Republic Commando Quotes

Ugliness is an illusion, gentlemen. Like beauty. Like color. All depends on the light. The only reality is action.

Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaasla. (Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be.) - Mandalorian saying

We're all going to die sometime, so you might as well die pushing the odds for something that matters.

Scorch: "I think Sev might have an anger problem." Sev: "I think you have an intelligence problem.

We have an understanding. I don’t laugh at his skirt, and he doesn’t rip my head off.” -Fi Skirata

Long memory, short fuse, big revenge.

Any sign of what killed him, Scorch?" "Let's ask Sev. He's a dead-body-ologist." [Sev examines the body and its arm falls off] "Yep, he's dead alright.” "Sure you don't want a second opinion, Doc?" "Nah, I'm ready go out on a limb.

[After a horrible, crazy speeder race by Bardan] “Thank you for flying Jedi Air.” Jusik grinned and shook their hands. “Have a nice afternoon.” “You’re all insane,” said Sev.

Do we get to do assassinations?” “If we do, they never happened. You imagined them.” “Whoops. My trigger finger just slipped, Sarge. Honest.

That's how tyranny succeeds. When folks think it won't affect them until eventually it does.

If we were given one word of information in our entire history, how we'd treasure it! how we'd pore over ever syllable, divining it's meaning, arguing its importance; how we'd examine it and wring every lesson we could from it. Yet today we have trillions of words, tidal waves of information and the smallest detail of every action our government and businesses take is easily available to us at the touch of a button. And yet...we ignore it, and learn nothing from it. One day we'll die of voluntary ignorance

Your boys okay?” “Tired, edgy, but giving it all they’ve got. One of ‘em has sworn to get Vau, another is having a love affair with a woman he shouldn’t even look at, I’m collecting waifs and strays like an animal shelter, and we nearly killed a treasury agent. But if I told you the really bad stuff, you’d think I have problems.

Vau: "We were having a philosophical discussion, as Mandalorians often do, and I asserted that the only demonstrable reality was individual consciousness, but he insisted on the existence of a priori moral values that transcended free will. So I hit him." Zey: "You think you're so witty." Vau: "No, I think you should stay out of Mando clan business.

Why should I cooperate with you now?” “Because you’re stuck in a ship with four creatively sadistic people who hate your grey guts, and maybe the Jedi and the strill aren’t that fond of you either, and all you’ve got are the clothes you stand in. See how long you last…

Darman: I want my HUD back. I want my enhanced view. Fi: But you get to wear face camo instead. Makes you feel wild and dangerous. Sev: I'm wild. And then I get dangerous. Shut up. Fi: Copy that. [exits Sev's comlink channel] Miserable di'kut. Scorch: Don't mind him. He'll be fine once he's killed something.

Oh, you are a little ray of sunshine today, aren’t you? Now, look at your progesterone levels. Still higher than normal. Are you pregnant? Have you been throwing up?” “No. But I get cravings. Will I get stretch marks?” said Fi. Gilamar kept a straight face. “Yeah, say goodbye to your figure. Everything sags from now on.

Family took a lot more than genes to hold it together

Maze: “I’m alerting HQ. Stand by.” *on the private comlink* Corr: “How are you Omega? Can we help? We’re really concerned that you’re stranded on a shabla rock surrounded by an infinite number of natives who’ll cut your gett’se off when they haul you screaming from the summit.

That’s the worst thing about having chakaare like us around. We just wander off, find someplace you don’t know about, and hole up in it and get into all sorts of mischief that you know nothing about. And then we bill you for it. Dreadful.” “Dreadful. Is this the kind of thing that CSF might notice?” “Were we to get out of hand, I imagine very senior officers in CSF might need to be reassured, but not by you.” “Dreadful. Hypothetically, anyway.

I don’t know who the good guys are anymore. But I do know what the enemy is. It’s the compromise of principles. You lose the war when you lose your principles. And the first principle is to look out for your comrades.

Regular people said they couldn’t tell the difference between one clone and another, did they? That was what came of spending too much time looking at faces and not enough wondering what shaped people and went on inside their heads.

Armor does not make a Mandalorian. The armor is simply a manifestation of an impenetrable, unassailable heart.

You never have perfect knowledge in combat, gentlemen. It’s what we call the fog of war. You can either sit around worrying what’s real and what’s not, or you can realize the enemy hasn’t got a clue either and fire off a few rounds of psychology. A truly great army is one that only has to rattle its saber to win a war.

Covering his tracks by randomizing his route back to the apartment had become routine for Skirata now, which was a bizarre irony in itself.

It never ceased to amaze Skirata how much simpler it was to buy and sell death than it was to pay taxes.

Why doesn’t the fact that I’m human matter to human beings

I don’t mind being shot at. It’s having a government that lies to me that I hate.

It was an ethical choice between rules or lives, and rules didn’t always translate into what was right.

Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a.

It crossed her mind that she might be saving clone soldiers from death by biological agent so they could die from blaster and cannon round. It was a horrible thought.

So you want a knife, a nice sharp knife. You hone that blade to its limits. It even cuts through stone when you want it to. It saves your life. And then you’re outraged when it cuts you accidentally. You see, knives don’t switch off. And neither do people, not when you hone them to a fine edge.

When you can no longer know what your nation or your government stands for, or even where it is, you need a set of beliefs you can carry with you and cling to. You need a core in your heart that will never change.

It’s entirely possible that the Jedi’s increasingly clouded vision was the result of their own moral degeneration. They’d let so many of their principles slip that the reason they couldn’t see the dark side was so close to them was the lack of sharp contrast with themselves, like trying to see a gray nerf in fog. They turned off the light themselves. —Bardan Jusik, former Jedi Knight Kyrimorut,

Prep for docking,” said the pilot’s voice over the intercom. “You’re off watch, and I’m not, you barves …” “Shower, food, sleep,” said Darman, prioritizing. Atin shook his head. “Food, shower, sleep.” “Sleep,” said Niner. “Then more sleep.” They looked at Corr. “Glorious revolution, then installing a military junta,” he said. Etain stared, not at all sure about his hidden depths, but he laughed. “Or a nice big plate of minced roba patties. I’m easy.

Mandalorians are surprisingly unconcerned with biological lineage. Their definition of offspring or parent is more by relationship than birth: adoption is extremely common, and it’s not unusual for soldiers to take war orphans as their sons or daughters if they impress them with their aggression and tenacity. They also seem tolerant of marital infidelity during long separations, as long as any child resulting from it is raised by them. Mandalorians define themselves by culture and behavior alone. It is an affinity with key expressions of this culture—loyalty, strong self-identity, emphasis on physical endurance and discipline—that causes some ethnic groups such as those of Concord Dawn in particular to gravitate toward Mandalorian communities, thereby reinforcing a common set of genes derived from a wide range of populations. The instinct to be a protective parent is especially dominant. They have accidentally bred a family-oriented warrior population, and continue to reinforce it by absorbing like-minded individuals and groups.

There’s three things you should never believe—weather forecasts, the canteen menu, and intel.

You ever worked with Wookiees?” The commandos shook their heads, wide-eyed. “Well, everything you’ve heard is true.

All that she was, and all that she would be in the future, was because a clone soldier had put such undeserved faith in her that she had become that Jedi he imagined she was.

And he explained that there was no Mandalorian word for “hero.” It was only not being one that had its own word: Hut’uun.

Before you handed someone power, you had to ask yourself if you’d be happy with the worst possible thing they could ever do with it.

It’s hard to send someone to their death,” she said, answering his silent question. His expression was hidden behind the visor of his helmet. She didn’t need to call on any of her abilities as a Jedi to know what he was thinking: one day she would do the same to men like him. The realization caught her unawares. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. She doubted it.

didn’t have a mother or a father, but a stranger willingly chose me to be his son. You had a mother and father, and they let strangers take you. No, General, don’t pity me. You’re the one who’s had the worse deal.” It was shocking and it was true. The extraordinary clarity of his assessment hit her so hard that she almost gasped. It told her things she didn’t want to know about herself. None of them changed her intentions.

She understood that the Republic faced desperate times. She just wondered how many desperate measures that could justify. Somehow it seemed an affront to the Force to do this to fellow humans, even if they seemed remarkably sanguine about it.

They had both been raised in complete isolation from the everyday world, with their own set of values and disciplines, not because they had been chosen to be different but because they had been born that way. Their calling was random, genetic—unfair.

But there hadn’t been one day since she had parted from Omega Squad on Qiilura nine months ago that she hadn’t agonized over the use of soldiers who had no choice, no rights, and no future in the Republic that they gave their lives to defend. It was wrong.

Right then Niner didn’t care if she had less idea of guerrilla warfare than a mott. She possessed one fundamental element of leadership that you couldn’t teach in a lifetime: she cared about those she led. She had earned her rank on the strength of that alone.

For some reason that hurt most of all. If these kids didn’t know their culture and what made someone a Mando, then they had no purpose, no pride, and nothing to hold them and their clan together when home wasn’t a piece of land. If you were a nomad, your nation traveled in your heart. And without the Mando heart, you had nothing—not even your soul—in whatever new conquest followed death. Skirata knew at that moment what he had to do. He had to stop these boys from being dar’manda, eternal Dead Men, men without a Mando soul.

Buy’ce gal, buy’ce tal Vebor’ad ures alit Mhi draar baat’i meg’parjii’se Kote lo’shebs’ul narit A pint of ale, a pint of blood Buys men without a name We never care who wins the war So you can keep your fame —Popular drinking chant of Mandalorian mercenaries—approximate translation, edited for strong language

Darman was expert at his craft, too, but there was a sense of hard-won skill, and there was no randomness or mystery to that. She liked him for being so pragmatic. It crossed her mind that she might be saving clone soldiers from death by biological agent so they could die from blaster and cannon round. It was a horrible thought.

savored the bizarre moment of epiphany; he had a sister, of sorts. And he had a wife, too, and a father, a legal one, and he had brothers. He was like any other man. The out-of-reach normal life that had tormented him was now fully his. It was wonderful, even if very few beings had a family as strife-prone, heavily armed, and bizarre as this. “But he never forgets his kids.” “I always knew he’d come back.

Nobody else in Special Operations knows about this, and I really don’t want Skirata to know, because … fine man though he might be, he does have an issue with Kaminoans. Any man who refers to them as tatsushi and actually boasts of recipes is probably best kept out of the loop. Dismissed.” Scorch chuckled approvingly as they clunked their way down the corridor toward the mess with Maze at their heels. “You think Skirata would really eat a Kaminoan?” Fixer managed a sentence, which was good going for him. “Only if he had hot sauce.

If you were a nomad, your nation traveled in your heart. And without the Mando heart, you had nothing -not even your soul- in whatever new conquest followed death

she worried that Jedi raised other Jedi in a constant soulless cycle of detached, cold indifference,

The STAR WARS Novels Timeline OLD REPUBLIC 5000–33 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope Lost Tribe of the Sith* Precipice Skyborn Paragon Savior Purgatory Sentinel 3650 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope The Old Republic: Deceived Lost Tribe of the Sith* Pantheon Secrets Red Harvest The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance 1032 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope Knight Errant Darth Bane: Path of Destruction Darth Bane: Rule of Two Darth Bane: Dynasty of Evil RISE OF THE EMPIRE 33–0 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope Darth Maul: Saboteur* Cloak of Deception Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter 32 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope STAR WARS: EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace Rogue Planet Outbound Flight The Approaching Storm 22 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope STAR WARS: EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 22–19 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope The Clone Wars The Clone Wars: Wild Space The Clone Wars: No Prisoners Clone Wars Gambit Stealth Siege Republic Commando Hard Contact Triple Zero True Colors Order 66 Shatterpoint The Cestus Deception The Hive* MedStar I: Battle Surgeons MedStar II: Jedi Healer Jedi Trial Yoda: Dark Rendezvous Labyrinth of Evil 19 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope STAR WARS: EPISODE III: Revenge of the Sith Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader Imperial Commando 501st Coruscant Nights Jedi Twilight Street of Shadows Patterns of Force The

If you don’t crack sometimes, how do you know how far you can go?

When I was drafted into the army in April 1984, I was a nineteen-year-old boy. The club where they took us was a distribution centre. Officers came there from various military units and picked out the soldiers they wanted. My fate was decided in one minute. A young officer came up to me and asked, “Do you want to serve in the commandos, the Blue Berets?” Of course I agreed. Two hours later I was on a plane to Uzbekistan (a Soviet republic in Central Asia), where our training base was located. During the flight, I learned most of the soldiers from this base were sent to Afghanistan. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t surprised. At that point I didn’t care anymore because I understood that it is impossible to change anything. ‘To serve in the Soviet army is the honourable duty of Soviet citizens” – as it’s written in our Constitution. And no one gives a damn whether you want to fulfil this “honourable duty” or not. But then I didn’t know anything about Afghanistan. Up until 1985, in the press and on television, they told us that Soviet soldiers in Afghanistan were planting trees and building schools and hospitals. And only a few knew that more and more cemeteries were being filled with the graves of eighteen- to twenty-year-old boys. Without the dates of their death, without inscriptions. Only their names on black stone … At the base we were trained and taught to shoot. We were told that we were being sent to Afghanistan not to plant trees. And as to building schools, we simply wouldn’t have the time … Three and a half months later, my plane was landing in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan … We were taken to a club on base. A few minutes later, officers started to come by and choose soldiers. Suddenly, an officer with a smiling face and sad eyes burst in noisily. He looked us over with an appraising glance and pointed his finger at me: “Ah ha! I see a minesweeper!” That’s how I became a minesweeper. Ten days later, I went on my first combat mission.

Five percent fluid loss stops you thinking straight.

There’s one thing that bothers me, sir. They say Master Yoda referred to the war as the Clone War right after the Battle of Geonosis. It was the very first battle of the war. Why did he identify the war that way, by the clones who are fighting it? Have we ever said the Fifth Fleet War or the Corellian Baji Brigade War? What does he know that we don’t? —General Bardan Jusik, confiding in General Arligan Zey

Threats come in all guises. Not all soldiers are young males, and not all soldiers wear uniforms.

A Republic messenger ship had broken through the Separatist blockade. He hoped it would carry the beginnings of their reinforcements, enough to start turning the tide of the battle on the planet's surface. Anakin told his clone commandos to hold their positions and then went off to meet Obi-Wan. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that his life was about to change.

She held her hand out to him. He hesitated for a moment and then reached across the table and took it. “We could be dead tomorrow, both of us,” she said. “Or the next day, or next week. That’s war.” She thought of the other Fi, whose life had ebbed away in her arms. “And I don’t want to die without telling you that I missed you every day since you left, and that I love you, and that I don’t believe what I was taught about attachment any more than you should believe that you were bred only to die for the Republic.” This was breaking all the rules. But the war had broken all the rules of peacekeeping Jedi and a civilized Republic anyway. The Force wouldn’t be thrown into turmoil if a mediocre Jedi and a cloned soldier who had no rights broke just one more. “I never stopped thinking about you, either,” said Darman. “Not for a moment.

What are these things?” he asked. “I saw them on the river, too.” Ruby- and sapphire-colored insects were dancing above the surface of the puddle. “Daywings,” Etain said. “I’ve never seen colors like it.” “They hatch and take flight for a day, and they die by the evening,” she said. “A brief and glorious …” Her voice trailed off. She was appalled at her own insensitivity. She began assembling an apology, but Darman didn’t appear to need one. “They’re amazing,” he said, completely absorbed by the spectacle. “They certainly are,” she said, and watched him.

The man hesitated and then reached across to shake Ordo’s hand, surrendering soft pale civilian fingers to a black gauntlet. The look on his face said clearly that he hadn’t expected to find flesh and blood inside the droid-like shell, or to retrieve his hand uncrushed afterward. “My pleasure, sir,” Ordo said. It was unusually quiet in the EasyRide after that. At least the reality had registered on them.

Order 66: In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established.

Darman was determined to make him welcome. “’Cuy, vod’ika.” He slapped the seat next to him. “Park your shebs there. We’d pour you some of the GAR-issue caf but we like you too much for that. We’re waiting for Sergeant Kal.” Corr sat down as ordered, and Niner and Atin leaned across to clasp his arm.

Sev, feeling embarrassed by his reaction, examined the bones. The left arm came off in his hand. “Yep, he’s dead all right.” Scorch sucked his teeth noisily. It was extra-amplified in the scuba trooper helmets. “Sure you don’t want a second opinion, Doc?” “Nah, I’m prepared to go out on a limb.