He remembered earth in her last days. Nothing was going right nearly everyone was starving. The nukes had been a mercy kill. At least for those who'd been left on earth to die about ten percent of the population from select countries managed to evacuate on lifeboats. They left earth in search of a better home. Former CIA SAD SOG paramilitary officer Jackson Bolton referred to as Agent or Mr. Bolton wasn't sure if they had found a better home or if they'd found the same home with the same problems on a larger scale.
He road in an air speeder driven by some Twi lek taxi driver. He hadn't cared to exchange small talk with the driver it wasn't necessary. It didn't matter that he was in a different galaxy he was still in the same line of work. This time as a contractor for Republic Intelligence it was the same thing involving infiltration and intelligence work however it lacked destabilization and assassination.
The airspeeder arrived above a platform. The door swung open and Bolton stepped out dressed in black suit business casual. Tucked under his slick black jacket a pistol forty-five calibers the bullets made by terran engineers.
Once on the platform, Bolton saw two Jedi approach him in their long all-encompassing robes. He made sure his poker face was on. No emotion was displayed his face was perfectly kept to not have his mouth and eyes angle down enough to show displeasure nor raised enough to show satisfaction. Perfectly unreadable. It didn't matter that a Jedi could read him regardless he wasn't going to make it easy. After all, he was a professional for god sake he needed to look like one.
The Jedi could be described as light-skinned but overall had a charming appeal to him. Bolton had carried out assassinations against such men. He didn't wish ill intent towards the Jedi after all they had helped his people settle into this new galaxy. And he was here to do them a favor since he was an independent contractor and did not necessarily owe loyalty to Republic intel. It was ironic he had once been a vocal critic of government privatization and now he was a private government contractor.
"Mr. Bolton," The Jedi said, "My names Zey Director of republic special forces I was the one who had you contacted. Please follow me."
They moved leaving the platform and into the barracks. They passed clone squadrons clad in bright white armor. Then they entered some kind of briefing room the lights were dim the room itself was small and circular built around a holo table. The door behind them shut. The only other person in the room was an ARC trooper who stood firmly and simply studied Bolton. Bolton didn't bother to acknowledge the presence of what was Zey's sentry.
"I read your file. Both the ones in paper form from your homeworld and your work with Republic intelligence. It's very impressive."
"Thank you, Master Jedi," Bolton said with an unsettling lack of emotion behind his voice, "If I'm handed a mission I execute it with maximum efficiency or I don't return."
"A trait I can respect," Zey said, "So I must ask what do you think about the war. I want your honest unfiltered opinion. This will not be relayed to Republic Intelligence so it won't affect future contracts."
Bolton was silent at first simply standing firmly arms folded behind his back. The sharp black sunglasses concealing his eyes. Zey really wanted his unfiltered opinion.
"I think no one in the republic has a goddamn clue what they're doing," Bolton said, "I haven't seen so many fucking military errors since world war one. And at least they had the excuse of inexperience with advanced technology. The GAR is simply inept at doing its job. You are gifted the most disciplined and skilled military force you could possibly be given and you manage to get what 500,000 killed now, in a year. Frankly, the Jedi shouldn't have been gifted generalship. In fact, I think you should trade places with your doorman in the corner. And this whole war feels. I've gathered the intel to know the CIS should have won by now. Yet they sit back waiting for something as if they're a fucking cat toying with a mouse before the kill. So there you have it, master Jedi, my raw and unfiltered opinion."
The room was silent for a moment. Zey hadn't quite expected that reaction and while it was rude. Zey grinned he almost chuckled at the man's personality. He wondered if Maze who stood in the corner wanted to say something along those lines but was too loyal to do so.
"Thank you, Agent Bolton," Zey said, "Though I must ask you do you see a way to win the war and could uncover this off feeling of yours given the resources."
"Give me the budget I could topple the CIS and by extension discover the ulterior intent at the heart of this conflict. After all, I'm a terran our history is largely made of war and espionage," Bolton said, "But I'm not cheap Director."
"Accommodations can be made Mr. Bolton," Zey said, "From this moment on, your contract is with me on paper your my personal advisor. However, in all honesty, you will be my hand I will even outfit you with your own elite group of clones."
"Wait," Bolton said, "While I admit clones are skilled I must request I be allowed to bring in other assets. They will be my will essentially, carrying out operations and screening clones before they're let into this unit."
Zey found this interesting that his hand wanted hands. It concerned him a bit for he didn't want things becoming to decentralized. However, three agents was still relatively small scale.
"Do you have the men you want in mind?"
"I know precisely who I want."
Concord down ten standard hours later
Former Captain Wilson Taylor of the First Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta (1stSFOD) AKA Delta Force had been one of the few selected for the voyage off of the earth apart of the security forces. However, after they'd arrived through the wormhole and integrated into the republic that job was over. Meaning he was out of a job. So he became an intergalactic mercenary. It had a very nice ring to it made it sound more badass than it actually was. Currently, he was advising Mandalorian cops in proper counterterrorist tactics.
"Alright review from yesterday who remembers what CQC means?" He questioned his classroom of cops. He then pointed towards one with his hand up.
"Close Quarters Combat." The student replied.
"Good, do you remember the components as well?" Captain Wilson pressed on.
"Detailed planning, Surprise, Speed, and violence of action." The officer said.
"Very good," Wilson said and then put his hand in a jar and threw candy at the officer who caught it. Positive reinforcement was effective, "Today we are going to practice CQC which will combine all the individual skills we have worked on thus far. Half of you will play terrorist the other half counter terrorist. Then switch. I want you to both learn how the enemy would think assuming they're competent and how to handle it. So we will regroup at the shoot house."
The shoot house was a structure that Captain Wilson had constructed himself to model an embassy an obvious target for a terrorist. It was stored in a hanger with air speeders lined up. Wilson stood in his own assault gear with a baseball cap over his face American flag proudly placed I'm the center of that. He has an M1911 situated in the holster on his right.
The Mandalorian cops split into two teams. The first team moved into the mock embassy to assume defensive positions. The second team quickly strapped on mock grey assault gear one took up a shield. The rest training blaster that would immobilize the other team since both used training armor.
"Alright, you have five minutes to plan," Wilson said, "In real life, you may have days but I'm not going to stand here taking the time to simulate a siege which involves politicians trying to use diplomacy instead of just simply allowing you to do your fucking job. Five minutes do what you've got to do."
Wilson watched as they planned the officer who answered the question his name was Talos took immediate charge. He quickly told his twelve men how things would go down. Wilson was very proud of himself to have trained Talos. He quickly watched as they separated into two teams. They hit the two entrances of the mock embassy. He watched on his tablet which was hooked up to the security cameras inside. In perfect form, they gathered in assault teams the first one strapped a charge to the back door. They set off the explosion echoed throughout the hanger. They then popped several flash grenades and charged in.
The defense team thought it would be a good idea to try and take the assault team going through the front head on. Three of their members charged into the lobby right as team two used a battering ram to knock down the other entrance. Stun grenades flew into the target room and it was quickly seized. The three men up front had been dispatched fast by the assault team who lost two dudes. Not a bad first try but Wilson saw things both sides could improve on and noted that in his personal journal that was pen and paper.
"Captain," Called out his intern a young cadet, "You've got a communication from a Mr. Bolton."
Captain Taylor stopped for a second he hadn't talked to Bolton in a very long time. That man had been placed in charge of the entire American life boat's security forces. He was very cold but an overall effective leader.
"What does he want?" Questioned Taylor raising an eyebrow.
"He wouldn't tell me said it was for your ears only."
"Huh, I'll see to it after I'm finished up here."
An hour later Taylor was back in his personnel office which had a desk and a bookshelf of alphabetized books about guerrilla warfare and special operation and also the Art of war. In Taylor's opinion, everyone should have the art of war in their bookshelf. He picked activated his holo-com to call Bolton back. The man popped up in a detailed blue projection something that still made Taylor uneasy.
"Mr. Bolton I heard you called how can I help you today." He said sounding a bit like a tech support guy.
"Captain," Bolton started, "I have been assigned a very important task concerning the clone wars. A Jedi general appointed me to a high position. I want you on my staff I require your brain and skill set."
"Bolton normally I would jump at the chance at an offer from you especially since it sounds like you want me to service some fools. Which sounds quite exhilarating but I gave the Mandalorian government my word to have five brigades including one training brigade ready to execute counter-terrorist missions. And I can not leave until I have finished my work."
Captain Taylor was a man of his word if he said he'd do something he'd do it. He never lied and never fulfilled his duties halfway. These were some of the principles he was raised on and that he lived by. A man without principles was a lost man.
Bolton looked unmoved keeping that same facial expression. He always took himself so seriously. Taylor wondered if he kept that same expression no matter the situation. And if he smiled if it literally would kill him.
"I knew that you would say. That which is why I called Agent Gates to full fill your position being FBI HRT he can do your job better in training cops. I also had a contact in GIGN who talked to the Mandalorian government and they sold him and Gates your contract."
At this moment Captain Taylor wasn't sure whether he was impressed, insulted, or complimented that Bolton did this much work to recruit him. It had worked well. Seeing as he was no out of a job. Well played Bolton well played.
"Bolton you're too good at your job. It's alarming at how good you are at it." Taylor said.
Bolton cut the communication abruptly. Not so much as a good by. He'd only left Captain Wilson Taylor one choice. The former Delta force operator sighed and began packing up his desk.
Coruscant underground five hours later
Viktor Starikov former Captain in the Russian FSB Spetsnaz Alpha group was no longer an FSB operator or even working for the Russians. Or even on earth. Now he a bounty hunter and not a well respected one.
He stood outside the house of one of his targets it was a black sun job. He was tasked to send a message to a rival gang. In his hands, a heavy blaster pistol pointed downwards.
He knew five men were inside. So he would breach and move carefully having nobody to cover his back.
Starikov was quick he strapped a detonator to the door. He moved to the side as it went off blowing it clean off of its hinges. He charged in his eyes lined up with the sights of the blaster pistol both hands gripped around it. Two men were in a frenzy going for their blaster pistols.
Starikov knew he was better. Not just because of the genetic enhancements every nation gave to Special Ops soldiers during the war. But even before that, he was the top man in Alpha. Before that he'd already achieved fifty confirmed kills. He stopped counting after the enhancements. There was no point.
Starikov's trigger finger was fast three bolts went off one blowing the head of a rodian who's hand on his holster away. The other three shots struck a human who was reaching under a coach for his blaster. He was thrown to the ground smoke rising from his wounds.
Starikov placed his back against a wall near the entrance into a hallway. He heard men shouting and the electric hum of a blaster charging up. He raised held the blaster in one hand and went still. Two men sprinted out of the hall both holding carbines.
Starikov moved the blaster barrel went point blank to the head if a Weequay. He fashioned a smile and pulled the trigger the blue bolt consumed the aliens head. It was then completely vaporized. The other man tried to turn but was shot twice in the side instead.
Starikov raised the blaster back in proper breaching form. He looked down the hallway. The smell of charred flesh filled the room with its twisted aroma.
Killing exhilarated Starikov enjoyed the thrill of the adrenaline flowed through his veins. His Senses were heightened. He could hear the sound of a man breathing heavily he was beginning to panic.
He turned to a door on the right and pressed a button on the door it swooshed open. The former Alpha group Captain moved with the blaster pistol looking around a room. On the other side of the bed was a man acting like a boy.
"Please, I can pay you whatever you want this isn't necessary." He said his arms stretched out pleading.
"Unfortunately, it is. We all make choices you, for instance, chose to steal from the black sun. Bad choice. This is what happens."
Viktor pulled the trigger the blaster bolt reflected in his eyes. The man hit the ground smoke rising from under his body.
Hours later Viktor was at a bar his contract full filled. He earned a total of fifty dollars since he owed money to the black sun so 90% of his earnings were taken until his debt was paid.
"Another!" He shouted as he slammed the cup on the table.
So another came down. Viktor chugged that one as well. Five cups of the alien ale later Viktor was found himself laughing historically at every single joke said. And then singing the Russian national anthem.
Things became fuzzy and ended up crashed on the cold hard floor of his apartment among a huge mess of scattered blasters, data pads, and cans. And there Viktor stayed.
He awoke and rubbed his forehead. He didn't even need to check his wallet to know there was no money. It had all been spent every last credit.
Viktor rubbed his head and yawned. It wasn't the wildest night. There was the time he woke up with a senator in his bed he'd never say which. Then some Twi Lek girl in another room. Somehow neither one had known the other was also there. Viktor was so hammered he'd forgotten how he pulled that off. Though he was proud of himself for somehow pulling it off while drunk it didn't change the fact of awkward and tense mourning. So this mourning wasn't so bad.
Three loud knocks banged against his door. Viktor snapped immediately reaching for his blaster which was no longer in its holster. Damn it was one of those days.
"Viktor Starikov I have been standing here for three hours. I know you're in there. I have my ways. Open the door now!" It was a very demanding voice.
However, Starikov recognized it as he approached the door. He pressed the button the door swing open.
"Mr. Bolton, it's quite early for you to be knocking on peoples doors," Starikov said with the brightest smile he could muster.
The stench of alcohol exhumed from Viktor's mouth. Bolton in his sharp suit and sunglasses seemed to not notice. He pulled his leave up looking at his watch.
"It is twelve O'clock Captain Starikov. Therefore it is a bit late to be knocking on peoples doors, " Said Bolton, "Besides the point, we've wasted enough time. Grab your things we've got work to do."
Bolton met Starikov on the colony of Terra prime all the lifeboats agreed to start a new life with no borders to divide humanity. However, the trade federation wanted Terra primes resources and used pirates and mercenaries to try and drive the terrans away before sending a droid army. Starikov and Bolton had worked hand in hand to fight in what was called the Federation wars. Using dirty tactics. They had mutual respect for the other's willingness to commit acts of moral ambiguity in order to win. Ends justify the means kind of thing.
"Wow, hold your horses cowboy," Viktor said referring to all Americans as cowboy, "I have a different life now. You can't just say Viktor let's kill some people and then expect me to blindly follow you."
"Captain Starikov do as I say till the end of the clone wars. I'll pay your debt off to black sun off in its entirety."
Starikov shifted immediately. He formed up as straight as an exclamation point. Then firmly brought his hand up to his head in a salute.
"Captain Viktor Starikov here and ready to blindly follow orders."
Wilson Taylor arrived at the clone barracks out front at roughly one pm. He had a large duffle bag that carried his personal weaponry. He knew Bolton would provide everything else. He stood their still in his tactical assault gear the baseball cap with the American flag cast a shadow over his blue eyes and well-kept face.
On his leg, he had his pistol holstered. He was looking around for Bolton. Instead, he saw an ARC trooper with red stripes and a red pauldron approach him. He'd seen them on the news before.
"Captain Taylor?" He said.
"You've got the right guy." Captain Wilson Taylor replied.
"Follow me."
They moved through the clone barracks into what Wilson Taylor assumed was a briefing room. It currently had the lights flipped on making it bright. And there he saw Viktor Starikov hands behind his head as and feet up on the holo table in a position Wilson knew was much too relaxed. Wilson resented the man as he sat there with his messy in groomed blond hair and poorly civilian clothing that looked unwashed. He even had the musty odor of alcohol rising from him. This man was not a soldier. He lacked discipline and decency.
"Captain Starikov," Wilson said, "I wasn't aware Bolton brought you into this as well."
"Then you'd be a fool. It's obvious Bolton requires skilled personnel. And I was the top operator on Alpha. The best special ops unit."
Wilson wanted to start something. His being felt the need to say something along the lines of tell that to the five I killed in Ukraine.
"Point made." He replied.
It wasn't worth a fight. If there was something Wilson Taylor knew it was to pick your battles wisely. He knew Bolton was going to force them to work together. Despite his displeasure of working with this mess called an operator he knew if expressed that there would be unnecessary tension between them during an op. And it was hard for both of them to work together after the war. Made easier by the Federation war but still uneasy for Wilson. He remembered killing the five Alpha group operators. He hadn't found it entirely fair he'd already been administered the enhancements. It was anti-fatigue serum. Essentially the user was immune to most forms of fatigue. The Alpha Operators weren't. It was a great advantage since they hadn't known the US was equipping SOCOM units with the advanced treatment. But he felt bad for killing them in the way he had. At the moment he hadn't but seeing how things turned out he now dud. Up in space, it compensated for primal technology. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if Starikov was ok with working with his former longtime enemy. Both sides could be blamed for the Armageddon that ensued but it wasn't surprising for survivors to be a little bias to their own.
The door to the briefing room opened yet again and Agent Jackson Bolton entered. Still in his black business suit still with eyes concealed behind sunglasses. And still with his expressionless look. Next to him a Jedi master.
Starikov took his feet off the table and turned to get a better look at the Jedi. He was still seated and leaned back against the chair. Taylor stood straight as a spear and saluted.
"Gentlemen, I find introductions useless we're going to get right to it, " Bolton said, "Next to me is Jedi Master Arligan Zey. Director of republic special operations. And like most others, he is inexperienced in the job he has been assigned. He will brief you on the details of the war. We are here to help."
"Right, " Zey said caught a bit off guard, "It should come as no surprise senior analyst in Republic intelligence believe we will lose the war. This will leave a fractured unstable galaxy. We are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. The CIS believes it also has superior leaders. They don't know about this group. Essentially I'll present you with a goal or problem and you will help find a solution and execute that solution. Problem one we don't have the numbers. How we solve that."
"Well, " Taylor said, "There was once a man named Alexander the great. He was severely outnumbered by a powerful military force under a competent military commander on two instances. You know how he won?"
"How?" Questioned Zey.
"Created a gap and went straight for the leader. This caused the whole enemy army to go into a rout. In the chaos of the retreat, Alexander achieved victory, " Taylor continued, "Droids are nothing without there leadership. Conducting a galactic war is a rather difficult task for a single leader no matter how competent he can't be everywhere at once. I propose we draw up a list of CIS leaders and we kill them one by one."
"I like the way you think, " Starikov jumped in, "But it's only part of the problem. The CIS has cash. Cash they can use to higher new generals. We need to target their cash by sabotaging their industry. We target politicians to throw worlds into chaos. We used scorched earth tactics on their civilians to hurt their supply lines. We can then squeeze the CIS until they snap."
"Captain Starikov, " Zey said, "What happens to the livelihoods of those farmers and citizens after we destabilize their political systems and destroy their industry."
"Master Jedi it is not of our concern, " Viktor Starikov said, "If they didn't want these things to happen then they shouldn't have succeeded."
"Starikov, " Wilson jumped in unable to contain himself, "If we do these things we create more problems down the world. They will learn to resent the republic and launch attacks long after the clone wars ends even if there is no droid army."
"Taylor, " Viktor said, "These separatists need to be punished. They have no sense of Republic law. That is why they succeeded they lack fear of the government. It is only showing that the republic will use a firm stick to beat descent back into submission will you guarantee compliance."
Wilson remembered Afghanistan and Iraq and what a mess it had been. Overthrowing a regime and using military force to implement a different one didn't work on a planetary level. He was not here to make the same mistakes twice.
"No, " Zey jumped in, "I will not condone intentional harm towards civilians. Find another way to deny supplies to the separatists. I will approve such actions to their military leaders because they have taken up arms against the republic."
"They did so because their civilians supported it. They are just as much to blame."
"No Captain that is incorrect, " Mr. Bolton said nodding his head, "The corruption and weakness of the republic are what lead us here. I am for efficient military policy. Your policy breads endless wars and descent. Therefore it's inefficient. Certain political individuals like Count Dooku should be assassinated. But the complete destabilization of a world and then brutalizing that world is an endeavor that creates more enemies. I as well will not condone it."
Starikov leaned back. They were all fools if the republic was going to survive it needed to know when to be ruthless. He wasn't seeking an authoritative regime but showing mercy to traitors was how one created more traitors. He knew fear was a necessary tool. If the Americans had used more fear in their policy the war on terror wouldn't have gone on forever.
"Fine, " Starikov said, "The longer this last the longer I'm employed. And it seems it shall indeed be a stable job."
Wilson Taylor wanted fo sock Starikov right in his pretty face. He wanted to do it until the man was turned purple with bruises. But not enough to kill him. Just enough to scar him for life. He was not a soldier, not a proper one. A good soldier protected an upheld the principles of his nation above his own. Starikov only had self-interest.
But Wilson, in reality, did absolutely nothing. It simply wasn't worth it. Especially when there was still the overall war to plan.
"Alright, any other tasks we should discuss?" Wilson questioned shifting the conversation.
"Yes, " Bolton started, "While you two are skilled individuals you lack the ability to properly enact all policy. We have clones highly disciplined warriors. I want you to form an advanced tactical unit from them."
"I can acquire files and set up interviews upon request." Said Zey.
Wilson heard advanced tactical unit and his mind jumped. He knew they would need a certain breed of men. And there was only one way to get that.
"We need to draw up a selection process, " Wilson said, "One that'll separate the boys from the men."
"Finally something we agree on, " Starikov said, "I suggest we merge Alpha, Delta, DEVGRU, and SAS standards to form the ultimate test."
"No, " Said Wilson catching everyone off guard, "It's not a proper test. I've seen Commandos and ARCs on the news. Commandos would kill DEVGRU selection but not Delta selection. ARCs are just the opposite. See our selections test skills developed in the separate branches. So DEVGRU gets the best SEALs and Delta gets the best light infantry. The whole point of selection is to get mentally strong individuals. If we're going to get the best clones we need to see how they work. Then we can create a selection process to properly get good candidates for the tac units. Also to see what skills we will have to teach in the training process."
Bolton had selected Wilson because of the man's experience in passing and failing selection. He had passed air assault school passed Special Forces Qualification becoming a beret. Then graduated ranger school then tried out for the SEALs. He failed. Tried becoming a combat controller and failed. Then went back to the berets. Did that for a while got invites to Delta tryouts and passed. He'd also been an instructor on numerous occasions passing and failing a wide variety of people. He knew just how to find the guy he wanted and make him better. Whereas Viktor had been in GRU and Alpha not undergoing the exact same journey.
"And how, Captain, how would you execute this task?" Said Bolton.
Captain Taylor crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He formed an answer the second he proposed the idea.
"It's simple really, " Wilson said, "Send me in to combat with the clones."
Bolton raised an eyebrow if Starikov had been drinking he would have spit it right out. Zey's became wide.
"It's a bit risky Captain you could be killed." Said Zey.
"Well wasn't the intention to have us go in and perform tasks that could get us killed anyways," Wilson replied.
"Yes, but on missions of importance," Bolton said.
"And ensuring our tactical teams maximum efficiency to perform delicate and important tasks is not of any importance?" Said Wilson batting an eye.
"Bolton, I'll watch the cowboys back. Send us both in and you'll increase his odds of survival." Viktor replied leaning forward.
"And if you're both killed?" Zey questioned.
"Then, I'll simply have to replace them with other operators, " Bolton replied, "Being the best for the job doesn't mean your the only one who can perform the task. However, if you're going you're not going without medical that would be stupid."
"You're going to need a medic that can keep up." Said Viktor, "And one who can work fast and efficiently while bullets are flying."
"I suggest either a SARC or pararescuemen. There's four in existence. Two are retired." Suggested Wilson.
"Of course you'd suggest other Americans," Viktor said.
"You have better guys in mind."
Viktor was silent and that was the only answer needed. Bolton nodded.
"I'll find these men. And you'll be deployed in the tomorrow." Bolton said.
"I'll arrange a team of clones I take it you want special operations?" Zey questioned.
"Hook us up with a continent of ARCs and Commandos." Said Captain Taylor, "Preferably ones about to be deployed."
"I'll find my best," Zey said after he nodded.
As stated before this is an experimental story. So your questions, comments, and concerns are appreciated in the decision process. Being whether this project moves forward or not.