Alpha-53, A Clone Wars Story

by MontyTheMemeMan

Alpha-53 began his journey like any other ARC, awoken to protect Kamino during its first invasion. Now let loose into the battlefields of the galaxy, he is tasked with performing missions under the Republic Special Warfare Command, attacking hard and soft targets as The Republic requires. While no abnormal clone, 53 embarks on the harrowing journey only the Clone Wars can provide.

1. ACT I, Christophsis

The Battle of Cristophsis

Alpha-53, an Advanced Recon Commando, is inserted with the 212th and the 501st to mount a recon and counterattack on Separatist forces steadily entering Crystal City. Assigned to eliminate the Separatist Major Arwid Almaani, Alpha 53 and the 212th's Banger Platoon infiltrate enemy lines to determine his location.

Knowing of war is one thing; conducting and understanding it is another.

Alpha-53 understood well, conducted well, and performed absolutely.

The warfront of Christophsis loomed like a cloudy sky. Once bright, blue skies were now plagued with smoke, a tinge of ozone contaminating Crystal City. Its aquamarine and crystal-blue structures shattered from eternal artillery fire, orbital bombardment, and fierce front-line conflict between Separatist and Republic Battalions. Alpha-53 sat on a toppled piece of duracrete seven stories above the ground, the building now a jagged remnant. Dozens of skyscrapers and shorter buildings met the same fate. Scorched by laser fire, shredded by shrapnel, or crushed by sheer concussive force, most of Crystal City's monuments now lie dead like many residents. Thick, black smoke and thundering cannon fire reverberated in the distance.

53's Phase-1 helmet lay in his lap, cupped by hand as he observed the landscape. Everywhere he looked, buildings lay wrought by both galactic war machines meeting in full. After entering the local area, he climbed the derelict structure to lay the land. He had one kilometer to go before meeting his assigned Platoon of regs. A notification blipped on his forearm device. Donning his helmet, tiny holographic indicators winked into existence through his visor. In the bottom right corner, one displayed his Westar-5 munition count and reserves. A second scrawled across the upper view presented vital signatures. At the bottom left, the third most significant notified Alpha-53 of an incoming REPSPECWARCOM - Republic Special Warfare Command transmission.

He produced a holographic communicator from his battle belt, an ethereal blue figure clad in form-fitting gear springing to life, "You're late," He grumbled, standing erect, "What's the situation, Ma'am?"

Reading as Jedi Knight Ozura Atlacoya, her broad physique and stature fit the billet of a part-time bodybuilder over a Jedi. The Mirialan lacked distinct tattoos across her flush cheeks, tailored by a taut jaw and rounded nose. Fierce with a glare and grin, Ozura folded arms clad in rolled sleeves and several colorful - were it not disguised by holographic transmissions - tattoos and small scars. Dark wraps protected her hands, and small body armor segments covered her shoulders, elbows, outer thighs, knees, and shins. A saber hung off her right side from a well-stocked belt.

"Not by much, Lieutenant." A husky yet soothing voice. Tapping his kit in frustration, 53 allowed a sigh. "That being said, the rest of your details came in."

"Waiting."

Ozura scoffed, shifting her hands to her hips. "Eager, eh? Right then," Ozura tapped something on her waist. An operations order dropped in his helmet feed.

"You're assigned to Banger Platoon, recently replenished after a hairy engagement while the main contingent landed. They specialize in reconnaissance but are outfitted with a demo team. Your mission is to infiltrate deep into Seperatist-occupied territory with stealth-modified BARC speeders and locate Major Arwid Almaani-" A Chistori, towering and well muscled with scars to boot, flashed before 53 wearing the fit of a rugged bounty hunter similar to Trandoshan kits. Their naturally blue pallor showed well in his holographic display. Still, the report showed an entire Separatist file likely acquired by RC or other Alpha-Class assets from one of many downed Seppie ships' data logs "-consort to General Loathsom. Unlike his superior, his forces have evaded our large-scale movements and execute exceptional tactics. We only have an AOR on his super-tactical droid, revealed by flyovers from some fighter pilots five hours ago. Intel's best guess is his forces were scattered on landing and are still regrouping."

She sighed, the Major's hologram disseminating as she moved to adjust her sizeable hair bun.

"Make no mistake, fifty-three; Almaani may be the lesser rank but is no slouch. Records say he's distinguished in military service and employs hired help in troves with the new B-X class droids we've seen more of. His droid has taken a scrapyard within an industrial plaza as its temporary operating base. Our most recent intel says they're getting ready to mobilize. Your mission is simple; get in, snatch the S-T-D's head, and get out. Once you're finished, join the main element of two-twelfth and five-oh-first twenty clicks north. From there, you'll work directly with Kenobi to find and neutralize Major Almaani." She'd finished, long raven braids wrapped around a central fluff with a singular, cross-section pin securing its mass resembling a sea snake. A slight smile formed on her lips, "Remember, you're there to kill the Major, not capture him. So whatever Kenobi says may be his mission, but not yours. If he has questions, refer him to Jedi Master Arligan Zey. Understood?"

"Yes sir," 53 adjusted his footing, glancing about the city and its somber yet beautiful visage, "Any other details?"

"To watch your back. Kamino probably wasn't the best wake-up for you, Alphas, but I bet you're itching for a fight, huh?"

"Always."

"Get to it, fifty-three. Give me updates as the mission moves along. Dismissed."

The female Jedi dispersed as 53 depressed a deactivation toggle, then pocketed the projector. He took thirty seconds to observe the area - oddly serene from this angle. Even as the booming cannonade continued and vermillion flashes licked the near-evening sky, it instilled a deep sense of calm and focus in 53. A familiarity and likeness. A chance to use his training to full effect.

53 wasted no time in descending the building and rendezvousing with Banger Platoon.

After an unceremonious arrival, Alpha-53 stood before the clones of Banger Platoon. Lieutenant Oh-Five and Sergeant Dune led the contingent, with squad leaders comprising Krys, Camden, Amad, and 330/010-11. He'd brushed up on the Platoon's makeup en route and had a general idea of their makings. Each squad contained five soldiers, one being a squad leader, save for the final squad, which comprised six. Krys led Demolitions, Camden led Marksman, Amad spearheaded Recon, and 330 directed Comms. The latter mainly consisted of shinies, while Krys' squad contained vets - most survivors of Geonosis. Their customized armor - although minute - indicated this with yellow paint and small symbols.

"Listen up," 53 called out, demanding attention with a slightly thicker accent. Shinies, identifiable by their fresh-issue armor, sharply paid 53 attention. Those with dirt and soot smearing their armor, each with dings, marks, or customizations, turned aptly, displaying ruggedness not imbued on the newer troops. Fifty-three decided to nip their brief in the bud, having devised his plan while dissecting the Platoon's makeup.

"Myself and Recon squad will proceed ahead on speeder bikes. Demo, Comms, and Marksman squads follow at approximately seven hundred meters with thirty-meter intervals between bikes. Be prepared for quick changes to the plan. Facing this element head-on is a death sentence. They have armor; we only have rocket launchers," 53 said with a glance to the demolitions squad led by Krys, "Bide your time moving on this objective; it's a haul. Once we assess this forward contingent and snatch the S-T-D's head, we will reunite with the main five-oh-first and two-hundred-twelfth elements. Equip your radar-scattering ponchos and kill any comms once we're within the AOR. Any questions?"

Each clone responded in unison, "No, sir!" Fifty-three made the faces that stood out to him.

Sergeant Dune let his hair grow to a longer-than-average length, finger combed to the side with lackadaisical effort. Oh-Five bore a buzz cut and a small, partially healed abrasion beneath his left eye. Corporal Krys touched his crew cut with tasteful gray dye, and one of his squadmates, Troy, embraced the full silver with a mustache to boot. Seth of Camden's squad wore a squared goatee, while Corporal Amad entertained a faux hawk with skin-tight undercuts. Spike, also from Recon, had a vertical stripe of golden hair, with Aces sporting an Ace tattoo over the left side of his neck. Twelvetrees of 330's squad wore the number '12' tattooed under his left ear, and Reds dyed his crew-cut crimson. While glancing back through the various faces, 53 caught Mortar of Demolitions' glasgow scar bridging the left corner of his mouth and ear and wholly shaved head.

"Alright," 53 barked, "Move out in ten."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

At his command, each clone helmeted up - if they hadn't already - and dispersed into squads while Dune and Oh-Five spot-checked as needed. The vets painted yellow markings over their armor, notably Krys and Amad, while the others sported scant designations to differentiate them from one another. The Demolitions squad gathered, Krys and another sporting Z-6 carrying harnesses with their assault bags. Mortar and another toting PLX-1 launchers and according ruck bag. One, who 53 already identified as Troy, loaded up on grenades and mines. The others had their fair share, but Troy doubled down on his explosives and gear. Reds and Aces of the Marksman and Recon specialists toted a Two of the Recon and Marksman clones each toted DC-15X sniper rifles, the others relying on DC-15S carbines. Most of the troops utilized these, while some kept their long rifles.

Not wasting time, 53 checked his equipment.

His Westar-M5 Blaster Rifle has a pump-action munition launcher, smart-linked scope, and a two-point synthetic sling. Both DC-17 Blaster Pistols snugly holstered outboard of his grey and black kama painted with urban splinter camouflage. 53's extra torso protection wore a breast pouch containing additional charge packs for his M5. Strung around his waist were four thermal detonators, his medical kit, and supplementary tibanna and plasma for his M5 and DC-17s. He produced a shawl similar to the others from his BARC, wrapping it around his person and buttoning it at the collar and above the left breastplate. These would confuse any active and passive radar searching for them, along with thermal scanners.

Loaded in his Republic Assault Bag - several Banger clones also carried extra explosives, food rations, and medical supplies handpicked by the Alpha Class ARC Trooper. Entertaining half a ration bar and two swigs of water from a canteen, 53 mounted his BARC five minutes ahead of schedule and observed the other clones.

When the ten-minute mark passed, 53 checked his GPS and determined the route, highlighting it on a tactical pad strapped to his left forearm and diverting the information to Banger Platoon. As each clone dissolved the information, Amad's squad mounted on their BARCs, repulsors whining to life. With a kick, 53 started his own and raced off down the designated location. Within seconds, Amad's squad followed in a rough wedge, cloaks fluttering in the turbulence. Those with names and just numbers scrawled across the left of his HUD on request via nod.

Amad

Vant

Spike

55-0123

Aces

Nodding the names away - his custom designated toggle - it transitioned to the BARCs linked radar. Amad sped and matched 53 twelve meters to his left, while Vant, Spike, 55, and Aces trailed behind in a modified wedge pattern. With twenty kilometers of distance between themselves and the objective, 53 ran through the briefed alternate rally locations, separate routes, and fallback strategy with Amad.

As they raced through abandoned blocks of cityscape, 53 spared individual moments to note Crystal City's landscape. Towering, glassy skyscrapers lined his periphery. Some had sloughed from their former glory, leaving jagged monoliths gaping at the sky. Some remained black from char and fire, while others still burned, mixing the dulling sky with further acridity. Abandoned and destroyed vehicles lined the roadways with weeks-to-days-old corpses left to rot in the aftermath of Trench's original occupation. Monorails strung between openings in an interconnected mass transit system, one with its train torn off its tracks and spilling into an unseen district below, its windows blown out and structure blackened. Civilian amenities were left abandoned, some with still-smoldering fires and others long dead, with the occasional niche left completely untouched like a frozen moment of what was.

No clone understood their purposes and only paid them passing thought while zipping through the dead traffic.

Fifty-three led the element down a side path, and they emerged into an industrial district. Checking the GPS, they were approximately 15 kilometers away, the sun still burning despite the atmospheric clutter. Distant groans of cannons and cracks of blaster fire echoed off Skywalker and Kenobi, battling Loathsom's forces.

Generously increasing his speed, Amad's squad matched him, and they exited an industrial warehouse assembly into an open courtyard decorated with abandoned machinery. Once buzzing with industrial making, the assembly plant lay dormant from the war. Fifty-three led Banger through the plant, a second array of industrial locations, and into an outer district of skyscrapers and refineries.

One thing about Cristophsis; is the abundance of skyscrapers no matter where you go.

Crossing through this section, 53 ended the next several kilometers in the outer industrial district, where shipyards and other naval engineering feats were accomplished. As 53 led the squad element into a small port for civilian vessels, the 2-kilometer scout point lit up on the BARC, indicating they'd have to stop here and progress on foot or risk targeting by Seppie radar even with their protective measures.

Bumping his comm, he communicated to the clones of Banger Platoon.

"Banger, this is 53; we've entered the area. Slow speed, disembark at our pitstop, and proceed on foot. Kill comms once you're mobile."

"Roger that." Said Oh-Five.

Fifty-three veered the BARCs right and hit the air brake, curving his speeder into a drift, stopping it several meters before a wall, with the others stopping shortly after. Swinging his legs over the seat, 53 snagged his Westar from the rear magnetic clamp, his assault pack, and verified Amad's squad had their equipment. After toggling off his long-range comms, 53 adjusted the cloak over his figure, raised the M5 through its front slit, and took point.

Cutting through the urban aquamarine forest took time. Eventually, the clones threaded their final obstacle, a refinery, clearing several corridors of machinations, abandoned smelters, and smaller side rooms. Fifty-three received a shortwave ping from his BARC, indicating the remainder of Banger had arrived. With Recon leading the unit, they trudged through several other abandoned warehouses, factories, and construction zones. The clones of Banger came caked with a thin layer of dust when they eventually emerged through maintenance access into an open scrapyard. At least one kilometer in length, the location lay scattered with a hastily assembled Separatist Forward Operating Base. Easing to prone, 53 placed his M5 to the right and grabbed binoculars off a belt pouch. The poncho obscured his figure, as it did to the other clones who nested around 53. With the sun now low, their presence was practically undetectable.

Amad lay next to him, sweeping the yard with binos.

"What do you make of it, sir?"

Fifty-three nodded, acknowledging the clone with a grunt, and scanned the area. Crystal City's main scrapyard comprised a massive pit with once active crushers, which autonomously collected and incinerated any excess material, then discarded what they couldn't smelt into the yard. Scraps, melted mounds of metal, and decrepit vehicles littered the kilometer-wide area. The Separatist element had transformed many of the derelict items into structures. Within it all, several hundred to nearly one thousand droids milled about - patrolling, repairing vehicles, or performing other tasks as directed by their Super Tactical Droid. A droid barracks had been set up closest to them and their right, a vehicle depot. Within this L-shaped FOB sat the command center, where hastily built structures made a comms center and radar suite.

"We expected this," 53 stated, shifting his binos to view the STD, "The droid's at the command center. Same plan as before."

"That looks like suicide, even for you."

"We won't attack head-on." Fifty-three lowered his binos and observed the nearby area. The location surrounding Crystal's Scrapyard contained additional refinery buildings and a semi-raised loading platform close to them. On the left, a massive warehouse had collapsed from stray artillery fire. And across the yard sat the entrance, patrolled and protected by heavy droid units. "We'll split up into two units. One to draw fire, one to flank and eliminate. Our objective is to obtain intel - we don't have the numbers to deal with this, and we have no fire support."

Plastoid on metal rumbled behind them, and each clone pivoted, observing the alley for threats. Blips of allied began to shuffle through in a slender patrol column. Krys' squad came into view, and 53 waved them over. Within the minute, the entirety of Banger knelt or laid out, observing the scrapyard. Fifty-three briefly explained his plan to them as they settled.

"That's somewhere shy of a regiment of droids! Helluva armor element, too. You sure this'll work, arky?" The inquiry came from Troy, a Geonosis vet who toted a DC-15S.

"Yeah, suicide if you ask me," Chimed in Snatch, another demolition expert, resting his forearms on a DC-15A. Fifty-three noted the PLX on his back. Swiveled towards them, dissolving their observations, he nodded. "Noted. You'll help me as the bait."

As they groaned, 53 rose to a knee and crouch-walked to Oh-Five and Dune, who silently observed the ARC. Fifty-three raised his left arm before his torso and punched in a three-digit code. A blue, holographic image washed their vision, all clones paying attention.

"Listen up. Myself and the Demolitions squad will flank right towards the vehicle bay. We'll infiltrate, arm explosives, cause mayhem, and scram. After luring the droids towards the loading docks, the remaining squads will station an ambush through the scrap and observation decks, trapping whatever comes after us in a kill box. While they're distracted, I need the best shooters to move with me into the command center, snatch the droid, and exfil."

Oh-Five knife handed to three clones. "Demo, go with 53 to start the distraction. Troy, Spike, Reds, you'll be on grab duty." Spike and Reds acknowledged with a "Yes, sir," However, Troy merely grunted, earning a glance from 53. "You'll be on point with me, trooper, so lose the attitude. It'll serve you in the long run. Any questions?"

Nobody said anything. The plan played out on the holographic display as he spoke.

"Good. Infil element, strip down to the essentials, but pack explosives - give your assault packs to the others. Ambush elements, prep detonators, droid poppers, mines, big guns, and launchers. Once they're onto you, you'll have the entire element to deal with. We'll do our damndest to knock out as much armor as possible, but it won't be everything. Bottleneck them, strangle them, and don't give an inch."

Twenty minutes later and the distant thunder of blasters and explosions continued. Banger platoon, save for Krys' demolitions squad, now lay within an assembly of scrap and totaled vehicles spread before and within the observation post at the loading bay. Two massive scrap piles had been cleared before their arrival to make way for the loading area. This scrap contained the Recon and Comms Squads, with explosive launchers distributed between them. Under the command of Sgt. Dune, overseeing the Marksman squad, consisting of Corporal Camden, Seth, Irene, and CT-03-5521, like the others, utilized rocket launchers and heavy blasters ranging from the Z-6 to the DC-15A, with Camden holding their DC-15X Sniper Rifle to create intersecting fields of fire - a "kill zone".

Spike and Reds positioned themselves ahead of the element among a deserted speeder carcass in wait for 53.

53, Krys, Snatch, Troy, Koji, and Mortar crouch-ran between wreckage, leapfrogging massive wedges of durasteel and twisted vehicle chassis. Fifty-three remained on point, halting behind what used to be a sculpture. He produced binoculars and leaned around the waste. Sheets of metal were held together with shoddy welds, durasteel cables, and miscellaneous wreckage. The bays, where vehicles were stored or worked on, sat in the open with munition racks lackadaisically surrounding them. B1 droids sat, patrolled, or worked on the vehicles. It reminded 53 of how Fett described POW camps.

"Loud or quiet, boss?" Troy asked, kneeling behind 53. The ARC glanced at the clone but did not immediately respond, prompting him to retreat two steps. Fifty-three presented his Westar in a left-handed grip, poking it around the corner. "On my signal, toss poppers into that bay and cover me. Troy, you're on my six. Ready?"

"Yes, sir." Came their reply, and Troy silently shuffled to 53's left, giving him a tap on the shoulder. "Ready, arky."

"Now."

Snatch, Krys, Koji, and Mortar armed EMP grenades and hurled them over the melted obstacle, landing inside the vehicle bay. Before they erupted, 53 bolted from cover, Troy following with a DC-15S carbine. As the brilliant blue electricity fried droid circuits, they hadn't even noticed the two cloak-clad clones making entry.

53, and Troy slid into the bay after twenty meters of open sprinting. A sudden spur of activity outside the bay indicated they'd been spotted.

"Hurry," 53 ordered, fishing a det charge from his bag and tossing it to an ammunition rack. Troy wordlessly followed, hopping up the AAT's body and slinging his charge in the open commander's hatch. "You have contact!" Krys called over shortwave helmet-to-helmet comms as the rumbling and droning of B1's neared. "Engage and cover us; we're not done here."

Waving down Troy, Krys' team opened fire on the clankers, blue bolts striking tan torsos with sparse return fire. Fifty-three rounded the bay to his right to see the element of B1's in a rut while being mowed down. He tracked one with his reticle, squeezing two bolts into its chest and moved on, leading Troy further into the bay.

As he rounded a welded structure, 53 entered a small canopied area with a second tank crew. They had only just stood up, complaining in their robotic voices as 53 and Troy entered. "-the deal - Huh?!" Both clones worked triggers, punching blaster bolts into torsos and sending the five droids spinning to the ground before they could shoot back.

"Move."

53 and Troy slung detpacks from assault packs and into this ammunition rack. They continued out of the canopied space into an open channel for vehicle movement, dozens of open and canopied bays surrounding them. Deeper into the FOB, they saw dozens of droids amassing towards Krys' element. Fifty-three hurried across an aisle, with Troy in tow, slinging additional detpacks.

53 stroked three more blaster bolts into a B2's leg, toppling it into a B1 who'd mistakenly stood beside it, then finished it with a bolt through the processor. After infiltrating, Troy and 53 had placed six det packs in different vehicle bays, positioned to route the nearest Seppie elements toward the ambush site. They then moved through the lefternmost of the compound and regrouped with Krys' unit 100 meters from Banger's surprise.

Beside 53 stood Troy, blasting away with his carbine. To his right, in cover and shooting, were Krys, Snatch, Koji, and Mortar, firing away with DC-15 rifles and carbines alike, their heavy weapons back with the main unit.

As that B2 fell, another took its place, a massive, marching line of grey durasteel flanked by the tannish hulls of B1's. In the distance, 53 could finally make out the whine of AAT's coming to play. Crouching behind cover, bolts snapping overhead, he chimed comms to the squad.

"Krys, set the mines here and retreat. I'll draw fire."

"Yes sir!"

Glancing to Krys' location, Mortar and Koji unloaded their tactical-ized packs and tossed mines onto and beside different wreckages. Troy shifted behind 53, fired a string of bolts that stitched two droids dead, and rolled into a separate section of cover. Popping up, 53 shouldered his Westar and ripped dozens of rounds in fully automatic succession into the surging forward line of droids, mowing several went down and attracting dozens of bolts.

53 combat rolled into a metal slat on his left, red-hot blasts scorching the ground and debris. He duck-walked to the opposite side, peeking the weapon around and firing its grenade launcher. Utilizing the smart-scope, he placed the shell dead-center of several B1's. Retracting behind cover, 53 shucked the launcher's pump and worked a fresh grenade through its loading gate.

"Sir, ready to go!" Krys shouted into comms.

Double-checking his radar, they'd spread the mines in an asymmetric fashion across their cover, the surrounding scrap, and the deck. In the distance, he noted three AAT's converging toward them. They work fast.

"Copy. Full retreat! Cover fire as you go."

Without verifying they would, 53 rose, palming his only mine, activating it, and hurling it like a frisbee over his cover and into the crowd of droids. As he bound over open space, it smacked into the face of a B2 and detonated, washing it and seven other droids in a thermal concoction melting them to slag. Sun-hot death snapped around him in disarray. Leaping over a waist-high segment of metal, he landed, laid prone, and wormed to face the droid element.

Troy and Krys were hammering the droids the best they could with blasters, but by now, they'd amassed a reaction force and were pushing the clones back. Rising to a knee, 53 fingered the underbarrel munitions launcher, firing a thermal detonator over a fifty-meter distance and landing it center of the forward droid element. An eruption toppled six droids and staggered more.

Shucking the pump, he slightly adjusted his aim and fired another munition at a segment of B1's breaking off to flank Krys. It landed in one's torso, flinging shrapnel through the others and melting circuits. A telltale swoosh grabbed 53's attention, and he turned to see a white-hot rocket screaming at him.

Fifty-three scrambled to his feet and bolted left, crisscrossing between wreckage to meet Snatch, Mortar, and Koji. The missile disintegrated the cover he'd left. Sliding beside the squad, he instantly pivoted around cover and walked six blue bolts through the B2's launcher, detonating it in hemispherical glory. "Troy, Krys, fall back; everyone cover!" Standing from cover, he and the three laid down a stream of blue bolts across the battlefield. 53 swept the tri-faced reticle across dozens of automatons, combined fire pulverizing dozens of droids, distracting them from Troy and Krys enough for the two to retreat.

As they zig-zagged back, 53 came over comms again, "Everyone, book it back, now!"

He continued to fire as Krys' element turned and bolted towards the planned ambush center. Now 53 could make out the distinctive semi-domed features of three AAT's moving in an assault wedge toward their location. The Westar vented a sudden wash of gas, its charge reading dead from over-expenditure of the plasma pack. 53 fingered a detonator into the fray of droids, racked the pump, turned, and weaved through the mess of wreckage toward Reds and Spike, who hid beneath a speeder carcass.

When he arrived, 53 slid on his side, metallic skids painting his plastoid before he halted within the wreckage. There, Troy huddled by Spike and Reds, the latter of who offered a wave. After crawling into the recess the center chassis offered, 53 sat up, dropping the sack-pack on his M5 into a dump pouch, removing a spare, and inserting it into the lower receiver. Dozens of droids marched by directly into the kill zone.

Ambling the explosive detonator from his belt, 53 popped its cap and depressed the red button.

"Bang."

53 barely heard his own voice. An eruption suddenly and violently ripped through dozens of vehicle bays, igniting munitions, tanks, and droids, illuminating the dully-lit sky with multiple cascading explosions and black clouds. Its shockwave swept through the area, shrapnel whizzing by and tearing the semi-autonomous bots to pieces unfortunate enough to be nearby.

As they licked their wounds, a sudden barrage from the ambush element of planted mines, rockets, and blaster fire shredded the already hurting response force. Troy peered through an opening in the chassis, observing the carnage while bobbing his head.

"Hell yeah, that's some frellin' damage right there!"

"Keep your voice down," 53 rebuked, punching a three-digit code into his forearm device, "And listen up. This is the plan." Shuffling to the center, 53 glanced to each clone through their visor as a holographic display illuminated their battlefield. "We exit on the opposite side, cut through this scrapped frigate, and exit one hundred meters north of the command center. Once we're there, we blast our our way to the tactical droid, snatch its cranium, and dip around the backside of the same frigate. We'll have to board the observation decks from here," A location blipped, two hundred meters away from the ambush site, "And regroup halfway. From there, we exfil through the industrial loading bays and haul it back to our speeders ASAP. We're moving straight to our main element to provide support, so don't get lazy."

Each clone nodded to his hushed voice, so 53 closed the display, and they began systematic gear checks. Once finished, resupplied from the limited items provided by Reds and Spike, 53 shouldered his M5 and tipped his head towards their exit.

"Let's move."

With 53 leading, they exited what was once a cockpit and bolted across a small opening. They entered the rear fuselage of a derelict frigate and clambered through gutted engineering decks. As the battle roared outside, they moved deeper, gradually distorting as they distanced themselves. 500 meters and an entire section later, they emerged through a decimated forward gunnery post into a pile of scrap. 53, binos in hand, laid atop a semi-circle of melted slag with Troy, Reds, and Spike peering around it.

Surely enough, the super tactical stood within its makeshift command center, delegating the battle through a holographic display. Surrounding it were multiple watch stations, their own panels, and droids operating it tirelessly, several patrols protecting its exterior.

"There's no cover between us," 53 noted, "And dozens of droids. Reds, Spike, you're covering while Troy and I push in."

"Me again?" Troy groaned, but before 53 could rebuke, he swung the DC-15S forward, "I'm ready to blast droids any day."

53 glanced at Spike and Reds. They nodded. Turning back to his binos, 53 began marking each patrol with an indicator, which was highlighted in their HUDs. Once the six patrols had been marked, 53 shuffled from his nest and pocketed the binos. As he slung the M5 into his hands, the clone tapped the side of his helmet, linking with Troy's comm.

"Zig zag on your approach, stay out of the line of fire, and be mindful of the STD. We waste its head, this mission is fragged. Drop any unnecessary weight."

Troy nodded, removing his assault bag and shrugging it over to Spike. Both sifted through, tossing Troy two thermal detonators. After the gear was distributed, 53 indicated Spike and Reds.

"On our retreat, throw every grenade, munition, and explosive we have. Smoke, thermal detonators, everything. I'll cover with what I have, too. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

ARC-53 nodded.

One minute later, flanking the right corner of the pile, 53 and Troy crouched in wait, observing as patrol groups one, three, and two moved away from each other, creating a temporary path directly to the command center. Atop the scrap mass, Spike and Reds laid prone, DC-15A rifles aimed forward and turned up to the maximum output. Patrol Five vanguarded opposite the command center, while six and four were further to its right.

Only a smidgeon of cover separated the CC and them, an old slag mound conveniently convexed towards the clones like a shield. However, its small stature made it difficult to utilize. As the distance between patrols one, two, and three expanded, they reached their opportune apex/.

"Now."

Bursting at full tilt, 53 and Troy bolted across open space directly for the command center. They weren't spotted for the first forty meters, the droids oblivious at first. Then, a patroling B1 caught the movement, waving his blaster and opening fire. Patrols one and two followed suit, lacing the air with crimson death.

Red bolts pockmarked the space around 53 and Troy, the duet weaving left and right around the spurring storm. Spike and Reds, from their concealed location, began to hammer out high-powered blue blaster bolts from afar, splitting droids in two and spitting fried circuitry from bolt holes. Shouldering the M5, 53 triggered an explosive detonator into the central console assembly, blowing it to pieces with high-det and sending molten shrapnel flying.

Patrol three and five reinforced two as they were gunned down, with patrol six and four performing the same for one.

B2's emerged from a vein, swarming the STD and firing over the console operators at 53 and Troy. One spat a white rocket from its munition launcher.

Troy moved left, and 53 right, leapfrogging and spraying to their front as B1's rose to meet them. The rocket smacked into durasteel and skipped into the distance, exploding on the frigate. Spike and Reds shifted fire, hammering the patrol elements as they came to reinforce with blazing blue bolts. Their weapons spent almost half a charge already, and required reloading shortly.

As Troy and 53 shuffled into opposite ends of the command center, the B2's flanked the super tactical, laying down sheets of reciprocating red blaster bolts.

Troy dove into cover behind a series of melted terminals, red bolts stroking the console and durasteel around him, the remnants of patrol five coming straight to his forward. Pulling a thermal detonator from his belt, he hurled it in the general direction of patrol five as the B1 element came to, firing wildly at the lone clone.

With his linked scope, 53 easily maneuvered the reticle of his Westar onto the left leg of the B2, stroking its entire side with an assortment of blue bolts, blasting out its knee, hip, and left shoulder, forcing it to the ground. As patrol six moved into view, 53 stroked his munition launcher's trigger, arcing a thermal detonator into their center and blasting them apart. He weaved between consoles and metal sheets, using their visage and his cloak to throw off droid aim. Several small holes had already burned in the cowl.

Spike and Reds continued to hammer bolts, removing the third, second, and first patrol elements in seconds just as their charge ran dry. As they receded to swap, patrol four pushed into 53, its two B2s firing barrages of red bolts as the B1s surged forward.

An explosion ripped half of fifth's element to shreds, causing the others to recoil and dive away. Troy stumbled from cover into another as the B2's arm blaster overcycled and vented hot gasses, shifting to its launcher and firing a missile into Troy's cover. Vaulting over and to the right, its missile streaked into the component, exploding as Troy arced to the droid's left side. Extending his DC-15S one-handed, he fired a series of bolts, stroking the B2's torso and groin with intense fire as it swiveled to meet him.

Changing his aim, he fired into the B2's right forearm, blowing its built-in autocannon to pieces with a combined explosion. Closing in, Troy gripped the carbine with both hands and hosed the B2's visual receptors until it dropped dead. The B1's to his left emerged, firing up at Troy as he bound into the semishielded command center. It missed, and Troy made it pay with a bolt through the cranium.

53 rose and strafed to his right, the fourth patrol pushing on his location, swinging their aim to meet him. Shucking the pump, 53 triggered the munition launcher, beaming the first B2 in the chest with a thermal detonator, ripping it in half and sending the second flying across the battlefield. Four B1s went down, however, the other four continued loping forward, firing inaccurate red blasts.

One soared by 53's helmet who slid to a knee, strafing the droids with blaster fire en masse and splitting their chassis wide open. He hastily stood and charged into the command center, distant sounds of conflict growing in intensity. As 53 and Troy disappeared into the command center, Spike and Reds re-emerged, punching bolts into the scrambled fifth patrol and dismantling each droid.

In the command center, the super tactical droid stood with a small element of B1 droids; his B2's already killed by Troy and 53. Both entered at once, dropping the guard element with combined fire. Stepping left, the STD drew a E-5 and fired, drilling 53 and knocking him into a wall. Troy worked two bolts into its left leg, dropping it to the ground.

Before the STD could get up, Troy planted his right knee on its blaster arm, then blasted its shoulder socket. He quickly looked up to see 53 rolling his head left to right, muttering clone curses and other ones he hadn't heard before. Stalking over the tactical droid, he let the M5 hang on its sling, then removed a long vibroblade from the back of his belt. Grabbing its head, he slipped the knife through an articulating socket, slicing its circuits and removing the cranium.

53 grunted, tossed it in his tactical bag, then motioned to Troy.

"Let's move, now!"

Troy didn't hesitate, following 53 directly through the front entrance, beating feat straight back to the scrap pile over dismantled droids and destroyed stations. Halfway there, Reds and Spike opened fire as several droids emerged from the base's reaches. Red bolts hissed dangerously close to the fleeing clones, forcing them to zig-zag back.

"Clankers! Lots of them! Get back here, now!"

53 didn't answer, pumping his legs harder with each step, Troy on his tail. They made the run, grabbed their assault bags, then began hurling detonators, mines, and fired munitions over the slag pile. 53 ran his Westar and its munition launcher dry, tightening it across his back and drawing both DC-17 Blaster Pistols. His blue bolts knifed through vague, tan, and gunmetal grey masses converging through the wrecked command center. Smoke hissed across the open space. Spike's DC-15 whined as its cell depleted for the second time. "Out!" He screamed, shuffling behind the waste as Troy and Reds hurled the final two mines in a messy array around their position.

Spike shouldered one bag and tossed the final two to Troy and Reds as they retreated from an overwhelming maelstrom of crimson plasma, sparking small fires in the miscellaneous material makeup of garbage left in the pit. With the mines set, 53 shouted for retreat, and they turned, sprinting around the frigate chassis with dozens of droids on their tail. Spread in disarray, the mass of B1s and B2s thundered after the clones at full tilt as they exfiltrated.

Red bolts chipped the durasteel at the clones' feet as they zig-zagged across open space. 53 noticed the others failing to keep up with his pace, far outperforming them in a dead sprint. As he gained the lead, one of the blaster bolts hit something other than metal with a thwock, followed by a brief shriek of pain and someone collapsing to the ground.

Fifty-three swiveled, spotting Spike sprawled across the ground with a burning crater through his bag, smoke billowing off his back. Spike's helmet had clattered to the ground, golden mohawk glowing in the low light, teeth clenched in pain. Troy and Reds swung around, freezing at the moment. Spike propped himself on an elbow, but a second bolt sheared through the side of his neck, his face working in surprise, then slacking in death as a few strands of sinew connected his head to his shoulders. As Spike slumped to the ground, the muscle tore, dumping the decapitated head onto the deck.

"Spike! NO!"

Troy sprayed blue bolts across the advancing field of droids, marching directly toward them. Reds dropped to a knee, working bolts across appearing shapes. A bolt smashed into Troy's left shoulder, spinning him to the ground, a wail of pain immediately followed.

"Damnit! Cover me!"

53 pivoted hard, walking both DC-17 blasters into advancing droids. Dwindling blue bolts barely contested the red - their only savior being the slight bottleneck the droids were forced through between the frigate and scrap. More B1s and B2s trotted forward, blasting or marching. As 53 neared Troy's body, he holstered his left pistol and armed a smoke grenade, hurling it in front of him and sliding next to the injured clone. Troy had propped himself on his good arm, growling obscenities, trying to move his left to no avail. The grenade snapped, coughing out an instant smokescreen.

"Come on! We need to move!"

Without waiting for an answer, 53 scooped Troy's good arm and hoisted the clone, smoke separating them and the droid armada. Troy resisted at first, took one last look at Spike's decapitated corpse, then turned and ran.

After a short minute of straight sprinting, they'd arrived at the loading bay and scrambled into an access hatch. They knifed through several empty corridors, halting at an instrument station. 53 turned to Troy, unslinging his M5 and exchanging the charge pack.

"Trooper," He began, staring down Troy, "There's nothing we could've done for Spike. No backtalk. Remove your pauldron; I'm going to give you medical aid."

Having lost his blaster, Troy clenched his good hand, but relaxed it moments later, nodding with admission. Reds turned towards the corridor they'd come from, watching it with his DC-15A as 53 removed an IFAK. With swift execution, he applied a bacta patch, wrapped the shoulder in gauze, and then reattached his marred shoulder plate.

"There. I'm on point; Reds, you're center, Troy, you're security." Pulling a DC-17 pistol, his left one, the ARC offered it to Troy. "You're doing good; it's just the home stretch now."

Troy stared at the pistol for a long moment, snagged it, and nodded. "Sir, yes, sir." Though bitterness tainted his tone, 53 ignored it, leading their element toward the rally point. Within minutes, they'd climbed up access stairs and arrived topside. This observation center was 100 meters from the regroup point, an abandoned warehouse. The battle, since subsided, stirred up seppie activity. Looking over the FOB, 53 identified their main armor element pushing across the old ambush site as B2's, and B1's combed the pit. Some had followed 53's group across the derelict frigate and loading bay. From a distance, 53 identified two OOM-Class droids dictating tactics outside the command center.

Looking away from the mess, 53 hastily jogged to the warehouse and met the main Banger element. Two wounded were under work by the platoon Doc, Twelvetrees, but 53 didn't recognize either. As he neared, the platoon element waved the three clones over. Oh-Five stood by a communications rig where Sergeant Dune spoke to the command element. Both comms techs adjusted parameters via a pop-out touch panel on its backside. Fifty-three knelt and removed his helmet with Troy and Reds.

"Sir," 53 began, removing the head from his bag, "Mission accomplished. One KIA, one wounded. We lost Spike."

Oh-Five's brow furrowed, scar slightly twisting, and he glanced away, clicking his tongue. "Damnit. Alright, very well. Banger Platoon! Consolidate and move ASAP. Those clankers are hot on our tail. Troy, have Twelve see you before we move."

"Aye, sir."

Troy glanced to 53, then shuffled to Twelvetrees. Reds tapped 53 on the shoulder, prompting him to meet Reds' gaze.

"Reds, right?"

"Yes, sir. Troy and Spike served on Geonosis together, so... If he holds any ill will against you, that's why."

53 looked at the gunmetal grey durasteel and focused for two seconds. Geonosis, the first battle of the Clone Wars - a bloodbath by any jurisdiction. An action he missed due to the relativistically late activation of Alpha-Class ARC troopers. He nodded, looking back to Reds and patting the clone's shoulder.

"I understand, soldier. But we do what we have to, remember that."

Reds nodded and moved to his squad center with Corporal 330. Fifty-three moved towards Krys' squad and knelt, the troops glancing at him, with Krys offering the DC-17 used by Troy back to 53. The ARC nodded appreciatively, holstered it, and momentarily observed Banger Platoon. The Recon squad was mourning Spike's loss, emblazoning their helmets' antennae with golden paint. Fifty-three noted this, remembering the clone's hairstyle of choice. He turned to see Troy and Reds doing the same with their helmets.

Glancing down at his gloved hands, he pondered the same but didn't feel much sympathy for this clone. Spike. He's just another casualty at this point, isn't he?

Shaking away the thought, Oh Five quickly came over comms.

"Banger Platoon, we have two droid elements outside the warehouse! Haul ass, and let's move!"

If they hadn't already, the platoon sprung to life, donning helmets, loading equipment, and arming blasters. Within seconds, they'd filed into squads and began out the designated exit. The demo squad laid mines at the entrances, and as they left, a detpack in the mix. A sporadic burst of red bolts followed, but none landed true.

Banger Platoon cut through several industrial backstreets, crossing the predetermined route to their speeders. A short minute later, an eruption billowed through the sky - frag and slag aloft - the droids having triggered the trap. When Banger arrived at their speeders, they rapidly embarked, kicking each BARC into activity, racing off down another route, rapidly transferring from industrial to uptown and eventually downtown cityscape.

14 Kilometers later, they arrived at the main conflict between Republic and Separatist armor.

"One click out. Several droid contacts. We're coming up on a seppie armored column's flank. We eliminate this, and our walkers can push through. Move into attack formation."

At 53's command, Banger Platoon shifted into a staggered line of BARC's. They emerged from alleyways and streets into an open stretch of Crystal's parks. In front of them, droid emplacements hammered red bolt fire towards and down into the Republic advancing units.

"Fire!"

Squeezing the trigger on his sticks, 53 simultaneously leaned forward, screaming to max speed as blue bolts hammered down range. En masse, blue bolts by the hundreds ripped into unsuspecting droids and tore their bodies to pieces. Few caught wind, swiveling double-barreled blaster cannons in Banger's direction and unleashing their own response. One BARC caught it head-on, stitching the fuselage and driver with heavy cannon fire and a violent eruption.

Moments later, the position got strafed by another clone. Elements to their right began laying fire, striking clones off their bikes and ripping BARC fuselages open.

"Scatter! Demo team, advance. Everyone else, cover fire!"

53 noted the silhouettes of Krys, Koji, Troy, Mortar, and Snatch accelerating forward with him, cannons blasting. Banger Platoon swerved to the right, either disembarking and firing with rifles or continuing to blast with the cannons on their BARCs.

Swerving around a gun emplacement burnt by blasters, the edge of the parking deck came into view, directly overlooking the Seppie emplacement.

"We're coming in! Brake!"

Engaging the air brake and drifting his bike, 53 jammed the sticks hard and sideways as the speeder's whine roared, then whispered as it slid to a stop. Directly below them, roughly 40 meters down, was a wedge of AAT's supported by Dwarf Spider Droids. B2 droids and B1 with rocket launchers and crew-served blasters hammered a bottlenecked Republic advance of AT-TE's and Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi. His movements were a blur, the man's blue saber whipping through the air and deflecting the bolts fired at him.

Swinging his legs over his speeder, 53 ripped a PLX-1 launcher from his bike's magnetic clamp and knelt by the parapice's edge. Krys, Troy, Mortar, Koji, and Snatch did the same, equipped with the same launchers.

"Pick your targets! Fire!"

Simultaneously, they fired the recoilless missile launchers. With a supersonic crack, they emptied the tube, firing backblast through the rear vent and snapping a screaming munition out its front. Two missiles ripped through the front AAT and its supporting spider droids, with the other four rockets boring through the left wedge and first tank of the right, erupting their hulls in a blue-red explosion that ripped through their accompanying support columns.

The line of infantry coming to support moved to fire at 53 and the demo squad. Each clone shuffled away from the edge, crimson bolts whistling by. Fifty-three dropped his launcher and unslung the Westar-M5 as a comm pinged him. Kneeling, swiveling to fire at the infantry advancing on Banger, 53 noted its source and answered with a nod.

General Kenobi.

"Sir, Lieutenant Alpha Fifty-Three speaking."

"Lieutenant! Bravo on your flank! Without your support, we had our hands tied down here. Thanks to you, we can push through here and secure this position."

"Always ready to assist, General."

"Very well. Hold your location; we'll send assistance within the minute."

"Aye, sir. We'll hold here."

The comm line terminated, and 53 veered his vision to see the Jedi General leading a surge of clones armed with blasters charging the decimated enemy position. AT-TE fire raked the remaining retreating tanks, destroying two of three. The final one managed a shot, piercing the leg of one AT-TE. A clone with a PLX fired its warhead through the turret ring, blowing flames and shrapnel out of its commander compartment and grounding it permanently.

Obi-Wan led the way, blue saber deflecting bolts and slashing droids with his Commander, the famous CC known as Cody, by his side. Cody shot 53 a look, and offered a nod, which he returned. Focusing on the task, 53 knife-handed forward and began towards the line Banger Platoon held.

"Let's move!"

Behind him, he heard Jet Troopers throttling their packs and firing EMP launchers - purple balls of lightning arcing over the Banger clones and landing in precise groups within a mass of droids attempting to retake the garden. Among their ranks came Captain Rex, landing side by side with the 501st Airborne unit.

"Alright, make 'em pay, boys!"

53 and Rex's detachment made the line at the same time, firing hundreds of bolts by the second, knocking down droids of the same amount as they struggled to form an assault. Rex blazed away with two DC-17 hand blasters; 53 ripped automatic fire from his M5, shifting his sight as he accurately bodied droids by the dozen, occasionally blowing small groups apart with the underbarrel munition launcher. Oh-Five blasted away on his speeder while Dune shredded droids with a Z-6, each clone howling war cries.

"Take that, clanker!"

"Another one down!"

"Get Some! Get some!"

"That's for my brothers!"

"Another one bites the dust!"

"Eat it, scrapheap!"

"For the Republic!"

Within a greyscale briefing room stood 53, Rex, Cody, Oh-Five, Obi-Wan, and Seth.

---

Seth, an IT specialist, finished connecting the Tactical Droid's head to a mainframe and hastily went to splice its memory banks. Thirty minutes later, Seth rose, stroking the goatee sprouting from his chin and wearing a grin. "Cracked it," He announced, the opposite set of fingers tapping the table-mounted device as a holographic map of Crystal City appeared before the group.

"Nice work, Seth," Cody commended, clasping the clone on his shoulder, who responded with a nod. 53 remained silent, observing as Seth identified the location of Major Almaani. With a few keystrokes, the holographic map focused on a Southern sector of Crystal City, a transitionary district between residential and industrial precincts. It featured several apartments, community centers, and familiar towering skyscrapers. The AOR; an industrial park with an open courtyard spanning several hundred meters. Its center consisted of a large storehouse.

Nearby buildings were identified as scattered apartments, workshops, and garages. The sole tower had fallen across the courtyard, crushing part of the central warehouse due to the Confederacy's planetary bombardment.

The Major had filled the park with up to 2,000 droid units, including armor and spider derivatives. Red beacons peppered the park - enough to identify the command center in the central warehouse, a vehicle depot within an assembled row of makeshift structures, the droid barracks consisting of two smaller apartments, and a dizzying amount of gun emplacements, sniper nests, and trenches spotting the building-filled complex. Additional vehicle bays and droid stations spotted the courtyard, however, none compared to these.

Fifty-three audibly grunted, trailing a gloved hand across his stubbly face. In his periphery, Obi-Wan contemplatively stroked his beard as Rex kept his arms crossed and brows furrowed. Beside him, Oh-Five did not react and instead diverted his gaze between Cody and 53. Cody and Seth eyed the display with equal parts bewilderment and astonishment until Cody's expression molded to contemplation.

"That's at least a lot of tin cans," Seth grumbled, his enthusiasm drained, "How're we taking that Major, sir?" Seth looked to his Commander, head tilted. Rex approached, indicating the soldier with both a look and knife-hand.

"Artillery. Our guns have finally been resupplied, and with our front secure for the time being, we'll have access full access for arty missions."

Cody nodded to Rex's words, a thumb massaging the center of his chin.

"I agree. We'll also need air support, if not an air exfil. Chances are we won't destroy half of what we want. Once we're in, we need to grab and get out."

"Let me worry about that," Obi-Wan offered, stepping to the holographic display. Punching a command in, a warship materialized above the courtyard - their fleet flagship. "Once you require extraction, I will coordinate forces stationed on Admiral Yularen's Flagship. At your signals, we will perform the required bombing runs and evacuate you after the mission is completed." Kenobi folded his arms, returning to an erect stature, "Then we can level the area once you've extracted."

"Thank you, sir."

"Likewise, Cody. Once we capture the Major and weaken his element, our only worry will be General Loathsom and any remaining scattered droids."

Departing with a kind smile and superficial wave, Obi-Wan left to contact Admiral Yularen for support on Banger Platoon's mission. Oh-Five and Seth followed, leaving Cody, Rex, and 53 to devise a tactical plan. 53 milled over the deferral from his mission prerogatives - kill - versus Obi-Wan's; capture. Dismissing the notion, 53 moved before the control panel.

"Right," 53 began, inputting commands and illuminating their forces descending through the Northwest. "First things first. We'll need to manually designate arty and air support once we arrive. So we don't get completely bogged down, we'll split Banger into two elements; Mynock and Rancor. You two will lead Rancor, the recon and comm squads. I will take the demo and marksman squads. After the bombs drop, Rancor will push through the barracks and into the command center while Mynock pushes through the vehicle depot."

Rex picked up where 53 left off, who'd paused momentarily, searching the Captain and Commander for reactions.

"We'll regroup at this trench line, here, and push to the command center." Rex indicated a deep groove carved into the industrial park, once some manner of path with an anti-air gun planted center mass, "We'll use their own trenches to cross the distance. Once we're inside, it's a matter of clearing the warehouse and finding the Major. If it's still operable, we'll take the big gun and use it, then blow it once we're done. Depending on how much spare armor they got, it'll be a mad dash to get to the command post."

"We should set up sniper fireteams on these locations," Added Cody, pointing out two apartment complexes overlooking the near-kilometer of space they'd be crossing, "Aces and Irene are the snipers, Vant and Reds are the spotters."

Fifty-three nodded to the summarization of the plan, "We'll need a light outfit. Heavy weapons will only slow us down. Carbines, detonators, rocket launchers, and anything that can be brought in an assault bag. The only ones carrying heavier kits will be the demolition specialists and designated marksmen." He wrapped his right thumb over its index finger and popped it, "That being said, I will be bringing my own equipment."

"I provided some of my guys," Rex chimed in, folding his arms, "To fill in the KIA's on the last mission. Trav, Pod, and Duke are from my jump jet company; they'll do good here and supply some extra muscle for Rancor."

53 weighed the situation.

A fresh supply of jump vets into the recently engaged Banger would be necessary. Some clones had only been given bacta treatments, and by luck, only three died last mission. Two no-names and Spike - the latter replaying behind 53's eyes. Shaking the image, 53 refocused. Once the assembled ordinance scrambled the Seppie's position, they'd need to cut through them like a vibroblade does butter - smoothly and without a hiccup. He changed gears and spoke his mind, relieving him of a nagging impulse.

"Is there a reason behind the General's change of... Perogotives for the Major?"

Cody and Rex exchanged glances, with Cody answering, thumbing to where Obi-Wan departed.

"Jedi prefer a less... Violent outcome. General Kenobi's very adamant on not killing the opposition's high command so they can stand trial."

"Stand trial?" Fifty-three snorted, brows furrowing in slight frustration. He splayed his hands towards the decimated apparition before them, "They should be killed on the spot. Pseudo-semantic ideals have no place here."

Cody bristled, clenching fists and glaring daggers at 53. "Watch your words, Lieutenant. Whether or not you're right is irrelevant - it's the General's orders. And Kenobi's one of the best."

Taking the Commander's word, 53 offered a slight nod, refocusing on the battle board. Whether General Kenobi's likes would stand in the face of this mission would be seen. Besides, 53 had his own mission, authorized well above Kenobi's head.

"Right, then. Plan's settled."

"Agreed," Cody stated, retrieving his helmet from the table. Rex did the same, offering 53 nods as he retrieved the data chip containing a copy of their tactical plan, storing it in a belt pouch and exiting the room.

Arriving at his quarters, 53 punched in a code and entered. A spartan gunmetal grey compartment, his assembly of tactical gear lay splayed across a durasteel table. The officer's quarters contained a bunk, holo-display, personal desk, workbench, and two closets for uniforms and gear.

His highly-customized Westar-M5 Blaster Rifle sat on the workbench, updated to new specifications. A Merr-Sonn aftermarket smart link scope replaced the previous optic. The pump-action munition launcher's pump handle featured deeper grooves, and 53 extended the upper receiver, where a tactical light and laser module fixed to the left side, actionable with an Omni-directional dial and pressure pad.

Two DC-17 blaster pistols with barrel shrouds sat beneath it. A vibro-sword in the style of a twenty-inch machete sat in a solid scabbard, a tanto-style vibro knife to its left, and a talon-style vibro knife to its right - each within proprietary scabbards. One cylindrical thermal imploder sat between two circular thermal detonators, two smoke grenades, and two droid poppers. A full paratrooper rig of grenades for the launcher - thermal det, anti-armor, and smoke - with spare charge packs, tibanna cartridges, and an individual first aid kit rounded off his equipment.

Its greys and whites now entertained specks of yellow, as per his efforts, and a golden stripe emblazoned the helmet's antenna.

53 passed his pre-assorted gear and sat at his work desk. Plugging the chip into his table, the tactical plan sprawled out before him in an ethereal blue glow. With few swift motions, a comm link bridged to REPSPECWARCOM through encryption. As 53 pondered the tactical data, the link was established, and the life-sized image of Jedi Knight Ozura Atlacoya materialized. This time she'd permitted her hair to hang freely, stretching to the mid-thigh while nursing it with a brush. Ozura wore some kind of nightgown, dark by the hologram's indicative tone, and she sat on a rotating chair, likely in her quarters.

"You have a status report, fifty-three?"

"Yes, Ma'am," 53 fingered keys, vectoring the tactical data to her directly. She responded accordingly, displaying the captured information outside the hologram's reach. "More hostiles survived than we expected. The Major's confirmed to be at this location, and we're moving on the objective in five hours. I'll revise the tactics, catch some shuteye, then re-brief the Platoon come morning. They're still in the dark about my objective."

Ozura nodded, her expression unresponsive, "Good. There's a lot here, fifty-three. Do you need additional support?" Her gaze shifted to 53, "We have eight R-C and one additional Alpha-class operative in Cristophsis. This takes priority."

"No ma'am," 53 fractionally shook his head, "That won't be necessary. We'll be in and out - quick."

Several seconds of Ozura studying 53 passed, her head tilting to the side, corners of her mouth dipping. "Very well. These are sound tactical plans. Once you've revised them, send them over, and I'll inform Master Zey of your progress." She paused, re-inspecting 53 as his eyes vacantly stared through her hologram. Ozura's gaze narrowed. "Fifty-three. Is there something else?"

Spike's final, dying second replayed before 53. The clone's helmet tilted up, arm propping himself off the ground as smoke billowed through an open hole in his back. An executive bolt knifed through his neck, and a few strands of scorched sinew tethered it as it fell - then tore - dumping his head on the ground. Troy's bellow followed. 53's guts wrenched as the memory replayed.

"Lieutenant?"

His attention returned to Ozura. "Ma'am?"

"Is there something else going on?" Ozura softened her tone and, while remaining husky, leveraged empathy. Fifty-three glanced sideways, cogs in his head working as his detachment transformed into somberness. Fifty-three inhaled slowly, speaking at the top of his breath. "We suffered three casualties today, ma'am." 53 paused for several seconds again, focusing on Ozura, his expression stoic. "Nothing we weren't prepared for."

Ozura's expression - her whole posture - drooped. "I see." She paused, straightening poise and releasing her hair to flow over the chairback, expression solidifying, "Has it been affecting you, trooper?"

"No," 53 shook his head, "It has not."

Her gaze narrowed but didn't persist, folding well-trained hands and nodding. "Very well. Don't let it affect your mission, fifty-three. I know from personal experience it's easier said than done."

Silence hung between them, 53 glancing around his room, running through the scenarios over and over again - their fog shrouding his mind and sickening his gut - but he remembered how to push through it. Taking a long, four-count breath, he defocused and pushed the emotions down. It ebbed from his system, like a slow bleed, until he released the breath, and it evaporated. With the occlusion buried, 53 sighted on Ozura and nodded, straightening his posture.

"Thank you, ma'am. I will remember that."

She nodded, returning to her hair care and glancing back to the tactical plans. "Is there anything else, Fifty-Three?"

Fifty-three shook his head, "No, ma'am."

"Very well, dismissed. May the force be with you." Ozura looked concerned about the ARC moments before her hologram disseminated.

Turning to his own display of the plans, 53 went to work on perfecting his assault on the Major's outpost.

---

Five hours later, 53, Rex, and Cody had the refined tactical plan and disseminated it to Banger Platoon. Trav and Pod replenished Recon's numbers while Pod filled Comm's missing man. Aces and Vant were to cover Mynock's advance, dubbed Rifle One and Two, with Irene and Reds covering Rancor, dubbed Rifle Three and Four, armed with Valkien-38X Sniper Blasters. Fifty-three established a separate comm line for the snipers and assigned a designated marksman for each assault element. CT-1101-2203 for Mynock, and Amad for Rancor, armed with DC-15X Sniper Blasters.

Each soldier divvied up detonators, droid poppers, smoke grenades, det charges, and rocket launchers as necessary. Fully equipped, Obi-Wan conveyed his authorization for support, and Banger moved to act.

Crossing the several-kilometer distance in BARC speeders, they stopped two kilometers from the industrial park. They continued on foot, weaving through a residential district with massive apartments and open community centers in every direction. Their highlighted path and symmetrically placed directions were the only indicators of where they needed to go. After the trek, they arrived at the edge of an industrial park.

Before the park, several small apartment buildings bordered a residential district with an interconnected, underground commune that's likely privatized. Two more significant buildings separated the community and park, overlooking most of the hybrid sector with their seven-floor construction and decline into the AOR. Banger split into the Mynock and Rancor elements, filing into each apartment.

The buildings were separated by an open stretch of roughly one hundred meters, Rancor's parallel to the industrial park and Mynock's at a 45-degree offset.

Both elements made to the roof, proning or kneeling to conceal as Rifle One, Two, Three, and Four manned positions. Aces and Vant clambered onto an elevated duct below the highest point to avoid instant detection. After testing its integrity with a few shoves, each clone slid onto it. Aces set a rolled-up mat and laid prone before it, placing his 38X across it, then snugly brought himself into the rifle's space and secured it to his right shoulder. Aces' left arm eased his helmet off, placing it below the duct.

Vant slid to the clone's left, placing a roll down similarly, pulling multi-spectrum binoculars and scanning the industrial park.

On the other rooftop, Rancor lay splayed as Irene and Reds made their nest. A shattered stone roof barrier with an acute opening allowed such. Irene pulled a cushioned pad and laid it before the opening, set up his bag beside the crevice, and deployed his 38X's bipod just ahead of the opening, allowing him a direct line of sight over the park. Reds knelt two meters away, peering through a similarly destroyed piece of waist-height wall at a squat. Rex, Cody, and Oh-Five knelt behind Reds.

53 and Dune crouched next to Aces' position.

"You seein' this?" Reds whispered, falter evident in his voice.

"Holy smokes!" Rex quipped.

"Great..." Aces grumbled.

Fifty-three slithered behind Aces' sniper point and crouched, producing his binoculars. The Alpha Class surveyed blaster positions, sniper nests, and trenches with dozens of droids milling among them. AAT tanks and STAP scout vehicles slid around buildings and over trenches. The apartment-turned-barracks and makeshift depot were a scorching spot. Other constructs across the field mimicked their capabilities but not their size. Seven hundred meters away in the center sat the warehouse. Between them and the objective sat dozens of buildings, from sniper posts atop buildings to three fully manned trenches with double-barreled heavy blaster cannons and trenches to interconnect the vehicle depot and droid barracks. The third trench line just meters before the objective contained small amounts of mercenaries among the ranks and in spider holes, their blue, black, and dark brown color schemes popping against tan and grey droids. The A-A gun before them scanned the skies with three others scattered across the park.

"Skragg." 53 growled over the comm line, "We must alter our approach. Spotters; laze arty to pave us a way straight to the oh-bee-jay. Have Kenobi's bombers strike the barracks and depot. I don't see any generators, but mind the A-A guns."

Fifty-three noted the temporary measures taken here. Each sniper nest was a group of B1s with E-11 rifles, stoically managing their posts. Each blaster nest held similar results, with B1s and B2s packed into hastily made dugouts with mounted repeating blasters. The organization and attention to detail increased every trench back, with the armor-clad mercenaries directing droids on the third. Commando Droids roved the warehouse's perimeter but didn't enter the canals. He couldn't see into the warehouse from this position and sighed angrily.

"We'll take the same routes as before to be thorough. Move with purpose, and don't stop for anything. I estimate-" 53 went as his helmet calculated, scanning the area, with this not being even one-quarter of the entire park, "Over three thousand hostiles. We bomb them, move in, nab the target, and exfil A-S-A-F-P. Any questions?"

Aces scratched his tattoo, clearing his throat. "Sir, are we firing at designated targets, or are we covering the element?"

"Cover the elements, fire at will."

Aces spread a grin across his face, chuckling with an air of darkness at the permission given.

"Aye, sir."

Rex came next, "Sometimes I forget how skilled you ARC troopers are... But, I say experience trumps everything else. Cody?"

"I have nothing. Assemble your gear and move out. Spotters, mark the depot and barracks. Rancor, let's move out!"

Raising his left hand to shoulder height, Cody extended his index finger and whipped it in a circular motion. Rancor Element crouch-walked to the roof access and descended through the building. Reds placed his spotting scope and toggled the designator function, lasing it with an air support request beacon.

Fifty-three shuffled off the elevated position and crouched beside Sergeant Dune, pocketing his binoculars and shouldering his M5. "You heard the plan. Vant, target the depot; I'll call in fire support. Mynock, move to the first-floor lobby and stand by." As Mynock shuffled down the roof access, 53 let his M5 hang by the synthsling, right hand tapping commands over his forearm gauntlet, bringing up the map of Crystal City and pinpointing their location. Vant toggled an IR laser and tagged the depot.

"Seven-seven, relay my orders."

"Yes, sir!"

Rancor's comm tech pulled the lunchbox-sized device off his lower back and tuned it to Arc-53's communicator, and it bounced his signal straight to Crystal Command and Yularen's Flagship.

"Crystal Command, this is Alpha-Five-Three, calling in artillery followed by dual bombing runs, mission authorization Charlie-Oscar-Delta-Yoke-Five-Nine-Five, grid Kilo-Eight-Eight with HPT's lased - fire for effect!"

A slightly eager clone trooper responded five seconds later.

"Roger that, Alpha-Five-Three, artillery ETA one mike, bombing mission ETA one point five mikes, stand by."

Fifty-three tapped the map away and shuffled to the first-floor lobby with Mynock's detachment. When he arrived, his comm buzzed from Crystal Command; "Artillery on the way, bombers en route." Waving his men on, 53 emerged from the rear-facing exit right and rounded a corner angled enough to avoid a direct line of sight from the depot. 53 low crouched, closing his fist and displaying it for his unit to stop. Dropping to a crawl, 53 shuffled to the building's corner and peeked into the industrial park.

Before him sat a thirty-meter, declining staircase directly into the first series of community centers, with one directly in front of him. A small garage stood fifteen meters off its right. Sixty meters away, a blaster nest dug into an old mortar crater between two garages and in front of the vehicle depot. A second nest had been placed atop the left garage, partially obstructed by the community center. Fifty-three made it out by the barely visible trench connecting it and the depot.

Rex and Cody led Rancor through the lobby out the rear exit, turning right and moving along the wall. They stopped at its corner, a three-meter opening between the apartment and a maintenance building. Holding his fist up, Cody halted the formation with Rex behind him. He leaned out, a direct line of sight to the industrial park, instantly identifying the two apartment buildings converted into droid barracks. One aligned with their compass, its short sides facing north and south, with the longer walls facing west and east like a rectangle. Its conjoined aquamarine building is offset by 45 degrees just left of the other complex. An arched entrance connected the two. A small outdoor center separated the two glassy bodies.

A double barrel repeating blaster and three B1 battle droids were atop the right building. Between the buildings and them stood two shacks and a garage, then the thirty-meter stairwell. Right of the twin buildings sat a second blaster nest staffed by B2's, B1's, and Dwarf Spider Droids, conjoined with a second nest facing further east. Tinnie galore engulfed the fields beyond. Dipping back into cover, Cody pulled his DC-15S across his torso and glanced at his men.

"Turrets, supers, and spiders. Looks like fun, boys." Rancor elicited a series of low chuckles as their comm buzzed—the source; Crystal Command.

"Arty inbound, take cover Banger platoon!"

Faint whistling rockets hummed at the barely audible range, slowly growing louder until they resembled a shrill scream. High in the sky, blue streams of trailing plasma arced over the city. Blue comets slammed into the ground, erupting in vicious, vermillion-cobalt fulminations across the park. The first hit a garage dead-center meters before the second trench line, blasting molten shrapnel and scorching air across their route.

The second barrage perforated trench two between the anti-air gun and vehicle depot, ripping a dozen-meter-wide crater into the dirt. A third plunged through the first trench's center, decimating the line of droids and uprooting meters of soil and instacrete. Two dozen total shells hammered the area between the warehouse and apartments, eradicating trench lines, repeater nests, sniper posts, and several buildings. Two dozen additional artillery rounds pockmarked the surrounding industrial park, decimating buildings and trenches with mushroom-cloud explosions.

Seconds later, the familiar hum of two Y-Wings flew at bombing speed above the apartments, having passed just above building level to avoid detection, strafing straight over the depot and barracks, each unleashing a trio of proton missiles. Hemispherical white, molten air eruptions knifed outwards, flinging crimson shrapnel through open space. Both Y-wings banked sideways, their turret gunners raking the other A-A positions with sun-hot bolts.

Smoke eclipsed the ground and sky from melted buildings, burning soil, and scorched steel. And yet, among the carnage, droids began to mill about as an alarm wailed above the chaos.

Both elements sprung forward.

Fifty-three led Mynock into open space towards the depot. A few meters of vacant space, then the stairs - plastoid boots clattering down duracrete steps. Once they hit bottom, 53 swiveled to his left, the community building before him shielding the unit from most prying optic processors. Fifty-three swiveled his blaster to the now-in-view depot.

A crater carved through the frontmost tip of the depot, smoldering embers and melted durasteel spotting the former shoddily made apparatus. However, the bombs only completely decimated one-fifth of the depot, its remainder eclipsed by a rapidly spreading fire and small explosions from interior munitions finalizing their chain detonations by blowing a wave of pressure and shrapnel out the opposite end while excavating its main body.

Before it sat the repeater nest, barely intact as the droids covering its location scrambled in their pit. An arty round had clipped the southwestern corner of the community building, as its glass and duracrete components lay pockmarked in fresh, semi-molten globs across the nest and their path. Out of the five droids staffing the nest, only one held the guns and had immediately identified the wave of clones rushing its position.

"Hostile target acquired."

Fifty-three deftly slid his right hand up his M5, gripping the blaster's sack-shaped charge pack and sliding his finger through the munition launcher's trigger guard. Stroking its trigger, a thermal-det cartridge spat forth, smashing the first droid in the chest and ripping the five of them to pieces in a furious purple explosion. He racked the pump of his launcher and continued for the nest, its shell spitting onto charred dirt.

The crater connected the depot to a building twenty meters to the left; its remains spattered over the malformed trench leading further away. A pack of B1s and one B2 covered in dirt and dents scrambled across the crater's far end. Fifty-three swiveled his gun and fired a second charge, pulverizing the B2 and sending shrapnel through the B1 pack. The ARC trooper racked the launcher again, leaping over the nest's barrier and landing feet first.

Carrying the momentum through his body, he dropped and rolled across his back, springing up full speed with the M5's muzzle leading. The crater stretched nearly to the second trench; he could now see from the slightly clearing smoke and left the entire left side open to view. Striding through flittering embers and burning patches, Element Mynock arrayed a wedge behind 53, with Dune to the right and Seth to the left. Fifty-three dropped into the crater, an additional one-meter pit into the meshwork of twisted durasteel ribar, scorched duracrete foundation, and blasted dirt abused by the proton bombardment.

Stepping over a plethora of still-cooling metal, Mynock pushed into the crater as droids around them began to get their bearings. A nest atop a building 60 meters to their left swiveled its guns at the advancing troops halfway in the crater. Its guns spooled dual-barrel red death, ripping streams of red bolts through the mud meters away from Dune. Fifty-three raised his M5 and stimulated its launcher, punching the turret's mount and eradicating its existence.

The sound of sniper fire, barely heard over the pandemonium, rang out. Opposed to the higher-pitched pews of standard blaster rifles, it emanated a low and almost quiet "whoomp" as its beam of concentrated tibanna and plasma punched through a target. Aces fired through the face of a B2, taking a position at the opposite end of the 150-meter-long crater, several droids rapidly filling besides the cadaver and spitting bolts at the clones.

Dune, Seth, and 53 at once raised their weapons and burped plasma along the droid bulwark. Red bolts fishtailed dirt as blue bolts narrowly missed or punched gunmetal grey and coyote tan hulls. Fifty-three held down the M5's trigger, sweeping an acute angle of droids directly ahead with a stream of blue bolts.

"Wrist rocket!" A clone screamed - Seth and Dune fanned out as B2 fired the unguided missile from its offhand launcher. It hissed through the air, leaving a purple trail before exploding where Dune had been moments before. "Keep up the assault!" Dune shouted. Clones flushed out and returned fire en masse, a maelstrom of blue against a hurricane of red.

Camden surged ahead 53, holding the trigger to his DC-15s and punching down three droids back to back. Clones spaced out but began to run out of room to weave around the droid's targeting systems. Aces fired almost nonstop, punching pinpoint bolts through the optical receptors of droid after droid as Vant observed hostile numbers.

"Lots of incoming, Mynock! Get ready!"

Aces' rifle ran dry with a sudden hiss of gas. He moved like lightning, ripping the large charge unit from the left side of the gun and stuffing it with a new one, having placed multiple plasma packs neatly beside him. The Valkien-38X chirped, and Aces swiveled to his next target.

53 and Camden were spaced three meters apart as the clones advanced in a staggered wedge, zig-zagging while trying not to get caught in the onslaught of red bolts. A B2 tagged Camden twice in the gut during its spray, folding him and leaving scorched holes where organs once operated, nearly ripping him in two as the cadaver sprawled. A trooper leaped over his unfolding carcass, about fumbling the landing.

"Smoke! Smoke!"

Two clones, Krys and Snatch, palmed smoke grenades and hurled them across the crater. They popped and hissed, rapidly enveloping the depression with thick, grey smoke. White and yellow faded through clogging grey, shouting war cries and spitting bolts.

Corporal Camden, CT-2193/11 KIA, scrolled at the top of 53's HUD. He paid it no mind, continuing headlong through the smoke and waning crimson blasterfire.

---

Cody, Rex, and Duke led Rancor down the alley and the wide stairs. Some glanced to see Mynock, far off, doing the same. Few Mynock glanced back. They fanned out and formed a wedge while descending. Cody held his DC-15S low, with Rex holding both pistols high, leading the group with all three jump troopers. They reached a trio of aquamarine-exterior garages formed around a picnic table. Clones filled the right and front garages, some peeking out with rifles and snapping bolts at recovering droids in the first trench.

Forty meters to the right, a nest sprung to life, swiveling its double guns towards the unit as Cody, Rex, and others crossed open space. It connected to the first trench via a smaller canal, droids lining both. They raised blasters, arm repeaters, and two Dwarf Spider Droids swiveled nose guns on the group. Irene fired, the report of his 38X aligned with a Dwarf Spider Droid's red optic vanishing beneath a shower of sparks and charred components. It reared back, swiveling the cannon skyward while crumpling into a trench behind it.

"Spiders!" Rex shouted, opening fire with Cody and Duke full-tilt. The clones found their gun holes, making for the trench, with some kneeling in the open and spitting bolts back. The inaccurate flurry of red ripped dirt around the clones, punching holes in duracrete and spitting mud fountains. The second dwarf spider droid fired, boring a hole through the rightward garage's wall and filling it with smoke and shrapnel. One clone tumbled out and lay prone, clutching the right side of his abdomen and howling in agony, his comm-specialty assault pack sliding off from ruined straps and backing.

"Medic - aaaahhh!"

Irene adjusted his aim and plugged another bolt straight through the second dwarf's optic.

It and several other droids staggered, collapsed, or outright exploded from the blue bolts ripping across them in accurate bursts by the clones. Twelvetrees, identifiable by the red cross on his pack, shuffled out of the forward garage, grabbed the clone, 09-33/5500, under the arms, and hauled him behind cover. "I've got you!"

Rex and Cody reached the debris before that happened, moving around the bulk's cover from the droid element and emerging just to their right. Rex led the charge, both pistols blasting hot blue and nailing four B1s caught off guard. Cody and Duke broke right, slamming a B2 and three B1s. Jumping into the trench, the three knelt down and formed a rough wedge. Shoulder to shoulder, they dumped full charge bolts through the groove as Rancor rained fire on the remaining droids.

Twelvetrees pulled 09 aside and sat him up against a wall, pulling his hand away and inspecting the clone's wound. He identified several tiny pockmarks and receding burns across the skinsuit. Crimson gradually ebbed over his bodysuit, dark and thick in viscosity. After recognizing the wound as superficial, he removed his assault bag and prepped a bacta seal. "Heal up, soldier," Twelvertrees peeled off the adhesive backing and applied the large bandage over 09's abdomen. Running his hand over to seal it, the other worked his bag on his back.

"You might have to sit this-"

"Absolutely not!" The shiny interrupted, rising to a knee and grabbing his DC-15s, wiping the blood on a patch of dirt. "No way I'm becoming a liability."

Twelvetrees sighed, jamming his other arm under shoulder straps while lifting his DC-15s, looking back to the finishing firefight as Rex executed the final flanking droids. 09 glanced back to the ruined comms pack and shook his head; it had likely saved 09's life; now a useless hulk of mauled supplies and flayed electronics.

"Whatever. Don't die, rookie."

Twelvetrees and a slightly limping 09 joined the regrouped Rancor. A surge of droids was beginning to cross the battlefield towards the demolished depot. One emplacement separated them, and four consecutive artillery strikes obliterated a second trench section. However, the anti-air gun remained on its stand, a droid sliding into its mount.

A bolt knifed through the air, striking the gunnery droid in the torso, splattering its circuits across the seat, and dropping it into the trench. Irene fired again, nailing a second artillery droid attempting the same.

The Y-wings reduced the apartment complex, courtyard, and nearby trench entrances into slag heaps. Rancor now had to head through an open, seventy-meter-long section with no cover to the next trench.

Rex observed this all with Cody, and they both shared a glance as Rancor gathered in the first trench, some kicking around dead droids as others reloaded weapons.

"Irene, I'm counting on your sniper fire to keep us covered! Over the top, men!"

Each clone uttered their battle cry, save for Twelvetrees, who hauled himself over without a word, and Oh-Five, who hadn't said anything since they left the briefing. Irene spotted two droids manning the emplacement in front of Rancor and fired once, nailing the gunner droid in the head, and fired again, piercing the second in the torso. A contingent of B1s and B2s were marching in from the East along the second trench, some of which had clambered out and crossed the open field, opening fire on Rancor. Droids that had survived the initial bombing peered over the ditch - either in it or outside of it - and opened fire.

Several others exited through crevices and from beneath rubble, congesting around the AA and sole remaining repeater emplacement. Irene swapped targets as Reds called them out.

"AA Gun!"

Ftoom

"Repeater!"

Ftoom

"AA Gun!"

Ftoom

"AA Gun!"

Ftoom

"We've got Spider Droids! Second line!"

Click. Fark!

Rancor had twenty meters left on their rush as a Dwarf Spider Droid clambered from beneath a collapsed building between the four concentrated artillery shells. Two others shuffled from the trench behind it, one with a dead leg and the other with a blacked-out left optic. Droids jogged in troves from over the first trench and further east, firing heavy doses of blaster fire in Rancor's general direction, forcing many to crawl or crouch-run while returning sparse fire.

Difficult, but not impossible.

The first Dwarf swiveled its main cannon and fired a concentrated plasma blast straight through their remaining comm tech. 77-0774's torso vaporized, with limbs and head violently ejecting across no man's land. The remaining energy slammed into the mud beneath Oh-Five's feet, launching him into Trav.

The jump trooper barely managed to maintain balance, snatching Oh-Five's pack and dragging him to his feet. The Dwarf swiveled its gun to meet them. Rex raised his pistols, firing a short stream of bursts that pockmarked the metallic hull. Then, he simultaneously pierced its left and right eyes, forcing its aim sidewise, the bolt knifing into rubble and blasting fragments away from Rancor.

Irene stroked the 38X's trigger after a reload, punching the dead-leg Dwarf through its eye as the one-eyed spider fired its cannon. Targeting slightly off, the sun-hot, vehicle-grade bolt landed behind 09, sending him somersaulting over Rex and directly into the repeater emplacement. Irene took out its remaining eye, and the thing sputtered and slumped - offline.

When Rex jumped into the trench, he'd expect 09 to bolster the casualty list but instead found him propped against the trench's fore-wall while blasting a B1 clambering to enter the trench through the edge of an artillery crater to their left. 09's other hand clutched the now leaking bacta patch around his abdomen, small crimson trails sluicing through his fingers. Rex landed, slamming his back against the opposite side of the trench, and laughed aloud.

"Heck, kid, you're a tank!"

"Sir, yes sir-" He groaned through clenched teeth, trying to keep himself upright through apparent pain. Twelvetrees, Cody, Duke, and Pod hopped in moments after and filled out the trench. Their Medic audibly sighed and knelt by 09, rapidly swapping the bacta patch as Rex shuffled over to thump his helmet. "Yeah... I like it, kid. You're Tank, now."

09 nodded to his Captain, knowing what that meant.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

---

"Damn smoke's cloggin' the view."

Aces pulled his right eye from the 38X's scope and clicked his tongue, irritated with the events playing before him. Vant continued scanning over the occluded battlefield.

"Incoming fire, Ace. There's too much."

"No kidding, Vant... " Aces had swiveled his scope over Camden's wrecked body, an ID tag flashing in his scope. "Camden... Blast!" Aces smashed his left hand into the duct with a dull thwock, shaking his hand from an impulse of pain. Vant scoffed, shaking his head, still observing. Then he stopped, locking in on a target.

"Snipers, six hundred meters out."

"Where?" Aces quickly remounted his rifle.

"Uh... Twenty- No, thirty meters southwest of the oh-bee-jay. There's a second nest about fifteen meters in front of it, too, commandos and mercs."

Aces swiveled his riflescope over the smoking battleground, scanning the general surroundings between trench three and the objective. Sure enough, in a maintenance building, beneath an angled piece of plasteel laid two gunmetal grey commando droids, barely visible beneath camouflage netting. Fifteen meters ahead lay four armored humanoids manning an aftermarket high-power repeating blaster cannon. Aces snorted, pressing his finger to the trigger.

"Kriffing clankers-"

The position flashed red.

A beam of precision energy, not unlike the 38X's, crossed the open battlefield and speared Vant through the 'nocs and visor, exiting the skull with trailing fragments of mottled plastoid and charred brain matter.

Aces fought the urge to look over, resisted the urge to howl angrily, and focused.

Forward.

Forward.

Don't look away.

Don't die, soldier.

Shoot!

Aces squeezed the trigger on his Valkien-38X, a concentrated bolt punching through the head of the commando sniper, blasting smoking components within the shielded canopy. As the second droid shuffled backward to escape, Aces punched a second bolt straight through the top of its head, boring out the neck socket and dropping the Commando.

Tearing away from the 38X, Ace looked to where Vant lay, witnessing his dead spotter's corpse lying limp - dark blood oozing from the hole in his helmet. Aces cursed, looking back through his scope, and swung it over the mercenaries' position.

Ace stroked the trigger four times, dropping each merc before they could react.

"Mynock Actual!" Aces screamed over comms, rolling off the vent duct and sprawling across the ground, shouting at his forearm comm. "Rifle two is down! Moving to secondary post!" Rising from the duracrete roof, Aces looked across to Irene and Reds as they spotted and fired over Rancor.

Nothing came back.

Toggling the comm again, he listened closely and heard the familiar sound of jamming static. Cursing, he peered over the edge of his building to Irene's, swapping comm channels. "Rifle three, this is Rifle one; how copy?"

"Lima-charlie. What's up?" Reds answered, indicated by his slightly slower pronunciation.

"Rifle two is KIA, and I'm compromised. Comms are jammed with Banger. Moving to your pos-" Mid-syllable, Aces halted as five stealthy silhouettes crossed across open space behind Rancor's snipers and slipped into the lobby. Aces counted four commando droids and one mercenary. "-skragg! Be advised; you have five contacts coming up the lobby!"

"What?!"

"Yeah! Commando types! Hold it down; I'm coming to you!"

The lone clone crouch walked over to the duct, collected his bag, slung the 38X over his back, packed as many explosives as the bag could carry, then slipped it over his Valkien. Grabbing Vant's DC-15A, he glared at the hole in his head and sighed.

"You always pissed me off, Vant, but you were a damn good spotter... Rest in peace, bro."

Aces placed the DC-15A next to Vant's body, palming the hole in his helmet. For a moment, he recited what he'd said mentally, then moved to collect the blaster. Tiny droplets of blood left his hand, and he stopped to look at it.

Turning back to his helmet, he began to draw the symbol tattooed on his neck over the brow of his helmet in Vant's blood. Aces donned his helmet, wiped the remaining blood on his torso, and grabbed the DC-15A. Shuffling down the roof access, he moved swiftly and silently, listening out for his visitors.

Soon enough, footsteps, mechanical whirs, and a harsh whisper echoed from the next floor.

Aces leveled his decee to the noise.

---

Private Vant, CT-959/00, KIA

53's mental rhythm hiccuped as Mynock's second KIA scrolled across his upper HUD. Private Vant was assigned spotter duty, so if he's KIA, they somehow got to the snipers. Before 53 finished deducing a new hostile position, he emerged from the smoke. Twenty meters before him, a steep incline of dirt and shattered infrastructure led to the crater's rim. But, just to his right, an opening fed deeper into the park; however, three B2's stood within and opened fire.

Atop the edge stood dozens of B2s and B1s, some clambering into the pit. As 53 maneuvered through the smoke, he reloaded the munition launcher. Bringing the M5 to his shoulder, 53 punched a grenade into the wedge of B2's to his right. Pieces of SBD flaked the trench and washed it with thermal energy.

Sergeant Dune emerged to his right with Koji just behind. Fifty-three swiveled the M5 as bolts began flying, racked the pump, discarding the previous shell, loading the next, and punched his second high-ex into a B2 starting its descent into the pit. The detonator ripped it and seven surrounding B1s to pieces, carving a full meter of extra dirt from the rim. Fifty-three racked the pump, loading his final shell, the discarded dropping into the minced foundation.

Droids toppled in troves off the rim as clones emerged through the smoke, firing hastily and efficiently into their robotic enemy. For a brief moment, the droids couldn't muster return fire, the lot and 53 bursting towards the trench opening with full-force-violence. He met it moments after Dune and Koji, clearing out two B1s with their carbines and crouch-walking through the crevasse.

Fifty-three swung his M5 to the horde of surging metal on his left, resembling a true overwhelm pattern counterattack by the CIS, and fired the final grenade. It smacked into a B1's torso, the blooming explosion flattening twenty droids around it and disabling many more. Without waiting, he transitioned to the M5's blaster trigger and began hosing blue bolts as the mob turned to respond. He ducked moments before a crimson rod took his head off, diverting fire while holding his weapon head-height and sideways while spraying, the visor-linked reticle walking bolts by the dozen into hulls.

"Mynock element, push right! Push right!"

Snatch and two unnamed clones hustled through the trench, one turning and stopping next to 53, joining his counter onslaught of bolts with his DC-15X—the designated marksman, no doubt; 1101. As 53 rained from the side, two clones clambered up the front and fired. Fifty-three identifying them as Seth and Mortar, while Troy hurled a duet of detonators with Krys tossing droid-poppers.

Overlapping fire and explosions ripped dozens of droids apart at once, their formations withering beneath superior firepower. Snatch stumbled into the trench, maneuvering behind 53 before firing towards the first trench at a crouch. An open garage lay within the exploding, blasting carnage as droids dropped or fled.

Fifty-three ducked under the trench's cover and snaked around 1101, allowing him to engage targets as needed precisely. Snatch had moved with Dune, Koji, and 03-5521, with Koji blasting away on the right flank at a receding set of B1's caught out of cover. To the left, 03 and Dune clambered into an artillery crater one meter deep, blasting away at droids further down the trench. Fifty-three swiveled right and opened on an element of B1's crossing open space heading for the crater.

His bolts quickly chewed through the first four, and the others returned fire. A beam blazed three meters to 53's left, spearing one in the torso and destroying the one behind it. He shifted right, continuing his sweep as 1101 punched another hole through another droid. The ten droid elements shattered, and 53 dipped into the crater.

Koji, Troy, Seth, and Krys had vaulted the rim, crawled over dozens of dead droids, and climbed into the broken garage. The remnants of a gun nest were evident, and Seth quickly hauled the surviving blaster cannon to the back of the building. He deployed the tripod on duracrete, dual barrels pointing over a workbench to the droid collective. Koji, Troy, and Krys knelt or proned by the trooper as he unleashed red-hot bursts of repeater fire across a surge of droids pushing from the third trench one hundred thirty meters away.

"Get some! Get some you tin bins! Come on!" Seth howled as he reaped droid after droid. 1101 rolled from the trench, low crawled to the garage, clambered over one of the low walls, and knelt to Krys' right, balancing the DC-15X on a shattered section of duracrete. Troy, Krys, and Koji hammered the incoming forces as best they could with carbines through toppled and cracked infrastructure, 1101 picking off B2's and Dwarfs as they came, while Seth pounded heavy bolts downrange with lethal efficiency. Koji knelt, dropped his pack, and hurled their frisbee-like landmines across the trench, smacking advancing elements in the torso and washing omnidirectional brutality over their bodies.

53, Dune, Snatch, Koji, and 03 crouch-walked under their allies' field of fire, covering their advance down th. Behind them, an explosion from a mine Koji left ripped through an over-eager B2, destroying it and several B1's around it. They neared a four-way trench intersection, left to the garage, right to trench three, and ahead to the AA gun. Fifty-three knelt and motioned for the four to move forward.

As each trooper weaved around him, 53 racked the munition launcher open, removed a detonator shell from his waist, and slotted it through the breech. Slamming the action shut, he retrieved two more and pressed them into the underbarrel magazine tube, loading it three for three. The ARC fingered a switch, toggling a specialty firing mode.

Peeking the corner, 53 stared up at a trench with a massive crater centered in its length. Multiple B1s led by a duet of mercenaries crouch-walked through it, hugging the right wall, suppressed by the demo squad's firepower. He fired the first grenade, arcing it before the first crouch-walking merc and splattering them with shockwaves and shrapnel. Racking the pump, he held the trigger and fired a second grenade as 53 jammed the pump home.

Slam fire.

Fifty-three quickly discharged his second and third grenades into the infantry element, pushing from the crater into the trench, drenching it with oil, electronics, and coyote tan durasteel plating. Both mercs lay in deathly heaps of meat and blood. He traversed to the entry's left side, pulling his finger to the blaster's trigger, and sent controlled bursts of blue bolts to the third trench as B2's and B1's fired back a vortex of red overhead. He dropped to his torso, shuffling inch by inch as bolts tore through the trench rim.

As Seth, Krys, Troy, Mortar, and 1101 fired into waves of droids, not only moving from ahead but from their right flank, one B2 armed and fired a missile from its launcher at the building. "Wrist rocket!" Seth screamed, tossing himself from the double-barreled blaster cannon and onto the floor. Its purple booster roared to life, screaming across open ground to the garage.

1101 exhaled slowly as the others ducked for cover and fired.

A flash eclipsed the missile, erupting in a plume that blanketed the garage in hot fragments and air. 1101 ducked behind cover for the moment, allowing shrapnel to splash around him, then resurfaced, swiveling his aim and punching a bolt through the B2 that fired the rocket.

The clones around him hastily remanned, some exchanging glances at 1101 while opening fire.

"That was somethin', rookie," Krys shouted, "Hell yeah, it was! Guy's shootin' kriffin' twenties out here, ain't he?" Came Troy, mashing the trigger to his decee.

"Twenties, eh?" 1101 remarked over comms, "I'll take that. Private Twenties."

Seth began to speak as a traceless projectile raced through the air and split his helmet below the left eye, punching through plastoid and shattering his visor. It exploded out the back with bright-red blood, brain matter, and helmet fragments. He staggered backward, hands splaying, as a second slug smashed through his torso plate and wrenched Seth sideways.

The clone's helmet split on the duracrete, skidding across it as the remains of his head sloughed in a heap of blood, skin, and brain across the duracrete. Krys turned to face Seth, unable to distinguish his skull from ground bantha chuck.

Private Seth, CT-0190, KIA

---

Hovertanks of the AAT variety loomed far off Rancor's left. Pod, Duke, and a slightly concussed Oh-Five punched bolts to the marching onslaught of grey and tan, some pooling over trenches and others in a full-tilt run toward their flank. After Twelvetrees re-patched Tank and sought other secondary needs, Cody whipped his fingers around in the air.

"Rancor! Let's move out! Jump troopers, cover our retreat!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Oh-Five slithered beneath the trench line as Trav took his place, ambling the PLX off his shoulder and pointing it at the onslaught. Each clone equipped their respective launchers and splashed hypersonic missiles into a tank each. Hemispherical explosions beneath the turret ring sent it skyward, and the floating machinations suddenly stopped.

All three dipped as a STAP swooped over their position, emerging from behind the barracks rubble. Dual crimson bolts strafed the trench, narrowly missing Rex and slamming him into the side, with one knifing through the retreating Oh-Five's right thigh and cartwheeling him forward into Twelvetrees. His cries of pain - paired with the male curling and clutching the burnt stump - were quickly drowned out by Tank and Amad simultaneously turning and blasting the pilot off its mount. The sticklike vehicle swerved into the ground, exploding in brilliant reds and yellows.

"El-tee!" Tank shouted, shuffle-jogging over to where the fellow clone fell. Twelvetrees cursed, removing his helmet and slinging the bag off his back. "We're not gonna be able to move him yet; give me time!"

Cody glanced behind them, new lines of droids firing over and into the trench as they neared. Glimpsing back to Twelvetrees, he hastily swapped plasma packs on his carbine. "We'll buy you what time you need, but it won't be much! Rancor - defensive positions!"

Trees deftly slipped Oh-Five's helmet off, the clone's face contorted into a mask of pain and fear as digits groped the severed appendage. Troopers around them knelt at the trench line, peered over, and opened fire toward the advancing droids. Blue crisscrossed with red in a psychedelic show dethroning techno-raves. He slipped two digits beneath the thigh plate and pried it off, its vacuum seal deactivating, allowing the plating to fall off. Oh-Five didn't remain still, curling up and knocking into Twelve's chin.

With a grunt, he grabbed Oh-Five's shoulders and pushed him down. "Someone help me hold him down!" Within a second, Rex shuffled over, and Twelvetrees nodded to the patient. The two swapped spots, Rex restraining Oh-Five as he screamed and struggled, Twelvetrees extracting a tourniquet from his bag. In quick order, the clone wrapped, strapped, tied, and secured the tourniquet before applying a batca patch over the stump.

An explosion showered the trench, Twelvetrees and Rex shielding Oh-Five with their bodies as light shrapnel tore up the dirt and pinged off armor. Mud and dirt splattered their off-white armor, adding further grime. Both clones re-assumed their knelt positions and held on to the still-screaming Oh-Five. Twelve produced an anesthetic syringe filled with bacta and stuck it into Oh-Five's inner left thigh. Blue fluid poured into his veins, and relief flooded the pained man's eyes. His breaths grew shallow, and Oh-Five passed out in their arms.

"Skragg," Twelve tossed the empty device away and shut his bag. Looping it onto his back, he looked at Rex, "We're gonna have to carry him to the objective."

"No kidding!" Rex nodded at the firefight.

Another line of AAT tanks steadily hummed toward them. The wave of intersecting bolts dwindled as clones changed plasma and tibanna packs, some unable to pop back up due to suppressing fire. Duke and Trav hurled detonators and smoke over the trench, eliminating pockets of droids and blanketing the area in thick, grey smoke. Cody crouch-walked over to Rex, a tubular tibanna pack in his hand, exchanging it from the rear receiver of his carbine.

"We have to move now! Those clankers brought too much heat!"

Rex nodded.

"Right. Pod, Trav, Amad - clear the way! Everyone else cover our rear! Trees, carry this man, and I'll cover you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

Rex and Cody exchanged nods. Trees took Rex's place, snagged Oh-Five's ammunition rig, and pulled his shoulders to his waist. Clones shuffled about, moving into position. Rex toted his right-hand blaster to the AA gun forward-right of their location. "Move, move!" Pod, Trav, and Amad burst down the trench and stopped at a three-way intersection. A crater annihilated a section heading towards the demolished depot, the other beelining straight to trench two, another cavity destroying its meeting and several meters of the left access.

Droids mechanically marched over no-man's-land and within trenches alike, stomping towards them and element Mynock. Red and blue snapped through the air like fireworks. Each clone opened fire as machinations turned to do the same. Blue bolts smacked tan torsos, and the clones clustered in the trench with little wiggle room. Cody and Rex sprung up and put fire over the trench, but a fusillade of incoming suppressing fire immediately pushed them back down. Cody sprung into the intersection behind Pod, Trav, and Duke, firing left and right at the horde of droids.

A bolt skipped off Amad's left shoulder, twisting him into the trench wall just as Cody caught up. Looping the man's good arm with his, the Commander guided Amad towards Rex. Now part of the trio, he quickly identified a repeater nest among the fray swiveling towards them. Cody punched two bolts into the droid handling it, separating its head and arm from the torso. A trio of grenades, no doubt hurled by Duke, erupted across the shambling droid horde. Cody narrowly dipped between a crimson bolt that evaporated inches of mud on the trench wall and responded with seven full-auto bolts to the area.

Pod entered the second trench first, diving into the crater just ahead of Trav - a crimson bolt knifing laterally through his bag and detonating several of his munitions in a plume of red and black. Cody took it to the nose, cartwheeling backward as his head overtook his feet and planting the clone back-first into the dirt.

Rex scrambled across the trench floor through mud and crusty dirt. Cody rolled onto his left side and cradled his head, Rex sidling next to him and opening fire on a small trove of droids clambering down the no man's land. Both pistols spat blue into tan torsos, cutting them down as Cody tediously sat. Cradling his carbine, Cody punched bolts into the nest he'd identified as another droid attempted to man it.

"Smoke! Get us more smoke!" Rex screamed. Duke popped around the corner and hurled a sticklike grenade over the trench and crater, landing amidst no man's land and instantly spewing clouds of grey. Rex sprung up, narrowly avoiding a sun-hot bolt to the head, and dove into the crater.

He landed in something red and black. Mush clung to his boot soles, and splattered viscera coated a figure in grimy, off-white armor sporting telltale 501st jump markings. A crooked, hand-drawn circle around this clone's faceplate identified him as Pod.

"Pod! What happeend to Trav?!"

Pod tried angling to sit but released a painful yelp and settled into the recess. A significant piece of plastoid - the remnants of a chest piece - had lodged directly into his abdomen. Beneath the noise, Rex heard his raggedy breaths, shallow and croaking, as the clone struggled to remove his helmet. Rex's blood froze, and a knot worked through his gut as he searched the steadily occluding crater. Bits of red meat, blackened skin, and plastoid fragments were all that remained of the second jump trooper.

"Karkin' clankers!"

CT-9392/21 KIA scrolled through Rex's upper visor. He wasted no time, screaming into local comms, "Cody! Get Twelvetrees down here, now! Have everyone else move ASAP! We gotta move!"

Cody didn't argue, relaying orders as Duke and Tank dropped into the steep crater. Duke paused, glancing at Trav's scattered remains. Tank edged his way to the right side of the hole, a stray red bolt chasing him back down as droids began to fire with reckless abandon. Moments later, Cody escorted Twelvetrees down into the crater. Amad and 330 lowered Oh-Five, the unit's size dwindling rapidly.

Trees shook his head. The plastoid fragment buried itself deep in Pod's abdomen, crimson sluicing around his black bodysuit and over the ground. Taking a knee, he unslung his bag and helped remove Pod's helmet. Amber eyes searched the Doc with wild, fervent pain and fear. His raggedy breaths only multiplied in noise as he tried to speak, blood bubbling around his lips and trailing down his chin. Twelvetrees extracted a sealed package, ripping it open and wrapping a thick abdominal patch around the wound. He did not disturb the exposed piece, securing it with an additional wrap and medical tape. Twelvetrees took a second bacta shot, levered Pod's left leg upright, and injected it through the slim opening into his inner thigh.

"He's not stable. Diaphragm and severe internal trauma," the medic turned to Rex, who still crouched over his injured comrade, "We need to get help if he's going to survive!"

Rex nodded, "Then let's get moving. Cody?"

"We're ready!" He shouted. "Smoke, det, and clear! Let's go!"

Duke, Tank, and 330 pulled their last slew of detonators off their webbing and hurled them into the smoke. Seconds later, multiple eruptions spat fire and smoke across the shrouded battlefield. Wrecked droid parts tumbled into the pit. Tank and Duke burst out the right side of the trench, duck-walking into the AA gun pit. A disoriented droid with its head twisted backward stumbled toward Duke. He tapped two bolts to its abdomen, dropping it. A handful of tan and grey emerged from the back entrance, connecting to the last trench. Tank angled and opened fire, mowing the first three down before the others turned. Rex charged from behind as Tank ducked low and left to avoid incoming fire. He and Duke quickly chopped down the remaining droids as they split.

Tank propped himself on a knee and fired over the emplacement's rear wall into shambling figures coming through the smoke. Rex swiveled his guns and opened fire simultaneously, walking blue bolts into shadows as crimson barked in response. Duke slid next to the AA gun, dropped his bag, slung his weapon, and began climbing into the gunnery seat. Cody brought up the barely-conscious Oh-Five, while Twelvetrees and Amad gingerly pushed a screaming Pod into the emplacement.

A line of B2s marched through the smoke through the crater's edge, B1s riding their flank and immediately opening fire. 330 exchanged fire with the group of droids as Rex spun around, priming a detonator and hurling it into the center. It erupted across the droids, splattering them into the smoke with devastating effect. Cody and Amad pulled Pod into cover before another storm of crimson chipped across the mud.

A mechanical whir followed by quad-reciprocating blaster fire tore through the advancing line of droids. Its report of heavy caliber destruction blew away the smoke, ripping droids limb from limb as Duke sent charge after charge into their trailing enemy. As the smoke dissipated, tanks and dwarf spider droids appeared two hundred meters out. Duke walked the AA across two dwarfs before an AAT swiveled its main gun and blew out the central pedestal supporting the turret. Duke pulled his legs from the seat, swung aside, and leaped as a second bolt knifed through the main housing, erupting in a plume of fire through the open battlefield.

"Rancor, get down!"

Comms, at least in the short distance, worked well. Through the opposite end of the AA nest, two clones holding PLX shoulder-fired launchers slid to a knee, sighted, and fired. Hypersonic missiles punched through the dual-AAT formation from turret ring to compartment, ripping their fuselage to pieces in white-hot hemispherical explosions. An excessively armed trooper sporting double pauldrons and kama slid beside Cody, examining the situation.

"Commander! What's your situation?"

Cody turned to Alpha-53. His armor boasted several new dents and scorch marks, his blaster spewing hot gasses off its muzzle. The two troopers he identified as Sergeant Dune and Koji. Both discarded their launchers brought up 15A rifles and began hammering bolts from behind cover. Tank pulled Duke into cover as Twelvetrees continued tending to Pod. Oh-Five rested against an ammunition crate, shook awake, and began screaming.

"We have two KIA, two WIA, and are getting flanked hard by seppie armor! Neither of our wounded can move without help, and Pod's getting worse by the second."

Fifty-three glanced at both wounded men. As blaster bolts flew and Mynock merged with Rancor, the smoke clearing over their ground, he assessed the situation as dire. Krys and Troy's team had exited the back of the garage under smoke and grenade bombardment, courtesy of him and Dune. Half had moved into the second trench, while the other part now nestled into the AA pit. Krys, Twenties, and Mortar guarded their back access. Oh-Five could still shoot and somewhat function as a rear guard, but Pod's internal injuries were getting worse, and his screams began to nag at 53's mind.

Twelvetrees cradled Pod's head in his lap, hunched beneath a tarp flapping at high-kinetic turbulence. The medic had removed his helmet, too, scrunching his face and applying the third bacta shot to Pod since they'd moved. Pod dulled for a full second, then arched forward as blood bubbled from his mouth again, a strained and pained scream escaping his mouth before returning to struggling breaths.

After a long moment of staring at Pod, 53 shook his head, returning to the moment.

"We move him. Now. Get him to the warehouse while Trees does his damndest to fix him up." Without waiting, 53 glanced to his left, broadcasting comms platoon-wide. "Banger! Cover fire for Doc! Hit everything and hit 'em hard!" Looking to Rex, then Cody, indicating the latter; "Help Doc set up a stretcher. You two transport him; myself and Rex will be the escorts."

Cody nodded, shuffling to Twelvetrees. Fifty-three exhaled sharply, peeked from cover, and squeezed the trigger to his M5. He dragged the sight picture across dozens of marching automatons, knifing through tan hulls in the dozens as Banger platoon followed suit. The blue momentarily overrode the red. Rex stood shoulder-to-shoulder with 53, walking blue blasts into droids much faster than 53 anticipated.

As his weapon over-cycled, and its heat sink blasted hot gasses out the side of his repeater, Pod was placed on the stretcher. Doc called for assistance over the net, Sergeant Dune shuffling beneath the hail fire and looping Oh-Five over his shoulder. Twelvetrees and Cody gripped the fore-ends of a folding, plastoid battlefield stretcher. "Go!" They lifted at once, settling at a low crouch and working around the barrier 53 hammered rounds from. The Alpha ducked down, removing the fat sacklike plasma pack from his weapon's lower receiver, and ambled a fresh off his rig, smacked it in, and rose to fire again.

An explosion rang from the AA stand. A tank's crimson bolt sheared through its lowest mount point. Shockwaves knocked clones over, with Cody and Twelvetrees flying across the mud. Pod crashed into the dirt. Pod's screams suddenly ramped to the ear-piercing, nearly above the blasterfire. Fifty-three tumbled into Rex against the trench wall. Shaking his head, he pushed off the shoddy construct and crawled to Pod. He lay on his side; the large piece of plastoid had moved several inches left—red, ropy matter sloughed with sluicing crimson into mottled earth. Fifty-three rose to a knee, rolling Pod on his back and angling his legs in a tripod to reduce pressure on the guts.

"Damnit!"

Cody pulled his face from the mud, turning to Pod as the male continued to scream. His breaths hitched with every attempt, more frothy red drizzling through parted lips, and his complexion grew paler by the second. Fifty-three tore himself from the scene. Rex waded to his left. "Damn clankers!" He snarled, punching the dirt, "We'll get you out of here, Pod!"

A disoriented Twelvetrees stumbled from cover, sitting next to Pod and removing his bag again. "Someone! Help me!" Rex moved to the medic's side, rapidly opening another abdominal bandage and pressing its gauze to the ropy innards, then wrapping it around Pod's abdomen, adding to the soiled dressing heap.

"Not good." Crimson knifed around the group. Fifty-three stood, shouldering his blaster and ripping bolts into a line of B1's zeroing in dozens of meters away. Their parts flashed in blue and black, dropping to the dirt. "This isn't good!" Twelvetrees screamed, injecting a fourth stim into Pod's neck. It hardly affected him, the clone practically convulsing between breaths and screams. Dune ambled around the corner with Oh-Five in tow, placing him behind the lot and sidling beside Cody and 53.

"Sir, what do we do?" Dune asked Cody. Before he answered, 53 snagged the Sergeants' shoulder. "Sergeant, cover fire. They're in the open. You, too, Commander. I'll handle this."

Both nodded, moving to the barrier and opening on incoming droids. Another rocket hissed from a PLX, finding itself in a tank ring and blowing it wide.

Fifty-three knelt over Pod as Rex and Twelvetrees worked, looking over his wounds. Alpha-53 shook his head.

"He's not going to make it, Rex. And we can't carry him, and it'll get worse."

"What do you suggest, fifty-three? We're running out of time!"

The ARC shook his head, exhaling sharply. Pod won't make it. This is only dragging the pain out. Poor kid must be put out of his misery before dying from the pain. He'd made up his mind, but some part resented the decision. Fifty-three fought the urge to curb his judgment. It's for the best.

"Sir, trying to stitch him back together under fire isn't going to work. Pod will not make it to the exfil; we must make it painless."

"What?!" Rex snapped to 53, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Fifty-three shook his head, "Mercy kill, sir. You-"

"No! Absolutely not!" Rex stiffened, "That is crossing a line, trooper!"

"He is dying. Painfully! Pod will NOT make it to the exfil, and all we're doing by keeping him alive is forcing him through more pain! Damnit, put the man out of his misery!"

"No!" Rex shook his head, "We will not do that. I can't-"

Fifty-three gripped Rex's pauldron, jerking him close over the dying clone. Another flurry of red flashed over them, the clones of Banger hot in response. Droids marched closer by the minute, and they ran out of time.

"Do it," 53 growled, "Or I will! We must move so we don't die in this kriffing gun nest!"

Their helmets practically touched. Rex slapped the arm off and slumped over Pod; bolts seared by, but Rex didn't flinch. Droids and mercs hauled themselves over the first trench, running straight at the clones. Fifty-three swiveled and slam-fired three grenades in succession, decimating droids and blowing a mercenary's lower body into mush. Dune and Cody angled their aim, hammering back as crimson spat across the pit. A mangled torso toppled down the slope and rested meters from the trench entrance.

"C... Captain... Hkkg..." Pod struggled to form words, eyes settling on Rex as Twelvetrees secured the abdominal bandage with adhesive tape.

"Pod.." Rex removed his helmet and knelt next to the trooper, "You... You're going to be okay, brother, got it? We'll get you out of this."

Pod's eyes were wide and scared. They flickered from side to side, up and down as pain surged through him in a sporadic fit of coughs producing blood froth across his already grime and gore-smothered armor. Pod shook his head, cradling his torso in shaking arms.

"N-No... Pleashe... Ki-" His breath hitched, and Pod fired a short series of shallow, wet coughs, begetting more blood. A string of red splattered across Rex's cheek. "Jushjt... Kill... Me... It hurtsh... Sho... Ba-" Pod fell into another fit of raspy coughs producing bits of internal viscera and crimson, and this time he turned, spilling the mire into his lifeblood puddle. Twelvetrees shot a look to Rex.

"Sir, no! I can stabilize him! Just need more time!"

"We don't have any more karking time!" Fifty-three barked, "Frigging end his pain, damnit! Stop this shit!" Fifty-three pulled Rex's DC-17 from the mud and shoved it into his chest. The Captain balked at first, then settled the grip into the palm of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Doc... This is how it has to go."

Turning back to Pod, the clone's figure slowly devolved into fit after fit, tears welling in the clone's eyes as he tried focusing on Rex, but couldn't as shock ran its course. Twelvetrees withdrew himself as Rex settled the muzzle at Pod's face. Trepidation worked across his hand and trigger finger as Pod gargled final breaths.

He tried to squeeze the trigger.

And couldn't.

Something about the mush and wall just did not break, and Rex suddenly found he didn't possess the will to kill Pod. Twelvetrees observed silently, his face like stone.

Crack

Burning ozone and charred meat rapidly replaced the muddy and bloody reek in the pit. Duke, from farther away, screamed in rage and stood to charge right at them. Pod's hand fell limp in Rex's left. Tank took Duke to the ground, back into cover, and restrained the clone as he hurled insults across the pit. Upon realizing he hadn't fired, Rex glanced at his pistol and turned to see the splinter-speckled helmet of 53 with his Westar raised and barrel smoking. Rex turned back to Pod, a perfect two-inch hole in the center of his forehead, opening the top of his skull across the pit.

Twelvetrees visually grimaced, a low, guttural string of curses exiting his mouth at high velocity, rubbing his temples with sullied hands. "We don't have time for this!" Fifty-three pressed Trees' rifle back in his hands, who returned a standoffish glare, "We need to karking leave, or these clankers are going to kill us all! Nut up, get off your ass, and move!"

Rex continued to stare at Pod. For a moment, he thought if he'd been weak or if there was any right decision to make here. Rex stared at the ground, lowering his blaster, refusing to stare Pod in the face. His corpse deflated in the pit, and secretly Rex relished the lack of screams, but a knot of guilt swelled in his throat.

Fifty-three stared at Rex, grabbing his helmet and pushing it into his chest. "Captain! Let's move now! We move, or we die!"

Without responding to 53, Rex slipped his helmet on and broadcasted to their local net.

"Mynock! Rancor! Shock and awe straight up the center! We're pushing through and taking this Major!"

Twelvetrees and Rex scrambled out simultaneously, and 53 decided to load his munition launcher. As clones covered fire, pushed up, hurled detonators and smoke, and moved into the trench connecting the AA nest and their objective, 53 stared back at Pod. The feeling of pulling the trigger on someone precisely like himself suddenly weighed, and Pod's final moments of agony etched themselves behind his eyes.

It replayed for several fleeting seconds.

Did he make the right choice?

Someone had grabbed Oh-Five, at least.

Fifty-three stared at Pod's dead body for a second longer, knowing the decision would haunt him forever, then turned and followed Banger Platoon up the gradient towards their final objective.

---

Muzzle angled down, breath low and slow, Aces tediously descended the staircase. His opponents were hasty in their ascent, though careful in an aspect—only the shuffle of their gear and the occasional clank of stuff on Cristophsis' proprietary building material. Like most emergency access stairwells, this possessed no gap between each platform and uniquely featured a divider from bottom to top. He stopped at the seventh floor's platform and positioned himself just beyond the partition to peer down.

The rattle grew closer.

Aces identified a slight decrease in their sound. He guessed they'd slowed down by the fifth floor and began ascending slowly. Halfway to the sixth, mechanical whirs telltale of their Commando droids echoed up the stairs. Aces didn't tense up. He relaxed, allowing his body to curl around the rifle, leaning slightly against the divider, and slimmed his profile against it. Slow, tedious steps now echoed from the sixth platform.

The trooper laid his finger on the trigger.

Shadows from internal light bounced up the halfway platform. A commando droid led the formation, followed by another, then the mercenary and two more commandos backed their rear. Trigger-finger ready, the group began to round the half platform, lightened shadows getting darker and the movement growing louder.

A grey headpiece rounded the corner with luminescent, white eyes. Its blaster pointed up.

Aces fired.

A blue bolt knifed through its dome, propelling it into the wall behind it as a second slipped by. It jumped to the opposite wall, swung its blaster wide, and opened fire as the Mercenary simultaneously rounded the corner. Aces ducked behind the divider, pulling the rifle taut to his chest. Crimson bolts snapped by in rapid succession, and the merc barked orders in standard.

"Move up! Two at a time!"

He chanced a peek, nearly losing his head to the commando hanging off the wall, and quickly backpedaled up the stairs. While holding the heavy blaster under his armpit, squeezing the stock between his tricep and torso, Aces wormed a detonator off his belt, primed it, and chucked. The metal orb bounced off the far wall and rolled downstairs.

A droid popped out.

Both fired.

Blue smacked its torso, and red clipped his helmet, spinning Ace to the ground as his robotic opponent's weapon melted. It burst forward as an explosion decimated the stairs, drawing its sword and leaping through the air, intending to kill, and Aces rolled right just as its sword cleaved permacrete. Ripping his helmet off, Ace chucked it into the droid's receptors as it turned, twisting its head around. He groped about, finding the DC-15A, and swung it horizontally as the droid lunged in. Its multi-kilo frame struck the commando in the torso, splaying it on the stairs below him. Twisting to sit, Aces swung the rifle in its general direction and opened fire. Blue bolts stitched the torso, faceplate, and receptors alike in rapid fire. Metal and electronics spat across the stairs in heaps as they crumbled.

Pulling the weapon to his shoulder, Aces eased to his feet and waited—no noise from the stairs below, a ripe stench of ozone and cooked meat filling his nostrils.

Definitely dead.

Tenderly descending, he rounded the seventh's platform and pied the angle, finding the remaining commando droids reduced to scrap and the mercenary painted in macabre graffiti across aquamarine walls.

"Sucks to suck."

Aces snorted and descended through the mire to reach ground level. A burning sensation worked itself from his right temple back. As he exited, the clone pressed across his skull and came away with blood.

"Skragg."

Blaster fire in rapid troves echoed off the other sniper location. Ignoring his injury, Ace burst across the opening between both buildings, catching a glimpse of their progress.

Chaos.

Pure chaos.

Smoke, fire, and intersecting sun-hot death littered their battlefield since he'd last seen them. And little white men with blasters charged up the center of a tan and grey onslaught, stacking droid bodies by the dozen. Tanks and fast-attack speeders closed from far sides, and some worked their way behind the group. Mynock and Rancor pushed up while whoever commanded these units surrounded them. Sound tactics - much to the Clones' chagrin. Aces tore his eyes off the scene and focused. First foot into the back door, the firefight within still raged, though it quickly dwindled after an explosion rocked the building. By the time he reached the second floor, blaster up and moving far quicker than before, all blaster fire stopped with a triple tap.

"You guys better not be dead!" Aces hissed through clenched teeth, rounding the third-floor platform.

First signs of fighting decorated the fifth platform. A commando droid caught it rough - multiple black scorches pockmarking a grey torso. A second lay in tattered pieces halfway up the stairs in front. Blast marks littered the aquamarine walls, indicative of a sudden heavy firefight. The ozone stank here and at a much higher density. Aces guessed this merc used some high-power repeating blaster, and the massive pockmarks littering the stairwell up to the sixth floor confirmed that. A third commando droid bit it at the sixth platform, its body reduced to bits and pieces from a detonator painting the blued surfaces charcoal. Whoever led this contingent must've been better at their job.

Ace grit his teeth, scaling the seventh stair set.

Rounding the halfway point, a blue bolt snapped over his head, forcing him back behind the divider. He barely got a look at the stairs, but carnage littered its place like garbage.

"Hey! Hey! Blue on blue! I'm a clone!" Aces screamed around the corner beneath a sudden suppressing wave of bolts. They calmed down after a few seconds, and Ace repeated himself up the stairs.

"Ace, that you?!"

"Yeah! What the hell?!"

"Sorry!"

Aces rounded the corner and peered up the stairs. Reds knelt just far enough beyond the divider to appear, but if anyone were rushing up, they'd never see him. Behind Reds, Irene had his helmet removed, a black scorch mark covering his torso piece, and a DC-15S in one hand. The clone lowered it, coughing a fit, and sighed in relief.

Scanning the wreckage, the last Commando droid lay in a heap just before his feet. The mercenary - decked out in freakishly similar off-white armor to the clones, but boxier, had an exoskeleton wrapped around the carapace, and a high-cycle, backpack-fed blaster.

Aces ignored this, bound up the stairs, knelt beside Irene, and stared down his brother.

"Big guy tag him?"

"Yeah," Reds turned around and removed his helmet. The red-haired clone glanced over Aces, then touched the male's head, tipping it away. "Lucky graze, brother."

Aces swatted the hand away, "No kidding. Irene, you good?"

Irene shook his head, breaths slowly decreasing in volume as he dropped the blaster, clutching his chest. Reds sighed, gesturing to the open IFAK lying beside them.

"Big merc blaster caved in the left side of his chest. I did a pneumothorax detention, but there are fractured ribs poking around in there. We need Doc, and Doc's knee deep in the battlefield right now." Reds shook his head, "Even then..."

"Keep watch," Aces slapped Reds' shoulder, "Gonna patch myself up. You hurt?" Reds shook his head. "Alright. I'll help move Irene. You clear the way - we gotta go right after our guys or risk getting got."

Reds nodded again and turned to the stairs, raising his weapon to watch.

It didn't take long to find a burn patch and wrap it. Once the bacta settled in, a cooling sensation worked Aces' scalp like thousands of ice-cold bugs. He shivered in the revelry, popped a stim in Irene, then himself, and turned around. Similar sensation, except across his skin. Everywhere. "Alright, I'm gonna pick him up. Let's be quick."

Irene exercised some motor control, still fully conscious but visibly in pain. Aces identified the needle sticking beneath his left torso plate, above the third rib, and staged by his right side. Irene's abdominal armor had been removed, lying beside where the clone sat. The clone dropped his DC-15X, no longer needing it, and kept the rifle variant slung across his back. Aces pushed the carbine into Irene's left hand, packed what he could into his bag, and prepared to move Irene.

Looping a left arm beneath Irene's right and gingerly securing a grip beneath his armpit, Ace tediously lifted him off the floor. He elicited a pained grumble, face tensing and teeth clenching. Snagging the DC-15S from Irene's hand, Ace held it below his thigh and exhaled sharply.

"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast... Lead the way, Red."

"On it."

The three clones descended step by step, Irene's breathing spiking after the injection but gradually returning to normal. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and Irene's head lolled side to side as the stim wore off. When they exited, his consciousness began fading in and out, but Irene kept pace. Reds stopped and gawked at the playing chaos, lowering his blaster as reds and blues intersected between blacks, whites, browns, greys, and vibrant aquamarine. A wall of infantry moved between them and the central unit since Aces last observed. Reds removed his helmet and shook his head.

"How in the hell are we supposed to get there? That's suicide!" Glancing back to Aces with a distraught twist, the clone shook his head again, looking back to the chaos. "What even..."

"Red!" Aces nudged the clone's shoulder, stealing his attention, "We have to clear a path and make it. So Irene can live. I'll take point if you can't."

Reds scrunched his face, meeting Aces' eyes. After a few seconds, the clone sighed, clutching his blaster close.

"Just figuring out the route. We should go to that crater in the center," Aces pointed out a deep depression in the first trench's center, "Then get to that one," He identified another crater roughly sixty meters deeper into the battlefield, "Jump into that garage," Another industrial implement for speeder repairs ten meters to its front-right, "Then follow the nearest trench to our guys' rear. I've got three smoke grenades, three detonators, and an imploder. If we run into anything too heavy... It'll be bad."

Aces cracked a grin.

"Well, well! Just say you've got a plan." Aces glanced at irene. His head lolled from up to down, eyes struggling to stay open. Aces sighed. "Alright. Let's move."

Reds nodded wordlessly, replaced his helmet, and set out into a slow jog, descending the stairway into the industrial park and setting out into the grey miasma.

---

A charge among a blanket of explosives put Mynock and Rancor halfway to the first trench. Bodies tightly weaved the bottleneck, peeking for potshots or crawling beneath cover. They'd made a reasonable distance. Fifty-three led with Rex and Cody at a permanent half-crouch, blasters banging blue bolts into durasteel bodies left and right. Dune and Troy trailed, picking grenades off their bags and hurling them into pockets of droids managing resistance. Oh-Five survived via fireman carry on Twelvetrees' behalf somewhere in the middle of their formation. Twenties snapped with Koji on the right, covering one another as clones funneled forward. Mortar and Amad held the rear, flaying flanking droids with heavy fire.

Fifty-three ripped two bolts into a B1 manning a repeater nest left of the trench's exit. Their target building loomed close, a grey warehouse with toppled entrance structure and the back half smothered beneath a fallen tower panning out to their left. Additional droids and mercenaries fired from cover around the objective - some being half-measure barricades and others from a small garage leftwards or two separate toolhouses to the right. Cody and Rex hammered right, nailing droids as they marched from cover to assault. A mercenary leaned from cover, snapping a slugthrower over their heads. Rex didn't flinch, adjusted fire, and nailed two pistol bolts into his chest. The merc stumbled back and crumpled, clutching smoking holes and slipping into death.

Hot gas slapped their sides, a detonator erupting meters from the trench and showering clones in mud and dirt. Shrapnel pinged off 53's helmet, something hot skidding across the back of his neck. Fifty-three ignored the impulse and pushed ahead of Cody and Rex. The trench entrance loomed meters away. Foot by foot, 53 crouched low and wavered his gun forward. Two droids, flanked by two mercenaries, swept in low. Fifty-three identified the Commando types quickly and synchronously opened fire. Rex and Cody fired over him - danger close - as red and blue crisscrossed. Two droids went down, and 53 vaporized one merc's head. The other's slug cracked his torso plate, ripping breath from his lungs and pirouetting him into the wall. Rex walked four bolts through his torso and passed 53 as he struggled.

Stifling a cough, the clone felt a tug from his right - finding Cody helping him to his feet.

"Let's go, trooper! Don't got time to die!"

Cody seemed to recover quickly. Rex, not so much.

Fifty-three didn't nod but forced his legs to respond and pushed forward. Rex, Cody, Dune, and Troy swept the trench and opened rapid fire on the dwindling droid supply. 53 aimed up, sweeping a blue wave into four droids romping from the entrance, forcing two mercs into cover.

He didn't stop.

"Let's move! Cover, cover!" Fifty-three screamed as he leaped over the rear trench wall, shorter than the rest, and sprawled across the ground. He slam-fired three grenades across the warehouse entrance, peppering merc and droid with molten air and screaming shrapnel. Clones fanned around him, hammering bolts to the garages and irregular emplacements surrounding them. Someone touched his foot, and he quickly checked. 330 and Krys held the trench's edge, and Snatch loomed directly behind him, detonator in hand.

Probably his last one.

"Go!"

Snatch hurled the detonator through the warehouse's mouth, and 53 charged. 330, Krys, and Snatch fanned around him as the ARC bound meters at a time up the slope. Red bolts and smoke trails snapped around him, but none hit as combined suppressing fire muted their attempts. One clone commandeered the repeater and turned it on the CIS - red bolts responding in lethal wails through droid carapaces. They had to veer right, avoiding a solid wall to enter the gaping hole from an explosion caused long before their arrival. The entrance, once double doors, now laid in shambles akin to an animal bite - irregular cracks and seeps tore their way from its center to the building's right side, leaving the main lobby open to view. Two side corridors immediately came, with a widened expanse on the left leading to an internally collapsed building section. The rightmost passageway was blocked by dozens of fallen shelves, equipment, and other debris. Deep in the open aisle, two red eyes loomed, and the dark glint of a nose cannon peered beneath it.

"Spider!"

53 dove to the side, a sun-hot bolt screaming a half-second later. It pulverized a clone's upper body - the one who'd followed directly behind him - vaporizing it into ash while the lower half vaulted end-over-end and spilled what charred contents remained down the gradient. Corporal CT-330/010-11 KIA scrolled across 53's visor as he raised his gun and hosed the spider with rapid-fire plasma. Someone else joined in, and before it fired again, the red orbs sparked, and its carcass crashed to the ground.

He didn't waste any time springing up, pushing into the dark space with his blaster. A flurry of red bolts ripped from the downed droid, narrowly missing him and the clone who'd followed in. A third clone caught it to the shoulder, spinning backward down the gradient and out of sight. Fifty-three shucked open the launcher, slipped a munition into its open breech, and shut the chamber. He pied the corridor enough to see the spider's legs and fired the charge. A wave of red-hot air billowed down the hall, briefly illuminating a squad of Commando droids assembling just behind the downed droid. Two fell to the charge, while the others stumbled but weren't disabled.

53 and the other clone - Snatch - swept in and nailed both droids with headshots. Rex and Cody entered moments later with Krys, followed by his demolitions team. "Let's get this Major, and go home!" Cody barked, waving other clones in. As another group of clones trot in, the faint trail of something crossed 53's eyes and detonated across the far side wall. Red and white billowed out and punched 53 and Snatch in the chest. His back met pavement, and his breath failed to return, Westar no longer in hand as white spotted his vision. Blasters rung out, slugthrowers snapped, and 53 ambled on his right side to see Snatch's body twisted around itself with black char eclipsing his left half.

Rolling onto his right side, 53 felt the familiar tingle of burns across his torso and neck. That detonator engulfed Snatch but merely licked the ARC. Over him, Commander Cody knelt and hammered bolts while snagging his jump rig. Someone let loose with a Z-6, fusillades of blue fighting back dwindling red. Having pulled it from his pack just before, Koji stepped into view with the rotary as Cody dragged 53. He stopped at a corner of the room where Twelvetrees worked on the other injured trooper - someone already sporting an abdominal patch - who sat next to the amputated Oh-Five.

"I think he's concussed. Got burns, too!" Cody screamed above the maelstrom. Fifty-three lolled his head to the left, watching Snatch slowly wriggle away from the firefight. He crawled to the blocked-off corridor before a red bolt snapped through his head. His helmet tumbled off, a smoldering crevice etched through the left side of his head.

Private CT-1991 KIA

A squad of B1's droids and mercenaries flooded that angle, tapping Cody in the back, sprawling him across 53. Clones changed angles, with Koji and another trooper eating three droids in sweeps of Z-6 fire. Instincts usurped pain, and 53 pulled Cody to the side, drawing a DC-17 and tagging one merc twice in the gut and once in the head. His body crumpled beside another merc grappling with Captain Rex. The engagement ended quickly, the remaining droids and mercs falling as clones took their place, exchanging fire with other hostiles down the corridor.

Rex worked his DC-17 into the merc's neck and pulled the trigger three times, reducing his head to a smoking ruin.

"Cody!"

Fifty-three pulled himself from beneath the Commander, laying him across his chest as Twelvetrees removed Cody's helmet. Rolling him to his side, Twelvetrees flashed a light across Cody's eyes. He flinched, still breathing but in shallow, short increments.

"Skragg! Commander down!" Twelvetrees barked, quickly snagging his med bag. The clone medic went to work, removing Cody's armor plating, and applying bacta and burn patches. Fifty-three staggered forward, falling to his knees and shaking his head. Stars still spotted his vision. Krys, Koji, Mortar, and Troy knelt around them, exchanging glances behind black visors. Rex and Dune soon joined, the other clones hot in a back-and-forth firefight with seppies deeper in the warehouse.

"Alright," Rex growled, "This is it. The Major's behind these walls, and we need to push through and get him, then call for exfil."

He glanced to the others for approval, and they all nodded. Fifty-three stood, still woozy, and snagged a stim from his belt-mounted IFAK, working it beneath his pauldron and pressing it to his forward deltoid. Triggering the injector, a needle penetrated his muscle and dosed him with adrenalin and other booster compounds. Icy bugs crawled under his skin, and a tunneling focus snapped 53 straight.

"Let's go through the rubble over there," 53 gestured to the toppled cavern behind him, "Command center can't be too deep in. Demo squad, use your thermal charges and whatever dets we got left to clear them out. They're holed in; time to dig them out."

Fifty-three felt Rex's stare from behind his helmet, and it lasted two seconds before the Captain nodded. In the end, they took orders from him, not 53.

"What the ARC said. Dune, you're in charge here. Demo team, don't waste any time."

The four nodded, with Mortar and Troy moving to the rubble and mounting thermobaric detpacks in cracks and recesses. Koji and Krys recharged their Z-6's plasma packs. Rex knelt beside Cody. Sergeant Dune moved to one of the corridors, firing bursts with Duke down the main corridor. Amad and Twenties covered the gaping access, picking off strays with their marksman capabilities, as Tank - the clone who Twelvetrees triaged - had crawled over to the other shiny 03, and fired down the side corridor.

Return fire became scant, but the clones covered anyway.

"We're ready!" Troy shouted, the final detcord linked between all the charges. He'd set up their directional feature, dispersing their blast conically into the rubble rather than a complete 360-degree eruption. Their six remaining dets laid three by two across the debris with red wire stitched between them, a detonator clutched in Mortar's hand.

Fifty-three nodded and trotted to them. Koji lined up behind Mortar, followed by 53, Rex, Krys, and Troy. Fifty-three glanced to Rex; bucket pointed to Cody as Doc worked. He's distracted. Fifty-three nudged him with an elbow. "Captain," It earned his attention, "We're almost there. Cody'll be fine."

Rex nodded but didn't respond.

Fifty-three faced forward. "Blow it!"

Mortar double-clicked the detonator, sending an electrical discharge through the cordage and into their thermobarics. Hot-white volume punched into rubble, then exploded with a cataclysmic bang. Rock and rebar spattered the opposite side, and a rough maw replaced the debris. Koji and 53 sprung simultaneously, followed directly by Rex and Krys. Troy, joined by Mortar, brought the rear.

Dust filled their vision, but vague shapes of destroyed droids and splattered mercenaries decorated totaled racks and shelves, many of which already rested on sides. Koji opened a sheet of blue across profiles responding ahead, 53 fanning right and kneading shots across three commando droids exchanging fire over the spider. The first two went down with headshots, the third grabbing another's falling carcass and using it as a shield to fire back. It missed twice, 53's bolts hammering the body shield. Rex shuffled beside him and nabbed the commando's leg. As it fell, 53 punched a bolt through its metal cranium, blowing charred fragments across the wall.

Fifty-three turned to his left and opened fire, suppressing in troves with the Demo squad across sprawling racks to a slightly-elevated platform decorated in blue and green light. A taller organic glanced at the clones, a blue-skinned reptilian, then quickly ducked away.

"The Major is here! Cover fire!"

Fifty-three ducked, spraying pistol bolts down a corridor and tearing three B1s to pieces. Rex followed suit, working down a B2 as it swiveled towards the demo lot. They fanned out, hammering bolts behind cover and flaying droids who dared near. Two clones clambered over the Spider droid and joined, taking potshots at the command center, winking out a Commando droid as the others scrambled into the aisles. Fifty-three shuffled into the rightmost aisle, crouch-jogging forward. A rapport of blaster fire echoed down the center - a group of B2's pushing the demo squad. They responded with Z-6 fire, cutting the first two down, the third firing a purple rocket through the stacks.

"Wrist rocket!"

It smashed into the wall behind them, fracturing duracrete and splattering two with shrapnel. Dune and Duke opened fire, taking its legs, followed by two of the demo clones pulverizing its receptor and head.

A small contingent of Commandos emerged from a side passage to 53's right - likely the blocked access from earlier - and turned to open fire on the demo unit. Rex and 53 triggered bolts, holing the first three's craniums as the fourth turned to respond. Its bolt went high, and both clones stitched its chest to a smoldering ruin. Two clones emerged from the same passage - Tank and 03 - waiting for Rex and 53 to pass. Both opened fire at droids rapidly encompassing the command center. Blue crisscrossed with red in the dark warehouse, illuminating each shelf and discarded piece of equipment laid asunder.

Fifty-three continued down this side aisle, sweeping his angles. Red snapped across his vision, and he spun to the shooter. Major Almaani crouched in cover with a contingent of mercs and had narrowly missed, their likeness barely illuminated by his flash. 53 dove to the ground and crawled, Rex, retreating and opening fire as a torrent of red chewed up the wall beside him. Fifty-three crawled forward until he came to the end of the aisle, glancing back at Rex as he knelt in cover with 03 and Tank, the two now readily exchanging fire with Almaani's unit.

Arriving at a crushed portion of the warehouse, he followed the diagonal salvage behind the Major's position - a toppled section of data stacks encircling a communications node protruding through an opened roof section. A toppled shelf covered stairs descending into what 53 presumed was a basement. The stacks in this area were moved to accommodate additional manning stations, and 53 identified at least twenty more droids knelt in wait, some siphoning off to fight. A six-man mercenary team accompanied six B2 and four BX droids, with ten B1s intermingled across the stations.

It's an ambush.

Fifty-three bumped his comm and whispered to the net.

"Large enemy force in the back. Be advised."

Unlike the standard kit, ARC's had the privilege of contained-helmet comms. Nobody heard him if he didn't want them to.

"I'm almost there!" Troy responded, "Where at?"

"About five meters behind the command ring."

"Confirmed."

"Go on my mark, Troy. Tossing an Imploder."

The firefight dwindled significantly. Clones had overcome the probatory forces launched to drag the clones in. Fifty-three spied vague white shapes darting around the command module but not moving into or beyond it. Fifty-three pried the magnetically-anchored cylinder off the back of his waist and armed it. One of the mercs noticed, leaning his head in and aiming. Aligning the DC-17's irons at the humanoid's skull, 53 stroked the trigger, evaporating inches of meat in a flash. As his body tumbled and the units swiveled, 53 arced the Imploder dead-center into the stations. Instantly it erupted, hemispherical waves swooping out, sucking in, then exploding in a flash of near-molten gas and shrapnel. Three B2s and two BXs stood tall, turning to 53's position. 03, Rex and Tank sprung forward, firing hot trails over the Major's area. Troy, Mortar, Koji, and Krys fired over the command center. Two droids fell immediately, the B2 cycling to high-fire rates and sweeping red-hot death over ducking men.

Fifty-three sprung up, charging at the Major's back. One merc swiveled an APC Scatter gun at 53, but the ARC fired first, triggering a blue bolt through their face. One of the rushing clones holed another through the chest, and a third merc fell to multiple shots from Rex's contingent. Fifty-three earned the attention of Major Almaani by leaping over the barricade and shouldering the lizard. The near seven-foot blue reptile's scars worked into surprise and rage as he tumbled into the opposite side of the nest.

The remaining merc swung his weapon high like a bat. Fifty-three ducked beneath it, shoved both pistols in his belly, and fired three times each. Ozone and charred flesh overcame his filters in an instant. Something cracked across 53's helmet, and he tumbled against the barricade. White washed his vision momentarily, his eyes exposed to the maelstrom of conflict as his helmet ejected. Both DC-17s dropped to the ground. The lizard arched over, pushing a blaster in 53's face. Instincts kicked in, the clone rolling to the right and shoving the muzzle left. Red flashed, washing the side of his face in blistering heat. Drowning silence and ringing flooded his ear.

Fifty-three snatched the gun with his other hand and kicked off the barricade. Almaani yanked away, snarling in his language, but couldn't dislodge the weapon. Fifty-three unleashed a heel kick with his right, landing in Almaani's guts and folding him. The Major dropped his gun. Fifty-three tossed it and bunched his left fist, hooking it across the reptile's head and snapping it sideways.

A flurry of bolts came behind him, 53 quickly glancing to.

B2s and B1s sprung from the basement, one having pushed the shelf away. Some took glancing shots, others returned fire, and bolts zipped by like a light show. The Major's shoulder planted in 53's gut, barreling him to the wall and pushing air from his lungs. Before 53 could react, Almaani scooped his legs, lifted the clone off his feet, and dropped him back-first to duracrete. 53's head bounced off a dead merc, stars saturating his eyesight. Fifty-three croaked in pain, face twisted and fingers groping over the lizard's head, managing to cinch it to his waist.

Almaani unfurled a fist and buried it into 53's gut. Bile bubbled in his throat. He curled forward to only catch a fist in the face. 53's nose broke, blood flushing down his upper lip. The Major pulled free of 53's hold, removing a twisted, wicked knife off his belt. The ARC fumbled for his claw-like vibroknife, struggling to stand as Almaani loomed.

A clone shot over the barricade, tumbling headfirst into the Major.

Both sprawled across the pit, the clone hammering fists on the Major in Mando-boxing fashion. The thuds ended as Almaani dipped just out of range, slashing the knife across the clone's left forearm, clipping white armor. Fifty-three identified Troy's distinctive helmet as it came off, the clone backpedaling and hurling it into Almaani's snout. Breath finally filled 53's lungs. His vision focused, tediously rising to a crouch. Troy closed in with a left overhand and caught the reeling Major, knocking him into the barricade. Troy kept the momentum with a wide right hook. Major Almaani swiftly ducked and buried his wicked knife in Troy's gut.

"No!"

Some internal parts of 53 roared in response to Troy's injury. Did he like this clone? More than the others? Perhaps. Troy reminded the clone of himself. Potentially wasted for some meager hero play.

Fifty-three didn't think, surging forward as Almaani extracted the dagger. Troy clutched his gut in sudden pain and fear, dark crimson trailing out a jagged hole. Almaani turned in time to see 53's cross, not expecting the bite of a blade to flay open his lower mandible. Almaani nearly toppled over the barricade, eliciting a guttural scream. Fifty-three ducked a reactionary swipe, angling the knife upwards and plunging it into his lower abdomen. With meat hooked, 53 tore it through his guts and sternum, instantly exposing steaming entrails.

Almaani snarled again, trying a lazy swipe back across and tagging 53 below his left eye. But the trooper closed regardless, burying his unencumbered fist through the wound and snagging fistfuls of the intestine. Almaani gaped, dread setting in, as 53 tossed reptilian viscera to the floor. Almaani released the dagger, clawing for dripping innards and trying to shove them back in. Fifty-three gripped Almaani by the throat, yanking the reptile to his feet, mere inches separating their faces.

"Die." 53 snarled.

"Gakh-"

Almaani scratched at his arms, plastoid, and bodysuit, proving his efforts worthless. The Alpha pressed his knife to the Major's right ear, drawing a jagged grin through his gullet and out the opposite side. Blood drizzled through the slit as Almaani gagged. Fifty-three dropped the Major. He slumped to his knees, then collapsed, gargled breaths gradually faltering until death.

Troy.

Sheathing his weapon, 53 knelt over the clone who'd saved him. Troy already managed a bacta seal over the wound, crimson no longer seeping through the hole. Blood dribbling from his mouth tainted the grey mustache, and shallow breaths escaped his quivering mouth.

"Troy." Fifty-three shook his head, "You shouldn't have done that."

"That's a load of bantha-crap, arky." Troy nestled against the wall, wincing as a bolt snapped overhead. "You saved our hides more time than I can count."

Fifty-three didn't argue, glancing side to side for one of his pistols. Unable to find it, he took a merc's E-5 in his left hand and peered over the barricade. Clones surrounded and blasted the remaining droids—a few troopers worse for wear and under care by Twelvetrees and 03 by the Command Center. Rex approached the pit with Krys and Dune, bristling behind their helmets.

"Skragg! Way to do a number on that one," Krys chipped. Rex intermittently glanced between 53 and the Major, then sighed. "Objective completed. Good work, Arc Trooper." Rex glanced over their wounds, shaking his head and activating his wrist comm. "Twelvetrees, both five-three and Troy are wounded. One non-critical, the other potentially critical."

"Sir, yes, sir. Oh-Three's on his way." Came his monotone reply.

"Good work, men. We're finished here." Glancing at the antenna, Rex tilted his head forward slightly. "Here's that jammer."

Rex raised both blasters and whacked them with multiple bolts until the displays winked off. Small fires broke out across its carapace. 03 arrived with a blood-smeared medical bag slung across his back. He instantly pulled Troy to his feet and moved him toward the triage point they'd set up at the command ring.

Fifty-three eased to his feet, sheathing the knife and replacing it with a stim.

"So," 53 injected it into his deltoid, the familiar rush flooding his body, "Exfil?"

"First things first." Rex toggled his wrist comm and opened the direct sniper channel.

"Rifle team, how copy?"

"Sir? Captain Rex?!" The voice was panicked, blasterfire almost drowning him out. Rex adjusted a control on his wrist as Dune and 53 exchanged glances. Krys left to search the basement with Koji and Tank.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Reds, sir! Vant is dead! We got ambushed and tried getting out, but now we're stuck in a crater and surrounded!"

Rex paused, glancing to 53, who shrugged. The Arc has since dropped the stim.

"Alright. Where precisely are you?"

"Between the first two trenches! Me and Ace are holding them off, but-" An explosion engulfed his voice, his breathing returning seconds later. Half a second after, Rex heard the explosion reverberate from outside. "But Irene's hit bad! We need Doc, or an exfil, or something! We're going to die out here!"

"Calm down, trooper! We'll be on our way." Rex winked off the transmission and glared at 53. "Stock up. We'll need the extra firepower."

"Yes, sir."

Rex looked to Dune. "Sergeant, sitrep."

"Sir, we are in no position to move. Too many wounded. Doc's got his hands full - literally."

Rex glanced to the triage point but couldn't see much. The sounds, though, he made out - faint grumbles of pain as Twelvetrees worked to keep his boys alive. Rex nodded.

"I'm getting us out of here."

Toggling into comms, he opened the command channel straight to Kenobi.

"General, this is Captain Rex. We've secured the Major and are awaiting exfil through an opening in the rear of the warehouse—multiple injuries. Be advised we have three friendlies stuck under fire in no man's land and are transporting wounded. How copy?"

"Copy all, Captain," Came Kenobi's soothing voice. It peaked with concern, "Did something happen to Cody? And what's the status of the Major?"

"The Commander's fine, sir. Took a hit, but he's on his feet," Rex glanced to where Cody loomed in the command center, standing over the group and exchanging words with Oh-Five, who leaned against a console. Rex glanced at Major Almaani's mangled corpse. "The Major is dead, sir. Caught in the crossfire."

Kenobi audibly sighed, and Rex pictured him cinching his nose. 53 found his helmet in the wreckage, placed it on his head, and continued searching for his weapons.

"That's no good. If we had him, we could've negotiated an early surrender."

"Apologies, sir. Things got out of hand."

Kenobi paused for several seconds. "Very well, Captain. ETA two minutes. We're bringing the rain."

"That's exactly what we need, sir."

"I estimated as much. General Kenobi out."

The comm-link winked away. Rex turned to 53, who'd lifted one of the merc's blasters - a T-21 heavy repeater - and leveled it in his hands. Looking away from the ARC Trooper, Rex indicated Dune.

"Sergeant, move everyone to this location and prepare for exfil. We have two minutes."

"Yes, sir!" Sergeant Dune nodded and took off to the command center.

Rex began towards 53 and stopped feet from him. The Alpha-Class faced him and nodded.

"Sir, awaiting orders."

"We still need to talk. For now, keep grabbing heat; we'll need everything we can get."

Fifty-three nodded but didn't answer.

Before Rex could change subjects, blaster fire echoed from the entrance. Rex spied Amad and Twenties guarding the access, rapidly discharging their blasters to a thick contingent of droids.

"We have company!"

Rex cursed and hustled towards the access, 53 following suit.

---

"I'm black on bolts!"

Black meant out. Ace ran himself dry on ammo. It was only one minute since Rex broke comms with Reds, but the situation worsened exponentially. Seppie infantry twisted through the wreckage, side trenches, and no man's land to engulf them. Crimson rods of death flew in reckless abandon over their heads, scorching earth and heat-blasting mud. The DC-15A's barrel smoked, its handguard hot to the touch, and Ace had already burnt himself twice while handling it. Tender sensations pulsed through his left hand as he maneuvered his final charge pack into the side-mounted well. It hummed like a happy bird once inserted and telecommunicated such to his ammunition counter.

"Same here!"

Reds huddled opposite Ace and dug in a hand-grooved embankment to fire over the edge. Neither stayed up long, only to pick off droids brave enough to try charging them. Suppressing fire galore prevented anything else. Irene lay in the center, weakly breathing and staring blankly at the sky. Ace knew he didn't have long. Those rib fragments needed to come out, and exfil was supposedly one minute away.

Supposedly.

If they even survived that long.

He tried poking his head up. Three tan hulls were mid-crawl over the nearest trench, a mere five meters away. Dozens more backed them, and hundreds fanned the battlefield. Ace dipped down as a red bolt scorched the crater's rim, splattering him with molten mud. Burns spotted his skin and quickly flicked the hot material off. Bolt after bolt hammered his corner, chipping inch after inch of his cover away. One slipped through and narrowly missed Reds across the crater. Reds looked back, aimed his blaster, and began firing over Ace. The whine of B1's answered, and their fire spat around Reds as he plugged targets.

Ace saw the same thing happening behind Reds.

Shuffling a few inches to the right, Ace raised his rifle and sighted in on a tan cranium, pulling the trigger. It vaporized in a puff of black and blue, two more instantly taking its place. He transitioned swiftly, nailing each with neck shots, but for each droid he put down, two more marched behind it.

An entire wave surged for them.

"It's a charge!" Reds frantically screamed, flicking his DC-15A to high cycle and spraying in broad sweeps over Ace's corner.

Ace didn't respond, rising to a half-crouch and hammering bolts behind Reds. Tan droid after droid went down, his weapon spitting blue death almost as fast as the droids appeared. B2's entered the mix, shouldering aside their shorter compatriots and opening fire with high-cycle forearm blasters. One missed just beneath Ace's groin, inspiring him to roll to the right as its burst walked through the dirt. Ace stood halfway above the crater and hammered bolts across its receptor. Crimson punched him square in the back, twisting Ace to the soil. Stars flooded his vision as he gazed at the sky, some of the stars circling overhead and getting bigger.

Larger.

Reds swept nearly 360 degrees in frantic attempts to stave off the onslaught, blue answering sun-hot red.

A red bolt punched through his outer thigh, dropping the clone on-spot. He tried waving his blaster up, firing into a B1 that perched itself over the crater. A second fired but didn't hit Red or Ace. Its crimson particle rod knifed into Irene's gut. He winced, tensed, then died.

Ace opened his mouth and tried to scream.

Humming loud enough to rattle his brain ripped through the air. Some of those stars descended awful close, mimicking LAAT gunships - or were, perhaps, actual gunships - and their cannons opened over droid masses. Ropes dropped from one's side doors as solid-state beams knifed through vehicles, door-mounted repeaters mowed down infantry, and their missiles sidewinded into pockets of both.

"Huh...?"

Clones with heavy blasters landed around him. Caked in grime and blood, one boasted heavily decorated, customized equipment. Another sported two hand blasters and hammered away at nearby droids. Someone sporting brown and grey robes swatted away incoming fire with a luminescent blue beam.

The ARC Trooper! Rex! Kenobi!

Another clone smeared with blood knelt over Ace, hooking a cable to his harness, while another did the same to Reds. The red-cross sporting medic knelt over Irene, shook his head, and turned to say something to the Jedi, muted to Ace beneath the pandemonium. Ace's vision slowly cleared, and General Kenobi's visage finally stood out. Aces tried standing up and sucking breath but failed to do both and tumbled into the dirt. General Kenobi crouch-walked over, casually slapping away a stray bolt, then knelt before Ace.

"Rest now, trooper; you're going home."

Finally.

Ace blacked out seconds later.

---

"The mission, locating and securing Major Almaani, was, overall, a success. His forces are now totaled and unable to reunite with General Loathsom's units, cutting the Separatist forces on Cristophsis in half. That being said, if we had captured him, we could've forced a surrender." Kenobi crossed his arms and sighed.

Three days passed since the battle, and most of the command structure was present for the debrief. Fifty-three stood in Republic fatigues, a fresh set of stitches and bacta cream applied to the cut beneath his left eye, other injuries concealed beneath his uniform. Rex incurred minor damage, as did Sergeant Dune, while Cody sat in a chair with one medical corps clone beside him. Lieutenant Oh-Five leaned on crutches, wearing scrubs, his right legging tied off at the knee.

"As I said, sir," Rex answered, glancing at 53, "Things got out of hand."

"Do tell."

"The ARC Trooper decided to fistfight with Almaani instead of securing him."

Kenobi glanced to 53. "Is this true?"

"Yes, sir. He'd stabbed trooper Troy, and to ensure he could no longer injure more men, I killed Major through disembowelment and tracheal laceration."

Kenobi's eyes widened at the answer. "Oh. I see. I've also heard a friendly-fire incident occurred on the battlefield. Care to explain?"

"Sir, trooper Pod had suffered a severe abdominal evisceration and diaphragm injury. An explosion threw him from the stretcher during transport, worsening the injury. Without a chance for exfiltration, Pod would've died painfully, and supplies wasted at our expense. I made the decision to mercy-kill him."

"That wasn't your call!" Rex snapped, pointing to 53, "That would have been mine or Cody's! Not yours!"

"You took too long. Act now. Think about it later."

"You killed a brother!"

Fifty-three shifted his poise, unfolding his arms as Rex stepped closer, "I did what was necessary for the mission."

"You-!"

"Rex!" Cody shouted, earning the Captain's attention. Kenobi observed in detachment while 53 kept his gaze on Rex. "There was nothing we could've done. Pod was... Pod was gone before he left that crater. It was a tough call, but the right one."

Rex stiffened for the moment, eventually glancing towards 53. He released an exhausted sigh, massaging the temples with his right hand.

"I know. I can't unsee it."

"Neither can I, brother," Cody admitted, looking to Kenobi and offering a nod.

Kenobi looked back to 53.

"Continue, Lieutenant."

"Sir, trooper Pod's condition was expectant, and we could not transport him to the objective. I did what I had to." Fifty-three looked to Rex. "He would've suffered and lost more men dragging him to the objective, Captain."

Rex met his eyes and nodded.

"Losing comrades in battle is always tough. What happened in the moment... Happened. I don't disagree with Alpha Fifty-Three's actions, but it is certainly disturbing. Every time I witness death, it sticks with me, but what matters is our perseverance after the matter." Kenobi stepped to the command ring, "This debrief is concluded. If I must say, Lieutenant, you are the most macabre trooper I've met thus far. Like I've seen before, the Alpha-Class are a cut above."

Fifty-three took several moments to respond. Cogs ground in his head as a slight grin crossed his lips. He then looked Kenobi in the eye, offering a nod.

"Our reputation proceeds us, sir."

---

Ethereal blue highlighted bulkhead gray.

Jedi Knight Ozura Atlacoya stood, for the third time, before 53 performing a personal task, wearing yet another outfit. A figure-hugging dress patterned like the night sky, stitches of luminescent gold hemming it together with open cuts down her outer thigh and a v-slit stretching from collar to mid-abdomen. She wore a relatively simple belt, her saber off its right side, and two general-purpose pouches draped over the left. Ozura's hair, in an elaborate bun with two serpent pins crossed in an X, intertwined like vipers behind her head. Fifty-three identified subtle hints of dark makeup - wing tips and lipstick - though they mellowed out in the hologram.

This was displayed before a stoic Alpha-53 who sat erect, arms folded, and gear splayed across his work table. A fresh bandage strip replaced the one from his previous brief, and he wore sleepwear instead of fatigues.

"Rough day, it seems," She idly tapped at a datapad, eyes darting to meet the clone, inspecting briefly, then returning to her task. "Your report, Liuetenant?"

"Major Arwid Almaani and his droid contingent have been eliminated, Ma'am."

"Good," Ozura nodded, placing the datapad down and focusing on 53, "Were there any issues?"

Pod's face replaced Ozura's, his blank death stare gaping at the clone, eyes glassed over and surreally fishlike. Fifty-three blinked, and the apparition disappeared.

"More casualties, but the mission's handled, Ma'am. Nothing else to report."

"Very well. Submit your report upon its completion and stand by for your next tasking. Big things are coming down the pipeline, five-three. Prepare yourself. Do you have anything else?"

Fifty-Three relived Pod's death and the evisceration of Major Almaani, Snatch, and Spike. They remained, looming in the corner of his room, just out of sight. He glanced toward the figures, but they disappeared instantly, leaving 53 with a knot in his gut. Visually unchanged, however, 53 returned to Ozura and shook his head.

"No, ma'am."

Ozura offered her concerned expression once again, but 53 didn't elaborate. Moments later, she nodded, returning to a similar stoicism and brandishing the pad again.

"Very well. May the force be with you."

The link terminated, and darkness engulfed 53.

Memories of death scrolled across his eyes. Apparitions leered from the shadows - images of dead brothers, all sharing his face and in states of disarray. Spike's head lulled from far too few strings of muscle tethering it to the base, the hole in Pod a gateway to charred brain matter, and the side of Snatch's face reduced to melted chuck. Camden and his near-bisected figure lurked behind them, but each set of eyes simultaneously gazed upon him, dead and alive.

Fifty-Three closed his eyes and shut them out.

Another day, soldier, another day.

---

Author's Note

Welcome to my passion project, which has been in development for over a year, and still trucking. This project started due to a desire to write from the view of an ARC Trooper - specifically the Alpha-Class - during the clone wars. I wrote an excerpt in a group writing scenario featuring The Clone Wars and ran with the idea. While it took me many months, breaks, and moments of doubt to get this finished, I'm proud to say it has begun.

Thank you to Dorf, who offered weapons knowledge.

Thank you to the internet, a sump of endless information on tactics.

Thank you to Doc, who guided me through some stringent and medically-intensive scenes.

My babby-grill, who's supported me through the project.

Thank you, Spider, who regularly checked on me and showed interest in my various projects.

And everyone who has proofread these concepts or allowed me to bounce ideas off them.

More is to come... Eventually