Finally! I'm back from the depths of the Smelting Pit! There's no force in the Universe capable of killing me! MEAHAHAHA! XD

Ehem, sorry…

Ok this is just a one-shot that popped on my head recently. I had to upload it.

I was thinking about those massive Clone Armies in the movies, I feel very sorry for them Clones. So I suddenly placed myself in the shoes (or boots?) of a Clone Trooper and started drabblin' about. Sorry if it's too OOC.

First Star Wars-related fic ever wrote by me. Be kind to Aron, my Clone, please. .

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, Mr. Lucas does. I own a parrot and a rabbit.

CLONE TROOPER

Have you ever wondered how's it like to wake up and find about a hundred other guys identical to you? Have you ever stopped to think of the value of been treated as a single being? Have you ever gave said value to your uniqueness? No, I'm sure you have not. I have seen people bitching about because others do not accept them because they are different. To hell with that! I bet that when you have been living a 'normal' life for so long one comes to realize that's all futile, not worth a single thought, I think it's just so wrong but who am I to judge you? Nobody. I'm just another Clone.

Ever since I've got memories none of us has been treated like a human being. Kaminoans kept us in large groups, always locked inside vast, brightly illuminated white rooms, maybe too bright for my liking. They taught us many things; from piloting almost every kind of ship there is in the Republic to hacking into any hi-tech system. Besides, they taught us the arts of war long before we knew what it was, entirely dedicating our lives to an accelerated instruction to serve a cause we didn't know existed in a place we've never seen before. However, we accepted all of this with total apathy, almost as if it was our "default" purpose of life.

I shall admit some of us had better luck. Those who excelled the others in a certain subject were then assigned to different areas and only then they gained a certain level of autonomy… and something many of us would wish to have: A name. Can you believe it? Perhaps you don't like your name and use an alias instead, yet have you ever imagined how would your life be like without a name, a number at least? It is clear to me that the Clones who stands up from the rest are those whose genetic codestill preserves some of its original nature and that's what gives them skills and earns them their privileges.

On the other hand, I wonder what would the Kaminoans think if they knew that not only their "Alpha Clones" –To give 'em a name- can develop a certain mental autonomy? Wipe 'em out perhaps, or reassigning them… who knows.

I don't know if there are others like me, if they have been already created or have died as many others. I'd like to know but I'm afraid my own commanding officers would kill me if they knew what I am. After all, a Clone's not supposed to be asking around, not irrelevant questions of course (Irrelevant?) since we are supposed to lack any feelings.

Whatever…

I never had what other humanoid creatures call "infancy". I do remember having seen a boy identical to us all once toddling around our training area. He wasn't wearing the same clothes as the rest and seemed, if ever, that he was younger than anyone of us. I remember thinking there weren't any new "series" recently created in the meantime and it was way too weird to see one like that… Then that man walked in calling his name. The boy had a name! Boba. When that boy saw the man he smiled and ran to his side, hugging him for a brief second. I then understood that that kid was not one of us.

I saw him again after some time and I felt as if my heart tried to get out of my chest when my eyes fell upon him… I already looked like a teenager while he still looked like a kid. I was shocked to know of everything we were deprived of! There was a moment when I wanted to stand up and ask out loud "Why?" "What for?" but I held myself back as always. I have to admit I'd never question my superiors even if their orders didn't make sense. If they gave the order to blow a whole planet full of innocent souls, just for the sake of it I'd not hesitate. They know why they do what they do after all.

Day after day I see how thousands and thousands of us die in the battlefield; In Naboo, in Coruscant, in Dantooine, in the whole Galaxy for that matter. Comrades and even friends; faithful friends –If you believe just because we are Clones we can't have friends then you're terribly wrong- have vanished as murkily as they appeared without leaving a trace nor a legacy of some kind; Just a mere statistical number in the Supreme Chancellor's computer data banks. Indeed, I'm surprised I've made it this far already. Me, a simple infantry soldier has had enough guts (?) or possibly luck to have survived so many battles we fought alongside the Jedi knights to protect the Republic.

Don't ask me anything about this intergalactic conflict; I don't know a single byte about it: Only that there are neither winners nor losers. In this war like in all others before since the beginning of time, winners do not exist, whatever other people say.

I know none of this babbling is of your interest. If you've made it this far it's because at least I've awaken your curiosity. I hope so. The lines I write aren't meant to become a literary piece nor a document of importance. They only exist as a proof of life, of my life: One of so many in this homogeneous army. I don't expect you to learn anything from my own experience. Whether you think this is worth or not I don't really care. I could only say tha---

The last entry in the datapad was unconcluded. The young Jedi checked the last modification date in the small plasma screen just above what seemed to be the pad's owner's name, the date: one day before. She sighed remembering that the Clone squad living in this now abandoned, half-destroyed convoy had been sent to fight a few hours ago. Last news they received was that the Separatist Army had dispatched them all, leaving no one alive, reducing them to a handful of weary Jedi knights fighting all by themselves, not a problem but a delay, she thought as she stood up.

She gave a last glance to the small datapad held on her hand. Shutting it off she put it inside a small bag in her cloak, running back to the battlefield to accomplish her mission not stopping a second to wonder what this singular Clone's name would have been.