"C33-4692, get back up! Better yet, stop getting caught in those shockwave grenade explosions while you're at it? C33-2044, fall into triangle formation! C33-4132, take out those B-2's! C33-8769, C33-2383, how 'bout you two shut up and back me up?!"

Clone training already sucks. But when your squad leader is an arrogant chunk of Hutt flab, it sure as hell doesn't help. His designation is C33-3333, but the boys and I call him Tri because none of us are going to say three a billion times just to get his attention, which is already hard to get. He hates it. We love it.

Ah, where are my manners? I am C33-4692. I'm just a cadet here on Kamino. If you recall, I just got blasted by a shockwave grenade. Damn, I feel like I'm a magnet for those things. I swear, they sprout legs and walk over to me just to explode. It can't kill biotic material, but that doesn't mean it tickles. I think it was called something else when it was invented. An EMP grenade, I think. Argh...my ears are still ringing. My right arm is definitely dislocated. My back aches from slamming against the wall. But I don't have time to tend to my injuries. I have an adrenaline shot and orders. I grab my DC-16 and get back in the action. Just a cadet here on Kamino.

I peek over the wall to get a glimpse of what's going on. We're almost halfway there. I can see the bright red light of the stick that we must retrieve. The Citadel Challenge is an advanced training course, and all clone cadet squads must beat it to graduate and become a trooper. Dozens of droids and turrets defend the stupid stick. This is our one chance, and we cannot fail. The last thing I want to do is spend the rest of my life scrubbing toilets here on Kamino. But I better start practicing, because things aren't looking too good.

"C33-2383, what the hell are you doing?! Hand-to-hand combat is prohibited-"

ZAP!

C33-2383 would make a great commando, but he's far too stupid. He's out cold. I respect him, however, for thinking more creatively than ol' Tri. Speaking of-

"Rogue Squad! Triangle formation, now!"

Oh boy. Tri is very proud of his Triangle Formation strategy, despite the fact that it has a win to loss ratio of 1:4 (the one victory was luck, trust me). I'll just show you…

C

S S

C S C

Each "corner" (C) trooper faces the direction away from the group, while each "side" (S) trooper faces the direction perpendicular to the side of the triangle. That way, the probability of being ambushed is nearly zero. I have to say, it's rather ingenious, but it's like science; it works only in ideal conditions, or in other words, never.

But orders are orders. Incompetence is not tolerated in clone trooper training. My buddies C33-2044 and C33-5769 and I exchange looks. Not this again.

I finally speak up. "Hey, uh, Tri. In case you haven't noticed, C33-2383 is down. Are you sure about this?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? In case you haven't noticed, those clankers are circling around us. We have no choice. Squad, on me!"

He's got a point. In my peripheral, I see C33-5769 shooting me hand signals. Sector 8. Mark 15. About 36 meters. Commandos. I relay to Tri. "Boss, we've got fifteen commando droids incoming, 8 o'clock. Thirty meters."

"Alright. NOW!"

I stand up and blast anything shiny as I head towards Tri. C33-4132, our sniper whom we call Deadshot, is landing every hit. C33-2044 climbs onto the wall with his Z-6 rotary cannon. If he's hoping to get all the droids' attention, he sure has it. C33-5769 rises from behind his barrier as well...and is shot down immediately. Poor guy. Tri is a raging fire, with a DC-17 pistol in one hand and an E-5 blaster from a disabled training droid in the other.

We converge and form a triangle (minus C33-2383, who broke a droid from hand to hand combat and was electrocuted, and C33-5769). It's an epic eight second moment, then Tri takes a critical hit to the chest and goes down. It's me, Deadshot, and C33-2044 now. With no leadership and no morale, we have no idea what to do, and fear overcomes us. Deadshot and I dash for cover. Unfortunately, C33-2044 is too stubborn to retreat. He never accepts defeat. Still standing tall on the barrier, he blasts any droid who dares to oppose him. "For the Repub-" he starts before his last stand is cut off by a laser bolt from a droid to his head.

"C33-4692, you got any ideas? I'm not losing this," says Deadshot.

"Uh, I don't know. At this rate, we won't be able to climb the tower to get that damn stick. There's two of us and dozens of them."

"Looks like we better start figuring out how to do janitor work," he smiles. "I think we could pull it off."

Wait. Pull it off… But is that allowed? It doesn't matter at this point; we have minutes before we're overrun.

"Deadshot, you've never missed. I don't know if it's luck or skill, but I'd hate to see a good soldier like yourself never end up in a real battle. So prove to the trainers, prove to your brothers right here, right now, that you are a soldier; that we are soldiers. Don't miss."

I toss Deadshot my grapple accessory. He stops, and then realizes what I want him to do. He attaches it to his DC-15X sniper's rifle, and takes a deep breath. "Cover me!" he shouts.

I stand up and shoot like a maniac. With my bad arm and injured back, I miss most of my shots, but I force the droids to take cover. Deadshot runs backwards to get a clear shot. I can see the concentration on his face. He's completely still. I know that this is a shot he's never taken before, but I have a feeling he'll pull it off. Ugh, if he could just hurry and take the-

I feel a sudden pain in my stomach. I don't have to look down to know I'm hit. But I must press on. I maintain my stance. Two more bolts hit me, and I crumple to the ground. My body has taken the maximum electricity, and I am stunned. Literally. I cannot move, but I know my mission was a success; I watch as Deadshot slowly pulls the trigger. The grapple fires, latches onto the thin stick at the top of the tower, and retrieves the loose item. The light on the rod turns green, and the remaining droids deactivate. We've won.

My vision begins to fade, but not before I see a peculiar sight. The Jedi in charge of clone training, Shaak Ti, is speaking with Deadshot on the tranquil battlefield. She must have offended him, because Deadshot suddenly falls out of attention and interrupts her. He points to all of his squad members: C33-2383, C33-2044, C33-5769, Tri, me. Everything goes blurry, and the last thing I remember before blacking out is hearing him say "victorious together."