We had just finished off some joint training maneuvers with the Corellian Special Forces Marines on Tralus in the Corellian system. These thing are more for PR than any real military need. We show up, do several days of training, have a war game with the local and lose to make their Politians feel better.
E775, WK 315. FH 451 and I end up at a local cantina to have a few drinks before we ship out. Just our luck a group of CSF Marines show up. It does not take them long to start in.
“So you guy are some of the famed GAR clones? Funny I though you be taller.”
WK 315 replies “That is a common perception, but I don’t know why.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, solider-in-a-bottle!” growls on Marine
“Yeah’, another one starts in “If I wanted an answer from you I would have written your test tube.”
They all laugh heartily as if the joke was actually funny.
“Ha Ha, that was a good one guys.” I say “Now, if you don’t mind we like to go back to our drinks.” I turn back to our table.
E775 eyes flash a warning to me. I spin in my seat the 7 Marines advancing on us slow down and spread out.
“Well, we do mind!. We don’t like your kind in our places and I think you will be leaving this place…on a Med cart.” The biggest of them barks at us.
“Whoa, Slow big guy. I am sure we can come up with a better way to deal with this problem.”
“How so?” the big guy ask
“I suppose we'll have to settle this Mandalorian -style," I say gravely.
"Yes. First I kick you in the nuts, and then you kick me in the nuts. And we keep taking turns until someone gives."
The big Marine looks at his friends, who are egging him on at this point. Seeing he can’t back down and reluctantly agrees.
I take a step back and kicks him square in the balls as hard as I can.
The Marine crumples to the ground, reeling. Minutes pass, and finally he can muster the strength to stand. "Okay," croaks the Marine, "my turn."
"Nah, you can have the cantina to yourselves, we’ll leave."