We all stood there. Proud of our success, but devastated by the consequences. We looked at the battlefield, knowing how much we won, yet how much we had lost. However we were grateful of our leader, and our leader was grateful for us…


 As the new recruits landed at a base on Ord Mantell, they were quite shocked to see that a battle was still raging on. The new recruits were warned to not get involved with the “playground fight” unless told so. Most people called the war a playground fight. They say that the gangs are the seven year olds, and the republic are the teachers, trying to control it all. The soldiers were doing their best at keeping the gang’s riots at bay, but sometimes at night, when you’re all asleep, the gangs push past and throw flaming bottles. I see why we were warned about being involved. We noticed that if one of their “bottle-bombs” were to hit anywhere near us, then that’s another soldier in flames.

The next morning all of us were lined up outside. We were waiting for the arrival of a general. Who ever this general was, he was taking his time.

“That general likes to keep us waiting, doesn’t he,” said a soldier, “He must think we don’t have things to do!”

“Like what,” I spoke out.


“Well maybe you should be patient. It’s hard to move round here without anyone trying to shoot you in the head,” interrupted a soldier, who wasn’t lining up with us. She was mid-twenties-ish with black hair, and was obviously a Vanguard.

“And you are…?”

“I’m Gunnery Sergeant Cyra Hunter, so address me as how you would address any other.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” replied the soldier.

“So then what’s your name?” asked Cyra.

“Corporal Jonathan Archer, but most call me Jon, sir.”

 As we were still waiting, a Staff Sergeant arrives. He was medium height with brown hair, also a Vanguard and seemed to be in his late-twenties. He walked out of the base, like as if he knew trouble was at arise.

“Ah, Serg Ghost. Good to see you’ve come outside,” said the Gunnery Sergeant.

“Still waiting for the General to arrive?”

“Yes, we’re still waiting.”

“Time?” asked the Staff Sergeant.

“9:24am sir.”

 “Wasn’t the General suppose to arrive at 0-nine hundred hours?”

“Is that him, sir?” I asked. A LAAT landed on the landing bay, just about 5oo yards in front of us. The doors had opened and then stepped out the General we had been waiting for.