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The Dauntless [Complete]


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Commander Swift cleared his throat again, his eyes boring into his subordinate’s, one hand idly spreading the orders out across his desk, the same orders which he’d read countless times over the past few suns. “Word’s been going around. Command will be poaching the roster for a new unit.”


Sergeant Melkire stared, dumbfounded. He started to rise, but one of Lieutenant Peak’s enormous hands came down on his right shoulder and held him to his seat.


“…I don’t understand.”


“This isn’t the first time something of this nature has occurred. Assurances were made to the Hall that this wouldn’t happen again, and yet it did. Six moons' operation and yet the impact here at home and elsewhere has been… lackluster. These facts, coupled with the aforementioned complaints regarding organization and accusations made against the leadership… well… as I said before. Poaching.”


“Ser… I was one o’ the folks makin’ said complaints, but that doesn’t mean I want--"


“What you or the others want is immaterial. This is happening. You all spoke up. Now you all get to live with the consequences. Internal division and strife, in a unit afforded that degree of independence and freedom of movement? It won’t do. So those of you harboring suspicion, resentment, grievances… you’re out.”


The sergeant blinked a few times, then took a deep breath. “So what now?”


Swift lifted a thick folder, hefted it a few times, and then tossed it down onto the far end of his desk, the end closest to the sergeant. Melkire leaned forward, shrugging off the Roegadyn’s grip as he did so, and picked up the hefty bundle of papers. He sat back, flipped the folder open, and began perusing the contents. Contents which included dossiers. Personnel files.


“The Dauntless,” intoned the commander.

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