Mygeeto was cold, windy, in all honesty an awful place to be. That is of course if you don't have heating systems inside your clothes.

And today, CC-1138 was glad he was wearing his armor.

Phase II armor was infinitely preferable to the body-bags that were called Phase I. In addition to being more damage resistant, it gave more flexibility, customization, and climate control.

So the scorch marks that 1138 had earned through his long and rough career stayed on his uniform.

But even the great Commander Bacara, hero of many of the Outer Rim Sieges and ARC trainee, was beginning to lose hope.

The droids were pushing the Galactic Marines back across the bridge. All their work to liberate Jygat was falling to ruin as the spider walkers effortlessly pushed the IFT-X back across the bridge with explosive rounds.

So now, the great Commander Bacara was reduced to cowering behind a piece of rubble, waiting for his call requesting back-up to be answered as he watched his troops fall.

"Comander!"

He risked a glance up.

Tall and powerful, lit from below by a glowing lightsaber, Ki-Adi Mundi extended a pale hand. "Have you given up on me so early?"

Bacara scowled at him from beneath his helmet. He had never held to much fondness for Jedi. They were just too powerful. It wasn't natural. But the general had gotten him through many battles, so the clone (grudgingly) respected the cerean.

1138 stood, ignoring the outstretched hand. "Sir, the bridge is all but lost. I suggest we retreat to the far side and blow the bridge."

Mundi considered it for a moment. "That would work, except we would have to walk another mile to the next bridge, and I'm sure the droids would be waiting for us when we got there."

"Then what do you suggest general?" He hoped Mundi didn't catch the sarcasm in his voice.

The Jedi's eyes flashed with anger, but only for a moment. The look was superseded by an expression of grim determination. "Fortunatley, I was able to round up some more support from a nearby bridge."

1138 had noticed the tanks that were materializing from the snow.

"We fight?" he inquired.

Bringing his lightsaber higher, the cerean glared past the clone and at the oncoming droids. "We fight."

Then he turned, surveying the other clones. Then he raised the glowing blue plasma over his head and yelled "CHARGE!"

And the Galactic Marines clashed with the droid with a roar unparalleled by any battle before.

Mundi took the lead as the tanks crawled over the debris. He looked more like a bolt of blue lightening than a being.

For a moment, 1138 was proud to have Mundi as a general.

The Jedi risked a glance back at his troops, who were watching in stunned admiration. "C'MON!" he called, before running forward to face more droids.

Then a crackling noise invaded the helmet of 1138. "Commander Bacara, execute Order 66."

The chancellor had given the order.

In his peripheral, he saw his brothers stop running. They had heard it too.

They all cocked their rifles. Mundi stopped. He gazed bewildered at the six barrels now pointed at him, glancing from one trooper to the next.

He had just realized his commander's treachery.

But it wasn't treachery.

Not on 1138's part at least.

Order 66 was only to be issued in case of a rebellion, so there must have been one, and that made Mundi the treacherous one.

With righteous fury, 1138 squeezed the trigger of his weapon. The other clones followed suit.

Mundi was immediately putting his lightsaber between himself and his clones, shot ricocheting from the blade and back into the troopers, but the traitorous scum was grazed by a droid's shot.

The momentary stagger was all 1138 needed.

The first shot hit Mundi in the chest. Several more followed. Mundi gasped in agony, but his gasp was silenced by more shots. He fell to the ground.

The surviving four marines, including 1138, converged on the body. If he wasn't dead, they were going to make sure he was.

But the cerean was dead. Six smoking scorch marks on the man's chest served as testimony to the surgical precision of the Galactic Marines.

He noticed one of his comrades was panting. Shaking. Acting like he had just committed a murder.

"W-w-we k-k-killed him," he stammered.

1138 was glad that the disgusted look on his face was concealed by his helmet. "He was a traitor, a scum bag. What are you ashamed of?"

"He trusted us-"

"BUT HE BETRAYED US!" roared the commander. "He betrayed your trust! He had it coming!"

"Did he?"

1138 was fit to vomit. The clone was a disgrace.

"Fall back and pull yourself together soldier," he ordered. Then he turned to the other Marines. They stood stock still. The commander had never behaved like this before. "Get me some rocket launchers up here, take out those spider walkers!"