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First Deployment
I was always told that there was no greater honour than serving in the Imperial forces, no greater honour than to defend and uphold the rights of all the Empire's citizens. I do believe this with all my heart, but it's becoming harder to believe in our cause lately. Ever since enlisting in the 223rd Corulag Guard and going through the intense training at the Academy, I've come to see some of the Empire's actions as... questionable. But I will always follow my orders, I am a Stormtrooper after all. Ever obedient.
Even through all of the so called 'brainwashing' in training, a fair few of my battalion maintained some semblance of self thought, which unfortunately a lot of our comrades in other units lost, probably due to their lack of will. The most indoctrinating thing we went through was perhaps the unending drills and education of the Emperor's glorious defeat of the corrupted Old Republic and manipulative Jedi. Despite this, if our CO told us to shoot a civie, we'd shoot. Feel damn awful about it, but orders are orders. The 223rd has a bit of a better public opinion though. In all honesty, our commanders aren't the typical racist, ruthless killers that other legions have. Ours show mercy in from time to time, not going the easy way of 'Blast them', but rather talking to the civilian, granted they aren't shooting us, of course.
I think that this is why we were deployed to Gacerian. Governor Gostech was known to be very kind towards his citizens, as such he'd probably have requested a less aggressive garrison. If he had a battalion like the 501st, the civilians would surely be executed daily, but with us, I doubt there'd be one a month. In any case, the crime rates weren't too high here, but that ended up becoming a moot point due to what we discovered planetside... No amount of training could prepare anyone for that...
TK-1588
'All units, rendezvous in the main hangar for assignment.' came a thunderously loud announcement. Immediately after, a massive shift in gravity shook TK-1588, nearly throwing him over his own legs. With some difficulty he regained balance, stretching his gloved hands out comically. After being sure he was safely still he finished preparing himself for deployment, donning the feared helm of a Stormtrooper. A large white, skull-like piece of armour that by appearance alone, could make a man break.
"Hey Eights, time to go!" came the vocorder processed voice of TK-0943, endearingly called 'Joker' by his squadmates.
Looking down in false disappointment, 1588 replied with a sigh and then a laugh"I really wish you'd stop calling me that, Joker. Thought we agreed on Ranger?"
"Eights, mate, everyone calls you Eights. You're Eights! It's in your operating number!" laughter followed Joker down the hallway, leaving Eights defeated.
"Damn it Joker..." he cursed jokingly whilst picking up his T-21 blaster, falling out of his minimalist cabin. The hall was similarly featureless, seeing only a few white suits walking down it, soft white lights illuminating their paths. Suddenly something crashed into Eights' foot, tripping him a little. Looking down, he saw the squealing black boxlike mouse droid zip away in a panic. "Why do we have those damn things... They don't do anything useful..." he mumbled, continuing his way down the hall.
Upon reaching the main hangar he saw a multitude of TIE fighters launching at breakneck speeds out into the dark void, then the thousands of Stormtroopers lined in perfect rank and file, waiting to board their Lamda, Sentinel and Delta-Class shuttles. The hangar was utterly monstrous in size, holding 20 AT-ATs, each with a barge of its own, nearly 100 TIE fighters of various makes as well as various other devices of war. To one who hadn't seen it before, they'd be in utter awe of this marvel of Imperial design and industry, as for the Stormtroopers and officers well accustomed to life in these machines, it is like seeing their own hands. Nothing unusual to it.
Eights continued through to a group of AT-ATs where his unit, 5th Company, was amassing. He stood next to Joker on the far left of his platoon, standing to attention. It was almost a minute before Captain Harthon came on deck, to which the entire company saluted robotically, all at once. Harthon had a grizzled look to him, a thick grey beard covering gaunt cheeks with sunken eyes above them. His uniform wasn't as well kept as other officers, seemingly unironed, with the top two buttons undone, showing his
plasteel vest underneath. Harthon had the utmost respect of his soldiers, but not of his officer counterparts. He is one of the few Stormtroopers who had climbed the ranks to become a captain, having served in the invasion of Kashyyyk and even Kamino. He had more experience under his belt than perhaps any other recruited Stormtrooper.
In a harsh yet quiet voice he addressed his white masked soldiers, "At ease men. This deployment should be an easy one. Crime rates are low, the people are loyal and there is only one city. However, be on guard, the Rebellion has their eyes set to 'liberate' Gacerian from the 'oppression' of the Empire. I needn't tell you all that this is bollocks. If those rebels attack we will give them all they deserve, and as I'm told, the civilians will take action, fighting as a partisans alongside us. In any case, be on guard and you'll all come out alive and well. We are some of the first that will land, but we aren't going to Harmonia. There are reports of some activity in the deserts far off from the city. Once we all embark, I'll send coordinates and primary objectives to both your COs, and you. Upon entering the atmosphere, strict radio silence will be observed. Only report what's important."
Gesturing his own salute, he finally said "Good luck men. Move out." Saluting back, each of the 155 stormtroopers moved to their designated crafts. Eight's platoon, 3rd 'Echelon', moved to embark one of the three AT-ATs along with 1st and 2nd, leaving 4th to embark on a Lamda class shuttle. The stairs which he took rose over 20 metres in the air, connecting to a catwalk which in turn led into the giant open doors of the AT-AT which was painted standard grey with a zig-zagging red decal down each side, with a roundel of the 223rd with an attractive pinup girl wearing a headset and revealing clothing in the middle. Other than this, just above the heavy door the name 'Alyssa' was painted. Eights knew the crew of Allysa well enough. They were an odd bunch but superb at their job, as their gunner IS-7626, or 'Beats', says 'They never miss a beat.' thus the name.
The interior of Alyssa was like any other AT-AT. Dark, only with illumination of a light that switches from orange, red and green, about 40 seats lined on each side of the hull and a door to the cockpit. The only differences were perhaps the cushioning on the seats and a few posters of more pinup girls lining the walls. As Eights sat down towards the back of the hull, Joker and the rest of his section sat by him. TK-7502 'Wookie', TK-1171 'Eins' and TK-2578 'Stross' were part of his operations group, half of a section or squad. The other Op Group consisted of Joker, TK-8336 'Watcher', TK-9021 'Slammer' and TK-6436 'Duffel'. They were led by the more than capable TK-9871, known as 'Sarge'. Sarge had been serving since recruitment began and had been offered the position of major, but refused as 'That takes him away from the fight.'
Once everyone from the squad was seated and ready, Sarge gave a short briefing, "Alright troops, I want us to go by the books on this one. We don't have a clue if we are fighting, and what we will be fighting, so if we do get engaged I want no one falling out of their unit, stay together, stay alive. Command will have our orders shortly. If we are engaged be ready for a drawn out firefight as there is bugger all cover out in the deserts. Sync your vitals and times on my mark." After he said this, he put up three fingers, taking one away each second, saying 'Mark' on the last.
The remainder of the platoon embarked, some troopers gesturing a hello to Eights and Joker as they passed. Once each white armoured warrior of the Empire was aboard, one of the AT-AT crewmen pressed a blinking orange button, closing the large metal door, sealing the platoon inside and changing the amber light to red. The intercom then crackled a female voice "Welcome aboard the ESGV Allysa, this is your vehicle commander, IS-3229, Mando to my friends, speaking. If you will look under your seat you will find.. well you wont find anything, normally there would be life support, but budget cuts cut deep. Well anyway, this should be a routine walk, but if you hear something creak loudly, be ready for a fiery crash in which-"
She was suddenly cut off by a soft voiced man, IS-0032, "Dont say that. Sorry, my commander doesnt know what she's on about. You'll be fine, but when the light goes green take the cables down. That's all you need to know."
"Killjoy." The intercom crackled again, now silent. Eights chuckled to himself, no one else hearing due to the helmet. His fun was interupted as his Heads Up Display blinked and now showed a short list of objectives in the top right. '1 - Land and secure drop zone. Wait on 4th platoon for confirmation. 2 - Move to designated coordinates and investigate reported activity. 3 - Deal with findings at Captain Harthon's orders. 4 - Move toward secondary coordinates and set up FOB if no resistance is met.
With a deep breath, Eights started to clear his mind, not thinking of his family, his home or even his comrades in a concerned manner. All he thought of was his mission and obedience in his orders. Whatever Harthon and Sarge would say, he would fulfil to the best of his ability, even the summary execution of a comrade. Such is the life of a Stormtrooper. The AT-AT shook violently as the clamps of its transport barge took hold, enveloping the giant machine into its hull. A few short seconds after the machine shook again and hissed, pumping oxygen into the troop compartment. A screen appeared towards the front of the passenger bay, showing a camera feed of their destination. The planet seemed pretty normal, one huge spiralling city off to the right, grass surrounding it which led into a large sea. Then their destination. A desolate looking badlands, far away from any civilization. A group of three TIE fighters escorted the heavy machinery.
"ETA, 1 minute." Eights, along with the rest of his platoon, checked his gear, pulling the magazine of his T21 repeating blaster out, looking it over and replacing it. He patted down his armour, checking for any loose sections and finding his untested and glistening suit void of any discrepancies. "Landing in 30." Pulling the energy pack from his rifle he found it was almost burnt out, over the squad radio he said "Duffel, chuck me a power pack thanks? Mines burnt."
"Of course mate. Watcher, can you pass it down?" Wordlessly, the sniper passed the small black item to Eights. With a nod and thank you, he shoved it into the energy slot, throwing the other into an empty utility pouch. Luckily for him, given an hour or so, he could recharge power packs, unlike with the E11 which needed new ones each time due to a complete burn out after sustained fire. T21s used just enough power in their last shot that there is enough left to recharge it again.
"In 5, 4," guns clicked and tapped, "3, 2," troopers braced themselves, grabbing the railing of their seats, "1." A loud whirring shot through Eights ears as the barge released its captive walker, sending it crashing into the ground on all fours. The entire machine shook, then took its first step on a new planet. Up in the cockpit, Beats looked about with an odd happiness, bopping her head up and down to an unheard beat.
"No targets ma'am." her somewhat high pitched and jovial voice reported.
"Stomp, take us forward 50 metres. Keep angled towards the objective."
"Affirmative." replied the driver as the large machine steadily moved forward. To the right of it about 100 metres away, a second walker landed, walker 'Judge', with vertical red stripes and horizontal black stripes adorning some of the hull, followed by another, 'Jedicide' (a walker that once stood on a rogue jedi) to the left, adorning a picture of a lightsabre with a bold red 'no sign' over it. A few metres ahead of Alyssa the landing shuttle zoomed across, landing with its back towards the AO. The familiar screech of TIE fighters boomed overhead as the trio streaked through the air, casting ominous shadows upon the desert.
The objective on the other hand, appeared to be a walled mud hut village, recently constructed, with a single prefab building in the centre. There was no movement whatsoever below. The radio cracked and came with the voice of the leader of 'Vanguard' squad. "We're underway. Keep us covered, there is signs of some activity."
On the ground beneath, 4th platoon fanned out into a wedge formation, speeding across to the walled compound. Upon reaching, they evenly split on each side of a wooden gate. "Captain, advise?"
A reply came swiftly "Attempt contact." with that, one of 4th squad knocked upon the door hard, barely audible from this distance, even with the audio enhancers of the AT-AT. Nothing came of the knock, so the white armoured trooper knocked a second time, receiving more that he bargained for. A blaster shot streaked through the wooden gate, glancing off the Stormtrooper's armour, who then shot three times in rapid succession as he dive to the side. "All units, engage. Minimal collateral damage. The spooks want intel." With that, all three AT-ATs opened fire with their side mounted blaster cannons, destroying part of the gate and suppressing the area.
The troop compartment light switched to green and small hatches opened in the floor. Without a word, 3rd platoon all slid down the cables one by one, each landing on the ground and rushing forward as fast as possible to reach their comrades in 4th. Blaster fire cascaded out of the three beastlike machines, impacting wildly within the compound. "Cease fire, 3rd, 4th move in and secure objective. 3 sections outside, one in. Clear each building." Came Harthon over comms.
"Section 2, you're up." ordered 3rd platoon's lieutenant, Mackay, an enlisted officer who tended to stay back, apparently for his lack of armour, yet regardlessly making typically good calls.
"Op 1, you lead, Op 2 covering fire." With Sarge's orders, Slammer and Duffel set down their E-Web, connecting a smaller energy pack to it, allowing only around 500 shots, but being far more mobile. The moment Slammer opened fire, Eights and Operations Group 1 rushed through the still-burning archway, followed closely by 4th squad. The sergeant of 4th gestured to two buildings on the right side of the compound, having each of his groups move to breach each. Eights followed Corporal Eins towards one of the larger mud huts on the left side, placing a breach detonator on the door. Eins hand shot up with three fingers, each going down by the second. As the last fell Eights hit the detonator's red button, exploding the door inwards.
First Stross bolted in, E11 firing on full auto, then Wookie straight after. As Eights entered the smoke filled room he saw blaster bolts all about and brought his weapon to bear on a silhouette, squeezing the trigger twice. The figure slumped to the ground, green bolts shooting into the roof. His helmet then adjusted to the smoke giving him clear sight throughout the building. Both Wookie and Stross were up, but it looked like Wookie may have been hit. Eights didn't think of it however, and continued his sweep. Walking to the body he slew, he witnessed a human in camouflaged garbs with their chest and head caved in and burning softly, blood amassing beneath the gaping wounds.
His HUD automatically updated with his team, showing his one fatality, then two for Stross and one for Wookie, who's vitals were fluctuating. A green symbol flashed in the top left, signalling that the floor was clear. Seeing a staircase he gestured towards Stross, pointing upwards. The two took one side of the stairway each, hearing coughing above. A nod and the two white armoured soldiers rushed up the stairs, taking three at a time. Upon reaching the top, Stross began yelling through his vocoder 'On the ground!' a blaster bolt flashed, glancing off Stross' shoulder. Eights fired once at the source, killing the belligerent rebel instantly. Before relaxing even by a miniscule amount, he saw the unmistakeable shadow of an A280 blaster rifle. Not even thinking, Eights fired towards it, seemingly striking the middle of the receiver and traveling through into the man behind it, who replied with an impossibly loud scream.
The two troopers swiftly moved to the only two survivors of the building, updating the HUD showing '2-KIA, 1-WIA' from Eights' listing. Handcuffing the two, Stross escorted the rebels downstairs telling them to move. Eights stayed upstairs, briefly searching the body and gear up here. It was definitely the so called 'Rebel Alliance', the terrorist group responsible for countless deaths of civilians in the fringe worlds. The body up there was similarly disfigured from the blaster bolt to its head, this one a Twilek. Over platoon coms he then reported "Be advised. This is Rebel Alliance, heavily armed with A280s." He then hit the stick window open with the butt of his large rifle, emplacing it, looking into the compound.
"Op 2, clear to move up." Joker was first to move up, slowly and deliberately with Watcher close behind, gun trained on a window. It was completely silent, save the groans of the wounded rebel. Then a sudden crack pierced the air, Watcher had fired, now replacing the cartridge in her heavily customized E11S. The window she so intently trained her rifle on now smoked with a perfectly round hole through it, with a collapsing rebel soldier slumping forwards into it. Slammer and Duffel followed closely, setting up their gun behind a large landspeeder, aiming it towards the prefab building.
5 structures remained, save the prefab. Eins' distinct accent came over the platoon's comms, "Marksmen take positions each side of the compound. 4 assault troops each building for breaching. Anyone else remain in the courtyard in cover with the E-Web. Take this slow, they're not run of the mill pirates." With that, Watcher sprinted for the building opposite of Eights and the ground quietly bustled with activity. "AT-ATs, clear to fire on anyone fleeing. Try to scare them into surrender, we need answers." No one argued with Eins when she took control like this. In all of the training missions she led, and the two battles she'd been in, she always had made the right calls, having almost no stormtroopers die or even get wounded in operations. She definitely was quite the tactician, one that no one would argue with.
With their new impromptu orders, the platoon made ready to breach two buildings at once, with supporting fire coming from Eights and Watcher. Beaded on one window Eights saw a sliver of movement, instinctively pulling the trigger and receiving a yelp from what sounded like a wookie. It was too late to report however as the breaching charges detonated all at once, resulting in an intense few seconds of rapid blaster fire. Another sliver of movement, another trigger pull yet no yelp this time. A loud crack came from across the street, Watcher again. All fell silent again, with the HUD updating with one Stormtrooper from 4th being critically wounded, 5 hostiles KIA and 2 more wounded. The wounded and restrained rebels along with the stormtrooped were brought into the courtyard and placed behind cover.
Eights displaced slightly, moving to a window further back in the building which offered greater firing lines towards the next building. Another tense engagement began, blaster fire thundering, this time seeing Joker's vitals flash orange, wounded. No terrorists detained this time, however. "Eights, you're up." came the order from Eins. He ran through the building which still had residual smoke filling the air and out, glancing towards Joker as he was pulled from the building, a large burning hole in his leg. He didn't scream or cry, only told a joke 'I guess I'm a holy man now, right?' This next building was a single story hut, smallest in the compound. This meant nothing to the loyal soldiers of the Empire outside however, no matter who was in there, they were threats to not only the immediate troopers lives, but the lives of civilians in Gacerian, to the very fabric of galactic peace. They had taken up arms against the empire. However, as convicted as Eights was in this fact, he couldn't prepare himself for the ordeal he and his company were to face.
The charge went off, the team rushed in, blasters hurtling deadly fire into shadows, seeing them slump down. As their helmets cleared, they saw their handywork. Children, carrying blaster rifles. A short lived thought crossed Eights mind, 'I did this...?' then it left as quickly as it came as he regained focus on his mission. Eins did report this however, "The rebels are using kids, sir. Child soldiers. Please advise?"
"Wait one." A few long seconds passed as Harthon talked to his superiors. "Command says to treat them as any other terrorist. Orders are orders, regular ROE apply."
'How far we have come, killing kids.' thought Eights briefly, again striking it from his mind. There was still the mission to complete, the prefab still needing to be secured. Both squads breaching groups moved towards the last building, ready for the final push. The building was painted with red and gold decals and stood three stories tall. Antennas and other instruments pointed out of the top, this was definitely the command building.
"We have to be a bit faster on this one, they'll be trying to dispose of intelligence. Probably thermal detonator traps. So be quick, but be vigilant." Being trained extensively in this exact bomb threat situation, each trooper knew precisely what to do. As the breaching charges on each side of the building, east and west, rather than the doors on the north and south burst, now dirty white armour rushed through, unleashing a hail of red bolts. The rebels were caught off guard, being completely outflanked. The bottom floor fell almost instantaneously, with troopers stepping lithely over tripwires and mines.
The second floor would be far more difficult, so one of 4th section's troopers moved ahead of the group, disarming one trip mine as quickly as possible, then tossing a concussion grenade up the staircase. Garbled speech of an alien species yelled as the loud bang acted as the herald for their impending doom. White armour burst from the smoke as the blinded and deafened terrorists rubbed their eyes in pain and confusion. This proved fatal for them, as each was swiftly put down in the name of the Emperor. As they prepared for the final push, Eights took another deep breathe, steadying his shaking hands. Despite being trained vigorously for these exact high-stress situations, nothing could have prepared him for the reality of combat. His hands steadied for a short moment, then flared up again, shaking uncontrollably.
"Eins, I need a stim." She cocked her head to the side, slightly confused then reached into one of her utility belts' pouches and stretched out her hand, holding a gnarled syringe with a viscous green substance inside. Despite appearance, this was standard issue, but only to be used in emergencies. Only COs or medics were allowed to carry them however. Eights found the gap in between his arm and elbow and shoved the syringe in with a grunt. The green fluid coursed through his veins, completely calming his nerves. Great for immediate use, but Eights knew he'd likely regret it by an hour as the chemicals tend to induce heavy vomiting. However for now, he could feel each and every defined muscle in his body, each pulse of blood and even the wind of the desert through his armour and the building. As the concussion grenade flew it appeared in some form of slow motion, looking bizarrely beautiful and captivating. It disappeared from sight and an ear splitting bang burst out of the room, sounding far louder due to the stims.
The first trooper to run into the breach was from 4th section, followed up by Eins. Blaster fire filled the hot air once more, sounding eldritch through the drug addled ears of Eights. He was next, placing on foot to the corner, then the other just over
a small tripwire, he shot into the room. It seemed to take ages for each foot to fall, yet as he entered the room he could take in every detail. The first thing that caught his attention was the bright red bolts of plasma coursing through the air moving with a still swift deliberance. His gaze then darted to the room itself, taking in its red and gold decorations. A large banner with what loosely resembled a crimson phoenix bursting from its ashes with wings proudly above its head, leading the way into its new life. Below it was the word 'Revolt' in white writing over a black background. Underneath this banner was a desk with a smashed computer screen and bunched up papers, unorganised and next to an unlit match held by a Bothan in a light brown vest. Next to the Bothan was a few chests, open and burning, underneath a few uncomfortable looking bunk beds. Each bed was made of metal, with very poor quality covers, bearing the rebellion's emblem, adorning them.
An odd bout of anger burst through Eights upon seeing the rebellious banner and equipment, causing him to focus on his enemies. Another look over the Bothan showed that it held a blastgun, seemingly scavenged, which pointed towards the ground. Other than the match, the alien looked very mundane, the usual furred canine face and hunched body. Towards his right, next to the bunks was a human woman donning a helmet and light body armour. Her hand was raised to her eyes, trying to block out light from the already exploded grenade, with her other hand she held a DL44 blaster pistol which had recently been fired, its bolt streaking into the roof. Probably a knee-jerk reaction shot from the sudden explosion. Beside her were two more humans, one armed with an A280, pointed directly at the 4th section stormtrooper, with a lance of green torrenting out of it. He wore only longjohns, obviously caught off guard while sleeping. The other human however was fully clothed in flak armour, yet was unarmed. He wore a starred beret, however, denoting some sort of leadership. Beneath this hat was the terrified face of a man well out of their depth, one used to commanding from far away. The sunken blue eyes looked to have a red tinge inside them, the dark nose flared outward and mouth slightly agape.
Giving into his anger, Eights slowly, although to the outside eye it would be swift, brought his gun to bear against the Bothan trying to burn away the last of the intelligence. Stormtroopers, after all, were trained to value the mission and their orders over the lives of comrades, and so the Bothan needed to die. Once the long blaster rifle was pointed directly as the hound-like creature, he pulled his trigger, sending a blinding bolt of plasma towards his prey. It flew through the air as time started to return to normal, appearing to speed up. With a rush of noise, the blast struck true, completely severing the arm holding the now lit match in a shower of blood, sending it to the ground and its owner reeling in pain, releasing his grip of the blastgun. The trooper ahead of Eins fell to the ground in a heap, a great hole bored in his helmet. As he fell, blood seeping from his charred wound, he pulled his trigger, causing the blaster rifle to spray bolts all about the room, striking the beret wearing man in the thigh, then the Bothan in the other arm and finally harmlessly hitting the roof and wall.
Eins swiftly squeezed her own trigger, sending hot beams towards the sleepwear rebel, striking him as he fired one last shot, which struck Eins' pauldron square on, penetrating the other side, spraying blood and burnt plastoid over Eights. Eins fell to the ground in a heap, groaning in pain. "We need a medic in the prefab. Have two enemy wounded, one friendly." Stross reported in an eerily monotonous tone over the radio. Eights stepped over both Eins and the dead stormtrooper to detain the beret wearing man, kicking the blastgun from the Bothan as he passed.
"Mercy! Mercy, please! I'll tell you anything!" wailed the wounded officer as the blood covered imperial harshly grasped his arm, hoisting him up. With a blood curdling crack, Eights kicked the back of the man's leg, cracking a bone, causing him to fall to one knee and allowing him to be cuffed by the wrists, behind his back. Without a word from the stormtrooper, but a great many panicked utterances from the rebel, the two left the building, leaving the bloody scene. As they came to the stairs, the rebel tripped, almost falling down the entire flight, were it not for the
vice-like grip of his captor.
"Move." came a harsh voice. Instilled with fear, the rebel could only comply, fearing for his life. Within a minute, the two were out in the blazing desert sun where the remainder of the two squads, as well as Captain Harthon stood waiting.
"I'll take it from here TK-1588. Secure any and all intel from the huts and bring out any bodies." said the captain as Eights approached.
"Sir." With that, he turned away and walked to the smaller hut, to overlook his handiwork.
A/N: Sorry for the long copyright stuff, say reports of Disney crying that fans were in breach, so best be safe. Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed this first chapter and would greatly appreciate feedback on it. I used 'section' rather than squad in this as the Empire is usually British-like, so it makes sense to me to have their units comprised of sections and all. I've also used some EU content for things like planets and tech, but I probably won't be relying on it, thus how the Stormtroopers aren't robots, but rather more akin to modern military units. Plus weird personalities.
I'm not sure how often this will be updated as school starts up in a few months, so that'll take my time away like nobodies business. Also, as a sidenote, this is mostly a 'practice' text for me, to refine and improve on my writing skills and as such I've got both female and male characters despite the EU saying "Female stormtroopers were kept to all female units." So yeah, thanks for reading, would appreciate feedback and have a nice day!
Oh, and I hate my title, so anyone want to suggest something better, please do?