Pretty as Elves, Deadly as Wolves.

[Mars]

The sound of blaster fire rang out through the massive indoor training complex of the Hapes Royal Marines 1st Battalion. The unit was famed for it's ability to swiftly and brutally take enemy ships in boarding actions and currently held a record in all simulations for taking mock Imperial ships. Some say they're second only to the famous Galactic Alliance Red Hand, if not their equal.

Their current drill was a rather large scale one that cut the battalion in half and pitted them against each other inside a close-quarters simulation where they would practice newly refined vibrosword training. The battalion as a whole had been training under a Jedi Master for the better part of the last two years with his occasional leave giving them time to practice more traditional soldiering skills. The white and gold armor they wore was as practical as it was attractive, the equal of the now famous Centurion-class armor worn by Stormtroopers.

Watching the simulated battle from an observation booth about two stories up was their Colonel and the aforementioned Jedi's brother. The Colonel was one of the younger ones in the HRMC, only five years Michael's senior and already so high in the command structure. Then again, he didn't have thousands of innocent dead on his record, but he also probably didn't have four Sith lightsabers as trophies. Then again, maybe he did. The Sergeant was unsure.

LAWS carbine slung across his back, the Sergeant waited for his contact, someone else eligible for the Hapani cross-training.

 

[Cassanova]

Moving quietly onto the deck of the observation room was Corporal Terrsyn Pearot. Adorning the horridly useless MCU armour, except leaving the helmet in his locker as it was bulky, annoying, and more or less useless. On his right thigh hung the K8 hold out blaster pistol, and on his back, positioned on a sling was the M15 MDEWS rifle - TP's biggest pet hate.

Worse still, he noted the LAWS rifle that hung over was configured in the carbine mode and instantly developed a sullen hatred for this Sergeant for simply being in possession of one of these weapons. Terrsyn had been working tirelessly when not on assignment to get these weapons as standard issue. The acquisition of one was a topic of discussion TP would simply have to engage in with the Sergeant later. For the mean time, however, TP would have to deal with the noisy, unreliable, underpowered piece of blaster bolt firing trash that was standard issue.

He stepped up next to the Sergeant and Hapan Colonel. TP had signed up for this training not only to benefit himself, but those around him. More experience generally meant less chance of getting blown to bits - so he was not about to pass up the opportunity to learn from some of the best. Once a few paces from the pair, who seemed affixed on the combat course below, TP stopped, and snapped his feet together, raising his arm up to a salute, "Corporal Terrsyn Pearot, 1st Regiment. Reporting, sirs!"

 

[Mars]

Mike and the good Colonel turned around to watch the man approach when his boots could be heard thudding against he steel floor in the halls behind them. An idea hatched itself in the veteran's brain and he quickly whispered it to the Hapani next to him before the door hissed open to let the new man in. TP managed a picture perfect salute in the presence of one of the GA's most highly respected military officers and one of their personal scapegoats in Delenzik. The difference between the two was odd. The young corporal, however, couldn't possibly be prepared for what happened next.

The white and gold armor of the tall Hapani glinted in the light as he moved. It was swift and precise. Within the blink of an eye, literally thanks to enhancers in his armor and his natural grace, the Colonel would be on one side of the Red Hand member.

"I don't recall asking for your Regiment Corporal."

The words dripped with what was really false arrogance, the Colonel being one of the nicer members of the HMC, but it was more than convincing enough if you didn't know better.

"A Red Hand member like this man. He's killed four Sith how many have you slain? How many times have you seen open battle against the Empire?"

He'd wait a moment before taking his ice-blue eyes from burning a hole into the side of TP's head before looking back to Delenzik. It would be enough time for the Corporal to sweat about an answer.

And then a burst of laughter would fill the room from the Sergeant.

"We're just messing with you Terrsyn." said the combat vet, extending a hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you. Sergeant Michael Delenzik, also of the Red Hand."

"And I'm Colonel Myrek of the Hapani Royal Military, a pleasure to meet you as well. Let's get down there and get started. We'll provide you with whatever equipment you'd like, and you'll run the course in our armor. We've had suits custom-fitted based on what the Alliance was able to tell us on your measurements. In addition to that, you'll get some vidro-swords. Our reports tell us that most Galactic Alliance soldiers are woefully under trained in the realm of swordsmanship. Nothing we'll fix in a day, but thankfully this course is some two weeks long. Shall we begin training, my friends?"

With that, the Colonel gestured to another door on the opposite side of the room, leading to a set of stairs that led downward to the armory where the Red Hand members would be fitted in the white and gold of HMC soldiers.

 

[Cassanova]

Terrsyn stood at attention, unmoving while the Hapani Colonel bellowed in his ear. He'd suffered worse before. But he did gather some useful information regarding the Sergeant whom shared the same Regiment. Nevertheless, TP was granted the time to respond in some capacity.

"He's killed four Sith how many have you slain?"
"None, sir!"
"How many times have you seen open battle against the Empire?"
"Never before, sir!"

TP's mind worked to the point where he almost expected the laughter to come from somewhere. There was no way he would have been offered this opportunity if his file had not been reviewed. They'd know full well that he saved thousands of lives on the Valafar Lamartine, had aided in the rescue of hundreds of innocent civilians from a peaceful farming world and depending on their security clearance, they'd also know that he'd worked closely in a classified operation with Special Operations. Despite the obviously harmless hazing that the officers were attempting, TP maintained his attentive stance.

"An honour, sir," Once Delenzik offered his hand in greeting, TP took a short step forward and shook the hand firmly with a cheeky grin on his face, "I hear you're quite the Sith-Killer."

Once the Colonel had finished administering the briefing for the exercise TP almost regretted coming. The concept of others doting upon him with new armour, weapons, or training that didn't couple with standard issue equipment annoyed him to bounds not yet discovered by sentient beings. A vibrosword was as good as a stick to TP, and using one meant dropping his rifle, pistol and knife - a trio of which he would never allow to happen. Nevertheless, training was training, and TP took what he could get, especially when it was invitational.

He followed the Colonel down the stairs and into the armoury. Terrsyn, careful to not offend anyone, remained behind the Colonel, and made no move towards the armour, but merely assessed it with his eyes. It was truly beautiful to behold, he did, however, wonder how it compared to the MCU or the M89 combat armours issued to the soldiers of the Alliance. Probably ten times better... Terrsyn grumbled to himself silently.

Once they were all in the armoury, TP made a motion to Delenzik's weapon of choice, "Kushari LAWS, sir? How'd you get one?"