>>22253
>limmie
>Sev didn’t have a clue what he meant, but nodded sympathetically. Then he left and put distance between the office and himself as quickly as he could. Boss and the others ambushed him halfway down the corridor.
“Well?” Scorch demanded. “Did he buy it?”
“I think so.”
Fixer snorted. “Not much else he can do, is there?”
“We got a day off out of it,” Sev said. “Which is better than a thrashing from Vau, so shut up and make the most of it.”
Delta took a shortcut across the parade ground to get to their quarters. In the late-afternoon sun, the newly re-formed Omega Squad---no Darman, but with the new guy from EOD who could do really dangerous knife tricks with his prosthetic hands—were playing limmie with Ordo and Mereel. Skirata had joined in. They played it hard, what Vau called the Mando way, shoulder-charging and tackling one another with complete disregard for injury, kicking the spherical ball high into the air. It was about the size of a man’s head—Sev did a double take to be sure it wasn’t actually a real head—and it cannoned against the wall of the barracks to loud whoops and cries of “Oya! Ori’mesh’la!”
None of them, except Skirata, was in armor. They weren’t even in red GAR fatigues, just assorted civilian clothing they must have picked up on the last mission. There were no team colors. If Sev hadn’t recognized them as his clone brothers, he would have taken them for Mandalorians whiling away the time between invasion and pillage rather than fellow commandos letting off steam.
They suddenly struck him as very foreign, and that surprised him: Vau had taught Delta all the Mandalorian customs and language, just as Skirata had taught his commando squads, but somehow at that moment Omega and the Nulls seemed very much more Mandalorian mercs than men of the Grand Army.
“So,” Boss said, as if reading his mind, “if we got in a ruck with a bunch of real Mando’ade, whose side do you reckon they’d be on?”
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