"Squad after-action review, starting now. We're covering two engagements: suppressing the port zone and seizing the power center. Speak your mind. Same rules as always—no holding back."
Back when Max first became a section leader, he started experimenting with holding AARs after battles—at the right time, when people were calm enough to think, and angry enough to be honest.
Conducting an after-action review after combat—dissecting shortcomings and pulling lessons forward—was a habit he'd brought from his previous life. Granted, the college kid he'd been hadn't run anything like this. He'd picked up the concept from news reports and military fiction—supposedly a signature practice of elite units.
Then the team leader above him died, and section leader Max was promoted on the spot. Later the squadron commander died, and team leader Max was promoted on the spot. Later still… Max became the top leader of the entire faction.
And as that happened, the AAR practice spread through the whole faction and became policy.
"I think we need to procure more advanced electronic warfare equipment, and train—or hire—actual EW specialists."
"This is the Way."
"This kind of indiscriminate, full-band barrage jamming hurts our own operations too much." The speaker's tone stayed blunt. "In the port suppression engagement, if our data links had remained clear and we could've used designate-and-guide tactics, our warriors could've launched micro-missiles from inside the cargo bay and used the GR-75's optics to guide them onto targets—without having to fly right up in front of turbolaser muzzles to eyeball the shot. If the enemy point-defense crews had been well-trained, we could've taken casualties while removing those emplacements."
…
"AAR concluded. Good summary." Max rose as he spoke. "Section leaders: step out and proceed to Conference Room Three for the Cloud City operation AAR. Everyone else, dismissed."
"This is the Way."
As he spoke, the helmet cradled on his arm began to buzz. Max put it on. "This is Max. Go ahead."
"Commander, this is the communications center. We have an encrypted hypercomm request from Corellia. Administrator Billy Williams says it's from Lord Fieg and it should be transferred to you. Do you want us to connect it?"
"Route it to the holocomm in Conference Room Three. I'm on my way. Good work."
"Copy. Signal routed to the holocomm in Conference Room Three."
"Move it, section leaders." Max quickened his pace. "The client wants eyes on us."
"Copy."
…
"Keep your helmets on," Max said once they were inside Conference Room Three. "Before we start the AAR, we'll meet the client."
"Copy."
Max opened the holocomm channel.
"Good evening—no, it's past midnight. Good morning, Lord Fieg."
"Ahem. Son of a bantha," Lord Fieg said pleasantly, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Pretty courteous for a security manager, Mister Cloud. And hey—nice surname."
"You bet. The people you pay are polite." Max turned his head. "All right. Say hello."
With a sharp, unified motion, more than thirty Mandalorians in full armor stood at once, then saluted and greeted Lord Fieg in perfect synchronization.
The connection was stable, but the holoprojection stuttered and froze.
"Sit," Max said, lifting a hand.
More than thirty Mandalorians sat at the same time. The holoprojection finally moved again—and Lord Fieg, after a beat, sat back down as well.
"Professional," Lord Fieg commented.
"Thank you." Max nodded. "Polite. Professional. If you take a contract, you do the work properly."
Lord Fieg drew on his cigarette. "All right, Mister Polite-and-Professional—what exactly is so important that it can't be said over hypercomm and has to be discussed in person?"
"Naturally, it concerns business secrets—about Cloud City, and about you, Lord Fieg."
After a brief silence, Lord Fieg spoke again. "I'm sending you an address. I'm on Corellia. I'll be waiting whenever you arrive, Mister Cloud."
"Copy. I'll depart in three days. May the Force be wi—"
The signal cut before Max could finish.
"Well then." Max spread his hands. "May the Force be with us. Now we begin the meeting."
"This is the Way."
…
The Cloud City operation AAR had barely started when Max delivered the first critique.
"Our early reconnaissance had a major failure. Not mapping the Ugnaughts' hidden service-tunnel network is one thing. Not even knowing it existed is another. If the enemy had used those tunnels for maneuver and strike, Dragonclaw Team could've taken losses during the push to seize the power center."
…
"We lack proper breaching tools. Using blasters and back-mounted missiles to open blast doors during a push is far too inefficient…"
At that, Max's thoughts drifted.
(Professional breaching tools… a lightsaber would do it. If we can get sabers for doors, we stop wasting time and ammo.)
…
"The firepower of Fang-class and Kom'rk-class fighters is insufficient. At a hyperspace-lane exit point, they can only maintain surveillance—they can't impose a real blockade. If we want to guarantee Cloud City's security, purchasing starfighters with heavier strike capability—or acquiring a large capital ship—is necessary."
(Yeah. Necessary. Also expensive. We're short on everything—credits most of all. How did Lando Calrissian manage it later?)
…
"AAR concluded. Good summary. Michael Saxon and Christopher Ryen stay. Everyone else, dismissed."
"This is the Way."
"Chris, take your fireteam with me to Corellia. We're taking a Kom'rk. We leave now."
"Copy. Uh—" Christopher Ryen scratched his head, confused. "Didn't you say three days?"
"Changed it. We go now."
"Oh. Yes, Commander."
"Mike, Cloud City is yours for the next month."
"Copy. I'll keep the city secure."
"You doing the job," Max patted Michael Saxon on the shoulder, "puts my mind at ease."
"Commander…" Saxon's tone went dry. "Does that mean when I do the job, you weren't at ease?"
...........................
PS: "Son of a bantha" is a Star Wars-flavored insult—literally, "raised by a bantha."