To Boldy Laugh... (Ash) [Oatara]

[Fromikeable]

[For Horst, this occurs after Righteous Cowboy Lightning]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The jungles of Oatara were one of the few places in the galaxy completely untouched by the hands or influence of sentient-kind. The jungle was its own domain, harboring ferocious creatures of lethal proportions, trees the size of sky-scrapers, and a myriad of plants, animals, and living things so uncountable you'd only see if a hair of them in a year.

Naturally, that made it a great training ground. At least, Horst Stellar had thought so. He, leading an under-performing division of troops comprised of the worst and least cooperative Spearpoint trainees the initial training had spewed out, had trekked into the jungle 3 days ago with one objective in mind:

Whip these no-good, belly-achin', Bantha-humping S.O.B.'s into shape, or kill them trying. Horst had made the last part pretty apparent; nothing motivated troops quite like the threat of death. Of course he had made sure to carry out a good crate of bandages, anti-venom, and supplies to deal with flesh-wounds and broken bones, but these kids didn't need to know that.

The first two days could best be described as the worst, sweatiest, most humid and unbearable Oataran days of hell imaginable, with about half the division either being attacked by wildlife, contracting a jungle-disease (though nothing too serious), staying constantly wet, or being mentally taxed nearly to the point of breaking. By the time Horst declared that it was time to head back, the troops practically collapsed, not having realized prior that they wouldn't be picked up by air-support.

Horst knew well that he was driving these kids and fringe to their breaking points, and yet he did little to alleviate their trouble. Whenever someone broke down, mentally, physically, or emotionally, he was there to help them pick up the pieces, but these past three days he had been pretty silent.

After all, they wouldn't learn to rely on one another if they didn't suffer a bit.

And the progress was showing. What had once been a bunch of rag-tag, unmotivated individuals was already forming in a giant team of cooperative soldiers. Horst knew that they were probably loathing the sight of him, but he scaled that as a small cost to pay for their abilities and fraternity.

It probably helped that he had brought Bit along though.

Indeed, he'd considered himself a little insane for ensuring the entire division, himself included, would have to listen to the craziest man in the Mid-Rim ramble on for three days straight in the jungle. It hadn't been that bad though; Bit had even been a little helpful, helping the troopers crack a smile at some odd comment or immature joke whenever they needed it most. Horst held a new respect for him.

He was still insane by Horst's book, though the Commander now considered it a healthy insanity, and actually found himself enjoying it from time to time. Bit made for one helluva reality check.

On the third day, as the division marched exhaustedly through the jungle brush toward SPHQ, Horst led the way. The sun was becoming more and more visible as the soldiers slowly began to emerege from the canopy, and off in the distance choppers and craft were audible. They were almost home.

Waiting up for Bit, Horst grabbed his shoulder and wiped his forehead, just as sweaty as everyone else. He had done away with his shirt a while back, and was in a dirtied pair of military-grade pants. His dog-tags were still hung around his neck, and his revolver and and pistol were both at the ready at his waist along with his tools. He looked over at Bit, who he had charged with keeping track of their position that day.

"How're we doin'? Be back in time for dinner?"

[Ash]

Three days of hell... Three days of pain... Three days of being in the jungle with a large man who thought he was mentally insane and a host of wannabe soldiers who refused to work together in a coherent mass. That was just fine for Bit, who was having a fun time.

At least he was at first, but the humidity got to him. His normally fluffy, dark hair was all matted down and looking like strait poodoo, but he eventually slicked it strait back, and, quite often, put on a high class Corusanti accent that made him seem like some sort of slick salesman. He earned some laughs with that.

As the days passed, Bit noticed that this group of soldiers were beginning to work together: after all, if people like Bit and Horst could, then anyone would be able to cooperate with each other. That was good, especially for this environment. Still, Bit wished he was flying rather than using his secondary skills of survival he was trained on when he was with the Republic.

On the third and final day of their survival training exercise crap they were on, Bit disregarded his jacket: which wasn't his usual black one. A simple black wife-beater sufficed, tucked into his military pants. He rolled his shoulders, setting his ruck back into place, which slipped when he was crossing a fallen tree, and walked his way up to Horst, who was waiting for him.

Dammit Horst, I'm a pilot, not a navigator... haha. just kiddin. We'll be back within three hours, so long as we don't run into any more beasts. I'm running out of ammo. Only a few thousand shots left.

Bit checked the charge on his Blaster rifle, which he had slung on his side, pistol grip right where his right hand normally sat. A scatter blaster was strapped to his ruck, and, to top off his small arsenal, a blaster was on his left leg, and a verpine slugthrower was in his special holster at the small of his back, right under where his ruck sat. After checking the charge, which was full, of course, Bit turned back to the large man, then to the soldiers behind them. Putting on a ridiculous accent, he called out to them.

Come on, ye skirvy dogs! Ya get no grub if ya can' keep. ARR!!!

[Fromikeable]

For a minute there, Horst seriously thought that Bit had no idea as to where they were going. He tensed a little, but managed to relax as soon as he was told it was a joke.

Not. Funny. If there was one place in the galaxy you never wanted to get lost in, it was the Oataran jungles.

Bit resumed his personal brand of insanity, however, with a yell out to the troops marching by in the tone of some scurvy dog. Horst smiled and shook his head lightly; he didn't think he'd ever figure out what happened in that slightly disturbing mind of Bit's. Even so, he entertained it, and occasionally it did turn out to be pretty funny.

3 hours, huh? That meant that after getting a bite to eat and maybe changing, the night would still be relatively young. That meant there would be time tonight for him and Ervisa to renew their "cycle" of every other night. After half a week in the jungle, Horst was sort of looking forward to it...

... Man, I'm a shallow bastard. Horst still felt guilty over the fact that he couldn't say anything meaningful about Ervisa's past or present life. She'd summarized a few bits that day the chopper had crashed, but since then? They might as well have been strangers. Horst wasn't even willing to categorize the scenario as "friends with benefits", as he knew way more about his normal friends than he did that odd Mirialan woman.

Does that make me a bad person? Horst stood thinking for a moment until he noticed that the last of the troops were passing him. Snapping out of his consideration, the Commander brought up the rear, still deep in thought. He needed advice, and preferably the kind that didn't involved him making an idiot out of himself.

But who can I ask?... Oh no. No no no no no. Not a snowball's chance in he-

"Hey Bit!" Horst jogged and jumped over the forest floor until he was walking with the other officer again, breathing a little hard after his sprint. He couldn't believe that Bit was the person he was going to for dating advice, but alas, there he was.

"You're a ladies man, right? You get women?"