Ok but like. Fives straight up ignoring Krell’s orders and when questioned about it, he just answers him with a ton of long sentences justifying his actions… in mando’a. Krell doesn’t speak a single word of mando’a. He turns to Kix for help and Kix just shrugs and dumps another truckload of mando words, most of them similar do “shebs”, “di’kut” and so on.
Dumbfounded as the clones just do their stuff, meaning carry on the assault with perfection and ruining his plans of messing with the invasion, Krell turns to Rex as a last resource; after all, Rex did speak to him when he first arrived in the dark planet.
“Clone. What is going on? Your men will not communicate with me.”
“That’s not true” Hardcase says in mando’a as he walks past them carrying a bunch of thermal detonators “we are talking to him alright, not our fault if he’s too dumb to understand it.”
The clones nearby are cackling, and Appo has to sit down he’s laughing so hard. Rex has a wide smile under his helmet.
“Oh, sir, you are new. See, most of these men are shinies pulled from kamino before finishing their lessons in Basic. They can only speak in Mando’a. General Skywalker is perfectly fluent in it, so it’s never been a problem. I guess you’ll have to pass your orders to me, and I’ll pass them on. Hopefully we won’t have any translation issues.”
Krell is beyond pissed now, and he pokes a finger on Rex’s chest plate:
“This is outrageous, captain! Not only your so called shinies are speaking in this savage dialect of yours, but so are sergeant Appo and ARC trooper fifty-five fifty-five! How do you justify this?!”
Rex looks at Appo, who’s being helped back up by Jesse, who is also laughing.
“Appo is…uh… with a sore throat, sir. Can’t speak.”
Krell is puffing up like a an angry toad.
“What about ARC trooper fifty-five fifty-five?!”
Rex looks ahead and Fives is just lifting his kama and twerking behind Krell’s back. Tup dropping down to his knees, laughing so hard he gets a cough fit.
“He’s…. uh. Had a concussion. I’m shocked he’s even able to walk, sir. Are we done here?”
Krell facepalms tiredly.
“Yes. Tell them to sit down and wait for new orders.”
“Copy that, sir.”
While Krell is walking up to his office, Rex turns to his men, speaking in mando’a:
“I need a squad sitting up here to distract the frog-face. Everyone else, move out. Hardcase, give them hell with that z-6. Fives, stop dancing and lead the men. I’ll catch up soon.”
Long after the men are moved out, Krell shows up livid.
“And just where are those men going?!”
Rex scratches his head, clicking his tongue.
“No idea, sir.”
“Did you tell them to wait for my orders?!”
“Oh, I did! Something must’ve… gotten lost in translation. I’ll catch up with them, tell them to come back.”
Krell huffs angrily.
“You do that. And tell those men they’re absolutely forbidden from trying to take the capital!”
“Absolutely forbidden. That would be… Nastaar. Got it. I’ll be back soon, sir.”
Rex puts on his jaig eyed helmet and starts marching ahead. Krell’s voice stops him:
“Before you leave, captain… your men seem to repeat a word quite often at me. Osi’yaim. What does it mean?”
Rex disguises his snort, pretending to be clearing his throat.
“Oh, it means, ‘brave leader’. I’ll be back soon, sir.”
Raf's rants 