MINDSPRING- Okay, this has just been waiting to come out! An epic Star Wars story never told, with action, romance, adventure, betrayal, and more! (Can I just whine for a little bit here? You can skip this little part, if you could care less, but…: Writing the POV from a pissed-off, no-nonsense, no-feeling clone Captain from a super-advanced-army is REALLY, REALLY HARD! Okay. I'm finished.)
The time is now 22 BBY, between the time of Episode 2 and 3, during the Clone Wars. Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ahsoka Tano are on their way to an unknown planet, where their troops under the command of Captain Rex have disappeared. Using the tracking signals on the clones' belts, they hope to find the 501st Legion alive.
Meanwhile, near/down on the mysterious new planet…
-Captain Rex-
I hate space fights.
When you lose a carrier, you lose two or three battalions of troops. And we just lost three carriers. An entire fleet, gone. Wasted.
This is why I much prefer ground battles. The tactics might be more difficult to carry out, yes, but usually the casualties are minimal. Dog fights in space leave no mercy for anyone, not even the injured. When a ship goes, everything and everyone on board goes as well.
Of course, it had been an ambush. Commander ordered a little-known smuggler's route to be taken to the Revelation, a small space station that served as a base for the Republic, near Ryloth. It had been built by Senator Ta, as a show of deep gratitude for rescuing his people when the planet had been taken over by Separatists. I still said that it was a mystery where he came by the money to build such a thing. I have my suspicions, but no one listens to a clone.
The Omega sector is a lifeless, barren part of the galaxy, out of reach and out of mind. Nothing was there, not even materials or resources. We would run into no Separatist fleets there.
Or so we thought.
Coming out of hyperspace, right next to the small asteroid belt that orbited the star, we were making smooth headway until LN-743619 noticed that three Separatist ships had pulled in on our bow, stern, and starboard sides. We were trapped between the asteroid belt and the three ships.
They began firing at us so quickly we had no hope of retaliating, because, of course, the first things they hit (and destroyed) were the guns. We did have the other two ships, but they were caught so of guard that they couldn't fire back in time. Or even bring their deflector shields up.
Luckily, Commander was so clear-headed that that was the very first thing he did when LN-743619 shouted the news. All of our shields were brought up to the three sides. However, it wouldn't last long, and they jammed our transmissions. They always seemed to do that. How annoying.
The other clones were working frantically, trying to make contact with another ship, any ship, to report our position before we were killed; trying to get the shields to last that much longer; and waiting for the Commander's orders. Another thing I dislike about space fights is that there are too many lives at stake, and too many lives in the way.
Commander observed the scene for a few seconds before he turned to me and said, "Get the men out of here."
"Sir, they will shoot at anything we launch!" Obviously.
He thought about that, and then turned to the pilot and said, "Try to get as close to that system there, so that when we launch the escape pods from the port side they will land. I will take a few fighters and try to battle our way out."
There were so many things wrong with this plan that I couldn't speak from astonishment. The longer I thought about it, the more glaringly stupid things appeared. Commander said, "Well, Captain? Give my orders and get to your pod!"
I sighed and put on my helmet. Orders were orders, after all. Through the comlink, I sent them out.
And not a moment to soon, for as soon as I did that, our shields failed. The smoke from the guns and the smells of burning metal, plus the screams of dying men proved to me that, no matter how idiotic and unlikely the orders were to get us out alive, we needed to get out now, and there was always that small chance someone would make it out alive.
The pilot, having already done his job, had just stood to flee when a falling transmitter, now useless, crashed on top of him. I felt an uncomfortable tugging in my stomach, as I always did when one of my brothers died in front of me. I murmured a quick Kamino prayer for the dead, and turned to see how many men had already evacuated. The deck was now almost empty, and I followed the last of the men and Commander out of the burning deck.
When we reached the pods, I gave Commander a final wish to succeed on his mission. We were now close enough to the small system, a blue and green one, that when we launched the pods the majority of them would enter the atmosphere and land safely.
A loud beeping sound filled the air as our droids warned the ship was collapsing, and would break apart in a few minutes. I climbed into the small pod with a few of the troopers I knew; Ash, Beta, Daro, and Nott. They were all under my command, and had actually been in my unit on Kamino.
It was silent as we launched, and we watched from the window as the small fleet of fighters, only five strong, and all different models, left the hanger and raced for the small gap between two of the Separatist ships. A fierce battle exploded in front of our eyes. The ships flew expertly in and out of the blaster fire from droid fighter. Three ships were destroyed from heat-seeking missiles; after trying to shake the missiles, it was of no use.
I gritted my teeth when I realized I should have stopped Commander from making this foolish move, and come up with a better, easily well-executed plan. We lost too many men, even for a dogfight. The casualties would be too many to count.
However talented a pilot is, one unlucky thing can cause his death.
The last two fighters were close to exiting the system when a flying piece of a fighter he had destroyed crashed into his starboard side. It wouldn't have been so horrible if the Separatist ship he was flying close to hadn't noticed the flames, and turned all of the blasters on all three frigates to the remaining two. By that time, however, the pod had rotated so much that we couldn't see the outcome.
I wasn't the only one outraged at this unlucky turn, but cursing it would do us no good. What we had to do now was concentrate on landing in a relatively safe place on this uninhabitable system, and figure out a way to contact anyone. Preferably a Republic ship.
I tried to see as much as I could of the other two carriers, and realized with sinking dread that they had been destroyed, and the remains sent into the asteroid belt.
We started to enter the atmosphere a few minutes later. It was silent in the pod, as all of the men could find no words to describe what had just happened. Other than a rather bumpy landing, and the metal exterior of the pod starting to melt from the heat of friction, it was a rather smooth ride, all things considered. The Separatists did notice the falling pods, but could only get two out of the six.
As we exited the pod, night was falling. We had crashed in a field of tall grasses, and after contacting other clones, realized that we had landed relatively close to them. As we regrouped and figured out who had survived, I looked up. In the starry night sky, I saw two things. The first being, the remnants of our frigates glowing brightly as they were swept away, high up in space; the second thing was that I was suddenly the highest-ranked clone.
"Alright, listen up! We need to scout out this area. This system may be in the Omega sector, but that doesn't mean something nasty isn't out there now. Chops, Lids! You two go!" They snapped a salute and shouldered their guns, turning to go.
But before they could even walk three paces, bright red blaster fire shot them both in the chest, and they were dead before they hit the ground. Surprised, but not frozen, I pulled out my own blasters and began firing in the direction they came from, while I ordered the men to take shelter behind the pods. Since it was so dark, we had to really on just the sounds to shoot at. We were fighting an invisible enemy, yet I would know that blaster sound anywhere.
"We're under attack!"
~Natalie~
I love that girl.
Seriously, Caitlin's, like, an angel to me. She totally rocks this world we call home!
Last night, on my way back from gymnastics practice, looking at my new messages, I found she had texted, like, seventy gazillion times, all saying the exact same thing:
Nat, u there? U hafta call me NOW!
Now, normally when I get a bunch of texts like that, I usually string out the anticipated call, to make the other person even more excited or frantic. Call me mean, but usually it's totally hilarious. But, it was Kit-Kat, so I obliged.
As I got into my brand new silver 2009 Porsche, I selected '1' on my speed-dial and waited, picking at my hot pink nail polish. On the third ring, she picked up, and before I could even muster a 'Hello!' she was dropping this bombshell on me:
"Nat, you have a gymnastics meet this weekend, right? Because I think it's near my grandparents' ranch, out south by Tonganoxie. So I made a few calls to the right people, and we can stay there, with Mo, for the entire week! Isn't that awesome?"
I turned that over in my mind. Usually, I hate ranches, or farms, the country in general. I don't mesh well with old furniture, old cars, or old animals. However, if it was the ranch I think she was talking about…
"Is this the one with, like, a hundred bedrooms and a pool?"
Through the phone, I heard her long and exhausted sigh. "Yes, Nat, it is. So what do you say?" Her voice had risen high like it does when she's super-duper excited about something. I grinned and pumped my fist in the air, pretending that we were sitting next to each other. "Hell's yeah, chiqua!" I cried.
As I started to drive away from the dark gymnastics center, I asked, "Have you called Mo yet?"
"Nope. I think her parents would get a little upset if I called them at 10:45."
I grinned and laughed. Mo's parents are strict. Strict to the twentieth digit, or whatever it's called. Stricter than the strictest nun at our school. Mo can't leave the house before she writes a note explaining where, when, why, how, and who; she has to brush her teeth for a full two minutes; she MUST be in bed by 10:30; and (God forbid!) she cannot, repeat cannot, ever even bring up the subject of the opposite sex. Ever. And it's too bad, because Mo's probably the funniest person I know, but she reminds me of a trapped animal. "True dat," I replied. "Give me the details!"
"Alright, we need to leave by…" Kit-Kat gave me a whole list of things I must do for, like, an hour, at least. By the time I pulled into the driveway of my home, she was barely halfway done. Finally I yawned so majorly huge that there was no way she could give me any more information.
When she finally hung up, I walked up to my room and fell, face-first, onto my huge bed. I sunk in at least three inches before I rolled over and went over my routine for the big meet this weekend: Nationals Qualifications.
My stomach sized up when I thought how close I was to getting national recognition. I had been doing this sport since I had been able to walk. At first, I did it only because my parents wanted me to be good at something. Then, I really started to get into it, fascinated by how, with time and patience, the body can move so limberly and beautifully.
It seemed like the only something I would ever be good at, as time passed.
School came hard for me. Other sports, forget it. Acting, no way. Writing was a joke. Politics and religion made me upset. Boys, well, boys weren't really a problem at first. But after I got depressed in seventh grade, it seemed boys could get me up for a few days. They were like my own personal drug. I felt awful, but I couldn't stop. In the last semester of seventh grade, I was walking out of my seventh hour class, at 3:47, in Room 17, (nope, not on the seventh level), when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The teacher had been particularly harsh on me that day, I remember. I was totally about to burst into tears the entire hour.
Anyway, Caitlin and Mo were standing there, and when they asked what was wrong, I really did burst into tears.
An odd way for an everlasting, ah-mazing friendship to begin, but, hey. Better than most stories out there.
MINDSPRING- I'm thinking that usually, the chapters won't be this long (I hope). I just needed an establishing chapter, so it will all come together rather smoothly. Please review! It means so much to me, and I'll send you cookies! (Figuratively… but it's the thought that counts, I guess…)
