RISHI SYSTEM, ABRION SECTOR – RISHI MOON – RISHI STATION

Clone troopers are bred for battle. That is the one thing they can always affirm with utmost certainty about themselves. From the moment they are removed from their artificial wombs, to the second they can hold a blaster rifle and are shipped out to whatever corner of the galaxy they were assigned to, a clone trooper could expect heavy combat, grueling conditions, and certain death.

Most of the time, that is.

There are, of course, positions that don't entail such dangers 24/7. Oh sure, some still entail some danger, such as serving on a warship's permanent crew, or as planetary guard in the inner perimeter planets, where the Separatists hadn't pushed towards yet, but these were still somewhat more desirable to jobs like, say, the Coruscant Guard… Or listening outpost manning.

Such was the case of a group of seven clones, currently working as the operating crew of a listening outpost in the Rishi Moon, the satellite of the planet of the same name, in the system of same name, which served as the entry point of the eponymous Rishi Maze.

Uncreative naming convention aside, the near-omnipresent boredom of the outpost belied its purpose as the first line of defense to the Republic's most important war asset: Kamino. Before the fleets, orbital stations, and stationed troops tasked with defending the cloning facilities that provided the Republic with its numerous soldiers, the Rishi outpost would sound the alarm in case of any unauthorized arrival through the Rishi Maze corridor, allowing the Grand Army forces scattered throughout the nearby systems to rush to Kamino's aid. Fortunately for the GAR, for all the Separatists were ambitious, they were not stupid, so Kamino had remained unassailed since the beginning of the war.

Unfortunately, for a select group of clones currently manning Rishi outpost, this meant crushing, constant boredom day in, day out. Such was the current situation at the outpost, as the seven clones assigned for the base took to their respective activities, each with varying degrees of enthusiasm, the daily schedule hovering over their heads as the troops prepared for yet another day of solitude in one of the most forgotten corners of the galaxy.

Still, they found at least some way of passing the time: Echo calmly scrolled through his datapad, already checking the new regulation manual for updated information, Cutup and Hevy were going full force at an arm-wrestling competition, Fives, Nub and Droidbait simply worked their shift while listening to the musical tones of the VJ droid, while somewhere outside, Boulder was most likely keeping watch with his helmet's electrobinoculars. All in all, it was a perfectly ordinary day at the outpost.

Exactly what some of the clones didn't want.

"This is the deck officer checking in," filtered Boulder's voice through the main room's speakers, though the volume was somewhat muted due to the music also being played on the same speakers. "Nothing to report… As usual."

The calm air was only momentarily broken by Hevy slamming Cutup's arm down onto the table with one final grunt of effort, before standing and triumphantly throwing his arms up in victory. "Haha! Yes!" shouts the trooper, already sweeping the room for his next opponent even as Cutup gently nurses his wrist in case of an injury. "Alright, who's next, Droidbait? Fives?"

"Shouldn't you be watching your scope, Hevy?" asked Echo calmly, his eyes never turning from the datapad's screen. Hevy's response to that question was to simply scoff and turn back to the station he had been assigned to.

"Yeah, sure, let's have a look," replied the trooper sarcastically, quickly turning around to activate his viewscreen, only to reveal nothing but the barren wastelands of the moon that surrounded their outpost for miles and miles. "Hmm, what do you know? All clear! Just like the last hundred times I looked at it…"

"You really gonna complain about the peace and quiet, brother?"

"Aren't you?"

"Of course not, I like the quiet. It lets me catch up on the reg manuals."

"Echo, what is wrong with you?" asked Hevy with an almost insulted tone. "We should be in the frontlines, blasting droids! Not sitting around doing nothing!"

"Ah, just leave him be," spoke up Cutup as he turned to his own station, waving his unhurt arm in the air dismissively. "They kept him in the growth jar too long…"

Echo's response to both the comment and the chuckles his two brothers gave to him was to simply frown and refocus his attention back onto his datapad and reg manuals, leaving Hevy free to simply turn to another one of his brothers and point a finger at him. "Fives, I know you haven't realized it yet, but you just landed yourself on the most boring post in the entire Outer Rim."

"And one of the most important ones, too."

The arrival of the base's chief officer, O'Niner, was the cue for every still-sitting trooper to rise to their feet, shut off the radio, and stand at crisp parade rest as their commanding officer ran a critical, yet still calm, gaze over his fellow brothers, before finally giving a nod of approval. "At ease," he called out, before slowly starting to pace around the room. "Even though you're all new here, I shouldn't have to remind you that this quadrant is key to the Outer Rim. If the droids get past this station, they can surprise-attack the facilities where we were born on our home world of Kamino."

Though O'Niner spoke with calm and professionalism, the gravitas behind his statement could not be undercut, something that was made clear by the light tightening of fists and furrowing of brows that ensued from the troopers all around. And with good reason, after all: Kamino was the closest thing a clone could call "home", regardless of the nature of their birth. And it'd be a cold day in hell before any clone let the clankers get within even a lightyear of their home.

After another moment of silence, O'Niner stopped pacing and turned to face the recruits once more. "We have a scheduled inspection for today, so I want this place squared away for when the liaisons arrive here."

"Liaisons, sir?" asked Echo with a tone of uncertainty, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "They're not Republic-affiliated?"

"In a way, trooper. The details are still light, but seems the Republic hired a mercenary fleet to bolster our forces. They're sending three members here as a preliminary team, and to deliver extra supplies. All we have to do is accommodate them until they're relieved by the official inspectors, so get things ready, troopers. Dismissed."

"Great, mercenaries… just what we needed here…"

"Ah, give it a rest, Hevy…" said Fives in return, giving his squad mate a pat on the shoulder. "Maybe you and them will get along."

"Somehow, I doubt it."

-O-

HYPERSPACE – EN ROUTE TO THE RISHI SYSTEM – ABOARD NU-CLASS ATTACK SHUTTLE

"This blows…"

"Yes, Gardner, you made it clear the last four times."

"Well, notch it up as the fifth, then."

Wait time between jumps was nothing new back in the Milky Way. Travel between planets sometimes required two or three jumps, which meant wait times for the drives to cool down, coordinates to be recalculated and repairs-slash-maintenance to be performed. Still, the fact long-distance jumps were performed in at minimum a small warship or transport meant that, one way or another, a passenger aboard them could find something to entertain themselves with, be it human contact, simpods, a book… Something.

But not here. Not aboard the native ship Gardner, Wolfe and Harper had been forced to take for this mission, and which was now travelling through hyperspace towards their destination. In this ship, all they could do was twiddle their thumbs, and go over the documents and manuals given to them by Fleet Command about the galaxy and everything else in it.

It took Gardner fifteen minutes before giving up and starting to do, as Harper had put it, "stupid shit" instead.

Said "stupid shit", in this case, had been running maintenance on the contents of two duffel bags the man had brought aboard the shuttle.

The contents were guns.

"Tell me again why you needed these for the trip?" asked Harper with as much calm as he could, side-eyeing his squad mate as he reassembled the firing chamber of a Peacekeeper shotgun, sliding the parts back together a bit more forcefully than needed.

"Because I wanna be ready in case those Sep dudes show up. We can't bring Spectres, I'll just bring guns." With one final smack, Gardner closed up the shotgun and locked it all in place, before tossing it back into the bag, a loud clatter of metal and plastic ringing inside the cabin, leaving Gardner to give a tired huff before sagging in his seat, staring up at the ceiling of the shuttle's cargo hold with an almost unfocused gaze and his arms crossed against his chest. "Better prepared than caught off-guard, you know…"

Silence followed Gardner's reply, bar the sound of the shuttle's engine propelling it through hyperspace vibrating and echoing through the walls of the cargo bay. And though he had answered Harper's question with seeming honesty, there had been something… strange in his tone. Lord knows how much of a snarker everyone in the team could be, even in the face of danger or stressful situations, but they always treated things as seriously as needed. To bring an arsenal that large for what was essentially just a routine inspection, Harper could clearly classify it as "overkill".

And while Gardner could be many things, "overly-prepared" was not one of them. Especially not on this level. But what could be causing this? Quickly, Harper racked his memory for anything that could have happened in such a small time frame, but nothing came to mind…

Until it did.

"… Hey, Gardner?"

"Yeah?"

"… Was it your turn yesterday?"

It was a nail in the head. Immediately, the sniper's posture locked up, his hands tightening around his arms hard enough to creak the plating around his biceps, and for a moment Harper actually regretted asking the question. Finally, however, Gardner sagged once more, his head drooping as a weary sigh escaped his lips. "… Yeah… yeah, it was… sorta."

"Sorta?... You didn't jump ship, did you?"

"No. No, I… I didn't. I actually went to the session and everything, but… it wasn't me that ended up talking through it. When I walked in and saw the shrink… she looked fucking miserable, Harper. So instead, I… I let her talk, you know?" With yet another sigh, Gardner ran a hand through his hair as he leaned forward, casting a strained, tired look to his partner. "I know we're the ones supposed to get treatment… But shit, how many people did she have to help out before me, without getting some herself? I just… decided to give her a shot, you know? I mean, I burned my whole time… but she looked a bit better when I walked out of the room."

Once more, silence. But this time, Harper was far quicker to end it. With utmost calm, the medic rose from his seat, and moved to a seat right next to Gardner, sitting down with a small huff. "Well… Wanna talk now, then?"

When the sniper didn't reply, Harper was worried he had overstepped. Thankfully, that proved wrong, when Gardner swung around to face his squad mate and rubbed a hand over his face. "… Yeah… Yeah, okay… Thanks."

"No worries… Well, I'll just ask right away: anyone you left behind?"

"… Yeah. My husband, Roy."

"Shit… Sorry, man."

"It's alright… He told me he was ready for the day he got the news I got offed… And we always made clear if one of us kicked the bucket, we were free to look for someone else, so, you know… What about you?"

"A younger sister. Our parents died years ago, so we stuck with one another… Or, well, she kicked and screamed her way through life 'til she found her footing. I went to medical school, got my degree… Then jumped with the Militia after the IMC hit our planet."

"Huh… Figures you'd be a brainiac… What about your sister, what she work with?"

"Idol singer."

The snort and laugh that the reply caused on Gardner helped to assuage Harper's own tightness in his chest as the memories came back, and a smirk to spread across his face. "Heh, yeah… The day she showed up at home in the getup, she threw a vase at me for laughing. We made up, though. I even watched one of her concerts… You know, before we got called in for VAULTBREAK… What about your husband? What's he like?"

"Heh, nothing glamorous like that. He's a florist."

"No way, really?"

"Yeah. I actually helped him start up the shop, used my paychecks to pay for the building. He used to work at a construction firm, but told me he always wanted to open a flower shop, so I… you know… I pulled some strings for him." Once more Gardner laid back against the seat, but this time he seemed far more relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted from his back, though the sadness was still present in his eyes. "Wanted to give him something in return for letting me become a Pilot…"

"… I take it he wasn't a fan?"

"Hell no. The day I showed up in the full gear… I'd never seen him that disappointed… We didn't really fight, but… it took me all night to make him at least let me join. I… I wanted to make sure we'd be safe, you know? I mean… the IMC never really got to Horizon, but after Typhon, if Cooper hadn't been there… I didn't want to leave his safety to anyone else." With a sigh, Gardner pulled from one of his pouches an e-cigar and turned it on, taking a long drag from it before blowing the resulting haze towards the ceiling. "Took the training course with everything I had, aced the whole thing, and got sent to the frontline in half a year… Hell, Roy even showed up for my graduation ceremony. We kept in touch as much as I could hopping around the Frontier, but at least we kept talking."

"… And when did you last talk to him?"

"… Just before we shipped to Nibelungen… At least I didn't miss our wedding anniversary, for all the good that did…"

Once more, both went quiet, uncertain of what to do. Finally, however, one of them took action: slowly and carefully, Harper stood up, walked up to Gardner, knelt down to his level… And pulled the man into a tight, almost crushing hug. For a moment, the sniper was left completely dumfounded, his e-cigar almost slipping from in-between his fingers and to the floor, until finally, Gardner retook control of his body, and returned the gesture to Harper, a soft smile spreading across his face. "… Thanks, man…"

"No problem," replied the medic, finally pulling back from the embrace while giving a pat to the other man's shoulder. "When we're done with this, you're gonna tell me more about him, alright?"

"Heh, only if you get us some drinks for it."

"Fine, fine, whatever…"

Suddenly, a quick crackle echoed in the cargo hold, which they soon realized had come from the ship's intercom speakers. "Alright you two, we're about to hit our destination," called out Wolfe through the comms."Dunno if we'll get flung around or something when we decelerate, so… hang on to your everything there."

"Thanks, Wolfe, we'll be ready."

With the line now dead, Gardner and Harper both stood up and each picked up their personal weapons: for Gardner, it was his B3 Wingman and an Alternator SMG in lieu of his Sentinel rifle, while Harper carried his usual combination of a Mastiff shotgun and P2016 pistol. With trained professionalism, both men set to work pushing the crates of supplies into position near the access ramp, and moments later felt a shudder travel across the hull, likely the result of the ship decelerating. To the surprise of both, however, there was very little turbulence past that, not even when the ship seemed to move into atmospheric entry. The crates didn't move from their spot, and the two Pilots remained on their feet without stumbling, until finally, a far heavier shudder rocked the hull, along with the sound of metal hitting metal, and of the engines powering down. Moments later, Wolfe came down from the cockpit, a Prowler PDW slung in front of him from a strap, and a RE-45 holstered on his waist. "Alright, you two, let's do this," said the pilot, giving both of them hi-fives before walking past the two and to the door controls. A second later, and with the press of a few buttons, the ramp lowered down to the ground, revealing the outside to the three Militia soldiers.

Unfortunately, there wasn't very much to admire, really: rock and crags as far as the eye could see, all of it the same grey color, and a few weird lizard-like birds flying by. The base itself was likewise simplistic and utilitarian, a big grey building with a large antenna at the top, and a bridge leading to it from the small landing pad they had just touched down upon. All in all, what one would expect when hearing of an out-of-way listening outpost. The three's attention, however, was quickly drawn to three figures slowly walking towards them: clone troopers, each wearing the same identical white armor of the Republic's army, bar the visor-like mount on one of the troopers' helmet. Said troopers stopped just a few steps away from the pilots, with the lead one stopping closer than the others, and giving a small salute to the Pilots. "Welcome to Rishi Station, sirs. I'm sergeant O'Niner," spoke the clone, before motioning to the two troopers with him. "These are Boulder and Droidbait."

"A pleasure to meet you, sergeant. I'm Lieutenant Harper, Militia 5th Fleet Pilot Corps, Paladin Unit. These are Gardner and Wolfe. We're here for the preliminary inspection of the base and supply delivery."

Harper withdrew a small datapad from his vest and delivered it to O'Niner, who quickly tinkered with the device before giving the Pilots a nod. "Documents check out. We'll show you to the base, lieutenant. Boulder, help out with the supplies."

"Yes, sir!"

"Wolfe, help him out. Me and Gardner will go with them."

"You got it."

With that, the groups split themselves, with Boulder and Wolfe walking onto the shuttle's cargo bay, while O'Niner, Droidbait, Gardner and Harper headed into the base. Just as they started, however, an alarm began sounding from within the base, which made the Pilots' heads perk up in attention. "What the hell…?" muttered Gardner, but a handwave from Droidbait made him refocus on the troopers.

"Don't worry, it's just the meteor shower alert. The deflector shields will keep us safe no problem."

And indeed, not a moment later, blazing meteors began falling from the sky, hundreds of them in all manner of sizes. But while several pulverized the surface of the moon surrounding the base, the building itself remained untouched, every meteor that fell aimed at it instead crashing against a translucent barrier that sprung up in the flaming rocks' trajectory. Gardner and Harper gave a moment to admire the small spectacle unfolding above them, before resuming their trip into the station, even if Garder's grip on the Alternator was a tad tighter than it had been a moment ago.

-O-

DEEP SPACE – NEAR RISHI SYSTEM – BRIDGE OF THE MUNIFICENT-CLASS FRIGATE HAND OF PROFIT

"General, infiltration teams have successfully landed on the moon's surface."

"Begin the operation. Leave no survivors."

With an expected robotic nod, the B1 droid returned to its station, leaving Grievous to stare at the spiderweb of holograms marking his own fleet, oncoming ships, and the many routes available to him.

All but a fraction of the planning that had gone into this assault.

Kamino was not only a fortress in terms of orbital defenses and Republic presence, it was difficult to reach. Whatever routes the Republic used to ship their forces out of system, they were secrets well-kept, which meant only the public routes could be used… Or rather, public route, for only one route was openly available for large-scale movements. And naturally, the Republic kept it under constant watch.

Thus the amount of planning required for this operation: split up the invasion force into multiple groups that would take smaller, less well-known hyper-routes towards their meeting point, the orbit of Rishi, guaranteeing thus that the Republic would be hard-pressed to properly track their movements. Guarantee that their largest fleets in the area were tied up with either real offensives or threats, diminishing the chance of detection mid-travel, while also running under the radar so as to not alert the guard fleets at the entrance of the Rishi Maze.

And of course… guarantee that they had an insider.

With a few clicks of his finger, Grievous dialed into the encrypted frequency prepared specifically for this mission, and waited for a response. Scant seconds later, the call was picked up, bringing to life a hologram of a cloaked figure, faint drops of water falling around and atop them. "General Grievous," spoke Asajj Ventress, her voice a tone below her usual volume, though still mildly respectful. "All has been prepared for the assault. The orbital relays and off-system communications will be brought down the moment your fleet arrives."

"Good. Maintain secrecy for now, and guarantee that the Republic does not hear of anything."

"As you command, general."

And with that, the assassin cut communications, leaving the cyborg to resume coldly staring at the returned map of fleets.

Their plans would come to fruition… and the Republic would burn.

-O-

Wolfe would never be caught admitting it, but Gardner was right: this work was supremely boring. They wouldn't always be out there shooting things to death, true, but working for inspection teams and supply delivery was certainly one of the most tedious things possible. The only salvation to it was the fact that Wolfe had finally gotten to operate a native ship. And while it was no fighter or more mobile craft, at least it gave him some idea of how the controls and mechanics were like. Funnily enough, they had been surprisingly simplistic… almost insultingly so. Still, he managed to fly the shuttle properly, and even gotten to see how a hyperdrive on a smaller vessel operated like, something he found less nauseating than performing multiple jumps without rest.

Still, at least work was going fairly fast. The presence of the clone trooper helped to lighten the weight that each one would have to carry AND made the time wasted shorter. Plus, at least some small talk had been happening.

"So no other races at all?" asked Boulder as he helped Wolfe lift another box of food off the floor. "Just animals?"

"Yeah, pretty much," replied the Pilot, voice level even as they carried the weight until finally they set the box down onto the landing pad. "At least they were varied enough… There's a planet back home with gorillas the size of trucks, trees that hunt prey with thorn tentacles, and even a snake species big enough to wrap around tanks."

"Kriff… Sounds like hell."

"Well, I like calling it 'home' myself, but hey, I can understand the feeling."

The trooper stilled at hearing that comment, quickly swiveling around to stare at the man with what most likely was an incredulous stare beneath the helmet, something that elicited a chuckle from the Pilot. "Yup, good ol' Caratan. We thought of forming a training camp back there, but turns out even Pilots have a limit to the crazy they'll take, plus the wildlife kept breaking into the construction grounds and wrecking everything, so we gave up." With a wistful sigh, Wolfe wiped some dust off his hands, the soft clinking of his prosthetic hands clanking together only audible to him. "Still got a bunch of Caratans to enlist, though. Plenty of them serving with the 5th, so we got stories to swap if you ever cross paths."

"Honestly, the way you talk about this Frontier place… Makes me glad we got peace and quiet here," said Boulder with a tinge of nervousness. "Next you'll tell me there were giant monsters or something."

"Well, the Leviathans are pretty big, but they'll leave you alone if you don't do anything."

With an exasperated grumble, the trooper threw his hands into the air in defeat and walked back into the shuttle, followed closely by the still-amused Wolfe. However, once they actually entered the cargo hold, the two realized they had finished all work, with the only thing left being the two bags of weapons lying on the floor, still closed but clearly packed to the brim. "Well, at least it's all wrapped up… Just help me grab those and we'll go back inside," said Wolfe, already moving towards said bags…

… clang…

That is, until a soft click of metal-on-metal echoed, just loud enough for the two to hear, and yet soft enough to indicate whatever had caused the noise, did not mean to. In a flash, Boulder and Wolfe stilled, the two turning to face the outside of the shuttle, which remained quiet and devoid of any presence, before looking to one another. Without a word, Wolfe pointed to the trooper, then to the bags, before slowly raising one arm to pull a Pulse Blade from his Jump Kit, drawing the blade as quietly as possible before crouching down to the floor and pressing it against one of the few gaps between the plates.

The second the dozens of outlines of skeletal figures holding weapons appeared all over his HUD, Wolfe whispered a curse, and took a firm hold of his Prowler PDW, undoing its safety. "Hostiles, just outside the ship, they got us surrounded" whispered the Pilot as he slowly scuttled until he was directly facing the way out.

"What?!" hissed back Boulder, the clone almost dropping the bag he had just managed to hoist up, though thankfully he had managed to keep hold of it just barely. "Is it droids?"

"Looks like it… Don't recognize the model, though…"

"Kriff… What are we gonna do?"

"I'm working on it."

Once more, as slowly and as deliberate as possible, Wolfe reached up to his helmet and pressed down on the comm link, quickly bringing up the connection between his radio and his teammates'. To no surprise, however, all he received from it was static and an error message, an obvious indicator to jamming being present. So, without means of contact, clearly outnumbered, outgunned, and with very little chance of escape, Wolfe decided to take the only course of action possible: Take a page from Gardner's book, and bullshit his way out.

"… How strong is your grip?"

The non-sequitur question threw the clone for a loop, but after only a moment, Boulder turned his head to the side in thought before refocusing his attention onto Wolfe. "Pretty good, why?"

"Let's test that, shall we? Get over here."

With a nod, Boulder walked over to the Pilot, slinging one bag over his shoulder while offering the second for him to hold. Wolfe then pulled from within the bag an arm-mounted hardlight shield emitter, carefully sliding it into his forearm before slowly turning to the entrance once more… and activated his Pilot Kit's overdrive systems.

The Holo Pilot rig was one of the bulkier and heavier equipment sets a Pilot could choose from, primarily from all the hard-light photo-projectors built onto it that allowed for the near-lifelike facsimile created to fool enemies. Added to said weight, however, was a series of minute batteries meant to perform a more numerous omni-directional deployment of holograms, all bearing the same life-like quality. Colloquially known as the "Holo Pilot Nova", the program supercharged the holographic systems using said batteries, allowing the deployment of not one, but three separate decoys to confuse your enemies with.

Or, if you modified your rig with a few more high-quality parts, as Wolfe had done, five decoys.

Such was the case at that moment, as five digital clones of Wolfe walked out of the shuttle and filed out into random directions, each holding his weapon up at the ready.

The response to their arrival was a near hail of red blaster bolts aimed at the decoys, burning whole swathes of the walkway and even striking some of the supply crates scattered around, but failing to inflict any damage in the virtual constructs… while leaving a small corridor clear of danger, with a straight shot at the door.

And before Boulder could say anything, Wolfe locked arms with him, fired up his Jump Kit's jets, and blasted forward with all the horsepower it could give. The clone's screams were drowned out by both the roar of the Jump Kit's engines, the passing wind and the storm of blaster bolts flying around them, with the most either of them caught of their attackers being their black skeletal bodies, before both Pilot and clone crashed not-so-gracefully against the stations' reinforced blast doors, before quickly rising back to their feet as the hologram decoys began fading away.

"Boulder get the door open NOW!" shouted Wolfe as he raised his arm and activated the energy shield, the blue hexagon springing to life just in time to block the renewed and readjusted wave of fire now directed at the two exposed soldiers. After a second to shake the dizzy out of his head, Boulder shot to his feet and ran to door's control panel, quickly slamming his fist onto the release button and making the heavy metal doors slide open for the two. While the clone trooper dashed in and ducked behind one of the outcroppings, specifically the one where the internal control panel lay, Wolfe paced slowly back, his arm shaking under the stress of blocking the rain of red aimed at him. As soon as he crossed the edge of the door's frame, Boulder once more pressed down a button on the panel, and once more the doors began to close, blaster bolts pounding against the plates until finally, they completely cut off the attacks, allowing the two a moment to breathe, with both Pilot and clone bracing against their own knees.

"Kriff… What… Were those things?!" gasped out the clone, in-between wheezed gasps for oxygen.

"I don't know… And I don't care right now," replied Wolfe, before quickly straightening his own posture. "C'mon, we gotta move."

"Right… Let's go…"

After a moment more for the clone to catch his breath, both took off running towards the outpost's control center, their steps thundering within the metal walls of the hallway. Evidently, the noises of battle and them had drawn the attention of the others inside, so when Wolfe and Boulder finally arrived on the control center, clones and Pilots were all facing the entranceway, whatever tasks they had been performing already interrupted.

"Boulder? What the hell's happening out there?" asked O'Niner, the sergeant dropping the datapad he had been holding atop a console.

"We're under attack, sir!" replied the trooper, even as he went and closed the door to the control center behind him. "Separatists got droids onto the moon, they're right outside!"

Immediately, the outpost's occupants straightened up, chief of which being Gardner, Harper and Hevy. Of course, they did not stay immobile for long, with O'Niner quickly taking charge of the situation and beginning to bark orders. "Then get to stations! Fives, get a call out to the fleets! Echo, Droidbait and Cutup, with me, we're going for the armory! Everyone else, get to positions and stop those droids!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

And so, they took to action. And while Gardner, Wolfe and Harper weren't strictly under the clone's command, they took to it with the same professionalism and gusto, the three Pilots swarming over the bags brought by Wolfe and Boulder for more equipment. "And you said we wouldn't need this…" muttered Gardner somewhat darkly, already pulling a Rampage LMG from inside the duffel bag.

"Save the 'I told you so's' for after we get out of this alive, got it?" said Harper with just a tinge of urgency, his hands almost blurring as he took hold of grenades, det-charges and throwing stars, finishing by picking out the Peacekeeper shotgun, before turning to the last Pilot, who was quickly loading a Softball grenade launcher. "Wolfe, any idea on their numbers?"

"No, we moved to fast to catch a glimpse… Definitely double digits, though, I'm assuming around twenty hostiles or so."

"Alright… Let's go then."

Locked and loaded, the Pilots rejoined the group of clones, who turned heads to stare at the far heavier weapons they new sported. "Do you bring those to all your inspections?" asked Hevy, his gaze locked firmly on the machinegun Gardner was holding.

"Not really, you just lucked out."

"… Heh. We're gonna get along real good, pal."

Just then, O'Niner and his group returned, carrying armfuls of carbines, pistols and rifles which they began to pass around to their fellow brothers, each one checking ammo, batteries and safeties. "Fives, report!"

"No good, sergeant, I can't get a message out! Separatists must be jamming us!"

"Dammit…"

"Can we track down the source of the jamming?" asked Gardner, something that made Fives look up in hope.

"Yeah… Yeah, we can! I'll get right on it!"

"Make it fast, Fives, clock's ticking!"

With a nod, the trooper took to the console once more…

Clang

Only to still, as did everyone else, when the sound of metal-on-metal echoed inside the base once more. With nary a word, all present soldiers raised their weapons and pointed them back towards the door where Wolfe and Boulder had come from, waiting with bated breath for the oncoming assault.

Clang… clang… clang…

Again and again, the damnable sound rang, a clear sign of the approaching droids behind the heavy steel doors, and soon the sound became almost a repeated rhythm as more metal feet came into hearing range… Until they suddenly stopped, and silence fell like a boulder upon them all.

"… Where are they…" muttered Hevy as he adjusted his grip on his DC-15A and shuffled in place. "… They're not even slicing through…"

"… I have a bad feeling about this…"

It was at that moment that Harper's paranoia spiked to new heights, and as hastily as he could, drew a Pulse Blade and threw it against the door. Immediately, the outline of several droids, twelve in total, appeared on the other side of the hallway, all of them keeping their rifles close to their body and on stand-by.

But on stand-by for what?

It is only when the echo pulse fully circles the room that Harper realizes they've been played. And before any of them can make a move, red bolts shot from the hallway behind them, striking Nub in the back multiple times and dropping the trooper before he could even scream in pain, clipping O'Niner in his shoulder, back, leg and waist, and barely missing Droidbait's head. In a flash, those who remained standing turned around and fired their weapons back at the newly revealed commando droids, who quickly ducked for cover to avoid the wall of blasters and bullets aimed at them. However, while cover could protect them from direct fire, it could do little against indirect fire. So when the Softball grenades glued themselves onto the floor right next to the commando droids, they could do very little other than stare at the explosives, before the combined fireball consumed the entrance way in a wave of heat and smoke.

Let it not be said that Baktoid did not know how to build their elite droids, however. The moment the explosions abated, what droids had been further away from the grenades dashed out of the smoke cloud with rifles raised and primed to fire, one of them even wielding a sword of all things. Their movements were likewise ergonomic, a far cry from the dumb, walk-and-shoot of their B1 and 2 cousins, allowing the commando droids to weave around the worst of the wall of gun and blaster fire aimed at them.

But when you're trained to dodge mechs whose standard form of attack is to pounce like an animal and cave your ribcage in with enough pressure to bend metal, you learn to properly spread your fire to stop them. And while Harper's Peacekeeper and Gardner's Rampage lacked in rate of fire, they compensated in the sheer size and impact of their rounds, with every successful hit staggering the BX droids just enough for both extra blaster shots and Wolfe's now-out Prowler to strike them at wherever they could hit. One of them, the sword-wielding droid, suddenly leapt into the air and readied its sword to carve straight through the fallen O'Niner, the black droid coming down like a meteor at its target.

Before it could threaten the fallen clone, however, Wolfe leapt into the air and fired up his Jump Kit, allowing the jet engines to turn his flying kick into a significantly stronger move. Strong enough, in fact, to topple the droid straight out of the air, and opening it up to have its waist skewered by a carefully-aimed hookshot fired by Wolfe, who with another flare up of his Jump Kit, spun in the air and twirled the cable around before throwing the droid against one of its compatriots, bowling both over into a heap and momentarily halting the droid's charge.

The rest of the troopers, seeing the lull in the droid's advance, quickly dove for cover behind whatever consoles surrounded them, the metal plating on them thankfully serving as enough of a deterrent against the bolts, before they all rose from behind cover and resumed firing on the droids. One such commando droid was triple-teamed by Hevy, Fives and Echo, but shockingly even after a shower of blaster shots, even bending back from the impact before straightening itself once more to fire back at the clones. "Damn things are tough!" shouted Hevy over the roaring of weapon fire, his DC-15A barking bolt after bolt in an attempt to bring them down. Just then, a throwing star flew through the air and buried itself on the droid's neck, before erupting in a shower of thermite that flew in a wide arc everywhere, slathering the BX commando the star was stuck to and its companion beside it.

"Couldn't agree more!" snarled back Wolfe, a hand already drifting to another thermite star as his now-emptied Prowler was left hanging from its sling, while the other pulled out an E-Smoke grenade. "We gotta push these guys back already! Harper!"

"Already on it!"

As one, both Pilots threw out E-smoke grenades, the little metal orbs arcing through the air until they struck the floor. And in an instant, a veritable wall of thunderclouds sprung to life, covering half the room and coating the droids in lightning. Once more, with credit to Baktoid, the attack was still not enough to truly destroy the droids, but the voltage coursing through them was more than enough to jolt their servos into inactivity, halting the droids' momentum and movements alike.

It was all the opening they needed.

In a flash, clones and Pilots shot up and vaulted over their cover, unloading their weapons furiously against the twitching droids until their black chassis were fully charred, with Harper even picking up the fallen sword belonging to the first downed commando and violently shoving it through the torso of one of the units, before wrenching it up and through the droid's torso, splattering oil, armor bits and circuitry onto the floor, the robot jolting furiously before finally falling still.

"We got 'em on the run! Press the attack!" yelled Fives with enough anger and enthusiasm to challenge Hevy in most days. But this wasn't most days. This was war, war that had now come to their doorstep.

That was the reason Nub was dead, O'Niner down, and that the clones found themselves joining these strangers in a fight for survival.

Thankfully, with their assault momentarily blunted, the BX series saw fit to pull back and regroup, the surviving four units abandoning their damaged or destroyed brethren to their fate as they pulled back to the hallways leading back onto the station's inner rooms, leaving six destroyed droids on the floor. The moment they were out of sight, however, the Pilots turned their attention back to the front entrance, reloading their weapons in a flash as they readied themselves for the second attack.

An attack that, surprisingly, never came.

With no small amount of trepidation, Harper removed another Pulse Blade and threw it at the door. This time, however, the pulse revealed no hostiles, and their radars showed equally empty surroundings, as if the droids had vanished into thin air just as suddenly as they had arrived. After a moment of tense silence to confirm they were truly alone, the remaining present soldiers sagged… only for the clones and Harper to immediately break into action as they dashed to Nub, Droidbait and O'Niner's fallen forms. As carefully as they could, Fives and Cutup pulled their brother from the ground and removed his helmet, only for their own heads to hang in defeat at the sight of the clone's frozen expression. "Dammit, Nub…" muttered Cutup sadly, the trooper letting out a long sigh before slowly and respectfully closing his dead brother's eyes, and laying him back down on the floor. Beside them, Harper wasted no time in stripping O'Niner's burned armor pieces, revealing the blaster injuries beneath them seared into his skin… and the faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of the sergeant's chest.

"Got breathing, he's still alive," called out Harper as he took to work pulling every medical supply he had at hand, chief of which was the syringe loaded with Stim serum that he prepped and injected into the fallen clone's veins, the glowing green liquid quickly rushing through his veins in a clear, visible path throughout his body, while the Pilot took to work on the wounds themselves with his tools. "Gonna be close, though… Those droid guns packed a punch. Any of you got medical training?"

"I have, I'll help," called out Echo, the clone quickly dropping his carbine in favor of joining Harper in tending for his fallen CO.

"Good, I'll handle the upper wounds, you handle the lower ones."

With a determined nod, Echo took to work with as much determination as the Militia Pilot, listening intently to the instructions given as he both used the tools given to treat O'Niner, and watched as the chemicals injected onto his bloodstream worked to mend the wounds. Meanwhile, Hevy and Fives took to Droidbait's side, the injured trooper having pushed himself into a sitting position against one of the more shot-up consoles. "I'm fine… Just scratches…" grunted the trooper, only to wince the second his wounds flared up. "Okay, maybe a bit more…"

"You sit your ass down until you get treated, trooper. I got my hands full with one half-dead man, I don't need you making your situation worse, you got that?"

"R-Right…"

"It doesn't make any sense, though!" shouted Hevy, his statement being punctuated with a wide sweep of his arm. "Why would the clankers just hit us then run away? Why not finish the job?!"

"Because they didn't have to. They just needed to keep us busy."

Fives' dour tone of choice was no sign of anything good, and neither was the sight of him glaring daggers down at the comms terminal. "What you mean, Fives?"

"I tried firing off our signal again, to try and get through the jamming, but I can't… because we're already broadcasting." With a grimace, Fives slid away from the console to reveal the instrumentation, and all it was indicating. And right there, smack in the center, were the readings showing that an all-clear signal was being transmitted by the base to… somewhere. "Droids hardwired a signal onto our tower, we can't warn the Republic."

"How the hell are they transmitting, though?" asked Gardner incredulously. "If they have jamming up, then how is the signal getting through it?"

"They're probably beaming it up and re-transmitting. Probably a dropship up in orbit, or a satellite—"

"Or worse."

Yet another grimly-delivered piece of news, this time given by Boulder, who was peering out of one of the windows of the station with his electrobinoculars, up to the stars. With nervousness building, Echo rushed to beside his brother, lowering his own binoculars over his visor, only to feel the blood drain from his face as caught sight of the building bad news. "Ah, kriff… It's a Separatist fleet…"

And though none of others had the same gear to allow them to see said fleet, they still shared the dread and realization of that piece of news. "An invasion… The damn Seppies are getting ready to invade…" muttered Droidbait, his fists clenched so tightly they threatened to tear his gloves. "They're gonna hit Kamino!"

"What?! That's insane, how do they plan on doing that?!" shouted Hevy incredulously. "There's six fleets a skip-jump away from here, if any word got out—"

"That's what the all-clear is for, then," answered Wolfe. "They jam our transmissions, rig up the signal and have one of their ships bounces the signal off planet. As long as we're trapped here, we can't warn anyone, and their fleet can just waltz in freely."

"What about the shuttle, we could—"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Whatever offer of action Hevy was about to vocalize, it was killed by the loud thunderclap of an explosion that rocked the entire room, it's source quickly revealed as the plume of fire and smoke that had moments ago been the Pilots' method of transport, its wreckage tumbling down onto the rocks below, while the surviving droids surrounded the blast area with weapons at the ready and gazes sweeping the area for any oncoming threats.

"So that's their game…" muttered Gardner as he eyed the droids below. "Keep us here until they get the fleet through, then kill us when it's too late for the Republic to react… Alright, folks, I'm open to ideas. Preferably ones that let us live."

"We need to get a warning out to the nearby fleets… Fives, can you piggyback off the signal to send a message?"

Without missing a beat, the trooper rushed back to the console and fiddled with its controls, only to let out a sigh of frustration moments later. "No, the all-clear's occupying the whole signal band. We can't transmit anything until it's taken out."

"… That's it…"

Echo's somewhat pleased mutter gave everyone present some much-needed hope, especially when they took note of his pensive, but determined look. "The all-clear signal, we can use it to our favor! If it stops, then the Republic will come in guns blazing! No way the Separatists can handle that much firepower."

"Alright, but how do we stop it, though?" asked Droidbait, his voice far more level now than it had been a moment ago. "We can't go out there and break the antenna, those droids will tear us apart."

"I could try hacking into it, take down the signal from here," called out Wolfe, the man twirling the Data Knife in his hand to punctuate said statement, only for Fives to shake his head in return.

"It won't do any good, whatever's sending the signal isn't in here, you'd need to find it outside and hope it's hackable."

"Dammit…"

Unfortunately, silence followed, with no more ideas brought to the metaphorical table…

…

Until Hevy spoke up.

"… I got a plan."

-O-

"Status report," ordered Grievous, his head turning just so towards one of the many B1s surrounding him. Said droid swiveled its chair around and stared at its general, uncaring of his seeming frustration.

"Hyperdrive cooldown is currently fifty-four percent complete, general. Current forces gathered also number sixty-two percent, with remaining ships currently enroute to our location."

"And what of our forces on the moon's surface?"

"Our forces have deployed the signal emitter and have safeguarded the device, we are retransmitting it to nearby Republic forces to maintain our cover," answered the droid, waving its arms lightly in its kind's usual stilted fashion. "Clone forces have been contained, and the unknown hostiles' transport has been neutralized."

Fortunately for the droid, its programming did not allow it to perceive the subtle shifting of the general's posture, nor perceive the building hostility directed to it. So when Grievous slowly and deliberately stepped closer to the B1 navigator, its only response was to slightly look up at its leader and rest its hands on its lap, something no biological would be able to when under the cyborg's killing stare. "What. Unknowns," intoned Grievous, his hands inching ever closer to his lightsaber.

"Commando forces reported unknown enemies seemingly allied with the clone forces on the station, utilizing unknown weapons and technology. They succeeded in eliminating several commando units, but have made no further moves to exit the compound or fight back."

"… Pilots…"

With a furious snarl, Grievous stomped away from the droid and all the way to the captain's chair, slamming his fist down onto its control panel and opening the ship-wide communications. "Deploy a battalion to the moon's surface immediately. Kill any enemies in your way, do not leave anything alive."

Grievous did not wait for a confirmation. In fact, were it not for his orders to personally lead the invasion, he'd jump into Soulless One and personally slaughter any Pilot in that useless rock, just to ensure their victory. But unfortunately, Dooku had made it clear that he would not trust this invasion to a mere tactical droid or Neimoidian. If they were to strike Kamino, then Grievous was critical to the offensive, and so his hands were tied. He could not even bomb the station from orbit due to the all-important signal, not until the rest of his fleet arrived.

All he could do was drown the clones and Pilots in droids until they died.

And if the cyborg would have any say in this, it'd be that he would spare no numbers for that goal.

-O-

Liquid tibanna. It was a prime source of energy when it came to heating systems, and generated enough of an output that even in the most inhospitable of colds, one could reliably survive as long as the supply lasted. Being a very important outpost in a very frigid moon, the Rishi Moon Outpost was always stocked with an ample supply of liquid tibanna, capable of lasting months on end without additional deliveries.

Now, however, said supply would find itself quickly used up for the most important of missions: reducing the outpost to a smoldering crater.

That Gardner, Hevy, Boulder and Wolfe were pushing gonk droids loaded to the lid with the stuff only served as a constantly sobering reminder for the upcoming fireworks.

"This is a terrible idea…" muttered Boulder with a grunt as he pushed-slash-guided the gonk droid forward. "Have I said that already?"

"Yes, brother, you have."

"Well then I'm saying it again."

"It's simple at least," called out Gardner, the man carefully setting down yet another trip-mine down on the floor before quickening his pace to join the others. "Safer, too."

"Plus, it gives me a reason to blow this place sky high legally," added Hevy with a cheerful, if dark, chuckle. "Sergeant can't say anything to me for it, I got a legitimate reason for it."

"As long as this stuff does the job, I'll even put in a good word for a promotion over it if you want."

Though the soldiers bantered, they all knew how delicate the situation was: a large group, trapped in a single location and under attack by hostiles with, for all intents and purposes, a limitless amount of troops to throw at them. If the Republic did not answer to the drop of the all-clear signal immediately after it went down, then the Rishi survivors would have to somehow avoid detection in a barren moon, with few supplies, injured soldiers and no way off-world.

Just their luck that of all the things Gardner had packed into the bag, a QEC emergency beacon hadn't been one of them…

Fortunately, the liquid tibanna had not been the only thing they had picked up from the base's interior: the armory had been thoroughly raided of its contents, from thermal detonators to "droid poppers", even a Z-6 rotary blaster that Hevy had made empathically clear belonged to him and him alone. And of course, the detonators needed to set off the liquid tibanna. Along the way, they had also found the holes cut by the commando droids to sneak into the station undetected for the ambush, so Wolfe had suggested leaving behind booby traps, just in case the droids attempted the same strategy twice.

With a quick huff, Gardner laid the final trip-mine down, then swung his Rampage back into position before slotting in a thermal grenade onto its internal chamber. "Alright, we're all set, let's get this done."

With nods of agreement, Boulder and Wolfe took to pushing the gonk droids just a tad faster and stronger, though not enough to jostle the volatile payload they carried. Thankfully, the way back to the bridge was a short one: not moments after they quickened their pace, the quartet found themselves back on the station's command bridge, finding in it a scene of organized chaos:

Harper hovered over the still-unconscious O'Niner, though thankfully the sergeant's expression was far more peaceful now, and his breathing far more stable. Beside him was Droidbait, similarly healthier-looking, with even a DC-15S braced against his torso, the bacta patches visible beneath the burned-through holes in his armor. The other clones, meanwhile, were all checking the intact instrumentation, running maintenance on the weapons and inventory of their supplies, or keeping watch on the outside for any surprises the Separatists might be preparing. At the sound of the four arriving, all present turned their heads, though quickly relaxed in relief at the sight of the two Pilots and clones. "So, everything set?" asked Fives, the trooper stepping away from the console he had been pouring over.

"Yep, all the LT in the base is right here," replied Boulder, punctuating his statement with a few gentle pats to the gonk droids. "Just gotta rig up the detonator and we can send this place sky high."

The good news brought much-needed relief to the troopers, though in the case of Harper, all the Pilot did was to give a curt nod before turning his attention back to O'Niner. "Good. He's stable enough for us to move, but we still need to be careful. We got our exit route planned?"

"There's a ventilation shaft that leads to the base of the cliff, we just gotta slide down it," answered Wolfe, him and Boulder already working on the detonators as they attached them to the tibanna containers. "Boulder said it leads right to the mouth of some caves, it'd be a perfect hiding spot… provided we don't get the eels' attention."

"Oh, yeah, the giant man-eating eels that live here. Absolutely wonderful… Can't believe I'm missing Demeter Minor, at least the Flyers would have torn the droids apart by now… Speaking of the tin cans, any sign of movement out there?"

In response to the request, Echo rushed back to the windows and slid his electro-binoculars down, peering out to the wastelands around them. "I see them. The clankers are still in the landing pad."

"Think they learned their lesson and ain't trying again?" asked Cutup from where he stood, or more accurately crouched, packing away power cells and gas cylinders into their survival packs. "Maybe they finally gave up?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

"Oh, for fuck's sake…"

With an irritated growl, Gardner marched his way to the windows and peered out, searching for whatever had caused the clone's grim comment. It did not take long to find it, however: hovering ever-closer to the outpost's landing pad was a large, T-shaped spaceship, large enough to carry a small army inside itself, and which soon settled down onto the still-burning landing pad with an impact that made the station shudder. "Great, their cavalry's here… Alright, time's up folks, we're moving out. Need help with the wounded, Harper?"

"I got the sergeant, someone help Droidbait out."

"I got him."

Leaving his carbine behind, Echo rushed to beside his brother and carefully hoisted him off the floor, the clone wincing slightly from his injuries but thankfully remaining upright as his brother led him back to the hall, while Harper took hold of O'Niner's prone body and hoisting it over his back, making sure the clone was secure before pacing after Echo, while Cutup, Fives, Hevy and Gardner took to readying weapons. "We need to buy time until the explosives are ready. Boulder, how much longer?"

"Still gotta sync up the detonators, just a few minutes!"

"We'll get you those minutes, then, brother."

And with that decisive statement, the band of five charged towards the front door, hefting their weapons at the ready as they prepared themselves for what was likely to be the firefight of their lives, leaving Boulder and Wolfe to pour over the detonator…

Which, for the fourth time in a row, refused to connect.

"Kriffing—Why now of all times?!" shouted Boulder in anger as he slapped the detonator in anger, though sadly percussive maintenance did not serve to fix the issue this time. Before any more punishment could be applied to the device, however, Wolfe quickly tossed it aside, instead choosing to pull out his own Militia-developed model, which he quickly tore the back of right out, and pulled the wires to connect to the Republic-made one attached to the LT tanks.

"Screw it, it'll be faster this way… Let's just hope things hold out."

As if on cue, gunfire erupted from the hallway leading to the entrance.

The explosions that began to echo from the hallway they had brought the tibanna from only made them work faster.

-O-

When Gardner had seen the transport's size, he knew to expect a large number of enemies, especially from an invasion fleet trying to attack a heavily defended planet. Still, those numbers wouldn't help much when it came to storming the outpost, what with the limited space the landing pad walkway offered, lack of cover, and protective positions the inside of the outpost itself offered.

Unfortunately, he had woefully underestimated just how many droids the Separatists would throw against them.

Modern warfare had prepared Pilots and regular Militia troops for urban warfare, combined arms combat, and overall scenarios where the number of enemies was spread out to an extent that small teams would encounter each other, resulting in a myriad of skirmishes. Even when Titans and vehicles became involved, the overall scale was kept to a relatively small size.

This was not how the droids fought. In fact, their tactics would have been called a millennium out of date. And yet they were still enough to push the Republic forces, inch by inch.

The best comparison Gardner could come up for this situation was of fighting a wall. An advancing, gun-wielding wall, that never let up in rate or volume of fire, creating a constant roaring as red bolts shrieked and impacted the metal plating of the outpost's walls. In comparison, the return fire from the clones and Pilot were pitiful, barely visible amidst the crimson storm coming from the Separatist marching army.

Still, that did not mean their efforts were for naught.

"This shit's really pissing me off!" snarled Gardner into his radio, his hands flying to replace both the drum magazine and the thermal grenade inside his Rampage LMG as he briefly peered around the corner, only to quickly have to pull back before his head was taken off by a focused burst on his position. "How many of these fucking things do they have?!"

"Welcome to our world!" shouted back Hevy, his Z-6's barrels beginning to glow from the sheer heat of its constant use, and the stream of blue bolts it spat out thinning ranks like a buzzsaw through foliage. Still, for every five droids the gatling shot down, ten more took their place, in a never-ending wave of beige that threatened to shake the landing platform apart.

"I kinda hate your world then!"

"Get in line, you got a few million in front of ya!" barked Fives as he focused fire from his twin DC-15/s at a B-2 that had broken ahead of the B-1 ranks, filling the grey droid's chassis with plasma burns until finally, the machine fell flat on its face, deactivated and wafting smoke.

"We're doing pretty well at least—Watch those wrist rockets!"

"Fuck-!"

Just as Hevy shouted the warning, Gardner leapt away from his hiding spot with a boost from his Jump Kit, just narrowly avoiding the large red streaks that turned his previous cover spot into dust and rubble. As he flew, the Pilot pulled out four grav-stars and threw them against the oncoming horde of droids in an even spread, with two striking the floor while the other two found their mark on random B-1s. As soon as they activated, four dark-blue spherical gravity wells whirled into life and began dragging droids off their feet and into themselves, forming a cluster of metal bodies that spun in itself, knocking aside any droid out of its range, but within the reach of the flailing, weightless bodies. This also had the added bonus of blocking some of the enemy fire directed at them, enough that the clones and Pilot were allowed to leave their cover and retreat further back into the hallway, Echo and Fives throwing a couple of thermal detonators into the gravity wells as they ran.

The second the gravity wells exploded apart, so did the thermal detonators, resulting in their blast wave and force increasing exponentially higher, and the entire forward wave of droids being catapulted off their feet and down onto the cliffs below, some of them still firing their weapons wildly into the air as they fell, only to hit their fellow droids still standing on the bridge.

And yet still, the army would not stop pouring from the transport.

As the droids began to recover and reorganize, Gardner laid down suppressing fire on the recovering Separatists, until finally the gun clicked empty, forcing him to withdraw the last drum from his vest, only this time he had no thermal grenades left. "Last mag!" he called out, one hand already ghosting the few grenades he still had left, before deciding instead to move up to his head, press down on his helmet's commlink, and set a connection to his squadmates. "Harper, Wolfe, could use some status reports right about now!"

"We just left the ventilation shaft, just waiting for you all to show up," replied the medic, though his whispering was quite hard to pick up over the echoing of blaster fire. "Gonna keep a low profile for now, hopefully the droids won't see us yet."

"Detonators here are primed, just waiting for you all. Commandos tried getting in through the holes again, but the bombs took care of those."

"Heheh, knew they'd fall for them, stupid clankers," laughed Hevy, even with his breath hitched from the intense firefight and the strain of carrying the Z-6. "Get those bombs, ready, Boulder, I'm calling dibs on the detonator!"

"You got it, brother—Wait, what the…!? Wolfe, look out!"

And before any of them could even process what had just happened, two sounds rang over the radio, louder than any other around them.

A single blaster shot… and a scream of pain.

The burst of speed they put forward was almost admirable… but still not fast enough.

Or at least, not fast enough to stop the shot… but fast enough to see the body hit the floor.

-O-

It had happened so fast… so damn fast…

One second, Wolfe had been making the finishing touches to the detonator, just moments away from finally connecting the thing.

The next, Boulder was crying out in alarm, just in time for Wolfe to turn around and see a half-wrecked commando droid weakly holding its weapon with one hand, gun aimed directly at him.

There was a flash, the echoing of the blaster rifle firing… and pain laced through Wolfe's chest.

Old, unwanted, hated pain, as he saw Boulder collapse on the floor with a shout of pain, a burn mark in their neck wafting smoke.

The commando droid did not fire again, not that it could have. The moment after it had felled Boulder, its gun heated up violently then exploded, taking out the commando droid's remaining arm and its head by blowing them into pieces.

"No no no NO NO GODDAMIT NO!"

Sheer desperation fueled Wolfe's legs as he all but threw himself at the fallen trooper, pulling him off the ground as he fumbled to release the clone's helmet. So preoccupied with checking on Boulder, Wolfe was, he did not even hear or see the rest of his comrades barreling through the door, his hands pressing down on the burned injury now visible on the clone's neck as he desperately felt for a pulse. "Stay with me, Boulder, don't you fucking die on me…"

"… Wolfe…"

"Stim, stim, where's the fucking stim—"

"Wolfe."

"Not again, dammit, not again—"

"Wolfe."

Gardner's tone was firm, but even, just like the hand he laid on his fellow Pilot's shoulder. Still, it was enough to break him out of his panic…

And to realize that Boulder's eyes were unfocused, and staring off into some far-off nothing beyond the ceiling of the outpost.

"We have to go," said the sniper in a now far softer tone, his machinegun lowered and hanging slack beside him, while around them the other clones stared down sadly at their dead brother. "Come on…"

For a moment, Wolfe didn't reply. He didn't even twitch, simply kneeling there with Boulder's corpse held against his own. Finally, however, the Pilot raised himself from the floor, still holding the dead clone, and carefully placed it over his shoulder, before turning back to the group and handing Hevy the now-working detonator. "… It's ready… Let's get out of here…"

Not a word was spoken when Hevy took the detonator in his hands with a slow, sorrowful nod, nor when Cutup and Fives returned to the room's entrance and used the controls to seal the blast doors once more, or when the latter picked up Nub's body and hauled it onto his back, as the group ran past the destroyed commando droid towards their escape route.

And indeed, when the horde of droids finally shot through the blast doors, no one remained in the control room… except for a carefully hidden quartet of gonk droids stashed off to the side, with a demolition charge silently beeping away attached to them.

Moments later, the group of three clones and two Pilots emerged from the large air vent connected to the caves, to the sight of Harper pointing his Peacemaker straight at them, before carefully lowering the shotgun once he confirmed their identity. His gaze in particular fell upon the dead body being carried by Wolfe, though in the end the medic chose to remain silent as they all huddled together in a circle, and Hevy raised the detonator up to eye-level.

"… I always did hate this place…"

Click.

-O-

"General, contact has been lost with our ground forces."

"… What."

The cold, lethally furious tone of Grievous voice once more completely flew over the droids' heads, the machine drones still laboring dutifully unaware of their leader's unyielding rage. Once more, Grievous paced towards the droid that had spoken up, this time far slower and more deliberate in his movements, until he was within an inch away from the droid. "Explain," he demanded, eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"The transmitter signal from the deployed battalion has ceased transmitting, along with that of our commando forces. Furthermore, the all-clear signal has been cut-off—"

CRUNCH!

Whatever else the droid meant to say, remained a mystery, for the droid's head and torso were nearly pulverized by Grievous with a single strike of his claw, the sparking, mangled remains of the droid falling lifelessly to the floor before the general quickly paced back to the dais of the bridge, his imperious gaze falling upon the cluster of B1s responsible for the ship's fire-control functions. "Give me a status report of the local Republic fleets, now."

In the end, however, said report was unnecessary.

The second the words had been spoken by the cyborg, no less than ten Venator-class cruisers jumped directly ahead of his own fleet, raining down a furious shower of blue blaster shells that made the Invisible Hand and its escorts shudder with each impact, with two of the foremost Munificent-class frigates already suffering deflector failures that caused their hulls to be hit directly, fires breaking out with every successful strike.

With a wrathful snarl, Grievous returned to his command chair and all but threw himself down onto it, once more slamming down on the communication controls for the fleet. "All transport and main capital ships, retreat from the system immediately," he ordered, his voice trembling with carefully-controlled fury. "Leave the escorts to cover our retreat, and order all oncoming vessels to redirect towards allied spaces. The invasion… is a failure."

Though the declaration came close to physically paining Grievous, it would be best to simply regroup and try again in the future. Ventress' infiltration had still succeeded, after all, and her work could still be put to use at a later date…

And this defeat would only fuel his anger against the Militia, come their next meeting.

-O-

HANGAR BAY OF THE RESOLUTE – SIX HOURS LATER…

The wait for their rescue had thankfully not been long. Not moments after the outpost had been destroyed, the fleets Hevy had said to be on standby on surrounding systems arrived around Rishi and beat back the Separatist fleet with sheer, overwhelming firepower. The destruction of the outpost itself had also eliminated all the present droid forces, thankfully enough, so all the Rishi survivors had had to contend with were the occasional visit from an eel who thought itself lucky of finding so many immobile snacks.

A few shots from their weapons had done well to dissuade them long enough for Republic LAAT/i transports to reach the crater and scout out their location. Once they had been brought aboard the Resolute, the clones and Pilots were shipped straight to the med-bay for check-ups and treatment, chief of which had been O'Niner and Droidbait, though thankfully the treatments applied by Harper and Echo had served to stabilize the former enough that a few days in a bacta tank would see him healed enough to return to duty, and the latter's injuries had been light enough that only mild treatments had been required. Bar the two, the others only had the effects of fatigue and exhaustion to contend with, so nothing more than rest had been required.

So, after a short period of sleep, the five uninjured clones and three Militia members were summoned to the main hangar of the warship where they now found themselves, all eight of them lined up side-by-side at parade rest and flanked by two lines of troopers standing at attention, though while the clones had chosen to remove their helmets, the Pilots had kept their headgear on. And standing across from them, with relaxed but appreciative looks on their faces, were Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, captain Rex and commander Cody, with the latter holding a small grey box in his hands.

"On behalf of the Republic, we thank you for your valiant service," said Kenobi in his usual tranquil tone with a soft smile as he stared at the Militia Pilots, though his expression took on a hint of sadness when his attention turned to the clone troopers. "And we honor your comrades' sacrifices."

"You've all gone above and beyond your duty, and thanks to your actions, our brothers in Kamino were spared from a Separatist attack," added Cody with a nod, before the commander stepped forward and opened the box he had been carrying, revealing its contents to be a set of nine equal medals, made of a gun-metal silver alloy and in the shape of a stylized cross. Calmly but surely, Cody withdrew one of each medal from the box and pinned it to the chest of the five troopers, each one saluting the CO after receiving their award. Rather than delivering any of the remaining ones to the Pilots, however, Cody instead closed the box, returned to where the officers had been standing and handed the box over to Rex, who accepted it with a nod before they both turned their attention back to the soldiers. "Your sergeant and fellow brother will receive their own after being discharged… and the others shall be awarded posthumously."

"As for you, Pilots, your commander and teammates have been contacted and informed of the situation," added Rex. "Since your mission has technically been completed, you three will hitch a ride with us back to Coruscant, so you can debrief the commander in person."

"Sir, where will be sent next? Will we be redeployed to another listening outpost?" asked Echo with his usual crisp professionalism, something that elicited a small smile from Rex, and a minute shudder from Hevy.

"Worry not, trooper, you're not getting left out of the fight anymore. We'll need time to build a new listening post and gather up a proper crew for it, so until then, you're all being given new deployment orders."

When the troopers' expressions turned to confusion (or, in the case of Hevy, excitement), that is when Anakin stepped forward and regarded the five with a friendly, disarming smile of his own. "Though I suppose a more proper welcome will be held later by the other clones… I suppose I'll be the first to welcome all of you to your new home in the 501st legion." His piece spoken, Anakin gave a small bow to the five poleaxed clones, before motioning to the captain standing beside him. "O'Niner will be informed of the change of deployment, and Rex will run you all through our training regimens, just to make sure you're all fit for duty, but until then… I suppose you all have a few brothers to meet, don't you?"

"S-Sir, yes sir!" replied Fives in utter elation, his hand shaking out of sheer happiness even as he once more saluted his commanding officers. "Thank you for the opportunity, sir!"

"That will be all, men. Dismissed."

And so, with another round of salutes, the members of Domino Squad took off back into the corridors of the Resolute, their moods lifted by the delivered news, while the rest of the troopers quickly dispersed back to whatever duties they had been performing. This left Cody, Rex, Obi-Wan and Anakin alone with Gardner, Harper and Wolfe, the three Pilots carefully regarding their erstwhile superiors with quiet professionalism. Finally, however, someone broke the silence: Wolfe.

"… Sir, regarding troopers Nub and Boulder…" began the Pilot, his hands clenched tightly against themselves. "… Do we… have permission to perform funerary rites for them?"

It seemed the question had certainly caught the four Republic members off-guard, though they recovered quickly enough after only a moment of pause, with Obi-Wan being the one to answer his question. "Yes, you may. We'll file a request for their bodies to be delivered from the morgue… though may I ask why?"

It was an innocent-enough question, granted, and Wolfe knew that Kenobi held no animosity or contempt in it. And yet, the question itself still served to bring some… unpleasant memories back to the forefront of Wolfe's mind.

And for a moment, where Kenobi stood, the Pilot saw the faint image of an old, grizzled man, holding in his hands a military cap and staring down sadly at what Wolfe knew was a coffin. A coffin he still remembered to this day.

"… I just wish to give them proper farewells, general," he finally replied with a soft, almost whispered tone, and which made Gardner lay a hand on his shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze and pat. And he seemed to not be the only one, considering the sympathetic looks Anakin, Rex and Cody gave the Pilot, though they chose to remain equally silent. "If that will be all sir… I'll be returning to my quarters."

Wolfe did not wait for a reply. He instead marched right out of the hangar and back through the hallways of the cruiser until he finally reached the room that had been provided to them until their return to Coruscant. Once inside, and having made sure no one else would bother him, Wolfe sat down on the bed, pulled out his helmet and stared down at the T-shaped visor, its deactivated visor glaring back at him with his own reflection.

Then, as calmly as he could, the Pilot spun the helmet so he was staring at its back, and unsheathed his knife in a reverse grip, before carefully marking down the twenty-seventh notch onto the helmet.

Twenty-seven too many… and as much as it pained him, Wolfe knew he would lose many more friends to this war. Maybe he himself would die at some point…

But he'd make sure their graves were filled with as many enemies as he could bring down beforehand. And he'd make sure none of their sacrifices were in vain.

~O~

Apologies for such a delayed product, folks… I had to rewrite the ending some 3-4 times until I managed to get something that made some sense, especially since the episode went completely off-rails around the midway point.

Not helped by Rookies not really having a WHOLE lot to work with.

So instead, here we go: a few more character moments between everyone, some more action, and some of our Pilots getting their first glimpse of what the war will bring.

… In more serious news, related to why this chapter was delayed so heavily: while I did find work (thank fuck), hours were somewhat chaotic, so I'm still trying to acclimate… and once again, the financial situation here at home started collapsing, after we had FINALLY managed to claw back SOME normality.

So I'm forced to once more ask for some help, primarily by advertising my Puhtron (damn you, FanFiction net…). I apologize for doing this, everyone, but I don't have many avenues left to ask… though once more, the story isn't being kept hostage over this. I'll still write, by god I will.

Next time in Titanomachy… Well, I'll see which episode comes next. But in all likelihood… It will be Cloak of Darkness. But for now… We go back to the Frontier, for some much-deserved Courier time.

See y'all then, folks… Stay safe.