Sacrifice

The footsteps of my stark white Plasteel boots echoed throughout the grey durasteel building. This Imperial bunker once contained armies of Stormtroopers marching forth for the Empire, now it only contained the stench of death and the sound of silence after the battle. The quick puffs of hot air rebounded across my helmet as I clutched my E-11 Carbine close. I wore clean white armour, nothing too special around here and I recalled the only name I ever knew; TK-962. The number gave me solace even in the toughest of times, the most dangerous of locations. It was just today that I had survived the rebel attack. Those insurrectionists had managed to enlist the Ewoks. Damn… I used to think they were just animals, nothing more; but they had annihilated the Imperial army and left the survivors for dead. We had the Ewoks routed when that wookiee stole an AT-ST and used it to send us packing.

My shoulder ached and I leaned down to rest. I had been shot in the shoulder by that smuggler… what's his name… Solo during the battle and I had only just escaped. I turned my head left and saw, lying on the ground next to the control room, a dead Stormtrooper; scorched and burned but still pretty much intact. He had been reaching for the detonator to turn it off… Unlucky bastard. I looked at his armour and saw the name; TK-481. My lips creased into a hollow smile; 297 had given me a bet on how that clumsy Stormtrooper would die; I said he would be killed in a massive explosion and 297 had retorted by saying that he would shoot himself and bleed out in an hour or so. If 297 had still been alive then I would be getting almost 1,000 credits from him.

It was strange being in here, there were rebels out hunting to "arrest" any Trooper they could find and no Imperial Ships had left. I decided to try and find the main landing pad; I had heard there was a Tartan-Class patrol cruiser docked there. With any luck it would still be there. I started to sprint to try and get to the Tartan before the rebellion destroyed it. I was too focused on my objective to hear the cocking of a blaster rifle and a loud crack as the red bolt flew through my right leg. I collapsed in the pain, barely making a sound. I turned to see the shooter only to see a faceless rebel soldier. He said nothing walking towards me, looking down at me. I felt horror at what he could have done to me in this state. I couldn't fight back. Was this how civilians felt when us Stormtroopers were about to execute them? I tried desperately to crawl away but the soldier stomped on my left arm and with a sickening crunch; it had been broken. I screamed in pain and tried to grab my carbine. The rebel, seeing what I was trying to do, kicked the rifle across the room. I attempted to do anything to escape this man but he refused to show mercy. Aiming his rifle, he shot my other leg. Excruciating pain shuddered through my body when the bolt pierced my thigh. I had a look of utter terror on my face; not that he would have seen it, even with the helmet I wore; this rebel was too sadistic to care.

"Hey there clone scum." Sarcastically greeted the rebel while pointing his rifle at me. I clung to life, the rebel pulling out his knife, grinning sinisterly. I only could use my left arm now and with my final ounce of strength, pulled the thermal detonator from my belt. If I was going to die, then I was taking this son of a bitch with me. I pressed the button and raised my arm high, laughing as I did so. The look of utter fear on that rebel's face was priceless. Time seemed to slow as the timer went down from 5. I finally realised what this whole war was about .4. It was never about freedom or avenging the lost and dead. 3. It was about the blood, sweat and tears of both sides. 2. The Empire and Rebellion are just two sides of the same coin. 1. It was about the sacrifices paid on both sides; the rebellion just had more young souls willing to sacrifice themselves. 0. I closed my eyes and let a tear shed; this was the end of my life. I never had the chance that others had: Grown in a Spartii tank, I had only been in service for two years. I was only Three years old. The beeping had finished and I smiled; awaiting the end. My name is TK-962. I was a Stormtrooper in the empire. I will not be remembered.

The explosion ripped throughout the control room; scorching the panels, denting the consoles and sending half of the control room plummeting down to the forest below. As the smoke settled and the sky cleared, the only thing in the control room was a Stormtrooper helmet; formerly stark white and now a dark grey in dust and ash. Even with the explosion, one detail on the helmet remained intact. An inscription on the helmet: 962