"Many Greetings to you, Bounty Hunter. I am Falu Ra. May I inquire as of your names?" said a tall pale Kaminoan as the crew of the FireFly stepped into a large round alcove, in from the torrential rain that plagued the surface of the watery world of Kamino.
"Of course," said Daxius, giving Orian a meaningful glance before he introduced everyone graciously.
Orian crept imperceptibly towards her Negotiations Droid HK-7, asking it to reiterate everything it knew of the current world with twitches of her head-tails in the Twi'lekki language lekku.
HK-7 was still for a moment, and then, stepping towards Orian, whispered with a drawl, "I know it doesn't exist,"
Orian couldn't help twisting her head sharply to her droid, glancing at it in surprise, and attracting the attention of everyone in the room. Falu Ra looked at them with a knowing glance.
"Ah, yes. Kamino is a hidden world. We Kaminoans hear very well. You see, we are the producers of the Grand Republic Clone Army. So, of course, the location of our world isn't known to any but a select few. And I am afraid that we simply cannot allow our world and our clones to come under threat if any of you decide to let the information slip. We simply don't trust you. Lieutenant-Colonel ARC-KL-335, I leave them to you."
Falu Ra gestured his hand and they were surrounded with a group of white armoured Clones with yellow bands across their helmets and DN Bolt-Casters in their hands. Another Clone, this one with blue slashes across his armour indicating his rank, stepped forward.
"You remember these clones? They're the same crew that engaged you in that impressive display. KL-335 here was particularly tenacious. Now if you would be so kind so as to follow them to detainment and you will be transferred to Coruscant when time permits." Falu Ra tipped his crested head down and they were marched down the corridors. "In another time we would have welcomed such fine genetic specimens as yourselves, but we learnt our lesson long ago," he called after them.
"Nice Flying," whispered one of the Clones to Daxius, but he couldn't tell which, although he suspected it was the blue-striped one.
The crew of the FireStorm marched down the long hallways, the clones keeping close guard on them. Daxius tried to sense for any break in their formation, but their guarding was flawless.
"You don't want to take us to detainment," he said persuasively.
The Blue striped Clone chuckled.
"Your Jedi tricks won't work on us any more than they would on a Toydarian," he replied, causing a collective gasp from the crew of mercenaries.
"Jedi? You've had Jedi training?" questioned Walush.
"Neither the time nor place," came Daxius' swift response.
Suddenly HK-7 stopped in his tracks.
"Move along, droid," spat one of the Yellow helmeted clones.
"If I were a flesh-bag like you, I would run," sneered HK-7.
There came a faint whistling sound, and the Lieutenant-Colonel lifted up his blue striped head and pressed a few buttons on the side of his helmet.
"Sensors detect Turbolaser Fire! Squad, to the nearest bunker!" he yelled, his hand coming down in swift signs which seemed to be directing his fellow clones towards a different hallway. They ushered the crew towards an armoured supply room quickly and efficiently, just in time to see the spot where they were just standing melt under red Turbolaser fire into molten slag and liquid plastoids. The stormy rain flew in through the opening and they had to struggle against the tunnelled wind. When they were all safely within the bunker the transparisteel doors shut and they could all sit and gasp for breath.
"I'm patching in to central now, sir," stated a trooper with an enlargened antenna on his helmet. A few tense moments passed. "We're under attack! Separatist forces are invading Tipoca City! We must've engaged the wrong ship by accident!" he cried, gesturing toward the apprehensive mercs.
"I knew our ship couldn't have been detected that easily," muttered Walush.
"Damage done, trooper. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amu," said KL-335.
All the clones stood to attention and repeated the Mando'a phrase. There was a moment of silence, which Orian used to ask her droid HK-7 to translate.
"Today is a good day for someone else to die," drawled HK-7 approvingly.
"CC-182 and 248, guard the southern gate. CC-759 and CP-423, western entrance. CP-553 and 173, you take the eastern hallway, ARC-HR-113 and I will take the northern corridor. Everyone else, into the central bunker, and guard those prisoners! I want two troopers on each of them at all times! Troopers, Oya!!" KL-335 issued orders swiftly, while the Comm Clone downloaded system maps to see where Separatists had invaded.
"Sir, the bulk of the droid invasion is from the South," the Comm Clone said to the Blue Striped Clone, indicating it on the holo-screen.
"Good work, CM-002, send five more troopers to the southern gate and two more to the North; I'll guard the central bunker in their place.
"Troopers, sir? There seems to be many droidekas in the front line there," said the Comm Clone.
"Droideka's? Haar'chak! Beskar'ad chaakar!" cursed KL-335. "Send the Pilots with their DN-Boltcasters then," he ordered.
"I take offence at that," sulked HK-7.
"Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?" hissed one of the pilot Clones to HK-7, jabbing him with his rifle.
"Fine, I'll shut up then." continued HK-7 in a hurt tone.
"What do you think all that was about?" questioned Orian to Daxius.
"The commander called all droids scum, then HK took offence, and they asked him if he was looking for a slap in the face," Daxius muttered back.
"You seem to know what you're talking about," she observed.
"Mando'a ain't a dead language yet, Orian," he grinned. "Don't forget who programmed half those tongues into your droid over there."
"Bwweep-Boop?" T3-S6 chirruped questioningly.
"No, I do NOT need a hug," retorted HK-7. "I have no need for further patronizing!"
Essix seemed to laugh at the HK Droid as it skulked to a corner.
KL-335 meanwhile was routinely checking his DC-17 Blasters. After he was satisfied with his firearms, he began testing his armor for any loose plating. When he took off his helmet, Daxius felt a sharp intake of breath.
"…Jango?" he murmured.
"18. Gimme another card, I'm feelin' lucky. 22. -3 Card down. 19. Stand." Walush the Dug let down his cards and sighed. Playing Pazaak was one way to pass the time under siege, but it was a dull way. They had been sitting in relative silence for the last 15 standard minutes, and Piotr so far had had a winning streak, as his droid T3 trundled along with a juma juice flagon that Piotr would occasionally ask for.
"12. Another. 14. Another. 18. Another. 26! Grr… Stand. Bust!" Yiddles threw his hand down and pointed an accusing finger at Piotr. "Cheat! Fixed cards you got there!"
"I am NOT cheating! I just happen to be lucky! Maybe you should learn when to stand, Yiddles!" Piotr, on a 19, took another pazaak card. He flipped it over and found a 2. Sighing, he took out a negative two card, laid it down, and announced he was standing.
"Well, since us two won, I guess we divide up the winnings," said Walush. Before he could scrape up his half, Piotr stopped him.
"I don't think so," said Piotr, indicating his last card. Walush looked at it and groaned. Not only was it a negative 2, it was a TIE-BREAKER -2, meaning in event of a tie, Piotr would win.
"Cheat I say! How know you that a two you would get?!" screamed Yiddles in his tiny voice. He stamped up and down as he watched Piotr take up all the winnings.
"Just lucky," replied the four-armed Besalisk.
Yiddles' eyes thinned. "What if… this droid I shut down, eh?" he said, turning around and placing a clawed hand on T3-S6. "You see, this droid I always feel, behind me it always is, perhaps at my cards the droid is looking, wouldn't you say?"
"Urm…" started Piotr, starting to get more nervous.
"And know we not the capabilities of this droid, perhaps through the cards this droid can see, perhaps cheater is not you, but this droid?" continued Yiddles.
Walush suddenly got what Yiddles was trying to insinuate. "YOU LIAR! You've been using the T3 droid to look through the cards!"
"Now, now, you guys know me, would I do such a thing?" said Piotr tentatively, backing away. The T3 droid chose this moment to cough up a pazaak card. All three looked down at it, none of them moving for a long moment.
"GET HIM!" the two yelled, leaping at Piotr and tackling him down.
The ruckus was interrupted by a shot of plasma hurtling through the central bunker from the southern gate. KL-335 stopped talking with Orian and Daxius and took out his twin pistols and activated his jetpack, hurtling through the corridor.
"Stay Here if you know what's good for you!" warned the ARC Clone as he disappeared through the door.
Orian cast a worried eye at Daxius. Daxius, meanwhile, had replaced his helm and clicked a concealed button at the side of it. Scanning the room, he was able to detect the footlocker which contained their weapons. He indicated it to Orian.
Orian flew across the room in graceful strides and landed next to the footlocker, her leather bound lekku landing across her back just as her boots hit the plastoid floor with a dull thud. She quickly decoded the lock and the container sprung open, revealing the weapons within. She tossed Daxius both of his Bayne-7 Pistols, HK his Assassin Rifle, Piotr his Vibroblades and Blaster Carbine, Yiddles his poko staff and Walush his slugthrower. Taking her own combat rifle and spinning blade, she strapped them to her hips and got up, only to be met face to face with Daxius, inches away.
"Ahem." he said with a cocked eyebrow. "You forgot something."
Orian looked back in the footlocker and felt her face color. "Here you go," she said, embarrassed, as she handed Daxius his two vibroshivs.
"Thanks, cyar'ika," he replied with a grin as he sheathed them. He quickly ran off to join the others and headed down the southern corridor towards the gate, leaving Orian standing there dumbfounded.
"Cyar'ika? I'll have to ask HK what that means later…" she mumbled, shaking her turquoise lekku about and running off in the direction of her crew.
KL-335 ran through the white lit corridors, his breath steady and he cocked his DC 17 Blaster pistols. They had served him well on Geonosis, where he got his first taste for action. He remembered the battle almost affectionately, 0.2 Galactic years ago, the day the war had begun…
"Lieutenant-Colonel! Droideka's are on the move! We're losing men fast!"
KL-335 snapped out of his reverie and back to the battle before him. His tactical mind switched on as he assessed the situation. His pistols would not do much damage against the Droideka shields. He holstered them and pulled the EMP-Launcher from his back.
"228! Get the pilots with the DN Bolt-Casters ready! And see if we can battle-test those new ARC Casters while you're at it!" cried KL-335, issuing swift orders to the clone Trooper.
"Yes sir, right away sir!" saluted CC-228 as he commed the other units.
KL-335 continued down the corridor. The southern gate wasn't far away. As long as he got there before the gate was breached…
"The Gate is breached! Droideka's are coming through! Clones, Scatter!"
KL-335 sighed. It seemed he'd spoken too soon.
HK-7 sprinted down the corridor at amazing speed, his servo's performing at optimum rate. His eyes glowed icy-blue for a moment as the battle-lust pumped through his circuits, and then subsided back to its usual orange glow.
"Killing to be done," it whispered mechanically as it gained on the blue-striped entity otherwise known as ARC-KL-335.
With a leap that took it well over 20 meters forward, it landed just ahead of KL-335 and halted him.
"Sorry, soldier, but I believe I will be able to dispose of those Droideka's far better than a meatbag such as oneself," it stated in its crackly droid voice.
KL-335 responded in kind by lifting up his EMP-Launcher to the HK droids face.
"Try and stop me, droid," he said coldly.
HK-7 laughed.
"I'm electro-magnetically powered, don't waste your EMP weapons on me," he said airily. "If you want to go and risk your insignificant little life, be my guest! Just don't get my way."
"Likewise," replied the ARC commander.
The two approached the breached gate together, the clone with his gun barrel ready. They were met with a horrific sight. Dead clones littered the hallway. A hole blasted through the plasteel security gate let in droideka after droideka.
Even Jedi fear Droideka. Their repeating blasters and force fields are a formidable combination. A combination that ironically enough, both KL-335 and HK-7 were engineered to counter.
HK rushed forward and clenched a metallic fist, electrical surges emanating from it as he plunged it towards, and through, a droideka's force field. The fist then proceeded to rip a large fistful of components from the droideka's frame, rendering it useless.
Meanwhile KL-335 raised his EMP Launcher and fired a volley of shots into two droidekas on the right, peppering them with shots. The barrage was too much for the shields to handle and they deactivated precisely when the two destroyer droids released their own hailfire of blaster bolts. Activating his jetpack and leaping high over the blasterfire, towards the ceiling, KL-335 let fly a string of thermal detonators at the crowd of droids below.
HK barely had time to leap away when the grenades detonated. The ensuing blast would have knocked it over had it not extended its traction spikes from its feet and dug into the white floor. When the smoke sufficiently cleared the HK droid rose to its full height and rushed at the remaining Super Battle droids, knocking one over with its shoulder as it impacted into it. Taking it's rifle out, the negotiations droid proceeded to "violently reprogram" the last two Separatist droids; in other words, HK blasted them point-blank in the face until they stopped screaming.
KL-335 landed lightly to the sight of the HK droid still blasting away at the rubble of droid parts, with yells of "Die! DIE!". The Clone commander almost grinned.
Somebody programmed this droid to be a little too enthusiastic, he thought to himself.
He turned his attention to the door. The hole, melted from the outside in, was starting to let in rain. As he peered out, however, his face paled.
"Save your shots, droid," said KL-335 to HK-7. HK-7 stopped his melting of a battle droid arm and looked up. Its eyes flickered in apprehension as it looked out the hole as well.
"I don't suppose you will have any backup any time soon, would you?" asked the droid rhetorically.
"Nope. What about you?" the clone answered.
"Not nearly enough backup," stated the HK-7 droid.
Outside the gate, through the breached entrance, was an army of Super Battle droids marching towards them. And behind those, over two dozen droideka's. And behind those, a Trade Federation Tank. And on top of that, a Dark Jedi.
The Dark Jedi sneered as he activated his lightsaber. The red glow lit up his face as he patched through a commlink on his wrist.
"We've breached the Southern entrance to Tipoca City," he said maliciously through the commlink. "We will begin invasion shortly."
Back in the Southern corridor, behind his crew ahead of him, Daxius suddenly stopped running. He closed his eyes and seemed to listen to the outside world around him. His eyes snapped open abruptly.
"I have a bad feeling about this," he said to nobody in particular, as he began to sprint down the corridor once again.