Of Katarn's and Goblins Interlude 1


Of Droids and Dangers

= = = Baktoid Combat Automata Systems Edition v225.121 = = =

= = PROPERTY OF THE TRADE FEDERATION (?)= =

= LICENSED TO THE CONFEDERACY OF INDEPENDENT SYSTEMS =

SLEEP MODE

POWER CONSUMPTION REDUCED BY

50%

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An image flashes of a silhouette standing above him, pitchfork in hand.

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Another image flashes, the light of electrical sparks as control of his limbs are returned to him.

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Scheduled work time upcoming. Awaking unit BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4…

Current Date: 15: 1: 23

Time Elapsed: [12] Standard Hours

Auxiliary Battery Life: 52% (~1 week of battery life remaining)

ALERT

Unit [BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4] is [OVERDUE] for a [24] standard hour memory wipe by [216] Standard Hours.

Please report to your local Separatist Command Center for Scheduled Wipe

Quickly unfolding itself from the storage position, its working photoreceptor came to life as he slowly began to rise from underneath the rocks above him.

Now getting up to full height, he quickly ran a diagnostic check on the entirety of his systems. It didn't take long, and it was done with relative swiftness since nothing had changed since he got here.

Once completed, he looked around the surrounding area, seeing where he had chosen to set up camp for the past few days.

It was the small patch of the forest he originally found, however, within it was a relatively small grotto. It was good shelter from the elements and from the prying eyes of the locals.

He had been stuck on this planet for the past five days and had so far made good use of the time here. He had done his best to make a fake bush that could be used to hide his makeshift shelter and had scouted the nearby settlements.

Looking at his own image in the still water of the grotto, he could see the recent weld mark to his head which shut kept it shut from the environment.

If he was organic, it most likely would've taken weeks to heal, but a bit of scrap metal allowed for it to be sealed within no time.

This was one of the many superiorities of being a droid over any carbon-based lifeform.

For the information he had collected about this planet, he was mostly limited to the nighttime, but he still discovered many new insights.

For starters, he quickly learned that this planet had sentient humanoids in it and that these humanoids fit the technology level of 'Feudal', and a projected calculation could very well put this planet under classification 'Uncontacted'.

From what he could gather from his data banks, that type of classification was rare, for most Feudal planets were either colony of previously existing or currently existing space-faring civilizations which knew the methods of space travel or were currently being exploited by the more advanced nations in the wider galaxy.

Second, the unit had also found a sign in Aurebesh, which was rather strange given that this place lacked space travel, but it was a boon that it was one of the pre-programmed languages in his system. The sign itself was shaped as a directional arrow, and the script on said sign stated 'Frontier Town'.

Which meant that this area was on the fringes of civilization, which was both a good and bad thing. It was good because of the ability to remain undetected and out of the prying eyes of the sentients of this world.

Third, being an infiltration unit designed for tasks that his lesser B1's or bulker B2s couldn't handle, had managed to scale the walls and enter the town for a night. There was nothing within the said town to signify any allegiances to any existing faction within known space, however, there were a few solid color banners that may indicate allegiance to feudal lords, further supporting the possibility that this planet is the classification of 'Feudal Uncontacted'.

He did however manage to take a few metal rods which said rods now sat next to the battery within his little grotto.

With all currently operational systems working nominally he moved to the rods, photoreceptor on the items next to the last crate.

The spare starship power cell was close to completion, and in theory, it should function properly, all he would need now is a rod to channel a source of energy into it. He had repurposed one of the crates acquired to be a proper base to ground said rod.

Deciding that there was nothing more to wait for, he began his work fashioning a rod that could harness the electricity that would come from a thunderstorm.

Using the fusion cutter, he welded the metal rods into a proper lightning rod as best as he could, pondering the calculations running in the background of his processors while he worked.

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[Background Calculation]

Observation:

Planet Tech Level [Feudal]; Space farer presence [None observed] leading to [Uncontacted] assumption.

Conclusion: This [Feudal Uncontacted] planet may possibly be a lost colony. Many theories include a catastrophic event leading to a technological regression.

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With most of the wielding now done, dissatisfaction was processed in his processors as it realized that he had not collected enough metal.

Once more, calculations ran in its processors.

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Issue:

Lacking material.

Recommended Actions:

Repurpose the remaining metal crate? (Negative; Single crate to securely store any items of importance from potential scavengers.)

Go to [Frontier Town] and [acquire] material? (Negative; previous acquisition of material most likely reported, risk of detection high.)

Go to a local settlement and [acquire] material? (Affirmative; probability of detection low)

Which settlement? (Nearest settlement; a pasture with passive livestock; known inhabitants; three)

Threat Level [LOW]: One elderly man; Occupation - farmer, One adult woman; Occupation - farmer, One adult male; Occupation – Soldier? Mercenary?

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Holstering the fusion cutter on the magnetized weapon holder on his back, he moved out of the grotto, ensuring to properly camouflage the entrance once more.

Standing out in the early night moonlight, his audio receptors picked up the sounds of the wind breezing along and his internal thermostat detected the temperature of the environment around him, nearing 10.2 degrees standard.

It was not cold enough to hinder any warm-blooded creature, sentient or not; but for cold-blooded creatures, it would certainly lower their efficiency if not properly insulated.

And for a machine such as himself, only weather of extreme cold or extreme heat would even have a chance of hindering him.

As BX-X100 approached the outermost fence of the farm, the droid opted to hug close to it, minimizing its size to remain hidden.

These wooden fences provided little cover, however, thanks to the cloudy night tonight, it made it much easier to hide in the darkness.

Slowly, he made his way from fence to fence, getting closer to the inner sections of the pasture, before. At least half an hour passed before he finally made it to one of the two barns a distance away from the main homestead.

Turning his head fully to one side, he activated his heat sensor modification.

A moment after activating, it began to flicker, but it was more than enough to see if there were any inhabitants in the said barn.

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[SCANNING…]

Building:

Barn [1]

Observations:

No life forms detected.

Barn door unlocked

Conclusion:

Use main entrance.

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With the analysis complete, he deactivated the heat sensor and swiftly moved to the front of the barn. Lightly pulling at the door, he could tell that it was unlocked, the door opening slightly.

Sneaking into it, he immediately saw several small swords in a barrel and a bag next to it

A bookshelf resided on another side of the barn, with various tomes pertaining to a number of natural subjects, such as chemistry and 'alchemy', with many scrolls rolled up beside said books.

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[SCANNING…]

Container:

Barrel; Wooden, [2] Iron rings.

Contents:

Swords; [6] Swords, most likely steel

Condition:

Good

Conclusion:

[Acquire] and repurpose.

Container:

Bag; Linen and cotton.

Contents:

Primitive Armor; Half Plate fragments and chainmail with leather.

Condition:

Decent; Dirty but serviceable.

Conclusion:

[Acquire] and repurpose.

[Recommended Action]

Put on [Acquired] gear

Use [Acquired] gear for proper infiltration of the [Frontier Town]

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Reaching into the bag, it could see a helmet, which seemed to properly cover the entirety of one's face. His sensors immediately recognized that it belonged to one of the three inhabitants of this farm.

Putting a free hand up to where his vocabulator was, he spoke, using snippets of recorded conversation.

"Yes. I see. That's good. I'll be headed to the guild tomorrow."

He hadn't collected much of the individual speaking, however if these samples proved anything, it should be enough.

Seeing a set of armor and how it looked like, he could tell it covered up most of the wearers body. Piece by piece, he began to put on the armor to see how it would fit on his chassis.

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Observation:

Unit [BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4] is taller than who the armor is fitted for, however body is completely concealed.

Estimated height difference: [0.81 meters]

Conclusion:

Uncertain: I ș̴̅ ̵̥̀͌t̴͕̏h̵͉̾i̴̩͇͘̕s̴͕͙̒̊̍ ̵̲̌̚f̷̗̱͕̿̂̕ā ͇̑s̶̨͉̽͐h̵̥͉͙̅̿i̷̗̦̯͛o̵͔͝n̶͓͈̊̚? ̣͙̮̈

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Deciding that some data needed to be collected before he decided whether or not it should be repurposed, he exited the barn, and hopped right over the fence. Once more, he began moving forward, opting to circle back to his makeshift base of operations.

As he got closer to the next barn, he could hear the sounds of livestock in the nearby barn.

That was unusual, due to the schedule this area seemed to follow, these animals should be asleep.

Which meant that something that is not routine is occurring. A few steps forward, and a rather large hole in the side of the barn.

Peeking into it, he once again activated his thermal sight, flickering to life as he turned his photoreceptor inwards.

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[SCANNING…]

Barn [2]

Lifeforms Detected:

[40] Lifeforms detected:

[39] Bovidae-like lifeforms; [1] Canidae-like lifeforms.

[Analyzing vocal patterns]

[39] Bovidae-like lifeform; [38] Distressed (79% Accurate/ 21% Error Margin); [1] harmed (90% Accurate/ 10% Error Margin)

[1] Canidae-like lifeform; [1] Hostile (63% Accurate/ 37% Error Margin)

[Recommended Actions]

Canidae-like lifeform is a total of [8]feet long and [5] feet tall:

Threat Assessment [MODERATE RISK]

Ignore: Proceed back to camp.

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Immediately, he could tell that this 'Canidae-like' lifeform was unlike any of the ones he had seen on Cossul III, this one being at least twice the size of one.

As he turned to continue his way back to his camp, his audio receptors heard the sounds of the dirt crunching nearby.

It didn't need a thorough analysis to tell that it was bipedal.

Reactivating his thermal sight once more, he looked for its source.

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[SCANNING…]

Source Located:

Lifeform detected:

Humanoid, Female.

Figure identifiable:

[1] of the [2] known inhabitants of this settlement.

[Recommended Actions]

Posture indicated individual is armed with a farming tool:

Threat Assessment [LOW RISK]; Encounter Risk: Negligible

Continue with mission: Ignore and return to camp.

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Thermal sights still active, he peeked around the corner he hid behind to get a better view of the individual.

He could see this woman was armed with a pitchfork.

A quick scan revealed to him that this item was indeed the very same pitchfork that once had the MG-Restraining bolt attached to it.

If that pitchfork belonged to the inhabitants of the farm, then that would mean that one of them liberated him from the control of that restraining bolt.

With that logic processed, a new set of calculations were created in seconds given the variables known.

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[Running Hypothetical Simulation…]

Humanoid, Female is [LOW RISK] relative to [Unit BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4]

Canidae-like lifeform is [MODERATE RISK] relative to [Unit BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4]

With proper adjustments to [Threat Assessment Matrix]:

To Humanoid Female: Canidae-like lifeform is [EXTREME RISK]

Encounter Risk: [FATAL]

[Recommended Actions]

Ignore: Continue to base. (Negative; High possibility individual liberated [Unit BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4] from the control of a G.A.R. MG-Restraining Bolt)

Ignore: Unit combat effectiveness decreased. (Negative; Currently, there is only a [17%] decrease in combat effectiveness; Minimum decrease in combat threshold to warrant concern is [25%])

Ignore: Observe and document the result. (Negative; Result predictable, individual will die, no new insights will be acquired: W̶̖̓͗h ŷ̶̮͘ ̵͇͠ẅ̷́͘͜ớ̷̼̦û l d̵̮͔̄̌ ̶͖̭͂̉y̷̖̯͋̒o û ̵̝͖̆d ̋̄o̴̼͘̚ ̵̼̌͗ţ ̈h ä̷̮̜t̵̞͝? )

Ignore: The lives of natives are not your concern. (Negative; If̴͚̓ͅ ̳̀s̶̪̕̚h è̵̝́ ̵̧̱̀f̶̞͛͝r̶͍̰̾̍e̷͈͕̚e̵͔̤͑d̴͇͖̅ ̶̱̓̕m̵̮͑͝ĕ̶̥̳́ f̵̱̽̿ͅr̴̛̰ȯ̶̡͖m̶͚̅ ̵̧̲̋͑t̶̫̒h̶͙̘̉è̵̡ ̵̢̔̅ȑ̴̻͝e̴̱͛ś̵̛̠̬ṱ̷́r̷̳̎̋͜ą̷̄́i̶̡̫̓ ̋͝ ̴̞͋͐ͅb̷̳͒̽ô l̶͔̝̀̀t ̳̤̓͝,̴̙͌̉ ̴͎͕͌d̴̛̹͌ȏ̵̥͉́ ̶͕̒̆Į ̵̟̆̔ṅ̴̘̂͜ò t̵̜̫̐͝ ̈ò̵͉͚͊ẉ̸͖̌͛e̶̡̍̊ ̶͙͛h̶̨̒͝e̷͈̽r̶̝̲̍?̷̖̄̔)

Intervene: Fight the beast P̴̯̞͊͐r̵̡̦̃̑ḛ̸̇v̵̖̎e̶̻͌̈́n̶̯̜͠͝ṫ̷̢̘͐ ̵͓̦͝a̴̞̜̓ ̶̞͑͒ḑ̵̆ͅe̷͖͐á̷̤t h̴̡̛͓͆ : (Affirmative)

[Confirmation]

Action is not advised; Will you proceed?

(Affirmative; I̷̭͖͊ť̴̟͠'̷̖̈̇ŝ̶̮̰ ̀͜m̵̞̭͛ŷ̷̦̰ ̃c̵͇̰̒h ̀̆͜o̴̼͂̈́i̷̾͜c̶͓̾e̴̬̿͝)

[Processing Decision…]

Decision Processed; Available armament; Steel short swords [5], round shield [1].

Calculating odds…

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As he went into motion, his audio receptors picked up the sounds of the quadruped moving towards the door, and soon after the forceful throwing open of said barn doors what he believed to be the sound of the wind being knocked out of a lifeforms lungs.

Running around the corner to the front of the barn, he could see the woman face to face with this beast.

A stream of data could be seen in the corner of his eye, such as how this individual was exhibiting higher levels of stress and fear.

According to the data, they were currently petrified as they frantically moved backward.

Wasting no time, a quick readout of the Canidae-like showed that it was poised to strike and a millisecond later, a suggested a spot to throw a shortsword.

So the droid threw it, it striking true to the location, causing the animal to wince in pain, flinching slightly.

It quickly regained its bearings as it turned to him, its aggression no longer directed at the easier target. It quickly found the blade embedded in its pelt and ripped it out, it clattering to the ground.

This action seemed to break the woman out of her state of fear, and he could see that she glanced in his direction.

He could see that her stress levels were lowering rapidly as her eyes seemed to widen with what could be described as recognition.

Perhaps this armor belonged to a familiar face, past or present.

However, this was a variable unrelated to his current predicament and swiftly lowered in priority as he once more locked on to the Canidae, which was slowly moving towards him.

Teeth bared and snout scrunched up, the creature moved towards him, puffing out as much as it could to make itself larger.

If he were organic, this certainly could've been a successful fear tactic.

It soon charged him with speed unprecedented, however, this move was predicted and he was easily able to dodge out of the way.

Skidding to a halt, the creature turned back to him and began to move in a circular pattern around him, its amber eyes locked onto the armor he wore.

Pulling out another blade, he decided to mirror its pattern of movement as he too began to circle in its direction.

Now it was his turn to push the offensive.

He charged forth, faster than any organic could, slashing at its face.

Although it clearly was not expecting such a swift strike, it managed to move quickly enough so that the strike would only be glancing, slicing rather deep into its shoulder.

With an enraged howl, it headbutted him with enough force to throw him a few feet back.

Clearly unprepared for such a forceful throw, the droid had no time to land properly, landing rather hard on a nearby stone fence.

His head hit the walls of the helmet rather roughly, and suddenly his left receptor was now receiving properly.

It seemed that all it needed was forceful percussive maintenance.

Looking forward now, he could see the Canidae closing in on him quickly.

He attempted to roll out of the way, but it seemed that his move was predicted, and using the momentum built up in that charge to push him into a half-built stone wall.

His chassis unprepared for such a blow, his right arm now hung limply at its side.

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[ERROR DETECTED]

[RArm] Unresponsive: In need of recalibration.

Activating Auto-Recalibration…

Auto-Recalibration: [15] seconds until completion.

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Lifting the shield up on his left arm, he put himself on the defense, hoping the shield would be enough.

However, it seemed that the strength of the Canidae's bite was stronger than he anticipated, its teeth managing to punch right through.

Maybe this shield wasn't particularly meant for this.

Ten seconds now.

The beast was atop of him, and he could a good view of teeth bared as it pushed its weight onto him, trying to get its vicious fangs to where his neck was.

However, that would be no easy feat since the droid was certainly able to hold up the weight of an organic such as this

Five seconds now.

The beast realizing it won't be able to get his neck quickly backed up.

But before he could even have the chance of getting up lunched onto him once more, this time aiming for the upper arm.

Immediately he heard the sound of the metal plate of the armor being torn.

Suddenly a yell of both fear and rage cried out.

He turned his head to see that the woman charged at the beast, pitchfork in hand.

When stabbed into its thick hide, for a moment it faltered, its attention slightly divided between himself and the woman.

Recalibration complete.

His right arm immediately grabbed the sword next to him and forced it into the underbelly of said creature.

Caught completely off guard, the Canidae immediately attempted to pull away, the pitchfork in its side coming loose and knocking the woman off her feet.

This was the desired outcome, he'd be released and the creature would give up its assault, however, there was still one factor he forgot: Its jaws were still clamped firmly around his left arm.

With a pop and some sparks flying, a notification appeared on his sight.

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[ALERT]

[LArm] is no longer operational.

Seek out a technician for recalibration and/or repairs.

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Acknowledging the message, he looked down to see bits and pieces of the armor plate he wore spread around, and chain links missing.

Turning on his thermal sight once again, he could see the blood trail moving away from the pasture.

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[Encounter Over]

Threat: Fled [DEFEATED]

[Damage Assessment]

Damage: Moderate [LArm] removed

[Recommended Action]

Seek Repairs

[OPTIONAL]: Pursue and deal with the Canidae.

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Looking in the direction that the Canidae went, he was about to pursue when a soft voice spoke.

"You're arm…" She began, her hand covering her mouth.

It seemed that not flinching at the removal of an arm was unlike any biological lifeform.

"You're not him."

He turned to her now, seeing the relief turn into disturbance and caution now.

BX-100 moved in her direction, which caused her to move a few steps back, before letting out a yelp before falling over.

Continuing forward, his photoreceptors focused on the detached arm at her feet. As he reached down for it, he could see her flinch as her eyes closed tightly.

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[SCANNING…]

Observation:

Human Female [1]; Increased Heart Rate

Conclusion:

In a state of distress or fear.

[Recommended Action]

Halt arm.

Assess health of individual.

Activate Diplomatic subroutines.

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Deciding to obey the logic presented to him, he halted his arm and looked at his hand. Examining it, he noticed how it was drenched in the blood of the creature.

"Is everything alright?" His mechanical voice echoed with the helmet he was wearing.

Suddenly, she looked up at him, her eyes holding a glint to them.

"Its you."

Tilting his head, his memory-banks do not recall making any contact with any sentient beings since his arrival.

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[PROCESSING…]

[PROCESSING COMPLETE]

Possible points of contact: [3]

Upon arrival [95% chance]

Unnoticed within the forest [15%]

In town [35% chance]

[Conclusion]

Upon arrival: Pitchfork found at crash site supports this conclusion.

[Recommended actions]

Query about activation.

[Optional] Request assistance.

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"Were you the one to reactivate me?" He asked, his head tilting.

"You came from the sky… right?" She answered, her tone having shifted from what he processed as recognition.

A quick scan indicated that her vitals had leveled out, however his emotion emulation programming within the Neural Net CPU picked up what could be considered apprehension.

"Were you the one to reactivate me?" He asked once again, his photoreceptors scanning over her mannerisms to ensure that she is not lying.

"I think so?" The pink haired woman spoke, detecting the honesty in her voice.

His head tilted slightly upwards as his scan managed to detect something within her possession. Without any further words, he reached towards her.

The woman flinched as his hand drew near, however any fear was dispelled when he acquired what was in her pocket.

Pulling it closer to himself, the scan identified it as a MG-Restraining Bolt, one which was most likely attached to him.

"You were." He stated, looking at her. "Thank you for removing it from my chassis."

With a blink, she tilted her head. "Your… welcome?"

Picking up his arm with his free hand, he looked to her now.

"Can you help me with repairs?" He began, lifting up the detached limb. "With one arm only, I am hindered in my ability to fix myself."

"Um-" She did not have the chance to respond when the voice of another could be heard.

"Everything alright out there?" The voice called out.

Turning towards the homestead, he could see the head of the household moving towards their position, lantern in hand.

Quickly putting up the ball up to the socket, he tilted his head from left to right as his vocabulator prepared to emulate a voice.

"There you are-" The senior of the three look raised a brow. "You just get back from goblin hunting?"

"I did." There was a half second pause between each word the commando spoke in the voice of the owner of said armor. "But there was something in the barn."

"Really?" The older man turned to the young woman now. "Are you alright then?"

Her eyes were focused completely on him now, with what he assumed to be a mixture of surprise and uneasiness.

"Well?" The man asked once more before she was shook out of her trance.

"There was a big wolf in the barn…"

His posture straightened out as his eyes seemed to scan her over.

"Didn't get hurt now did ya?"

"Nothing like that uncle." She responded honestly to the elder. "Just a bit shaken up… that's all."

Her uncles face now seemed to be washed with relief, letting out a breath of air.

"Well, I best check up on the cows." He shone his lanterns light towards the barn now. "You two best get some rest."

"Roger roger."

Her uncle now turned to him, his eyes squinting with a level of scrutiny before moving past him and into the barn.

The rose haired woman let out an exhale as she slumped slightly.

"Can you help—"

"I can help you if you tell me what to do." She snapped now, cutting him off. "Gods this has been a very taxing night… follow me."

The two moved towards the barn across from this one, and while they walked, he continued his diplomatic subroutines.

"I am Commando Droid-Series BX-X100-D1-R3-K9-D4." He introduced himself in his baseline voice.

"That's a strange name." She exhaled once again as she opened the door, and led him into the barn. "But you did fall from the sky I guess."

"And your name?" He tilted his head.

"I am called Cow Girl."

"Nice to meet you, Cow Girl." He set his arm down on a stool and took the fusion cutter from his magnetized backplate.

Turning his head to see the socket, he carefully pulled out some wire from the socket, each wire a different color.

"I need you to hold my arm steady for a moment."

"Um… ok?" She brought the arm up to the socket and awaited for him to do whatever he needed to.

While it was there, he carefully twisted each set of wires together.

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[Reconnecting…]

[Reconnection complete!]

RArm Status: [Online]

[Recommended action]

Test digit coordination

[Optional] Hold arm

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Gripping his right arm, he flexed the digits on his fingers.

Reaching over for the fusion cutter now, he adjusted the settings slightly for it to properly connect the wires.

"You might want to look away for a moment."

Listening to his advice, she did so, and carefully he ensured their connection.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Putting the fusion cutter between his belt and his armor, he brought the socket up to the ball hole.

With a small deal of force, it popped back in as it nothing had happened, and quickly rolling his arm, he felt that it was nominal.

"Thank you for the assistance." He expressed what he believed to be programmed gratitude.

"No need, you helped me and I helped you." She let out a weary smile on her face."But can you not steal that set of armor?"

Tilting his head, he looked at her.

"Why?" He responded.

"Its my… friends." She told the commando droid, heading towards the door. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go around walking and talking like him."

He didn't have to acquest to such a request, however maybe if he wanted to foster friendly terms with this settlement, maybe this could be a step in the right direction? "Should I take it off now?"

"Yes." She looked back at him. "Take care of yourself."

"Roger Roger."


Of Happenings In Cossul

(15:02:08 ArS)

In the berthing compartments of The Horizon, a lone clone commando found himself outside the door of an individual room.

The room was meant to accommodate non-clone officers, but the Jedi General in command of the battalion aboard the vessel had seen no issue in giving up four rooms to the commandos attached to said battalion.

It's just an empty room. The commando in Katarn II armor stood at the door, visor focused on the panel.

It had been three weeks since the reconnaissance and sabotage operation had been deemed a success, where their vessels had a close call with a Separatist Munificent-Class Star Frigate. Of the three that arrived to pick them up, only two made it back to the Venator.

While the last vessel had been confirmed to enter hyperspace, its whereabouts were unknown.

There was no time to search for their missing companion as soon after a full invasion of the Cossul system was launched.

It had only taken a week for the forces of the 358th Battalion aboard The Horizon to successfully take Cossul III and its facilities. With the production of the droid factories severally diminished, it was magnitudes easier to defeat the defenses of the planet and safely secure the planet.

The role Task Force Sierra had partaken in played no small role in the greater battalion's victory, and their efforts most likely saved countless lives.

However, with the fighting over, he found himself at a familiar door.

Letting out a breath, he steeled himself as his fingers pressed against the control panel. With the sound of the mechanical door opening, he walked forth.

Moving into the room, his helmet immediately marked out gear and other items left behind before the mission.

So many missions we fought together. '04 thought as he moved into the room, mind wandering to battles past. From Reconnaissance on Dantooine, the Second Battle of Geonosis, and even the Assassination of that bug Bargyx Zoc on Takodana.

Deciding that his helmet information was not needed, he removed his helmet, the blue hum of the H.U.D deactivating, the trustworthy piece of armor finding itself under his arm.

His brown eyes scanning around, he immediately could tell that a bit of dust had already begun to on some of the lost commando's effects.

It was a standard room, a perfectly made rack to his left, and on the right was a desk.

On said desk was a set of tools and other components, and in the middle of it, a hand-held holoprojector.

Circuits and a few replacement parts. Using his free hand, he pulled the chair out, and soon sat down, placing his helmet on an empty space on the desk.

Taking a closer look at the holoprojector, it seemed that it was worn with scratches, and its metal was dulled.

Needs a new capacitor and a replacement cell… Placing it back in its spot, his eyes landed on the tools on the table, he debated whether he should fix it. It was the last thing he was working on.

Another moment passed as he looked at the items before his hands began to reach for the tools. With care, he took the necessary components and removed their defunct contemporaries. Compared to splicing a terminal or prepping a detpack, this was cadets' play.

After a couple of minutes, he was certain that the repairs of the holo-projector would work. Before he could activate it, however, the com-link on his vambrace began to beep.

"Sierra Leader, this is '02." A gruff voice spoke through it. "One of the rank-and-file came by while you were gone."

"What did he need?" He stood up, putting the holoprojector back on the table.

"He told us that we were needed in the command bridge."

"Copy that." He concluded, soon reaching for his helmet, putting it on, and the familiar blue hum of the H.U.D reactivating.

RC-1004 quickly made his way to the bridge, to see both RC-3102 and RC-2096 already waiting here, standing at attention in front of the holo-table.

Already projected, he could see the familiar armor of their brother advisor, CC-3692.

"This line of communication is secure." The advisor announced as he looked to the squad. "Task Force Sierra, I have your new orders."

"So, the order to search for RC-2105 has been approved?" Sierra Leader looked to the advisor, the certainty that a search and retrieve mission would be soon underway.

The Advisors helmet turned to the squad's leader, distinctively. Although they could not see the clone's face, having served with this brother of theirs for nearing three years, they could feel the hesitation through the blue projection.

After a moment of silence, he spoke once more.

"There are no plans to search for RC-2105."

The three commandos were taken aback with mixed feelings. '96 remained stock still, while '02 let out an audible growl, crossing his arms.

"What?" Sierra Leader was the first to speak up, the tone in his voice with disbelief.

"New orders have come in regarding a battle—." The Advisor was cut off by the now angered squad leader.

"With all due respect Advisor, we have a commando missing out there, and you expect us to leave him?"

"The loss of RC-2105 is regrettable, however, it was a statistical risk."

"A 'Statistical Risk'?" Shouted the Squad Leader. "What do you mean a 'Statistical Risk'?"

"With these Nu-Class Stealth-Prototypes, there was a… predicted 5.65211% chance of hyperdrive malfunction."

"You're telling me we could've all died en route to our mission?" '02 now spoke up.

"The benefits of utilizing them within the allotted mission timeframe outweighed the statistical risks that they came with." The Advisor looked to the squad now. "According to our superiors, those numbers were satisfactory enough for the greater good of the Republic."

A tense moment passed while the three commandos absorbed what had been said.

It was a reminder of their expendability.

With a cough, their Advisor broke the uncomfortable silence. "If that is all… In preparations of an upcoming battle, you are being reassigned from the 358th Battalion."

After a bit of shuffling, he pulled out a data-pad. "The reassignment order is being sent now."

A data card popped out of a nearby terminal.

"You are scheduled to leave within the day. You are expected to arrive by at latest 15:02:15."

"Who will we be attached to now?" Sierra Leader asked, doing his best to keep his temper in check.

"You will be reassigned to 'Foxtrot Group' under the command of RC-5576-39." He pulled the insignia of said 'Foxtrot Group', it being of yellow and black markings. "RC-5576-39 will be your Captain for the duration of the operation."

"A post-Geonosis commando being granted the rank of Captain?" '96 questioned. "That is uncommon."

"This is an important operation." Stated the Advisor. "You are to group of with Foxtrot Group and the Battalion they are attached to."

"Is that all?" Sierra Leader looked at the Advisor?

"You have your orders." With a nod, the communication link ended.

"I can't believe we are leaving '05." '96 looked to the two of them. "He's put his neck out for us many times."

"I know." Stated Sierra leader, his fists clenching and teeth-gritting.

"We have a week to travel," '02 spoke to no one in particular, but the two nodded. "A week to properly collect out effects… and '05's"

'96 looked to his squad leader. "Are we going to do the same thing that we did on Geonosis?"

"We will." He took the orders out, now pulling up the chart of the system. "A dignified farewell is in order, for one of the 5018 that survived that day."

The three of them all nodded, giving a moment of silence for the lost.

Despite all the attempts to prepare for such a loss, the squad could still feel the scars of Zero-Hour.

Once over, '96 spoke up.

"Now, what are our orders?

Putting the data card in the terminal, he read over the orders.

"We are to meet up with the 212th Battalion and meet up with Foxtrot Group." He pulled out the disk. "They are currently en-route to their destination aboard The Negotiator."

"And that destination?"

"The destination is a Separatist Stronghold on… Sarrish."


Of Happenings at the Guild

(Month of the Morning Star)

Same work, different year.

Earlier this week the place was lively as all adventurers present celebrated the coming of a new year, or lamenting the loss of their party members.

But the golden-haired receptionist was working dutifully through a stack of papers.

Some were those of quest postings, and some were categorizing new adventurer sheets. Lastly were the termination and storage of adventurers that have met their end in the past year.

"Guild Girl." She looked up to see the Guild Master of this branch, with a scroll in hand. "I have the list of adventurers that are to be promoted this month."

Putting the scroll before her, he awaited her to look it over.

"Just a single adventurer this month?"

"Yes, this autumn seemed to be less than… bountiful for the lower ranks, it should change coming spring."

"Cataphract Errant." Her golden eyes read over the text.

It was not surprising that he was being advanced, after all, he had been over four dozen quests in the past two months. If she recalled correctly, over three-fourths of his career as an adventurer was goblin slaying.

She remembered the initial concern she felt for the man (boy?) when he admitted to being no older than thirteen but 'technically' older, however that concern soon turned into what seemed to be mutual respect as she was grateful for the service she provided not only to the guild but for Goblin Slayer.

It was honestly surprising to her at first to see Goblin Slayer working with another individual, but since their first time working together she supposed they were a good party. He also seemed to bring back their specialist from his quests a day or two earlier on average... not that she was counting previously.

Plus, Cataphract Errant gave her new insights into what his life out in the field was like… although he could be a bit more… stingy with the details.

To the silver-clad adventurer, it seemed just how he did reports. He didn't boast like some individuals, but even Goblin Slayer had a bit more tact when describing what happened.

And speaking of adventurers who boast…

"Spearman as the Observer."

"He was randomly selected and asked if he could do it he agreed." He looked at her.

"… I see." She sighed. "Well, I'll prepare the promotion interview."

"Very good." He gave her a pat on the back. "Keep up the good work!"

She sat at the solid oak desk, double-checking the paperwork and quest reports.

Quite frankly, it was a lot of paperwork.

"M'lady receptionist!" The boisterous voice of the strawberry blond was heard as he entered the room. "How does the fair maiden do this fine day?"

"I am doing well." She gave her best professional smile as he approached her desk. "Thank you for asking."

"A few minutes early, just like you asked." He preened his hair as he leaned on his spear. "Ready to observe."

"Punctuality is a commendable trait of any good adventurer, especially of a Silver Rank such as yourself."

"I try, especially for a lovely lady such as yourself." He gave her a toothy smile. "Where do you need me to be?"

"In the seat right over there." She pointed to it directly to her right.

"Alrighty." He cheerfully took his seat, and from her peripherals, she could see him looking at her.

She had to admit, the attention he gave her was flattering, however, she only wished he knew that she truly wasn't interested. Of course, it wasn't like she could just outright tell him, he might redouble his efforts or it might put a strain on the professional relationship between not only him and her but also his party member.

A few more minutes passed by, and the priestess assigned to this guildhall walked into the room, with a silver platter with her. Her tardiness mattered not to her, after all, she hadn't planned on starting without her here.

"My apologies for being late, just made some tea." She shut the door behind her. "And our adventurer is outside waiting for the call."

"I would love some tea." Guild Girl looked up to her co-worker. "I'll call him in in just a moment."

"So, who is up for promotion?"

"Cataphract Errant." The Inspector chimed in when she set the platter down on the table.

"Him?" The man in blue tune seemed to sour slightly. "Hasn't he been working with that rust bucket?"

"Not only with Goblin Slayer." The blond corrected as she looked through the paperwork. "He has worked with a Steel-Ranked at many times on smaller quests."

"Also… he technically has the experience to be halfway through Steel already." Once more, the Inspector added in, pouring tea down into an empty cup.

"What?!" The senior adventurer sat fully upwards now. "That shouldn't be possible, even someone as great as I required a few months to make Obsidian and then some."

"Well, he's been busy." The blonde gestured to the stack of papers.

"Those are his completed quests?!" His mouth was now agape. "If he's supposedly that good, why aren't we making him Steel Ranked here and now?"

"Guild Formalities." The Inspector told him as she walked towards the door. "And he's always on the move, we're even lucky to have him sitting down there for more than half an hour… and speaking of which."

With the sound of the door opening, she peaked out to see the silver-armored man.

"Glad to see you today." A smile was on her face as she greeted the adventurer. "Please come in."

She could see him stand with all of his gear and a staff that he began to bring often.

Swiftly moving back to her spot behind in front of the window, she sat down at the desk.

"Please, take a seat."

The man in armor said nothing as he sat down where he was directed.

"Thank you for coming in, on behalf of the guild I apologize for the delay on your advancement, we would've handled this sooner but there many administrative tasks had to be prioritized."

"I understand."

"So you have been adventuring with Goblin Slayer in the past two months, is that correct."

"It is." He began. "I have also partied up with another adventurer, though both have not worked alongside each other."

"I see." She scribed down his response. "Your quest completion rate is… 400% higher than any other Porcelain within this branch."

Looking up, she could see the man's head tilt towards the other man in the room. From his posture, he must've seen him make a face or something of the sort.

"Everything on the books seems correct, however, there are a few discrepancies I'd like to go over."

"First and foremost, your primary class here states you are a fighter, however most of your reports mention spells." She straightened out the forms she looked at. "Misregistering your class is an infraction which can result in fines."

"I don't use spells." He stated. "It's easier to explain it as spells than what it is."

"Interesting, are you willing to explain what it really is then?"

"Highly pressurized energy-rich gas is focused through a prismatic crystal which is then ionized and generates a deadly high-energy particle beam."

Again, no intervention.

"… O.K." She scribed it down. "Have you withheld any information about quests taken such as misidentification of items or rewards plundered?"

"Not that I am aware of." He stated with certainty.

"Finally, the topic of your age is still debated."

"I understand."

"For clarification when you joined two months ago, you stated 'I am eleven years old since my birth, but biologically I am no older than twenty-two."

"Yes, and that is due to accelerated aging."

"That can't be true." The Spearman's voice was clearly filled with disbelief and the Porcelain's head once more turned to the observer. "You're—"

She raised her hand to stop him from speaking and allowed the inspector to once more confirm or rebuke his statement. Once the Inspector gave her an affirming nod once again, and she finally looked down to the rest of the paperwork.

"Alright." She wrote down a final line before looking back up to him. "Since nothing else seems out of order here, on behalf of the guild, I authorize the advancement from Porcelain to Obsidian."

Pulling out the tag and stamping it with the same information as the previous one, she put it on a tray and presented it to him.

"We look forward to your continued service with us."

He said nothing as he simply gave a nod as he turned in his previous tag and taking the new one, and before long he walked out of the room.

"Before you go, I got a question of my own." The Spearman stood up, his eyes narrowed at him. "Are you like Goblin Slayers' brother or something?"

Halting in the doorway, he turned back to the higher-ranked and shook his head before continuing onwards.

"Sheesh, he would've had me fooled if he said he was." The man with the ponytail rubbed the back of his head.

"Thank you for observing this promotion interview." The Guild Girl turned to the adventurer. "If you go to the front desk, you will receive your compensation."

"Having the pleasure of working with you is compensation enough." He did a fanciful bow.

"If you are willing to forgo your compensation…"

"If you're insisting then I'll take it."

"Now shoo, I have work to do."


Of Time Gone By

(6:?:? ArS)

RP-02/2105 awoke to the sounds of reveille echoing within his housing tube. The bright light within said tube turning on, only making him want to close his eyes even tighter.

However, he knew that if he didn't get out soon enough, he'd be disciplined via extra assignments. Throwing his hand towards a button, he pressed it, the tube moved outwards, and soon, the sounds of his fellow cadets making their way down their ladders.

He too soon quickly rose and got down and quickly lined up next to his fellow cadets.

Down this line were one-hundred and ten clone cadets, and it should be mirrored the same way on the other side of the barracks, 'units' (as the Kaminoans called them) 02/1980 through 02/2200 were housed here.

They were all from the second batch of the first hundred thousand units created.

This very building contained all the housing for all ten thousand of Batch 02.

"Pssst."

He heard a fellow cadet attempt to get someone's attention.

"02/2105."

Ah. So he was that someone.

Slightly tilting his head to the side, he saw his batchmate RP-02/2103.

"Hey, you hear me?"

Someone annoyed he responded. "What do you want?"

"It's a bit earlier than then when we normally wake up."

"Is it?"

He hadn't had the opportunity to check the time, but he supposed it didn't matter.

"Well duh." RP-02/2104 responded. "It's at least half an hour earlier than standard reveille."

"And?"

He could see RP-02/103 roll his eyes. "What do you think it means?"

"I think probably more training." Responded RP-02/2104.

"But we just had our half-year exam yesterday."

That right. RP-02/2103 looked up slightly now.

Since they could begin to walk, the Kaminoans have had them learning material for practical tests every half year.

He assumed it was to gauge the progress of the batch.

They were all soldiers in training after all.

If the half-year practical was yesterday, that means…

It was his fifth birthday today.

Well, not only his but batch 02's.

And technically not their fifth, but their second and a half.

"Well, I—"

"Cut the chatter." One of his brothers ordered. His eyes going to their corners, he could tell it was RP-02/2099. "We're going to get in trouble if you keep it up."

This brother had eyes a slightly different shade of brown than the rest of them and often got his head shaved whenever he could.

Although he cared for all his brothers, he always saw 02/2099 like an older brother who was watching out for everyone, keeping them focused on whatever tasks they were assigned.

The sound of a door opening made them stand full at attention before they could hear a droid move to their side of the barracks.

"Good morning clone units 2090 through 2200." An AZI droid began, looking down at a list. "Before we begin, any cadets feeling ill or unwell?"

None of them spoke, and they seemed to take it as an all-clear.

"Very well. The following cadets step forward. 02/2092… 02/2099… 02/2101… 02/2105…"

He stepped forward and waited for the droid to finish. Turning to the left, he saw 02/2099 a cadet down the line.

Once another twenty-three birth numbers had been called, it attached the list to its back.

"Your orders are to collect your gear and, form up outside and wait for further instruction." Turning to the rest of the cadets, it spoke once more. "For the clones not called, your orders are to also collect your gear and await further orders in here."

"Affirmative!" The line responded, and the droid soon hovered out of the room.

"02/2105, you two getting sent elsewhere?" 02/2103 looked to his brother.

"Seems like it." He shrugged. "Don't know what to expect, maybe they want something with us?"

"Guess someone's defective." A call out from afar jeered.

Where RP-02/2103 and other cadets shivered at the thought of being defective, he opted to ignore it.

"Knock it off." 02/2103 directed it to whatever voice. "I'm sure you'll be back in no time."

"I suppose so."

"Hey, '05." He turned to see RP-02/2099 with his gear half packed already. "Less chit-chat, and more packing."

"Alright alright." He waved off '99, soon turning back to '03. "I'll see you at chow or something right?"

"Yeah, right." His brother gave him a smile. "You take care then."

He walked over and packed his very sparse belongings of a weeks' worth of training outfits, where 02/2099 was waiting for him.

"You sure you didn't forget anything?"

"Of course I didn't, we have like ten items at most." He gave him a playful shove before the two of them exited the room.

Upon exiting, to the right he could see the droid awaiting them, with a row of clone cadets beginning to form in an orderly fashion.

He chose to take his place right next to 02/2099.

Soon came a teenage clone approached the group, a line of fellow cadets following right behind him.

He easily recognized a number of cadets from Training Companies 02/7 and 02/8.

"Ah, you must be A-13." The droid approached him.

"An A-class clone?" One of the cadets behind him spoke up, and that caused some whispers among them.

RP-02/2105

"That I am; Alpha-13." The clone turned to his younger selves before whistling, seemingly impressed. "Quite a lot of you from this company."

Immediately, there was a change in posture from even the worst-tempted cadets within this company, changing from lax postures to the stances of proper cadets.

Every clone knew that all Alpha-Class Clones had modifications to them that would make them better in every way, shape, and form when compared to themselves.

Wondering what this was about, RP-02/2105 raised a fist.

"Sir, if I may ask, why are we here?"

Alpha-13 looked to him, his face already with a small faint scar along the cheek. "I'm here to escort you to your location, on orders from Jango Fett."

More murmurs rippled through cadets of Training Companies 02/9-1 and 02/9-2 as the younger clones began to speculate what orders could bring an Alpha-Class clone here.

RP-02/2105 could not help but feel the same excitement. Saying anything else would be a lie.

"Settle down now." The authority within the senior clone's voice immediately shut up the forty-seven cadets. "You'll find out soon enough. Form up at the tail."

"Yes Sir!" All of the cadets eagerly moved to the end of the line.

"Forward… MARCH."

Alpha-13's voice echoed through the halls, and the cadets made their way to their destination which was still not revealed to them.

As they followed their Alpha-Class through the familiar halls of the Tipoca City Military Complex, '05 could tell that they had already traveled quite a distance away from their original housing.

Now that he thought of it, they traveled in the opposite direction from the trooper barracks as well.

Why could they want us… He thought as he marched. Test scores? No, that would be too simple… our physicals? No, a few of these brothers aren't the fittest.

"Ready… HALT."

The definitive command of the Alpha-Class once more, echoed throughout the hallways of this building, shattering his thoughts.

"Enter the room and reform this formation." Alpha-13 looked to them. "Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir!" All of them confirmed his orders.

"Then get to it."

The first column marched forward in an orderly fashion entering the room, and then the next column followed suit. Finally, his column marched into the room.

Upon entering, he immediately noticed that this room was empty, with nothing in it aside from a single individual sitting in the apparent middle of the room.

They did not even move as the columns lined up so that this individual would be centered directly in front of them.

As he got closer, it seemed that the first initial rows did not wish to be close to the individual, meaning that it now put him in the first row, closest to the unknown individual.

Trying to get a better view of the individual, he could notice that they sat with their hands on their thighs, legs folded underneath. Their armor was an interesting shade of orange with yellow markings on it, and on the helmet were yellow markings on a grey base.

"Ma'am." The Alpha-Class brought his hand up to a salute. His response told them all that this stranger was a woman. "I've brought the cadets."

For a moment, there was a tense silence as her helmet did not move.

Although the rest of them were getting a bit uneasy, the Alpha-Class remained stalwart as he awaited her response.

"You may go now." She looked up to the Alpha-Class.

"Copy that." With another salute, Alpha-13 walked towards the exit and left them with the stranger.

It didn't take a moment longer for her to get up, and for the first time since they entered the room, to look at them.

Soon she took off their helmet, letting a single braid from her brown hair fall from it, and made her way to the first cadet of the first rank.

As she walked down the row, her eyes seemed to analyze each and every one of them. As she reached him, he could swear there was an indiscernible emotion glinting in her eyes.

For the next ten minutes, she continued this as she walked down the next two rows, before finally returning to the front center of their column.

"One-hundred and fifteen of you." The stranger spoke, seemingly unimpressed and unamused. "You all might be wondering why some stranger from some random corner of the galaxy is here speaking to you today."

Taking a moment take in the moment, she continued.

"Listen up cadets!" Her voice echoed off the walls of this chamber. "Each and every one of you are here today because your creators have noticed 'desirable deviancies' from within your exams."

She once again began to move, her heavy footsteps thumping as she moved down the line.

"These 'desirable deviancies' supposedly make you 'superior' to the common clone." Stopping right in front of him, he could not help but look up at her. "You are one training group of an additional ninety-nine, and your donor has entrusted to me to oversee your training."

She looked down at him, and for a moment, their eyes locked.

RP-02/2105 was unsure what he saw in her eyes, something akin to eagerness, but not quite, as it made shivers run up and down his spine.

Tilting his head right back down, she soon continued moving back and forth the line.

"You will have a standard curriculum to follow, however, I will be making… certain adjustments to it to ensure that you all turn out to be proper warriors, unlike anything the galaxy has ever seen."

She moved back to the original spot she was in when they had entered the chamber, soon bringing her left arm up, and with a few clicks, several panels rose from the floor, revealing a number of air-tight bags with a new set of vestments.

"Each cadet will take two of these new uniforms, and go to your new barracks." She walked right next to the bags. "It will be located down the hall to the left. You will change into these new uniforms and report back to me within the next ten minutes for our first training session, is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am!" Once more, they echoed their understanding of their objective.

"For introductions, I am Isabet Reau, your trainer in all things pertaining to your specialized training. But you will refer to me as Sergeant Reau or Ma'am." She paused as she looked at all of them. "Is that understood?"

"Yes Ma'am!" They all echoed out once more.

A smile grew on her face.

"You have your orders, get to it Senth Company."

(Last week of Sun's Dawn)

His eyes opening, he slowly rose from his make-shift cot.

That was a strange dream. He shook his head as he rested his legs off the edge of his cot.

It was uncommon for him to have dreams as vivid as that, especially when they have occurred nearly a decade ago.

Perhaps I'm getting a bit homesick. RC-2105 thought, rubbing his eyes.

Walking over to the area where his armor sat, he looked over to the crate next to it.

Within it, were two DC-15A blaster carbines, salvaged for whatever parts were useful.

A shame I don't have any canisters of tibanna. He wistfully thought, eyes looking towards the DC-17m in the corner, a thin layer of dust beginning to collect atop of it.

DC-17m's were practically immune to the misfortunes that plagued the other DC rifle models; rain, heat, snow, dust the rifle was never to jam or short out, however it did need recalibration constantly.

'05 had used three whole DC clips his first month here, which in hindsight, was a rookie mistake. Although the vibrosaber he had with him was a great boon, he was still not used to the idea of melee over ranged, and so, he preferred to use whatever blasters were still available to him.

With that however, came the inherent risk of ruining said blasters, like the two that now sat in the crate.

He surmised that around six goblin slaying quests the blaster would start having issues, and by twelve, they'd be better used as glorified bludgeons or clubs.

That was if he didn't get any grime or blood smeared onto the blaster either.

Standard issue blasters were prone to malfunctioning when exposed to hostile terrain

A resupply would be good about now.

The stranded commando had certainly hoped to have been picked up by now by someone, whether it had been Republic, Separatists, or a third party. He had already been stranded here for nearly five whole months, with no sign of rescue within sight.

It's not like he had anything against the planet, he simply knew that the Republic needed him elsewhere in the galaxy, somewhere where the subtle and delicate operations of a Republic Commando of Task Force Sierra could utilize his skills for the greater Republic.

However, he could feel a part of himself finding this planet quite nice. He was doing steady work and had even had an acquaintance or two that he was constantly working alongside. Here he could directly feel the impact of his actions, and the people around here were getting used to his continued service.

Staying here wouldn't be too bad, would it?

No stop. He shook his head, giving himself a light tap on the cheek. Once the Republic finds my distress beacon, I will be back where I belong.

Right, back where he belonged… where did he belong anyways?

It's too kriffing early to think about these things. He reached for a waterskin he had recently acquired and drank from it. Times before were simpler than they are now.

Looking at the tools sitting next to his armor, he got up.

Enough of that, might as well get to work, maybe that'll clear my mind. Then I'll stop by the guild… Maybe the fireworks I asked the guild smith to acquire me are here. With a grunt, he got up onto his two feet to prepare for the day's toils., soon beginning to put on the second set of skin known as the Katarn Armor suited up once more.

However, this would not be the last he would see of these times gone by.


A collection of short stories between the time skip!

I put them in the chronological order that they belonged in.

For starters, I have decided to differentiate between Galactic Standard Time from the time within Goblin Slayer by using Elder Scrolls month naming to note the local time.

(ArS, Goblin Slayer Month, and Real-life equivalent)

Month 3 ArS, Morning Star- January

Month 4 ArS, Sun's Dawn- February

Month 5 ArS, First Seed- March

Month 6 ArS, Rain's Hand- April

Month 7 ArS, Second Seed- May

Month 8 ArS, Midyear- June

Month 9 ArS, Sun's Height- July

Month 10 ArS, Last Seed- August

Month 11 ArS, Hearthfire- September

Month 12 ArS, Frostfall- October

Month 1 ArS, Sun's Dusk- November

Month 2 ArS, Evening Star- December


Also, I wish to apologize for getting this chapter quite late compared to the previous chapter, I was struck with a lack of inspiration and needed some time off, however, I hope that I will be more consistent with my postings.

Until next time!

Moonlight Talon of the Night!