This is a sequel to my story Republic Commando: Burdens. I highly advise that you read it first! It's about the Clone Wars. You'll love it.

ORDER 66: CHANCES

I

Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

Jatne imagined he could feel the rays of the lights of Coruscant's vast cityscape, though they were hundreds of meters above him and he was standing in his armor. Sprocket and Morj stood on either side of him, and there was a message from Gev blinking on his heads-up display almost as if the squad hadn't been separated.

"General Tur-Maken told me that these five troopers 'exemplified excellence' during the Coruscant invasion," Morj said in a private channel. "These troopers are from General Ves'len's Legion."

"'Exemplified excellence,'" Sprocket repeated with a snort. "It's almost poetic."

Jatne shifted his weight slightly. They received a transmission from General Tur-Maken telling them that they would be choosing their fourth squad member. Resources were short and these troopers from the Legion of Amiel's old friend were going to be trained "on the job" by the rest of the squad. Jatne didn't like that at all, especially with the squad's casualty record.

"All right, what do we think?" Jatne asked. The troopers were standing with their helmets on their hips and trying to keep straight faces, but the uncertainty in their eyes was apparent.

"The one on the far left looks promising," Morj said.

"Second from the right has crazy eyes and I don't like his hair," said Sprocket.

Jatne couldn't tell if the troopers were growing in nervousness or annoyance. One seemed to relax slightly and the inkling of a grimace twitched in his eyebrow, and another wouldn't unclench his fist.

"So, Far Left, then?" Jatne asked.

"Check him out," Morj said with the slightest nod of his head.

"Trooper, what's your name?" Jatne asked Far Left on the audio feed.

"Splinter."

"I think I like his sideburns," said Sprocket.

"Any specialties?" Jatne asked.

"Not getting killed."

Morj turned his head toward Jatne so Splinter knew he was saying something. "Sounds like something we need."

"Are you a fast learner, Splinter? You're going to have to keep up if you want your luck to hold," Jatne said.

"I'll do what I have to."

The other troopers were looking at Splinter with raised brows.

"He's a lump on a rock," Sprocket grumbled.

"We're taking him. All these troopers are the same," Morj said.

"Way to be a jerk, Morj!" Sprocket said.

"Welcome aboard, Splinter," said Jatne, holding his hand out to the trooper.

Battle of Garqi, Outer Rim

Signe strode across the Republic campgrounds to the area of discontent, which appeared to be around the mess. Clones were yelling and threatening with their rifles a small group of raggedy refugees of many races. The refugees were trying to sift through the waste containers and hovering around the back where the kitchen was located.

"Get out of here! Scram!" the clones shouted.

"What are you doing?" Signe asked the troopers, her hands balled into fists.

"Those refugees are trying to steal our food, General!" one of the troopers said as they all saluted her.

Signe's brow lowered as she watched the group of refugees flee and huddle amongst the foliage, monitoring the camp with wide hungry eyes. There were only four of them.

"Do we have nothing to spare?" Signe asked.

One of the troopers kicked the toe of his boot against the ground. "No, ma'am. There's barely enough to feed us. Supplies haven't been able to get through."

Signe gritted her teeth. So the Republic could throw more troops on the ground to win the battle, but it couldn't bother to supply it? "We have enough, then," she clarified.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I can feed them." Signe started walking away from the troopers and toward the refugees, unclear in her head whether she was feeding them out of compassion or practicality. Hungry people were unpredictably desperate and the last thing she needed for her men were some refugees getting reckless and doing something to the camp. "Hello? Excuse me!" Signe called out to the refugees. She almost forgot to reach out in the Force to them and recognize their intentions. Yes, they were simply hungry. Not Separatist spies with backpacks of explosives.

"You Jedi General?" one of the refugees called back in broken Basic.

"Yes," Signe responded. She opened some belt compartments and took out three nutrient bars. She debated splitting two between the four of them, but they already saw that she had three. She offered her hand. "Take them. It's two day's worth--to keep you going."

One of the refugees, a Duros in a tattered jumpsuit, stepped out of the foliage and took them from her. He said something in a language Signe didn't understand, so she simply nodded to him and watched as he went back to his friends. They disappeared into the forest.

When Signe turned around, she saw Commander Law waiting for her where the other troopers had been standing. He offered her half of his nutrient bar. She shook her head at him.

"But, General, you need the energy."

"You need it, Law. I have mystical ways of maintaining my metabolism." Smiling, she closed his fist around the bar with her hand, patted his fingers, and walked away.

Commander Law hesitated before putting the nutrient bar back in a pouch. Orders were orders.

HoloNet News and Entertainment HQ, Coruscant

A transmission beeped on Captain Harsh's com. The red-painted ARC Trooper turned his back on his Jedi partner as he sat at a console re-submitting lost data and checking the archives for damage. "Harsh, I'm on a roll. Take it outside please?"

"Of course." Harsh left the room in two long strides and stood outside of the open doorway to answer the transmission. A blue hologram of a hooded figure appeared.

"Execute Order 66," Chancellor Palpatine said.

"Yep," said Harsh, turning off his com. He put it back on his belt. He let his arms drop to his sides.

Turning around, Harsh walked into the room and took in everything. Jedi Knight Avan Kaden had his back to the door and he was checking his datapad and a console against the wall. Harsh strode up behind him and didn't wait. He grabbed the back of the Jedi's head and slammed it into the wall before throwing him down on the floor. The ARC Trooper took out his pistol, aimed, and fired.

Nonmaleficence, Coruscant Airspace, Core

"Yeah, so... I'm stuck on Coruscant and it looks like I'm going to lose some of my troopers to SpecOps. They need commandos. I'm sad to lose them--the ones that were chosen for selection were the best of the best. Really good men. And what worries is that none of them are going to have formal training--it's all 'on the job.' I wouldn't let them take Zero. He's with me whether he likes it or not." The recorded hologram of Clayne Ves'len laughed, and his grown out hair flopped in his face. He pushed it out of the way and his expression grew somber. "The battle here was severe. A lot of civilian casualties and structural damage. When I rushed here to help in the defense, I ended up leaving my transport ship on the Nonmalef. Look after it, won't you, Amiel? I'll talk to you soon. Stay safe." Clayne smiled and the hologram disappeared.

Amiel let out a sigh and closed her comlink. Keeping up with Sigma squad and Lyda and Clayne and Sennia was almost as tiring as gallivanting across the galaxy with thousands of clone troopers. But she was glad that she was talking to Clayne more often, even if all they did was exchange recorded messages. Seeing his smile made her feel relaxed--at peace. Maybe it was because Clayne was known for his reliance on meditation to make it through the day.

Walking into the 'fresher, Amiel looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed down her hair. Clayne remarked one time when she didn't have time to braid it that he thought it looked "nice." So she hadn't been braiding it lately. Satisfied that it looked okay, Amiel went back to the room and turned on her comlink to start a recording.

"Hi, Clayne! I'm still here on the Nonmalef. I don't think there's been a decision where to deploy us. Master Amrun is on Garqi and I thought we would be going there, too, but the Regiment and I have been waiting on orders for a while. I don't even know if we're that far from Coruscant yet. I wish I could come visit you." Amiel paused and scratched the end of her nose. "Anyway, I--"

There was a loud pounding on the door.

"Oh, fierfek," Amiel said as she fumbled to turn off her com. "Hold on!" she shouted to whoever was waiting at the door. Something in her gut felt wrong, like an insect was crawling up her back.

When she opened the door, she found herself looking up the barrel of two pistols. There was a clank, and suddenly the clone commander that had been standing in front of her was reeling to the side. A second commander tackled him to the ground. Amiel stared in shock as Naro pinned Slon down.

"What are you doing?" Slon yelled.

"What are you doing?" Naro snapped.

"What's going on?" Amiel asked, distraught.

"Stay inside, Commander!" Naro instructed. "Slon, you're an idiot!"

Slon gave up on getting Naro off. "It was the Chancellor's order!"

"What?" Amiel asked.

"Has the Chancellor had the commander's calls screened for the past three months? No! I have, and it's all boys and clones! No 'acting against the Republic!' Commander!" Naro turned his helmet toward her. "Get inside and lock the door and don't let anybody come in!"

Amiel started shaking as Slon tried to grab for one of his pistols that had been scattered across the corridor. Naro tugged Slon's helmet off and punched him in the nose before his brother could get a hold of a pistol.

"Ow!" Slon yelled, swearing at Naro. "I was just picking it up!"

"Now, Commander! Get in there!"

Amiel turned and shut the door. She could feel it, now, deep in her chest. It was as if she was drowning--a burning sensation. Her head was starting to ache. She tried to focus, clear her mind--then her com rang. It was Naro. She answered it.

"Listen very carefully," he said. "I'm going to play this by ear."