Joystick was a professional at evasion.
Whether it was laser-fire in a firefight, enemy craft in a dogfight, stray rations in a food-fight, fists in a barracks-fight, or awkward questions in general, he excelled at dodging it, and that's exactly what he did, jogging down the halls of the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Doubtless. As the combat alarm sounded, Joystick made his way around rushing troopers, past astromechs rolling to and fro, and a stupid protocol droid that Joystick, if not for the raging battle outside, would've shoved over and/or pranked on his way to the hangar. All the while, the ship's big voice announced orders and issued warnings:
"All flight stations report in. Launch bay 3B is cleared of debris, reserve combat pilots are to scramble immediately. This is not a drill."
Joystick entered the main hangar area, a cavernous room stretching nearly the entire length of the behemoth capital ship. The roof was open, reaviling the black expanse of Outerspace, dotted with stars and filled with fighter-craft, circling in a destructive dance. The only thing separating him and the hundreds of other souls in the hangar from a cold, airless death was a thin blue shield, making the ship retain its oxygen, lucky for Joystick. While air couldn't pass through, launching spacecraft found no difficulty flying out to join combat.
Flight crews, pilots, and mechanics rushed about. The clattering of metal on metal and the rushing sounds of engines filled the air as Joystick marched towards a specific fighter; an ARC-170. Correction, his ARC-170. Coloured with reddish brown markings on the white, stainless hull, its S-foils closed tight, it had his signature sign saying "Kiss My Butt" hanging on the back. The three cockpit hatches were wide open, signalling that his companions were already loading up. On top, a red brown astromech, C1-M8 "Mate" made impatient noises, waving his two mechanical arms around. Joystick held a finger up to his lip as he approached, signalling the droid to remain quiet. Mate made no sign of noticing him, continuing to complain that all the good kills were being made while they lazed in the hangar like bumkins. Climbing up atop the fighter, Joystick peeked into the tail gunner's seat, trying not to laugh as he spied on his friend, Shuriken, who had his head beneath the dashboard, doubtlessly trying to calibrate something or another.
"Don't patronise me, Mate," Shuriken grumbled, unaware of Joystick's presence. "It's bad enough to have one psycho onboard, but a short-circuited droid with attitude? Once Joystick gets here, he'll be all 'Hurry, hurry! I've seen Hutts move faster than you! There are death-defying stunts that need pulling off!' Believe me, I don't wanna be in this death trap. Last thing I need is-"
"Hurry, hurry! I've seen Hutts move faster than you! There are death-defying stunts that need pulling off!" Joystick blurted suddenly, grabbing Shuriken's shoulders.
"Ga-oof!" Shuriken jumped, seeming to forget the dashboard above his head. Joystick began laughing when he saw the displeased face of his companion. "Grow up Joystick, will ya?" He grumbled.
"I am, twice as fast as a normal person if you haven't noticed," the pilot replied matter-of-factly, smirking. Clones grew at a doubled rate, meaning they matured quickly, at least physically. Joystick was only ten years old, in reality.
"Hey, you two!" Both clones looked over at the copilot's spot. Another clone, helmet donned, stood up. "If you're done, we need to get out there. It's scramble, not cruise flights."
"I'm moving, Dusty," Joystick said, giving Shuriken a playful shove. "Just making sure Corporal Pessimist here is flight ready." He climbed out and over the ship, plopping down into his pilot seat. He checked the instruments and the fuel, along with the munitions. All was in order. He grabbed his helmet, admiring his custom raised eyebrow design before securing it on his head. "Alright, who's ready to blow away some Seppies?" Joystick asked through comms.
"Kriff," Shuriken responded. "If I wanted to do that, my first choice would be with a rifle. Just my luck your gunner got himself fragged on the surface, now I'm stuck as an honorary birdman."
"He's complaining, that means he's ready," Dusty chuckled.
"This is Riddler Six to Control," Joystick called in. "Ready for take-off."
"Negative Riddler Six. We have an incoming wing that suffered heavy damage. He's attempting an emergency landing. Hold short."
"Copy," he replied.
"Look," Shuriken pointed out. "Y-Wing. He's burning up." Surely, Joystick noticed the flaming bomber barreling down towards the hangar. A trail of smoke billowed and dispersed behind it.
"He looks low," Dusty muttered. "Oh no. Red on red-!" The fighter struck the front of the ship, just shy of getting inside the hangar. It exploded spectacularly, throwing debris in all direction. Some wreckage fell through the blue shield, impacting the deck with small bursts of flame.
"... you are dead," Joystick finished the rhyme grimly, shaking his head in silence.
"Riddler Six, Riddler Seven, Riddler Eight, Riddler Nine, you are cleared for launch. Be advised; bandits fifteen hundred above the hull, four hundred off Starboard. Good hunting, Control out."
"You heard the man, we're on!" Joystick called, activating the thrusters.
"Force help us all," Shuriken muttered.
"Move! Move!" Raid shouted, legs pumping as he ran through the brush, Twitch not far in front of him and battle droids not that far behind. Red lasers flew overhead, left and right, striking plants and rocks. Occasionally, either clone turned to take a random shot behind them as they ran, hoping to drop one of their pursuers that couldn't be seen through the thick organic growth.
"How far to the lines?" Twitch called, panting heavily.
"I have no idea," Raid confessed, stumbling slightly over a root. "The Separatists have pushed us in far. Comms silent, so our boys could've retreated, or we could be charging right into allied fire."
"Pleasant thought, but if we don't go that way, we're gonna end up fertilizer."
"Yeah, well we-" Raid stopped midsentence when Twitch dove into a bush. Immediately, he noticed droids coming at them from head on. He fell flat an instant before they opened fire. "Thanks for warning me!" Raid crawled behind a tree and got into a kneel.
"Sorry! I was surprised!" Twitch began firing from his carbine at the droids in front. "How are they here?! Are we going the wrong way?"
Raid started shooting in the direction they came as enemy B1s showed through the foliage. "No. They've cut us off somehow. The attack is moving faster than we thought. They're already fanning out around us."
"That means we're surrounded!" Twitch took cover behind an adjacent tree and looked at him. "We're trapped."
Raid smiled sadly beneath his helmet. "Afraid so." The two troopers traded shots on both sides silently, dodging several bolts that came their way. 'So, this is how it ends? Side by side with my brother, shooting 'til the end? Not a bad death.' Raid stood right next to Twitch, who knelt, blasting clankers. He managed a few headshots, quickly piling up droids on the approach.
"It was an honour fighting with you," Twitch said as the droids circled in, leaving them in a rough nine-yard circle.
"Likewise, brother."
Out of nowhere, the strangest sound Raid had ever heard sounded; some sort of feral growl mixed with a gurgle. Blue laser began picking off droids tens at a time.
"Wait, what's happening?!" Twitch whirled around towards the source of the onslaught.
"Blurrgs!" Raid pointed.
From the direction the clones were trying to go, Twelve Twi'leks riding weird creatures like giant fish with a thick reptile tail and a pair of large, sturdy legs bounded onto the scene, crushing droids. All but two charged past the clones, mowing down battle droids.
"Clone troopers. It is good you still live," a burly, blue Twi'lek dressed in sleeveless brown battle robes and mismatched pieces of white clone armour greeted from his mount. A bandelier with grenades was slung over his shoulder, also holding his hunting rifle. His voice was gruff, matching his build. He also had a thick, Twi'lek accent to his basic. "I am Orn Allonda, this is my sister Sienna." He gestured towards the bluish-purple female astride her own blurrg. She sported a green shirt, light brown pants, and a black leather jacket. A DC-17 handgun rested in a holster on her thigh. Her lekku were slightly shorter than Orn's, and slenderer.
"Greetings, mighty warriors." Her voice was soft and smooth, matching her slender build. Her accent was lighter than her brother's, yet still prevalent.
"I am Private Raid, and this is my companion Private Twitch," Raid said, saluting. "Thank you for arriving when you did. Without your assistance, we would've been overrun."
"It gladdens me to save you, noble defenders of our home," Orn replied. "We are part of a sortie to upset the enemy charge to lengthen time for our retreat. Are there more to your unit?"
"No. Our Sergeant and the rest of the squad fell about a mile from here," Twitch said, voice filled with remorse. "We're all that's left."
"I am sorry for your loss," Sienna smiled sadly. "It is the fate of warriors, no? Someday we all will find our end in glory."
Orn's wrist comm beeped, and he held it up to his ear. "We must away. We will return you to your brothers. Hop on." Raid and Twitch considered the beasts cautiously. Never before had they even been this close to them. To Raid, the sharp teeth and vicious destruction of battle droids gave them a threatening light.
"Come now, do not be frightened," Sienna laughed as they nervously approach.
"How should I..." Twitch asked her, helmet facing the creature's gaping maw.
"Can you ride... what is it? Two up?"
"Uh... sure?" Sienna helped him up behind her. The blurrg made no reaction to the added weight. Raid mimicked this onto Orn's mount, finding the saddle quite tough.
"Alright. I will call back the others," Orn said, beginning to speak into his communicator in rapid Twi'lek. The other blurrg made a moaning sound, shifting as Twitch clutched its sides.
"Stop being nervous," Sienna lightly chastised him. "He smells your fear."
"Oh, tell your fish monster I'm sorry," Twitch deadpanned. "I've been busy almost dying all day and haven't had much of a chance to shower the stench off."
Sienna giggled. "You clones amuse me so." Orn stopped talking in his comm, looking over with a smirk.
"It is time to move. Hyah!" He flicked the reigns, and the creature turned and began running in the direction of the lines. Raid almost fell off at the sudden jerking motion, gripping more firmly to the blurrg. The creature expertly made its way through the trees and bushes, dodging roots and nimbly crossing the difficult terrain. Risking a glance backwards, he saw to his enjoyment Twitch desperately holding on, arms wrapped tightly around Sienna's waist as he hugged her for dear life. The Twi'lek had the most amused smirk on her face as she flicked the reigns of the blurrg, urging it faster. Raid knew he would be bugging Twitch about the scene for as long as they lived.
"Woohoo!" Joystick yelled in ecstasy, jerking his namesake in front of him to the left, causing the ARC-170 to barrel roll. Chasing down a Separatist Vulture Droid, he rapidly hit the trigger, firing off the cannons mounted on the centre wings of the six S-Foils. He quickly gunned it down, leaving the smoking wreck behind as he began seeking out a new target.
"Yeah, boys!" Dusty shouted, kicking the separator between him and Joystick. "That's how we fly. Redline it!"
"Glad you're having fun; I'mma turn my helmet into a barf-bucket!" Shuriken complained from the back. "Did I mention how hard it is to shoot anything with you playing stunt pilot over there?"
"Nah. You just suck as a gunner," Joystick retorted, taking note of the pursuit alarm. "Hey, how 'bout you bag that bandit?"
"Right after I bag lunch from earlier," Shuriken snorted.
Mate began making angry whooping noises, tapping on the cockpit glass.
"I agree," Joystick said. "If he gets vomit on our ship, we'll space him and his 'sludge' here. Let's hope the Seppies have good windshield wipers!"
"Careful," Dusty interrupted. "The point defense guns on those three Dreadnoughts seem to think we're the best target!" Joystick could see the profusion of anti-aircraft fire from the enemy capital ships was becoming more condensed as the number of Republic fighters began to dwindle. Things were already going south as several allied frigates had blown up and the two Venators were taking heavy damage. Ammunition was low, power was low, supplies were running out, and things were getting choppy.
"Alright, I'm going to begin evasive manoeuvres," Joystick said slyly. A groan came from the back of the fighter as he began to go wild, dodging large red blasts while mowing down fighters.
The comms came to life as orders came in from Doubtless. "Riddler Squadron, pull back! Shields are down and we're sustaining major structural damage. We need you to clear those bandi-" It cut off when a huge explosion lit up off of Port. Joystick's head whipped left to see both capital ships go up in flames. Explosions trailed from the area of the reactors and across the ship. He averted his eyes when a blinding blast erupted from the Venators. As the light faded, Joystick stared in shock at the burning wreckage where the Republic fleet's flagship had once been. The whole battle seemed as shocked as him, as for a brief moment the laser fire ceased.
Then all hell broke loose.
"Riddler Squadron" Riddler Leader called in panic as all Separatist guns had their attention on the now-vulnerable Republic fighters. "We've lost capital support! Form up at sector five and we'll make a run for the surface! All remaining air groups, follow us. We'll cut a path through."
"Yes sir!" Came the acknowledgements.
"Still having fun?" Shuriken asked as Joystick swerved and dodged his way to form up with the Squad. He narrowly avoided an exploding Y-Wing.
"As a matter of fact, I always have fun," he responded through gritted teeth, focussing on keeping his team alive. "Mate, how many of our guys are still up?" The astromech responded with some quick, panicky chatter. "Half of Riddler, a near-full Y-Wing unit, and two Headhunters. Well, that's perfect." Joystick joined up with the pack of allied fighters, all loosely in a spearhead formation, Headhunters and ARCs in front with the Y-Wings right behind. They were flying on a path to get one Dreadnought in the between them and the other capital ships. Vulture droids and Tri-fighters were massing ahead of them; a deadly swarm of merciless killing machines.
"We're going in!" Joystick declared.
"Bring it on, chumps!" Dusty shouted.
"Let's hope this works," Shuriken said cynically.
(A/N): Credit to my friend Ghasty57 for Joystick's creation. He makes a great cloner (no, not a Kaminoan. Just a cloner).