altitude on its way into orbit.
“Oya Manda!” Kord said.
The huge frame of Grim Rage towered over their little group. “Kote!” he growled and put his arms around the shoulders of Kord and Ahab. Together they began to sing the old Mandalorian war chant which had been sung on the way to many a battlefield all through the Galaxy by countless Mandalorian warriors before and which embodied the spirit of their culture which those who did not belong, the Aruettiise, couldn’t understand.
Within seconds, the Commandos picked up the song which they had learned from their instructors when they had been taught about their heritage. Their five hundred voices may not have sounded in much harmony, but in perfect unison they sang:
Kandosii sa kar'ta, Vode an.
Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.
Bal kote, darasuum kote,
Jorso'ran kando a tome.
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an.
