The first true chapter! Thanks to all who have been patient enough for me to post this, as I know a lot of you hate waiting. (Even if it is a week.) Once again, I don't own Star Wars and am not plotting to make money from this, so Mr. Lucas can pack away his lawyers. Read and review everyone- it's nice to know if this fanfic's wanted or not!

Chapter 1: Explosive Farewells.

"I'm tellin' ya, Onyx. The guy's a nut," Proclaimed Scope, out of breath, as he attempted to keep up with the clone in front of him. "You know how Shrapnel tends to be absent minded," he gulped another breath of air. "when it comes to anything that isn't about to explode. He accidentally wiped the data core, and now HE's gotten angry."

"Double-you tee eff? So what you're trying to tell me is that Shrapnel's having a tantrum over something he did that's his own fault? Zomgosh. That bizatch needs me to channel some pwnage into his neural processors." Chipped in the dark green and black patterned clone to the right of Onyx. The troopers proceeded to dash down the well-lit silver corridor, and upon rounding one of the smoothly curved corners, they reached Delta Dorm.

"Not quite Shrapnel having a tantrum, Hax. Not quite..."

The three commandos stared onwards into a scene of pure anarchy. Tables were upturned, and there were broken pieces of weaponry and empty shells littering the floor like some form of grim snowfall. Most of the maintenance droids were already attempting to clean up some of the debris, whilst others were attempting to reconstruct parts of the wall that had chunks blown out of them. In the middle of all the bedlam was a red-patterned commando unit. Unlike Scope's neat red colour scheme, the red paint used for decoration seemed almost splattered across this soldier's front, as if he were the victim in an accident involving a chain saw and several unsuspecting innocent bystanders.

Above the walking gore-fest was another black trooper, with various hints of yellow markings. This trooper's position was not on a balcony or any usual form of elevation however, but was attached to the ceiling with his legs spread out like a great black spider. He hung there with the aid of what looked to be a ridiculously over-stylised set of 'gothic' grappling hooks, and stayed perfectly still. Only the blue technical read-outs moved on the inside of his helmet faintly to indicate brain activity.

"Just come down, Shrapnel! I swear; I won't do anything!" called the red sniper, his voice deep and gruff, with a thin mist of deadly sarcasm. It was the kind that was debatable as to what its true intent was, whether for good or not. Either way, the sarcasm seemed to pass straight over the ceiling-borne Shrapnel, who promptly let off a rumble of static from his helmet that reminded the onlooking troopers disturbingly of a snake's hiss.

"The spider waits for the prey to come to IT, Sev. I won't come down until you drop that ECD grenade you have behind your back."

"Better'd shut it, wise-guy. I may just chuck a thermal instead."

The three black troopers witnessing this incredible war of wit looked at each other, and despite having helmets, rolled their eyes in unison. Ever since Gamma Squad had been stationed with the Deltas there had been some nasty skirmishes between the group's members: a factor that the Kaminoans hadn't accounted for. The arguments were mainly to do with Sev and Shrapnel, or with Fixer generally complaining about the lack of discipline when it came to Gamma Squad's lacklustre approach to tidying their quarters. Of course, when Scorch's bunk was beginning to look similar to a scrap yard and Sev's was beginning to look like a bizarre museum of enemy scalps (Which Fixer was beginning to believe it was) he managed to turn a blind eye and carry on with his computer hacking.

Banishing these thoughts from his mind, Onyx tried to seize at least some control of the situation and made a half-hearted gesture towards Sev.

"Come off it Sev. You're breaking protocol blowing up the quarters. Save your ammunition for something that truly counts- like melting droid exoskeletons."

Sev's gaze fixed itself on the newcomers- Onyx, Scope and Hax. He snorted loudly to indicate is disapproval of being ordered by someone from a different squad.

"He wiped my kill tracker," he replied simply. Scope decided to pipe in:

"It was an accident! He didn' wanna annoy you!"

Onyx and Hax got a distinct sense of Sev silently sniggering behind his visor, and couldn't help smiling at his dedication to his enemy's body-count.

"Ju can always start again, lol." Added Hax, his computer dialect providing a surreal edge to the conversation.

"I intend to," growled Sev. "... By making sure that my first entry is HIM."

"Pfft. You'll have to catch me first."

The three Gamma Squad members and Sev glanced around the dorm- Shrapnel was nowhere to be seen. An awkward pause followed.

Hax broke the silence: "Fierfek. How the hell does he do that?"

There was another embarrassing pause.

"Hax?

"... Yers?"

"Did you just speak rationally?"

"Erm... No?"

"Just checking," Onyx replied. "Just checking..."

xxx

"Yes, Forty-two, I understand."

I wasn't often the 'RC-1138' had a chance to stand before Advisor. He had only previously met Forty-two on a couple of occasions, and all had been brief, though nonetheless memorable. Rarely meeting did not necessarily mean they were apart, however- through every mission that 38's squad had been on, Advisor had sat there, handing ever useful instructions via the com-link The thought 'Thus saving all our bacon more often than not...' flashed through 38's head briefly.

"Good. See these skirmishes stop."

"They shall, though you still don't have the authority to boss me around, Forty-two," chuckled Boss in reply.

"Three-eight, this is most serious. I doubt Gamma Squad's faced anything nearly as scary as Oh-Seven in a fight." Came Advisor's response with a touch of well-trimmed glee.

"Sev? Nah- he'd never do anything too rash. He loves all living creatures, great and small."

At this, both clones let off a loud chuckle at their personal joke, and sat down at the stainless steel desk. Advisor was a special clone- neither a drone nor a commando, nor even an ARC trooper. He was a communications officer, designed for the sole purpose of keeping in contact with Delta Squad and helping them out in the field. If you wanted a squadron of flying death-ships to blow something up whilst on a mission, Forty-two-Advisor-was the one to contact. Naturally, this meant that Advisor had a lot of time on his hands. Though his portable 'office' was full already to the seeming brim with tracking devices, micro-cameras and communication aerials, you could perhaps spot one of many holopapers with half completed crosswords if you looked carefully enough. A diode in the background flashed a bright red warning light. Advisor flicked a switch and it went off.

"Trouble?" Enquired Boss.

"Perhaps, though replacing light bulbs isn't my job." Advisor granted himself another small chuckle.

"It's not often we meet. It's also less often that you share a joke with me. What's wrong?"

Advisor coughed slightly, and typed a few words onto his computer.

"All right then. What's going to go wrong for me?" Continued Three-eight. There was no reply. Advisor thrust a holo-message into 38's hands. Three eight didn't open it.

"New mission... infiltration job on a Separatist base. A shipyard, to be precise. The Tapani sector's where you're next headed with your squad." Said Advisor finally.

"No problem; we've infiltrated worse." Thirty eight said with uncertainty.

"I doubt it. The reason for this mission is to sabotage a new hyperdrive tech. The Bothans that provided us with the Intel claim that it's the tech that was responsible for the destruction of the Introspection last week."

Three-eight remained silent. The rest of the office hummed gently, as if to soothe him.

"I understand if you don't wish to do it. I can easily give the job to Gamma Squad, Boss."

Three-eight was taken aback by the use of his nickname, and tried to break the silence. A farely broken and indiscriminate "I...I..." was all he could manage. Boss fell silent and chose to look at the floor; a dead weight in his chest.

"Fourteen was a comrade, wasn't he?" Came the voice from across the table. Right now, Boss could barely tell it was Advisor speaking.

"I saw Prime off when he left." Spoke Boss, and smiled slightly: "Heh, the bugger said he'd be back for afternoon rations... Me and Fixer watched the Introspection launch..." He muttered pathetically. "We'll do it. If only as a mark of respect for him at least."

"And at most?" Enquired Advisor.

"At most we'll do it to piss off Gamma squad."

The two clones shared one last chuckle in each other's presence, and shook hands. Boss straightened his back and performed the Republic Salute:

"Glad to be aboard."

"Of course you are. You'll leave almost immediately- get suited up, Delta-Lead."

Boss exited Advisor's room as quickly as he'd arrived, closed the door behind him, and set off at a brisk pace to the quarters.

xxx

Gamma squad had a full turn out in order to pay their farewells to their clone cousins. Perhaps it was out of sheer rivalry or of some deep-set respect one cannot say, but nevertheless, Onyx, Scope, Shrapnel, Hax and their communications officer 'Cypher' were lined up in the dorm. Cypher shifted slightly and cracked his knuckles: he had the same job as Advisor- communications officer. It was because this was so that he wasn't in the customary colours of the other commandos: a fact that was so very obvious when stood next to the predominantly black Gamma Squad. Onyx was the first to step forward- the now suited-up Boss held out an orange patterned hand of friendship. Onyx didn't take it.

"Just keep your band away from my lads. I can't account for their behaviour if another of your nut cases attacks them," He growled. "That is, of course, if you manage to get back in one piece. I doubt it though."

Boss's worn face split into a smile in return, and his opposition did the same and flashed a wink. Onyx slapped him on the arm and held it there. "Don't hurt them too much, Boss."

In the background stood Delta Squad, with Fixer, Scorch and Sev in their usual coded colours. Fixer was looking with mild interest and Scorch's face was screwed up in concentration. Sev was paying little attention, preferring to tighten a joint on his DC-17m. Scorch nudged him tentatively:

"Izzit me... Or do those two dislike each other?"

In response, Sev slapped a hand to his forehead and hunched his shoulders, and Fixer shook his head in dispair. "They're pod brothers, 62," answered Four-Oh. "They've always been like this."

Scorch paused a second and thought to himself.

"Oh." He replied simply.

Boss turned back to the Deltas, raised his left arm and made a fist:

"Delta Squad- let's form up!"