Mando'a Coming In Clutch Rn - Blog Posts

generally-scheming​ // armitage hux

“You should be so lucky.” Hux bristled, his pitch creeping higher. The foreign words unsettled him. There was little he hated more than not knowing things. He turned to a communications officer seated at a nearby console, his voice crisp as an icicle. “What language is that? What does it mean?”

“Mando’a, sir.” The officer’s mouth twitched. Was that a laugh he was stifling?

“Look at me when I am talking to you, officer.” The officer’s amusement was highly inappropriate. “What did she say?”

“She said…” The comms officer’s face went pale as he met Hux’s gaze. Looking as if he were in real, physical pain, he squeaked out, “ ‘Cheers, sweetheart.’ ” He cleared his throat. “Sir.”

Silence descended on the bridge. These officers were well-trained; they knew better than to laugh audibly. But Hux could feel the held breaths, the shoulders shaking with the struggle to contain their amusement   (his shame).   His jaw clenched. He would maintain professionalism, even if these classless rebels did not. “Thank you, Officer Norton,” he said quietly. He pivoted to address the entire bridge, the very picture of control until he opened his mouth.

“Divert power from deflector shields to boosters! GET them IN RANGE and FIRE TURBOLASERS! NOW !!” Officers scrambled around him. Face burning, he lowered his voice to a stiff sneer as he spoke into the comms. “I hope you like it hot, Mandalorian. Shame that the rest of your planet didn’t.”

. 

A crew member indicated that the larger vessel was shifting power to thrusters, and she nodded without much concern. These ex-Imperials may have more firepower, but Sabine knew this ship, knew its people. The Rebels were faster and knew the less-traveled hyperspace lanes like home. They had to if they wanted to survive.

At the response on the com, Sabine smirked. So, it was that easy. Though the comment should have stung, the Mandalorian shrugged it off for now. This wasn’t the first time someone had said such things to them in the heat of battle. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Were it another bound by Creed, they might have panicked, have spiraled into anxiety or fear or guilt-- but to this hut’uun, all they heard were words, devoid of knowledge or feeling.

“Oh, low blow, general. You kiss your superiors with that mouth?”

She asked, but had little doubt about it. From what they heard, some Imps were willing to do just about anything for a promotion. It wasn’t her business, but it was amusing. They gave their attention back to the focus at hand: the jump to New Republic space just a few parsecs away was calculated, and the only thing left was to give the command.

“Oh, and translator? Why don’t you tell the general-- te’habi bevik gar’shebs! I’m sure you’d all be better for it!”

As she gave the signal for the jump, they smiled lightly under their palm. Secretly, they hoped to run into him again-- this was the most fun she’d had all week.