I

Advanced Recon Commando Trooper Designation Alpha-12, armoured in a thin durasteel plate hidden beneath his loose fitting garments and hood, entered the 250 meters long hall with his carbine raised as the vertical grills of gold anodized metal that made up the main entrance slid open with a slight hiss, followed by his four brothers, their DC-15S, flashlights attached underneath, covering every corners of the opulent and far-reaching room. The five ARC Troopers made their way to their target: an archive that stores the information to every transaction going in and out of the banking guild, located on the far side of the hall.

The three-level Royal Administration Building was a quintessence of Naboo architecture. Arches framed in metal with painted tessellation, deep blue floor that shined as well as any polished glass, gold railings under the roof overhang; they all screamed splendour and were astounding contrast to the clinical and dispassionate interiors of Tipoca City on Kamino. With the light of the stars and the planet's three moons visible through the glass roof, the ostentatious great hall, usually hectic with workers, guild members, and functioning staff, was dead silent, as if in remembrance.

As Alpha-12 and the rest began to stack up on the archive's entrance, Alpha-44 spliced into the control terminal with his datapad. With the tools installed in his mini-computer, it took Alpha-44 less than a minute to gain root access, change the hourly combination lock and erase all traces of intrusion. Using the key and identification provided by Jango Fett, the ARC Troopers' DNA template and chief training instructor, Alpha-44 managed to pass the other layers of security measures legitimately. However, the door was not the only opposition which the 5 ARC Troopers were going up against. They had been informed that there will be another party going after their target: a team of investigators from the Republic's now dissolved Judicial Forces, handpicked and acting under the order of Former Chancellor Valorum.

Alpha-12 felt the need to move almost without end; if his limbs were moving, he could ignore the tension in his arms and the endless beating of his heart. This will be his first time. He could picture it already – standing triumphantly with his brothers as he led them against their enemy.

Throughout all 7 years of his life, Alpha-12 had prepared for this moment. For 7 years his chiselled body, which had at this point been age accelerated to be biologically 14 years old, was exposed to never-ending training, education, and live fire exercises solely dedicated to the arts of warfare and killing.

Alpha-12 prepared his fragmentation grenade, a cheap handheld explosive device that sends metal shrapnel in a 3-4-meter radius. He nodded to Alpha-44, giving him the go ahead to open the archive. The lock mechanism cranked; a loud bang soon followed as the steel rods crashed against the thick panels. Alpha-12's anticipation reached its climax as the entrance hissed and its interior began to cast a bright beam into the dim hallway, every nerve in his body and brain electrified.

The voice of a man called out from inside the archive, "Republic Judicial. We're armed." Alpha-12 lobbed his grenade through the entrance. "Oh shiii- ", the voice exclaimed before being cut off by the violent eruption that reverberated against the metal walls. The five ARC Troopers visualized the size and shape of the archive as they made entry. Like half liquid flowing seamlessly, their carbines moved to identify and neutralize immediate threats.

Alpha-88 was the first to enter, twice did the blast of his DC-15S pound against the walls of the 65 meters long interior of the archive. Following his brothers, Alpha-12 was second to last to enter. He was instantly greeted by a series of an enemy's blaster fire, Alpha-12's peak human reflex allowed him to swiftly leap forward behind a desk and dodged the enemy's field of fire, for every blast his ears violently rang in response, every blaster bolts that zipped by his unhelmet head sent force that felt like powerful punch. With the element of surprise gone, the enemy was now holding the area around the entrance in a fatal tunnel, preventing Alpha-44, the last to enter, from making entry. Lying beside Alpha-12, was the carcass of one of the enemies, blaster marks evident on his chest and head. Alpha-12 rummaged through the fallen Judicial's uniform, producing a flash-bang grenade. About 30 feet ahead, to his left, Alpha-67 had manoeuvred to the enemy's flank and positioned himself behind a large marble table. Alpha-12 threw his looted flash-bang grenade to the enemy's approximate potion. The explosive powder ignited with a loud and resounding bang as the fuse struck. Now blind and deaf, the enemy fired his blaster towards Alpha-12 as he retreated further into the archive, towards Alpha-67's line of fire. The enemy fell as Alpha-67 unloaded his carbine. The ARC Trooper then discharged an additional blaster bolt into the enemy's cranium. With an opening now in place, Alpha-44 made entry and leaped behind cover, all the while firing his carbine on the direction of what he had perceived to be enemy movement.

Alpha-12 slowly moved up, carefully navigating the gallery of desks, chairs, tables, and tall shelves of records. While he was without his heads-up display, Alpha-12 was more than capable of keeping track of his brothers' movements. Speaking through action; communicating without the words, nor sight of one another; domination through speed, surprise and violence of action – these were ingrained into the minds of all ARCs.

Running footsteps echoed sharply against the marble tile nearby, triggering Alpha-12's senses ten folds. As they stopped, blaster fires erupted and the lights around him shattered. As he walked in muffled steps and engulfed in darkness, Alpha-12 could taste drying saliva and the sweat trickling down his forehead. He maintained composure despite his epiphany: the enemy had night vision, and could well see him and kill him when he gives away his position. All of a sudden, two shots reverberated and Alpha-12 felt as if a hammer had hit him twice from behind and knocked the wind out of him. As he was about to fall face first on the cold marble floor, Alpha-12 spun at the last second and switched on the flashlight attachment of his DC-15S. The beam cut right through the darkness and engulfed his attacker's night vision visors. Disoriented and unable to get a bead on the ARC Trooper, the man was shot twice in the chest and once in the skull. He fell and toppled a small table as he collapsed.

Powering through the throbbing pain in his spine and ribs with the help of rushing adrenaline, Alpha-12 got up and took cover behind a desk, all the while dodging a series of blaster fire shot through a parallel dull glass wall. Alpha-12 got up, raising his carbine. In front of him was another one of the Judicials, his SE-44C raised as he rushed Alpha-12's position. Alpha-44 fired at the Judicial's feet and ankle from a prone position through the gap underneath a long couch. The Judicial slumped forward as he pulled the trigger of his weapon. Alpha-12 finished him off with two shots of his carbine and moved on to clear the rest of the archive.

Alpha-67 passed by an opening to the left– an entrance into a room divided from the rest of the archive by a series of non-transparent glass walls. A shot rang out that triggered the ARC Troopers into action.

Alpha-67 fell forward and dropped his carbine as a blaster shot through his skull. "Kyr!" Alpha-12 shouted in disbelief. Alpha-04 quickly egressed to secure Alpha-67, Alpha-88 followed shortly behind and dragged his fallen brother behind cover. "He's passed out. It only grazed him, 12!" Alpha-88 shouted.

Alpha-04 moved to engage Alpha-67's shooter and showered them with a series of blaster bolts. The shooter tried to suppress Alpha-04 with a reply of their own, but was ultimately overpowered and retreated into the room with the glass walls. Alpha-04 gave pursuit and fired into the room through the glass walls, shattering thousands of glittering fragments and leaving scorching holes in their place. Opening the door and making entry into the dark room with his DC-15S raised and flashlight turned on, he found his enemy, lying on his chest with blast marks all over his torso. Alpha-04 fired two additional shots into the enemy, thus completing the dead-checking on his opponent.

Heavy blaster fire erupted 65 feet away from Alpha-88's position and he was forced to keep his head down behind the archive's index. Alpha-12 fired his carbine their way, taking their attention and giving Alpha-88 the opening to cross exposed ground, throw a fragmentation grenade and leap into cover before the Judicial had a chance to re-aim and take him down. The heavy blaster fire finally died down as the grenade exploded and sent metals, chipped marbles and furniture pieces sprawling in all direction.

Alpha-12 moved up, his boots kissing the tile as he ran, to quickly finish the Judicial. As he pushed off the shattered top of a broken table with one hand, a trunk of an arm pulled at him and held him by the throat. His DC-15S was pushed out of the way before the trigger was pulled, and soon Alpha-12 was wrestling for the control of his carbine with the last Judicial – he laid riddled in metallic fragments and bleeding profusely from one ear. As Alpha-12 desperately fought to relieve his larynx from the Judicial's iron grip with one hand and regain control of his carbine with the other, his hood fell backwards, revealing a tan and innocent face barely out of adolescence, with brown eyes devoid of fear nor malice. The Judicial's expression changed from that of pure anger and hatred to that of shock and utter confusion: "A kid?" Then, as quickly as he could, powered by pure desperation, Alpha-12 moved to free the Judicial's sidearm from his holster. The Judicial was only surprised when Alpha-12 fired two shots into his torso, the Judicial's arms drew limp and awkward. "Wait!" The Judicial exclaimed as the ARC Trooper fired a third shot between his eyes.

Connecting the archive's central computer via his datapad, Alpha-44 tapped into the archive's database using the access credentials his squad was provided with. Entering a series of queries, he found their objective: records of transfers, all with substantial amounts of credits attached, from an account under the name of a Muun named Hego Damask to a series of different aliases in Coruscant. With all relevant proofs and records deleted, their objective on Naboo was complete.

Beside him, stood Alpha-12, his hand grasping the identitichip belonging to one of the men he had killed. The personalized datacard marked him as a Coruscanti named Exam Devon. He was 39 years old. He joined the Republic's prestigious Senate Guard at the young age of 19, before finally being selected and serving ever since as a Senate Commando 6 years later.

Despite his body feeling as if bruised in every corner, despite the tightening sensation around his neck that comes with every bated breath, Alpha-12 couldn't help but ignore them. It was the first time Alpha-12 had experienced combat, the first time he'd killed. He felt more alive than he had ever been. All other worries and thoughts were muted and there was only that moment.

All 7 years of his life he had trained all day, every day. All 7 years of their lives Jango Fett and the other instructors had lectured him and his brothers on how they were going to be the best soldiers the galaxy has ever seen; the ultimate weapon of the Republic. Then finally came the time to put those words to the test, to prove that they were true. It felt great, uplifting even.

The ARC Troopers had just come up against some of the most battle-hardened fighters in the galaxy. Yet, despite their superior equipment, experience, and training; they were dead. Alpha-12 and his brothers were not. Whatever comes, there would be no regret, nor remorse.

II

The sky was a perfect midnight velvet, lighter patches of faint and bold light clustered around Naboo's three moons. The city of Theed was silent and serene, omit the songs of the pelikki birds that came sailing in the breeze and the silent roar of the waterfall cascading over the rocky outcrops in the distance.

Jango Fett pulled out a holoprojector. The small handheld device projected the filtered image of a tall and lithe hooded figure. The man carried himself as a proud warrior with decades worth of battle experience behind him. It was hard to underestimate the man, despite his greying beard. While he is famous for his façade as the charismatic Jedi-turned-statesman who was disillusioned with the corruption and arrogance gnawing at the Republic, the former Mandalorian preferred to address him with his true name: "Tyrannus. It's done."

"Then the secrecy of the clone army remains guarded." He said a matter-of-factly. "And in time, with those records gone, the Jedi will never know how the Kaminoans were paid for their army"

"And now all you need is a war for their army to fight in." Jango said permissively. "There was a firefight. The archive will need a clean-up."

"I will speak to my master. He will make sure that all traces are..removed." Tyrannus replied nonchalantly.

Jango would never admit it, but Tyrannus intimidated him. When the count proposed that he became the genetic template of a clone army, his durasteel plated helm had hidden a mixed expression of surprise and confusion. He had asked for 20 million credits. He didn't think that Tyrannus would agree so easily. The man emanated a sense of power, one which possession and absolute he was certain of; "Maybe I should've asked for more credits," Jango thought.

This was all a job to Jango, that's all. He neither felt pride nor a sense of belonging over his clones – they were the Kaminoans' achievement after all, not his. Some of the trainers felt differently, though. Some of them, most prominently the ones in charge of the ARCs, had even started to give them names – Mandalorian names, much to Jango's dismay. He wanted to see for himself how they would perform in the field.

"Think of it. A Grand Army of the Republic. A show of strength and power like the galaxy has never seen. All stemming from you. How many men can claim such a legacy?" Those were the words of Tyrannus when he asked him to be the template for the Republic's clone army. Despite himself, Jango smirked – just subtly. After what he had seen tonight, those words might ring true after all.