A large Republic battle cruiser floated against the black velvet backdrop of infinite space. Glossy sequins were scattered throughout, stars in far away systems. The cruiser, surrounded by similar starships and smaller freighters, didn't look special. Just another reminder of the war that boiled between the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems, or CIS. Inside, however, a meeting was being held that could determine the fate of an entire people.

"So it is decided. You will send a squad down to the planet to capture the separatist base," General Windu was saying.

"Yes, Master," General Calfhan agreed. The hologram slowly dissipated into nothingness.

Commander Backer stepped forward out of one of the many shadowy corners of the large conference room, revealing his plastoid-clad body. His freshly cleaned Phase Two armor gleamed like the moons of Nyla in the lights. Deep red paint, the color of his 99th Legion, marked several places upon the shining white surface: on the helmet fin: above the visor; coloring the left side of his chestplate; on his knee protectors; and on the tips of his recently polished boots. There was a black handprint occupying the right side of his chestplate, and black markings also adorned his helmet. A shoulder pauldron covered his left shoulder, a symbol of his undisputable authority over his troops. Hanging off of his right hip was his modified DC-15A blaster rifle. His helmet was tucked tightly between his body and his arm. Backer stood at attention when facing his general as a sign of respect, even though he had heard every word of the transmission.

General Calfhan turned to Commander Backer. "At ease, Commander." The clone relaxed immediately. "How many times have I told you, you don't need to do that. I know you heard it all, so I won't bother briefing you. Gather twenty of your best troopers. You will set down thirty klicks outside the separatist base. Once there, you will take the source of the rebels' weapons' power."

"Yes, sir," the commander replied, his voice given a robotic undertone due to the helmet's vocabulizer.

"Remember, this is to be an especially covert operation," Calfhan ordered, handing Backer a datapad filled with details on the mission. "Tell no one except for your chosen few."

Again, Backer replied, "Yes, sir," accepting the datapad with his free hand and clipping it to his belt.

"Be careful out there. Ravv was only very recently annexed by the Republic; it has not been extensively searched and not much is known about it. The rebels, however, have lived there for centuries. Combined with the military force of the separatists, it will be difficult."

The commander put his gloved hand on the Jedi's shoulder. Tension seemed to radiate off of him in waves. "You worry too much, General. Don't. My squad and I can handle it."

The Jedi's expression changed. His smile gave a sense of trust. "I know."

The two stopped like that for a short while. The Jedi's green eyes seemed to see through Backer, and after about a minute, the heavy silence was too much. Backer made his way to the door, but Calfhan stopped him.

"Commander, be careful." Lines of worry and concern once again creased the Jedi's human face. Backer simply nodded and kept walking. The door opened with a code. Pausing to put his helmet on, the clone stepped into the mostly empty hall.

••••

Three days later, four Venator-class star destroyers touched down on the sprawling metropolitan planet known as Courascant. About twenty minutes later, the massive cargo areas started the lengthy process of unloading. Backer had transferred back to his command cruiser, Supernova, a seperate ship from the general's, and was the first to exit it. As always, he traveled to his legion's section of the clone barracks, to file the last day's report. Although he could easily file the report from his ship, it was sort of a tradition he kept.

As he walked through the halls of the massive barracks on Courascant, Backer thought of who he would take with him. Surprisingly, his entire legion had been brought to the seat of Republic government, presumably so that he would have the widest choice of soldiers. They had been campaigning on a planet called Predeyn, a harsh tropical world full of savage creatures. The separatists were there first, so they had a few strongholds, but the Republic, with the support of the people, had pressed the separatist droids nearly off the planet. The 99th Legion was conducting raids on the final droid fortress when they were ordered off the planet. The 212th Legion, led by renowned general Obi-Wan Kenobi, landed in the area, taking all responsibilities of the 99th. Now, rumors were spreading that they had won, though no official report has been filed.

Cedric. Jace. Trails. Scrapper. Ming. Names raced through the clone's head like blaster bolts. Over 9,000 brothers to pick from. How could he choose just twenty? And it couldn't just be his friends. They had to be trustworthy, reliable, motivated, skilled. His elite troopers, even if he didn't like them.

The clone commander sighed. The Jedi must be crazy. How can twenty clones and I dismantle the separatist presence on Ravv alone?

After what seemed like hours, Backer reached his quarters. He almost absent-mindedly passed it. It was at the beginning of his legion's living area. From there, halls branched to the sides, leading to smaller area. Each rank below him had a smaller and smaller area of jurisdiction. He had jurisdiction over all the troops, but he usually didn't have to excersise it over the living quarters. Besides, most clones spent their time at 79's, the clone bar.

Backer walked to the door to his room. The door slid open with a hiss, then closed shut after he walked through. He had a simple room, like all clones. A small bed against the wall, a comm system, a Holonet display system, a 'fresher. The best part was that he got it all to himself. He took off his helmet, set it down. Scrolled through the contents of the datapad. He had to memorize all the contents by heart. Maybe later. He had three days until he shipped out. He had some time to kill.

After ten minutes in the refresher room, he sat on his bed. Who would he take with him? He had a few ideas. Pulling up an interface on the Holonet, he quickly found the locations of the men he had in mind and others. Fourteen of them were at the barracks. Scrapper and Cedric were here, as well as Leigh, Firefight, and Cükah. The other nine Backer didn't know personally, but they had excellent records. Backer gathered these men easily. He waited for them to get alone, told them what was up, then gave their C.O. his and the Jedi's authority.

The other six men, however, were at 79's. Backer could've just said that they were going on a secret mission and take them but that seemed too obvious. So a few hours later, he left for the bar.

••••

79's wasn't the nicest place, to say the least. It certainly wasn't run down. Credits pumped into this place day in and day out. But most of those credits were spent servicing more clones.

Backer stepped inside. Place was packed. Those six clones were sure going to be hard to find. Thankfully, they all were pretty good friends, so if he found one, he should find most of them.

One clone fell into Backer, nearly knocking him over too. Instead, he grabbed the clone and pushed him back to where he came from. Drunkards, he thought. In his opinion, the Grand Army of the Republic had no place for clones who got drunk. They were unfocused and sometimes dangerous. So Backer disciplined his troopers never to drink too much.

However, one drink couldn't hurt. He shoved his way through the crowds to the bar. After a while, he got the attention of a Zabrak bartender.

"Whaddaya want?" the Zabrak man said in an accent Backer couldn't place.

"I'll just have a Hyperdrive," Backer replied.

"Comin' right up." A moment later, Backer was sipping out of an ice-cold glass.

A scantily-clad blue Twi'lek dancer walked right up to him, swinging her hips, and sat on his lap. And here was the second activity at 79's. Clones would "relax" with the Twi'leks, get a drink, and do it all over again. The girl held his chin so that he was looking right into her emerald green eyes. She simply said, "Come with me."

The clone commander was tempted to do it, to have a night of fun and lollygagging. But no. He had a job to do. "No, thank you," he replied politely. The Twi'lek only looked disheartened for a moment, but then got up and walked away.

All of the sudden there was a roar of distress and a bang! bang! The clones all backed away from an area. Backer rushed to see what happened, letting his glass smash on the ground. Hardly pressing his way through the tightly packed crowed, he saw what had happened. Six clones, his choice of clones, lay on the ground, presumably dead. And there was Scrapper, hands shaking, gun in hand and pointed at his head. A final bang! and Backer dropped to the ground with Scrapper, grieving his friends' loss.

A/N Sorry about the cliff hanger, peeps. I had to to set up the next chapter correctly. Don't worry, though! I will have it out as soon as possible. This is my debut fic, so please dont fry me. Any constructive criticism and/or suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I think I've rambled on too long, so this is ArrowFalls, signing out.