ARC

Clone 46281 grimaced. Of all days, it had to be this one. The 5th Republic Clones were moving on a major stronghold of the Separatist movement, a fortress on a grey lunar planet. The Clone Army had the Separatists on the run, dodging back from system to system. This facility was rumored to be one of their major ionization plants- without the ionized veiwscreens, droid starfighters couldn't see- without being able to see, they would not be able to fly- without being able to fly, they wouldn't be able to fight against the Republic.

In charge of the elite group of clone troopers, a squad of ARC troopers known as Delta K-7,was Clone 46281, known to his troops as Commander, or by his 'name', a combination of letters that was supposed to identify clones from droids, Klik. The other four members of Delta K-7were Tracer, Shadow, Vape, and Flash. Together, the elite squad represented one of ten of the most deadly five man clone trooper units in the Republic military; Delta Troop.

"Sir, nearing destination," came the pilot over the intercom. K-7 checked their assorted gear; Tracer checked his missile launcher and sidearm pistol, Shadow his sniper rifle and sidearm, Vape his rifle, and Flash his demolitions bag and rifle. Commander Klik spun his dual miniaturized blaster rifles around on his fingers, sliding them neatly into their respective leg holsters on his shiny white armor, traced with worn red highlights all around, the dull crimson curling around the expressionless black veiwspace on his helmet.

The doors on either side of the Republic gunship slid open, providing the clones with a spectacular view of the grey lunar plain beneath them, and then of the small city sitting just at the base of the Separatist fortress, rising like a monolith into the expressionless grey sky. All around them, Klik could see where the rest of the 5th Clones would be landing, most of them moving quickly across the plain below to get to the city under a constant artillery barrage. Even from this distance, Klik could see those artillery pieces, as well as the numerous anti-air turrets that prevented the army from deploying closer to the city.

That was why they were being dropped here three days in advance of the invasion, to destroy those massive artillery pieces so the clone landing would be possible. The guns counted five in all, spread evenly through the city in a semicircle around the base of the hill on which the Separatist plant lay. Each gun was in the center of a heavily defended bunker; taking each individually would take too much time. The clones had discovered a passageway underneath the bunkers that connected them all. The passages were unknown to the Separatists, or so they had been told.

The gunship swooped down and settled onto a rooftop on the very outskirts of the city. Any closer would have been risking detection. But at this range they were safe. Klik stepped off the gunship…

A resounding blast shook the very air. Light flashed painfully bright and fire lashed out through the encircling tendrils of smoke. Klik was hurled to the ground, pressing against the duracrete rooftop as though it was the only thing he had ever known. Then it was all over. All except the ringing in his ears, and the slowly clearing smoke.

Blasterfire was the first thing he heard, first the quick fire of a blaster rifle, then the sharp, business-like report of Shadow's sniper. Three times the sniper cracked, then all fell silent.

Klik stood and strode slowly over to the other four members of his squad, silently glad to see them alive. He didn't even have to ask for a report before the white with grey uniformed Shadow spoke up;

"Sir, regret to report no one is alive on the gunship." (Klik wondered if the blackened excuse for metal remaining could even be considered a gunship anymore) "There were two of them, both rocket launcher droids, I got them both before they could get away, but I'm not sure if they got off any transmissions."

They both knew that the droids probably had, and there was no need to voice their increasingly worse predicament. Klik swore softly; so much for going in undetected.

"Alright, listen up people. The Separatists know we're here, and our ride out 's been blasted," he gestured to the smoldering remains, as if daring anyone to contradict his last statement. There were no takers. "The only thing left to do is continue with the mission, and try to have those guns down in three days. After that… well, we'll try to make it out when the first wave gets in. With that said… squad, move out. Secure a nearby building, and we'll go from there." Klik didn't even try to make them think they had a good chance making out of here alive. When the final attack came… they all knew the truth.

Klik followed his squad down to the street, a cool alleyway that prevented the glaring sun from striking on their white armor, giving away their position. Down here, though, they felt safe. Klik and his men broke open a deserted house; one a few blocks away from their downed transport. They wanted to be far enough away from the gunship when the cavalry showed up to check it out the wreckage, yet close enough to survey the location. They made quick work of the abandoned home; efficiently turning furniture into fortifications. In a few standard hours, the clones had made the single room of the house well defensible, the only door being their target. While the squad had been working on the interior, Flash had made the rooftop porch a great sniping post, yet was well concealed from the air.

Once the arrangements were made, all five clones gathered in the living area of the house, and planned their next move. It was clear to the group that they only had three days left to complete the mission, so they all listened solemnly as dusk fell around the largely deserted town.

"Delta's we've got a situation on our hands. Tomorrow morning the crash site will be crawling with droids. They'll know we're here, and the mission will be blown, unless…" he trailed off dramatically for effect. "Unless we do something to make them believe differently. I'm open to ideas. Anyone?" Klik scanned the room. The troopers remained silent. Klik sighed. Then, tentatively, Flash raised his armored gauntlet.

"Being the computer expert here, I think that we have one of two options. We either shoot ourselves and put our bodies among the wreckage, or… we could capture a droid, do some fancy programming on it, pull its communications antennae off, and make it think that it killed us but lost its communications in the process. The droid will have a faked recording of us being blown up, of course, and if we get lucky the Separatists will think we are dead, and not a threat." He finished.

"Giving us the advantage." Concluded Kilk. He knew exactly what Flash was talking about. But it wouldn't be easy. Exactly like something he himself would have suggested, he thought in slight amusement. He almost smiled. Almost, but not quite.

"Since there are no other suggestions, I guess a vote isn't necessary. We need to place the droid before sunrise, so we've got a long night ahead of us. Shadow, you and Vape go and get us a droid. Make sure it is intact, of course. Flash you need to begin putting together this program that tells the droid its killed us in the gunship. I have some computer experience-I'll build a recording to input in the droid's visual. Tracer, you're on watch duty on the roof. Move out." Klik immediately moved to one of the room's two computer terminals. He was gonna be tired tomorrow.

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Sunrise came bright and cheerful, spreading warm light over the deserted city and the fortress, making the scene nearly friendly. Nearly. The droid patrol ship cruised low over the city, coming in on repulsorlifts near the crash site, joining the twenty or so droids already sweeping the area. A crack team of Separatist soldiers- one of the only human units in the Movement- was interrogating a lone missile droid, standing nerdy the wreckage of the clone gunship, which several scanner droids were sweeping furtively.

"So, obviously they were destroyed. The optical recordings and sensor information both confirm Unit 23435675346543632000's reports. The clone team- probably only a few crack troops- were eliminated in the explosion. What worries me is this change in strategy. The Republic has no group of elite clones, at least not that we know about. They've never tried this kind of infiltration technique." Commander Rolth Terrhanus starred frostily down at the sensor screen, which played the optical feed from the missile droid over and over. This wasn't good.

Everything about Commander Terrhanus was evil. From his cold, piercing stare, to the grey, trim cloak swirled around his tightly pressed military pants, he was completely hard in appearance. But just his outward appearance could be dealt with. It was the inner Rolth that drove people nearly insane with fear.

Rolth never grew uncontrollably angry. It was his hard, emotionless personality, and his logical mentality that had earned him his position. Some compared him to a droid, because of his seemingly completely emotionless composure. It was thought that this was just a mental barrier he himself had erected. But still… No, if there was a barrier it was a very thick one. But what most frightened people about Rolth(although frightened is really too nice a word for it) was his innermost secret. Something so horrifying, that everyone who knew would either be completely paralyzed, or would die within a day.

Rolth had no mind.

As it was, he did have a mind, meaning in that he did posses one. All the important parts were there, like breathing, heartbeat etc. But where emotions, thoughts, feelings were supposed to go, there was… nothing. Instead, the entire remaining cavity was a giant computer.

Rolth was a project. Several years earlier, sometime around the Battle of Geneosis, in a secret medlab, he had been selected at random from his low ranking position in the separatist union. He had been put under, waking up a few days later with nothing to show for his experience than the scars on his forehead. He himself hadn't known exactly what they had done over that time period, until they activated their extra mind s few nights later…

He remembered the chill, awaking in a sweat, cold and afraid… then, he felt hard and solid, no more emotions, no more fear, just a sweeping vast mass of hard knowledge. Not like where your friends sit at lunch knowledge, or even raw math teacher calculations gibberish knowledge. But a wide understanding knowledge, that gave him a way to second guess people in a Jedi-like way without using the Force. He had such a good tactical and strategically enhanced center built in his mind, he could figure out the only logical thing for someone to do, and then take measures to prevent it… This tactic proved its worth in the form of the three dully glinting lightsabers hanging at his belt, and the numerous glorious victories made in his name for the droid armies of the Separatist movement. He had had the makings of a career… and then it had all been taken away. He had been only the prototype…

Then came Grievous. Although he used a similar method of thinking, Grievous was not Oorth Tun's (leader of the Galactic Banking Clan) brainchild. He was Count Dooko's. And suddenly, he wasn't important. Before Rolth's true talents could be revealed by Tun, Grievous had taken everything. Promoted over Rolth's head, put in a high ranking field command, and being given the task of spearheading the extermination of the Jedi. He had the highest kill rate of Jedi of anyone in the records, seconded by none other than Rolth. Of course, the records didn't show that. Unused, pushed to the side, Rolth was pushed aside by Oorth Tun, who wished to continue with his devious designs(if you're wondering what they are, don't, because all good authors leave the reader in some suspense at some time. Besides, you'll know soon enough.) And so, Commander Rolth Terrhanus was here, everywhere except where he wanted to be.

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