Chapter 3: Explanations, Theories, and Backstories

Vladislav was not having a good day. Ignoring the fact the bout of inconvenient time travel, passing out afterwards hadn't helped. The constant headache was proof of that, only doubled by the Firebird's condition.

Perk had cleared him so he wasn't confined to the medbay, hence why he was standing in the hanger, staring at his ship. It looked like he had just flown through a space battle with no shields and a big red target on the hull. Holes, frayed wires, panels hanging open. It was a wonder it hadn't fallen apart. He turned around to the Clone, Fixer, accompanying him. Oh yeah, the Republic used Clones now.

One hour ago

"So, a set of triplets." Vladislav stated as another identical trooper approached him. It seemed coincidental at first, but it was kind of creeping him out now. This one's armor, painted in the same orange as the Commander, was designed like dragon's scales.

"Clones." The Trooper stopped in front of him, "I'm Fixer. I've been assigned to you." He looked despairingly at the door.

"Let me guess, you pissed someone off and now you're stuck here babysitting me." Vladislav deadpanned. He frowned, "Wait, clones? Since when did the Republic use clones?".

Fixer cocked his head at the Lieutenant. "Since the Clone Wars started. Is that a problem?"

Vladislav looked like he wanted to say yes, but thought better of it. He shook his head, "No…" before reverting to his usual. "So, you've been assigned to show me around. Could you show me to the hanger?"

Present Time

He stared at the wreck for a few more moments before settling for a quiet groan. He jogged over towards the ship. The door hung partway open, so the trooper pushed in. "What happened to you?" he muttered softly.

"Whatever happened to her, it really did a number on her. The General told me and my squad to give you whatever help you need. He hasn't specified why, so I didn't ask why. If it's not classified, would you mind sharing?"

Vladislav paused, thinking about the request. The reason it was need-to-know only was because, well, how many would believe that he had time traveled 3700 years forward in time? Not only that, but he himself was still processing it. Everything he knew and fought for (or against) was gone. Sure, the Republic may have won the war, but it wasn't the Republic that he knew. Not only this, but there was no evidence pointing to the possibility of getting back to his original time. General Kenobi had told him that not even the Force could do something like this. At least, there had been no other occurrence like this. It was weird, being the first for something.
He looked over at the quiet trooper, "Even I'm not fully sure what happened, so for the time being no. Once everything gets sorted and I figure out whats going on, I might be able to." he said. It wasn't technically a lie or anything. He really didn't know what was going on. Kenobi had told him that he'd try his hardest to find out what had happened and if they could reverse it, but who knew when that would happen.

Fixer nodded. He understood why he couldn't know about whatever 'it' is. "So, you've got an unspecified amount of time and a squad of five waiting to help. I'm assuming you want to start working on your ship?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Vladislav nodded. He knew it would take who knows how long to repair The Firebird and he wanted to get a start on it. "I plan on it, but I can get it. It'll take time but I can get her fixed up. You guys needn't take time out of whatever your plans are." he hastily added the last bit on.

Fixer looked at him oddly, "If you insist. I still have to stay with you and make sure you don't pass out or something." he said. Vladislav just nodded in understanding.

-Linebreak-

As it turned out, Fixer was very different then their first meeting suggested. Vladislav suddenly understood why he was tasked with watching him. He was extremely excitable and could chatter endlessly, moving from one topic to another in a split second. Vladislav didn't much mind. He couldn't fault the clone for his interests. As a matter of fact, he was actually surprised at how Fixer could keep such a bright outlook in the midst of a war.

That was another thing. He had been transported from one war into another. His luck was that bad apparently. Kenobi had mentioned that he might have been sent here for a reason. Maybe there was something that he had to do and he would be sent back to his own time. He couldn't possibly think of a reason that he was here though.

He tuned back in to Fixer, who, even knowing that Vladislav was only half listening, continued to ramble. While enough time had passed (about a week and a half) so that Fixer hadn't actually needed to stick around, he did. He and his squad had continued to spend time with the Trooper, regardless of the fact that they didn't need to. This was one reason he had decided to let them in on the time travel earlier.

A few hours ago

"Vlad?" Fixer came jogging over to where Vladislav hunched. Progress had been slow on The Firebird's repair, but it was going faster then he had expected. "I want to introduce you better to my squad. Are you almost done?" he came to a stop.

Vladislav looked up, "Almost. Give me a minute or two to finish this little section. Haven't I already been introduced to them though?" he tacked on the question, not really wanting to play 20 questions, lest they start asking prodding questions.

"Yes, but it was mostly a name and occupation thing. This is like backstories and how said names were earned and stuff like that. Exploits and past missions and kill counts."

Vladisav blinked at the last one. "first, that was extremely morbid. I don't count the people I kill. Second, most of my 'exploits and past missions' are classified. I do, however, think it a good idea to let you in on what's going on now. At least, as long as it is kept under lock and key. I don't need a whole cruiser knowing my past."

Fixer gave him a slightly offended look before grinning, "Don't worry. We can keep secrets. Now come on!" he snagged his arm as soon as he put his tool down. With no warning, he took off, dragging a surprised Lieutenant behind.

Once they reached where Fixer and his squadmates bunked. The other four were already there. Omen, Burn, Data, and Cub. Omen was rolling a pair of dice. The repetitive clatter was almost comforting. Burn and Data were glaring at each other. Again. Cub just sat there, trying to not be noticed.

As they entered, Burn looked over and said, "Nice of you to show up, Fixer. I was starting to think you sent us that message to get here as a joke."

Fixer just threw back a grin, "I think it's time we share backstories. I asked Vlad and he said he thinks it's time for him to explain why he's classified to high heaven."

Vladislav stifled a groan, "That isn't exactly how I explained it, but it's close enough I guess." he sat down on an empty bunk and leaned up against the wall. "Mine will take a while, so it's best you five go first." he said.

Omen cleared his throat. He sat up, "Well, you know pretty much everything already. Fixer, Burn, Data, and I were on the same squad during training. We were average, but somehow managed to get deployed with the 212th. Cub's is different." here he looked as if to ask for permission. Cub nodded so Omen continued, "Up until recently, Cub served under General Krell. He was left for dead after one of Krell's massacres. We found him, cleaned him up, and had him transferred to the 212th." Omen finished, an angry expression decorating his features.

Vladislav wanted to ask who this Krell was, but knew it wasn't a good idea, based off of that look. Instead he paused for a few moments before starting his own story, "It all started when I was called away on a private assignment in the middle of leave. 3700 or so years ago." he paused at the revelation, but the squad just stared at him. Taking that as a fact that they wouldn't be over it anytime soon, he continued. "I am Lieutenant Vladislav Raginis. I am part of Havoc Squad, the best of the best that the Republic has to offer." and so he told them of Havoc's history and Tavus's betrayal. How he was in the middle of hunting them down and bring them to justice. At the end, there was a moment's pause.

"So, time travel." Data said. "Is there any chance you could give me an account of what happened? Everything about it right now is all theoretical. Having a first hand account though... It could be revolutionary." he went to pull out a piece of flimsi.

Vladislav held out a hand, "Maybe, but I was dead to the world the entire time so I don't actually know what it included. Also, this can not get out. Either no one would believe you or someone would want to, like, cut me open and study my insides or something."

Looking away, Data shrugged, "It was worth a shot." he said before putting down his writing utensils.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you get your names? I'm assuming there's a story behind them?" Vladislav asked, interested in learning more about the men he'd be spending time with.

Omen shrugged. He glanced at his squadmates, "Of course. I got the name Omen from my habit of being able to guess what would happen before it did. Call it a gut feeling or whatever, it just happened. After a while, the boys came up with the name and it stuck. That, and my good luck with dice. Always calling it how it'll roll."

Fixer went next, "I got mine from the medicinal item Fixer. Apparently it is supposed to help with hyperactivity. Burn says I need some, but I don't see the issue." here he glared good naturally at his brother, who shrugged in return.

"I'm not wrong. Besides, you're the one who stuck me with Burn. I stand by my statement that the fire in the barracks was not caused by me."

"It was."

"It was not."

"You were the only one there."

"That doesn't make me responsible!"

"So it started itself?"

"Yes."

"Coincidentally burning Wick's pinups? The ones that you hated?"

"Yes. Good riddance, if you ask me."

The argument stopped with a disbelieving noise from Fixer, who nodded to Data. "I think the origin of my name is obvious. Data. My almost unhealthy obsession with information." He paused and looked at Cub. "Cub's the youngest in our squad. He graduated six months ago. Lost his batchmates in battle. We got him moved to the 212th and he's been with us ever since."

Present time

He knew that there was a high chance that he would see at least one battle. He had to admit, from what he heard about the Separatists, he wasn't to worried. He'd fought sith before. Droids shouldn't pose to much of an issue.

Of course, that was when a rock shook the cruiser.

End Chapter:

QoTC:

"I'MA GET A SUGAR MAMA!" - BC I.Z.