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Sheres: Well, I took care of the skull fractures first. Another millimeter, and the palatine bone would've pierced his cortex. Alpha 17: The frontal lobe is overrated. It only contains memory and emotional expression. It's completely unnecessary. Sheres: Well, I'll save it. You know, just in case you might wanna have a feeling one day.
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Not of the princes and prelates with periwigged charioteers Riding triumphantly laureled to lap the fat of the years, Rather the scorned— the rejected— the men hemmed in with spears;
The men in tattered battalion which fights till it dies, Dazed with the dust of the battle, the din and the cries, The men with the broken heads and the blood running into their eyes.
Not the be-medalled Commander, beloved of the throne, Riding cock-horse to parade when the bugles are blown, But the lads who carried the hill and cannot be known.
Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth, The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth;— Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth! Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold; Mine be a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould. Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind in the rain and the cold—
Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tale be told. Amen.
Jaster: Well, the cadets have the greatest respect for you.
Alpha 17: They do?
Jaster: Yeah. They said that you were the smelliest, foulest, meanest inhabitant in all of the GAR.
Sheres: Jas! Ixnay!
Alpha 17: They said that? Ehh... They’re just trying to butter me up. Jaster: No, no, no. They meant it, really. Alpha 17: That's very sweet of them, and I hate it when people are sweet!
[Despite the deep respect, Alphas are of course sometimes prone to disagreeing with Jango.]
Jango: The problem with children is they grow up to be adults! Alpha 17/Sheres/Spar/Sull/Jaster/Maze/Tavo: Yes, we do eventually have opinions of our own. Jango: I know, but do you have to express them? All 100 Alphas in chorus: It’s a learned response.
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Jaster: But I made such a big deal to the ade about doing this--
Alpha 17: Jas... They’re ade. Tell them to SHUT UP.
Jaster: ...You’re right. I have that power.
Sull, nearby: ...What just happened?
Sheres, somewhere in the galaxy: ...I just had a terrible feeling about something.
Spar, suddenly twitching on Mandalore: ...What the shab?
[Sheres and Jaster are both desperately trying to breach a door without explosives.]
Alpha 17: Step aside. Sheres and Jaster: Sev what-- Alpha 17: *Proceeds to slam his head twice into the door and actually makes the durasteel crumple inward as if it had been shot with an actual bullet. He takes a couple steps backward, looking satisfied even in a helmet* Sheres: Sev are you okay? Alpha 17: *gives a nod then suddenly stiffens. Sheres and Jaster grab at his arms but he slips through their grasp and makes friends with the floor* Jaster: Whoa-- hey!! Alpha 17: Kriff me, that actually hurt. Jaster and Sheres: You’re a di’kut.
