Finger stared upwards from where he sat with his back to the armory wall, a Zenithian combat medic tending to his wounds. His flesh was pale and his mind groggy due to the amount of blood he had lost, but nonetheless they had succeeded in their objective. All about him, his men silenced the remaining Geonosians without mercy, sifting through the battlefield to ensure none of their injured survived, excepting a few that Finger ordered kept alive in case they had useful information, to somebody.
Looking over the area once more, he grimaced as he saw the number of his men that had perished. At least one-hundred, he estimated, it was his failures as a leader that had led to their deaths, he believed, it tore him up inside. He would have to look into the eyes of their families, and tell them that they had perished protecting them, when they were his responsibility. At least, he thought, they had indeed succeeded in that, protecting them, none of their non-combatants had died, all escorted to one of the myriad bunkers about. Kelt had left half of his forces to defend them after escorting them into the bunkers before returning. His reemergence from the Geonosian flanks had shifted the tide for them, so far as the battle outside the armory was concerned. Xil Nevin had done much, in fact without the defenses that the armory offered, he imagined that they would not have survived at all, or at the very least he would be mourning many more men lost.
The ex-slave perks his head up slightly, hearing Alexander's voice in his ear, being one of the few in his group given a communications device, considering they had never expected to be in a fight so early to begin with. He would go to reply before Xil Nevin does so for him, instead keeping his silence for a few moments before he would speak up as well on comms. "Finger here, we've still got men in good condition, I'll send half of my men forwards. The rest will continue to follow Xil Nevin." He said, taking in a slow breath before he would look over to one of his nearby men, whom looks at him evenly in turn. "Find Parlo and Makken, have them go and reinforce the front, Alexander needs them." Finger says, voice rough. The man replies with a "Yessir", before turning and running off.
Parlo and Makken had been keeping positions where they would not have taken as many casualties, so he was confident that they would still be strong enough to help Alexander with some five-hundred bodies. They were driven by the deaths of their comrades now, he knew, they would hunt the Geonosians until none remained. Like he had said, the rest would be following their original objective of protecting their employer, though he was going to use the opportunity to make sure that his men were given proper treatment for their injuries whilst they had the chance. There was no way for him to know whether or not it was truly over yet.
The Zenithian medic gives Finger a tap on the shoulder before rising to his feet and moving off to treat someone else. He still couldn't use his right arm, but he didn't feel any pain anymore due to the drugs he had been given, and the wound wasn't bleeding. Time to get up, then. He grunts as he does so, casting one more glance about before heading back into the armory. He finds Xil Nevin, offering a nod to the man's guards before focusing his gaze on the man himself, "You did good work, sir. I am glad you were here to arm the defenses, or that exchange may not have gone our way. We're ready to take orders at any time, the others are recovering outside." He says, gaze evenly resting upon the muun, blaster holstered at his side.
It was somewhat difficult for him to keep his composure, rage at himself for his perceived failures rising in his chest, threatening to make him snap. But regardless of his inner turmoil, he keeps a blank face. Outside, Palos' and Makken's men move out, making their way to the front as Alexander had requested.
[member="Xil Nevin"]
[member="Alexander Ontonas"]
[member="Coric Adromak"]
[member="Hixas Bane"]
[member="Laman Ress"]
