I watched as the Venator Class Republic Cruiser crashed and burned on the surface of Coruscant its contents spilling out like the entrails of a defeated beast. Before long there was another and another after that. The sky-scrapers that once towered over the planet were falling, crushing all beneath them. The sky-roads that had acted as the blood flow of the city had been torn into pieces. Scrap and shrapnel from both CIS and Republic cruisers rained down onto the capitol in a hellfire. The few remaining Arc-170 fighters scrambled from the ground barracks in a useless attempt to regain the sky. Their efforts would prove to be useless as they would be out maneuvered by the falling ash and then brought back to the surface in a ball of flame.

I stood alongside the men and watched the battle from the safety of Garrison A-45 which was a trooper garrison stationed on the lower levels of the Galactic City and miles away from the sky-scrapers and roads. Our orders were to hold the garrison and the perimeter until reinforcements arrived to assist with the ongoing defensive. There was only half a division left in the garrison. The other half was sent further into the city to assist in halting CIS advancements. However, I had enough common sense to know that they weren't coming back and that we were lucky if we would ever see another clear Coruscant sky again. I was a sergeant and had been in Garrison A-45 for nearly five months at the time. My tag is Trooper CT-82115 but my call-sign or preferred name was Huron.

The garrison had high walls, which held many defendable positions and surrounded the perimeter. It was a square that was one mile long and one mile wide with the landing pads on the outside of the walls. Inside those walls was a community we were rarely aloud out of. The Grand Republic Army provided us with every necessary to do our duties and do them well. There were five hundred of us, maybe even less than that. We had five AT-TEs to our disposal along with a mechanized squadron of AT-RTs. The division (the 83rd Republican Guard) had combat experience, in other words we were nothing special but we weren't a new batch either. We were clones and we were ready. Ever since the battle had begun – a sneak attack that presumably had intentions of kidnapping Chancellor Palpetine – we had been sending out scouts and AT-RTs. The fact was, was that the CIS hadn't made their way this far out yet. All we could do was wait.

Our commander, Commander Frey, approached me with two other soldiers by his side. His armor was white based, like all of ours, with a dark, fading purple on his forehead, shoulders, knees, and forearms. When he approached me, I was cleaning my standard issue carbine and socializing with the five men under my command who were stacking ammunition containers for at-the-ready use on the wall.

"At attention!" I barked as Commander Frey approached. The six of us stood at attention for the officer. Hands at our sides, chests out, and eyes straight while awaiting orders.

"At ease, boys." He removed his helmet, looking at me to do the same.

"Yes sir?" I removed my helmet.

"Walk with me, Huron."

"Yes sir."

Commander Frey and I had a history. I was with the 83rd from its humble beginning to its grotesque and undeserving end just as he was. We both served in many of the same battles and I had always been a loyal leader under his command.

"A runner squad of fighters has arrived." We quickly walked to the landing pads that resided on the other side of the garrison and were on the outside of the walls. "They have a word for all of the squad leaders and officers."

"Do they have news, sir? About the front?" I asked whilst looking around at the troopers who were preparing for any contact. I looked up the walls at the makeshift turret emplacements and sniper positions.

"I don't know, Huron. All I know is that something is going to happen soon and I'm going to need every trooper's full effort. Our patrols have reported that the blaster fire is getting closer. The spotters haven't seen anything from the wall, but something is coming."

We reached the squadron of runners at the landing pads. Every officer and squad leader was there, gathered in a circle. Commander Frey and I joined in. He managed to reach the runners and talk with them in a whisper. They had arrived in three ARC-170s and were average pilots. From the crowd, men asked what it was like and what was happening.

"Listen up!" A pilot stood on one of the fighters. "The Republic fleet…" He trailed off and looked at another pilot, who was nodding his head. He started back up again, "the Republic fleet has fallen back with heavy casualties."

The men, including myself, panicked at hearing this. The crowd was in an uproar. How could they leave us?! It's desertion! They know that by leaving us they are condemning us, don't they?! They're just going to leave us for the Seps?! The pilots waited for the crowd to calm down before yelling over what remained of the yelling.

"Listen! Listen! The Kaminoan battle group will be here in forty-eight hours! From there, they will group up with the surviving detachment and lift the siege! We must wait until then! Stand strong, brothers!"

They left after those few words. They left us here in disarray. They probably went to every single garrison in the lower levels to warn them. It didn't matter, anyway. What mattered was getting to the men under our command and make the necessary preparations.

I found my squad of five by the gate. The members were Tanik, the technician who knew everything there was about military tech. As far as I was concerned, he was the best mechanic, electrician and tech specialist in the Republic. There was Dyson and Dodor – they were my soldiers who knew how to handle a long rifle. They had the best aim in the entire division. Brock was our heavy weapons specialist. He was plated in layers armor and carried a rioter shield that could deflect anything short of a lightsaber. He was three times the size of any clone when he had his full gear on. Finally, there was Loran – our medic. He could heal any wound or injury one could imagine. We were all so different yet we all survived off of the same programming. We all wore the same face. We were all brothers.

I approached them and told them what was happening. I told them there was no help on the way and that the entire droid army was knocking on our door. They expressed no signs of discontent. They only continued to load their weapons and adjust their armor. I did the same. The giant gate opened and closed, letting several AT-RT's inside the walls. After the gate closed, three giant horizontal bars locked across it. Two AT-TEs would later park themselves peering out at the entrance with their giant guns locked and ready. Brock stands next to me, clenching his fists as he puts his glove plates on.

"They're going to come, sir?" His voice was grave as he picked up his shield and scatter gun.

"Yeah, Brock, they are." I placed my sidearm in my holster after loading it.

"Good," he put his helmet on, "I never did like the peace and quiet."