Geonosis, 15 BBY
The Geonosian society was still reeling from the death of Poggle the Lesser. Ever since the Republic had a makeover, Geonosis had become a living hell. It wasn't the temperature, though that didn't help, rather it was the overbearing, devil-like Imperial storm troopers and their superiors. The devil would crack the whip at dawn, and he would brandish the rod at dusk.
What were they being forced to build? Who the heck knew. They would carry large shards of metal, and hundreds of circuits. They would contribute many of their hard-mined resources to the creation of what used to be a Separatist dream. At first, they would resist their white-clad persecutors, but soon they learned to subject themselves. Obedience would be their hope for survival. Hopefully the Emperor would bestow mercy upon them.
Such a hope was futile…
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Geonosis.
What are three words used to describe Geonosis? Dry? Arid? Hot?
Some within the newly established Empire thought hellish, despicable, and repugnant. It had started off as a normal day. The worthless bugs would show up and do their labor, eat a meager meal of broth-less stew, and then return to their slave chambers. The catacombs were checked for rogue bugs, and then gassed if any were found. Then a few brothers would travel to the Petranaki Arena, and sit and watch with glee as Geonosians were ripped apart in violent ways by Rancors, Reek, Nexus, Anoobas, and Acklays.
But all of this violence, this disregard for sentient life, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough payback for two devastating battles, hundreds upon millions of mechanical terrors, and not to mention those zombifying worms. There had to be a greater revenge waiting to happen.
And happen it did.
It was a day just like any other. The Geonosians stirred from their camps and marched towards the Imperial center. Today, however, the center was gone, and all available storm troops had been recalled. The Geonosians shouted with glee. Until they saw the ships.
One large dagger pierced through the blue sky overhead. It's form was so great, it didn't even have to breach the atmosphere. Imperial Dropships descended upon the former Imperial complex. And these weren't the LAAT/is used and abused during the Clone Wars. These ships were sleeker, had better armor, and most importantly, better weapons.
It was a mission, just like any other. One which all clones would have no problem with. Their normal, recruited brethren would have no idea how much this meant to the original fighting force of the Galaxy. There were no complaints, no treacherous thoughts, no feelings of compassion. Not after thousands of dead brothers killed first day on the job. Not after the deaths of the Jedi who had still been loyal to the Republic. Not after a second, more nightmarish conquering.
And how were they to feel for these beings? When even their Jedi generals had ordered the execution of so many. The bugs felt no compassion for them either. They had shown that when they still had Dooku to hide behind. Now the clones held the power. The Geonosians were without toys, out of shelter, and there would be nowhere to run. This wasn't a battle. This was a genocide. And one the clones would relish.
The bugs tried to flee, but they were shot down before they could get far. Large slave camps were struck from orbit. Large green lasers pummeled the planet's surface, leaving no hope for survival. The lasers were bright, blinding, and accurate. The laughter from the cloned among the group was taunting, haunting, and daunting. Obedience was not the key to their survival. In fact, surrendering to the Empire had doomed them all.