Lights that had laid dormant for twenty years flickered to life and filled the darkness, casting a cool glow across rows upon rows of B1 Battle Droids, all waiting for an activation signal that would come soon.

Multiple humanoid figures clustered around a compartment as the door shut with a sharp click. One of them, crouched down in front of it, stood with a grunt. He turned back to the others, wiping his hands. "Gettin' too old for this kneelin' shit. Lights are on," he gestured to the lights above, "and whatever is sleeping here is probably getting power too, so be careful. Memory cores could have gone bad and might trigger an early wake-up."

Another man, the leader, his face covered in camouflage paint and wearing a tight grimace, looked out to the racks of B1s that sat waiting. Already, he could see half as many B2s, and a handful of Droidekas closest to their entry point. The briefing had given plenty of information on them, and he had memorized it as best he could, but he knew he'd need firsthand experience if they all activated.

The leader reached to his radio, depressing the transmit button. "Sir, need you here in K7."

A gruff voice responded, old and husky, with a noticeable accent. "Copy."

The leader didn't have to wait long. He heard a dozen boots in the halls outside, and the other squad entered Droid Bay K7. The first three were other Alliance troopers, clad in the dark greens and browns that would blend in with the wooded terrain outside. The fifth and sixth were similar, but the fourth person to enter was different by far, and some still did double takes when they saw him. Either because they thought he was a stormtrooper that had wormed his way in, or because they thought that his kind were all long dead or disappeared.

Not many GAR Clones around anymore, after all.

In the light, CC-8911 stood tall and proud, just as his kind always had in the face of danger. His armor had seen better days, the plates all scratched and marred, and almost every part of the armor had been replaced at this point more than once. A large brim kept the Phase I visor hidden in shadow, and the rangefinder on the side sat idle. Among all the white that remained of his armor's original coloring, stripes of bright orange had been painted, always in the same style, and an Alliance Starbird perched on his breastplate.

The Leader of the first squad gestured to all the droids. "Found 'em, Griever. Wanted you on hand in case anything went Jarah-shaped."

The helmeted head nodded, looking out across the bay. His helmet's speakers colored his voice, but personal modifications kept it clearer than it would have been otherwise. "Most of it has a lengthy enough start-up lag that you can pop whatever moves more often than not. Cleared most of the orders databanks, so we shouldn't see any of them move, but…" He simply shrugged, the heavy pauldrons making it look slightly comical. "They have plenty of backups, and I doubt we got all of them."

The former Clone Commander raised his hand, two fingers outstretched, and pointed down two racks. "Gea, stick with Mann and Lani. Nora and Bega, you're paired up. Get searching, troopers."

A chorus of affirmatives went up as his squad dispersed into two of the racks. The Leader's squad did the same under his direction, all moving out with weapons drawn and their ion grenades close at hand. None of them wanted to be unprepared.

The Leader and the Commander stayed together, the taller Clone watching their troopers get to work. The Leader spoke first. "Never done a Droid Dive, Commander."

Griever's head bobbed, a chuckle filtering out of his speakers. "Always fun, Lieutenant. Plenty of good finds if you know where to look." His helmet turned, looking down at the Lieutenant. "You read the inventory report on K7?"

"I did." He thought back to the manifest that had been on the briefing, and the copy still stored in his handheld's memory. "Plenty of heavy weapons, tons of serviceable droids that we could make use of. Why don't we do it more often?"

"FERREK!"

A shout in one of the alleys was followed by a scuffle and a fall, and then a shot range out with a distant "HEEEeeey…" as a B1 activated and spooked one of the troopers. Griever's hand had already gone to one of the pistols strapped on each hip, his stance mid-way through a spring as he prepared to run off to help the troopers.

When it seemed contained, he hissed through gritted teeth, his hand staying on the sidearm. "Always had to look out for those, though…" He said, sounding displeased.

The Lieutenant had made similar motions, but he'd only grabbed his gun, and hadn't been able to start moving. Few who saw the Clone in action could grasp his speed at first. He was a league above most that the Lieutenant had seen, and he'd fought veteran stormtroopers more than once.

"No, can't say I'd like any more of those."

The Lieutenant's response got another chuckle out of the Commander. Griever was more talkative than usual, and the Lieutenant was chalking it up to Droids being the subject of the mission. Griever never struggled with anything on the battlefield, but when Droids were involved, he got a little different. He didn't dwell anymore on it, though. He'd only worked with Griever a handful of times. He wasn't an expert by any means.

"I got something!"

The call came after nearly an hour more of searching, and the troopers quickly gathered at that person's position. It had been Gea who'd found it. She looked up at Griever as the Clone's bulky form covered her in shadow again. She wordlessly held up her handheld, having already dumped concrete information on it that they'd been lacking until now.

Griever took it and scanned over it, before tapping a few controls on it and handing it back. "Sent a dump to my own. Good work, Gea." He held out his hand, and she took it, rising from where she'd been kneeling at the foot of a B2, dusting herself off.

"You got it, Commander."

She got a nod from him, and she pocketed her handheld before drawing her sidearm again. She was the newest on the team, and had been a tech specialist in her past life. Now, she was a soldier, and she wasn't quite used to it just yet. She made sure to check the safety on her weapon one more time, and double checked the charge on the battery. Full clip.

With their first objective out of the way, they were free to move to their second, and then hopefully prepare for dust off. Maybe even get back to the ship in time for 'evening' chow.

Griever led them back out of K7 and into the corridor that ran through most of the facility. His handheld, already receiving the information from Gea's and forwarding it to the armor's mission computer, was pointing him towards the starboard armory. There, he'd be able to get the same information he'd gotten on the droids in K7: Accurate inventory and where to find all of it. With how much of the CIS's war machine had run off of automated systems, they'd gone through a ton of effort to segregate information wherever they could and decentralize in hopes that Republic forces breaking into one place wouldn't get too much information on another. They'd been on the wrong end of that one too many times in the first year of the war.

When they finally made it to the starboard armory, Griever stopped outside the sealed door and pulled out both of his DC-17 handguns, both making a sound as he flipped the safeties off. "Droids are shut down now, but as soon as they detect anything that enters without authorization, they'll activate and neutralize the intruders. We'll have a fight on our hands."

Every trooper held their weapons a little tighter, readying themselves for the fight that was coming. The Lieutenant looked over each of them, in case one of them went down and didn't get back up. When he was sure they were all ready, he nodded to Griever, and the Clone nodded back before hitting the release and bringing both handguns up.

Inside, racks of weapons, containers of ordinance, and all manner of ammunition storage went on for a half a kilometer. Several charging stations with droids were at the end of each rack and storage bay, and an angry chime filled the air as they activated and stepped out from their racks. Griever immediately started pulling the triggers on each handgun, sliding to the right as he sent out a one-man wall of fire, and slipped into cover on the side of the door as he looked to the Lieutenant on the other side of the door.

"Pop 'em, then push 'em!" He yelled out, and the Lieutenant looked back, calling for one of the ion grenades. It was passed up quickly, and he primed it before tossing it back through the door. A second went by before the pop of the grenade went off and the fire slackened enough that Griever was able to go inside, his squad following quickly behind as the Lieutenant and his own squad stayed back to cover.

Red lasers split the air as more of the droids got into view and added their fire to the mix, and within moments, the fire coming back at them was too great. Griever would have no escape without another droid popper being tossed in. The Lieutenant peeked around the door, firing off a handful of shots from his A280, taking down two B1s and a Super. He saw Griever for only a moment, rapidly giving hand signs and yelling his orders.

He'd drilled them relentlessly. Made them learn everything he had to teach them. Any who couldn't hack it were sent out. Those that stayed wore it as a badge of honor. Now, it was paying off, and his troopers went about making those orders happen.

Immediately, his squad broke up into two three-man groups, firing down another of the aisles between weapon racks and forcing the droids to respond and cover more areas of approach, rather than going to one killzone and getting torn apart. Griever looked back at those that had stayed with him and gave one more hand sign.

Move.

They did, the two troopers following their leader out into the next aisle, weapons blasting all the way as they fought through the now-divided droid security forces. The Lieutenant, seeing the fire slack off completely, followed Griever's example.

He looked to those left with him. "Three of us stay here, cover the door. Two of you, with me. We've gotta back up the Commander."

Without waiting, he went around the corner and into the armory, his eyes immediately locking on to Griever's back. The Clone was quick, moving from cover to cover and making accurate shots that never seemed to miss, always dodging out of the way of incoming fire at just the right moment. Then he was gone, hidden from view as the Lieutenant chose another avenue of approach to divide the droids one more time. His two troopers were on him, one moving across the aisle to fire on anything that they'd have a better angle on. Another killbox had been formed, and the rebels immediately started exploiting it as a half a dozen B1s marched into view, already firing their weapons.

Already, the armory had been filled with enough blaster fire that all but Griever had started to smell the burnt ozone in the room. One of the troopers from the Lieutenant's squad took a hit, and he went down hard. Another stopped their assault to check on the downed trooper, but all it took was a glance to see that the bolt that hit the man had struck true: His throat had been burned through, and as the trooper lay on his back, his eyes were already glassy and devoid of life. They kept moving without him.

Slowly, they cleared the armory, burning through almost half of their combat load. Griever continued moving to the front, decades of experience and training leaving him on autopilot almost. His twin pistols barked until they ran out of charge, dumping the batteries and slotting replacements in as if it required no thought at all, and kept going without fail.

Around the central computers in the armory, those that controlled automated logistics and inventory, and directly controlled the security droids, the Alliance troopers had closed in enough that any remaining droids were on the opposite side of the control hub, and Griever gave orders with quick hand signs to those that could see. Some registered them with no trouble, others faltered for a moment, and he roared at them to get them moving before he darted out of cover and into position on one side of the control hub.

Now, he was isolated on his new island of cover, his allies still tucked into the racks they had been fighting through. They kept their fire up, red blaster bolts crisscrossing from both sides of the armory. Griever holstered one of his pistols, pulling his handheld out and slotting it into a dataport on the side as he started the information dump.

Immediately, codes started scrolling across the handheld's screen at high speed, the displays on the hub powering on and mirroring the handheld. Thirty seconds went by as the handheld did its work, breaking encryptions and searching for specific information. When it chirped, its task completed, Griever snagged it out of the terminal and looked back to his allies.

"Prepare to disengage!" He shouted, his gruff voice standing out among the high pitched whine of blaster fire. He waited until he saw the line of troopers slacken their fire and back up towards their entrance. Poking his head around the hub, it nearly got taken off by a stray bolt from the droid side, and he cursed as he ducked his head back in and put his blaster around the corner and busted a dozen shots off. He rose to his feet even while his fire intensified with his second blaster coming out, and backed up towards the friendly lines.

They fell back quickly when he rejoined them, tossing a pair of droid poppers into the racks that still held what droids were left. When they went off, he saw the flashes in the back of the armory and the droid fire slacken slightly, but it was enough to get them out of the armory. Griever was the last fighter out, backing out of the armory with his blasters still firing, and he slammed the door controls with an armored fist, closing them and sealing the droids inside before he blasted the control panel. It hissed and crackled before falling silent.

Just as quickly as the fight had started, it had come to an end, and more than one of the Rebel troopers took a deep breath and blew it out to control their nerves. Griever's helmeted head passed through their ranks, seeing who had gone down. He was missing one of his own.

Then he saw the body, laying just to the right of the door. Kneeling down next to them, he frowned behind his visor. It was Mann, a trooper that had signed up with the Rebellion when the first Death Star had been destroyed. Mann was an older human, born on Coruscant and tired of the Empire, he had told Griever once. He had been another old timer that had seen the worst of the Clone Wars and disappeared when the Empire took over. He'd spent the last twenty years trying to keep his head down, keep his family safe, and simply live his life.

Looking over him, Griever sighed and closed Mann's eyes before taking Mann's arm and leg and swinging the body up onto his shoulders. When he had settled the fallen trooper, he nodded to the Lieutenant. "Get us out of here, Dale. Security breach like that will have droids all over the facility powering up, and I don't wanna be here when they come looking for us."

The Lieutenant, Dale, had a grim line for a mouth, and he nodded before raising his hand and making a circling motion. "You heard the Commander. Let's get moving."

All those that remained had taken a moment of silence to remember Mann as they circled around Griever and the fallen rebel, and when Griever moved, they moved as if they were bodyguards, protecting the Clone and their brother.

A maze of corridors spread out through the base, each one looking almost exactly the same, save for dropped chemlights in the corridors they had come from. It wasn't the most high tech solution, but it worked. Not like anybody was going to remove them now. They encountered several more droid patrols, mostly B1s and a few B2s, but it was surprisingly light resistance compared to what Griever had expected, and it left him uneasy.

Two corridors from the exit, he realized why. A platoon of B1s and a squad of B2s blocked the exit, and Griever swore loudly as his protection detail broke up and slammed into cover on either side of the entrance to the next corridor. Blaster fire rained in almost before they could respond, and Griever slowly lowered Mann's body to the ground, leaning it against the wall, before he took up position on the corner.

Across from him, Dale was grimacing, his A280 held by the pistol grip and a droid popper in hand. "You got any ideas, Commander?" He asked.

Griever nodded, hundreds of combat patterns running through his mind as he risked a glance around the corner at the droids laid out in front of him. It wasn't a terrible encounter, but it would take time even in the best case, and they were running out of it if there were this many droids in their path. More wouldn't be far behind. He could already hear the stomping from the corridor they'd just come from over the din of blaster fire.

Pulling out his own droid popper, he held it up and shook it twice without looking back, and his squad got the sign, two more droid poppers came up as their holders stacked up on the Clone, and when he pumped his fist, all four of the poppers went around the corner and into the droid line. They had only just detonated, wiping several of the droids in the process, when he gave the order.

"FOR THE REBELLION!" He cried, emerging from the corner with both blasters up and firing as if they were on automatic. Every shot landed where he had aimed, and blue blaster bolts were joined by red as the rest of the strike team emerged from cover en masse and poured as much fire into the corridor as they could.

"For the Rebellion!" they all cried, their weapons blazing and their minds in overdrive. His cry had inspired them, and they started demolishing the droid force that had attempted to cut them off. Most of the B1s had fallen to the poppers, but the B2s had survived, and now they were in the front line, wrist blasters firing heavy bolts that would cut through an unarmored person with ease.

Griever, targeting another Super, had only an instant to react as he saw the B2 in his sights recock its arm. It had just loaded its wrist rocket and was taking aim. There was nothing more he could do besides pour fire into the B2 and hope that he stopped it.

Despite his best efforts, he failed.

A rocket streaked from the B2 as it took a final hit and went down, the rocket going wide and slamming into the corridor wall just ahead of Griever. The explosion sent him sprawling back down the corridor to the corner, and their assault nearly stopped.

"Keep firing! Keep fucking firing!" Dale's call was filled with fire, and he kept them moving forward, even as Griever struggled to untangle himself from his own limbs, his head ringing and the feeling of a concussion making his old body ache badly. He groaned, shaking his head and slowly rising to his feet on his own power before he felt someone helping him up.

Looking up at them, he saw Gea, the young woman struggling, firing wildly into the midst of the droids. Fear was in her eyes and in every motion she made. He could see it, even now. She was terrified, and with Mann having been killed, what was stopping her from biting the bullet all the same? Despite this fear, she was immobile and picking him up, keeping him in the fight, even though it made her a static target. She could barely even pick him up.

He forced himself up, the small woman looking to him with relief, before it was replaced by shock as he forced her behind him with his arm. Only one of his DC-17s remained, the other halfway up the corridor where he'd been blasted back. He glanced back to her for a moment, before he nodded towards the rest. "Go," he ordered. "Get into the back of the assault. Keep moving. I'll get Mann."

Ahead, Dale was still leading the charge, the droid force falling quicker and quicker as their numbers dwindled and the incoming fire slacked off. Only a few B1s and B2s had been left, and hopefully they would be the last group between the rebels and an exit onto the surface. Gea scrambled forward, slotting into line behind one of Dale's troopers, while Griever turned back and ran to the corner they had come from, shaking his head once more. He was going to grab Mann and get moving towards the exit.

Before he'd even turned the corner, he heard a clanking sound and his blood turned to ice in his veins. Even before he rounded the corner, he knew what was waiting for him, and the sound of shields popping into life made him scream every curse he knew into his mind.

Four Droidekas had come to a stop, chittering in their droid language. Mann was close enough to the corner that he could grab the man's body, but it was risky. He had no other option but to do the risky thing, and he rounded the corner and grabbed Mann's arm, heaving and pulling the body as hard as he could, feeling a shooting pain travel up his arm and into his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he fought through the pain, and the rapid-fire from the Droidekas nearly hit him on several occasions. Several did hit flesh, pounding into Mann's body as Griever got him back around the corner and onto his shoulders.

Griever didn't wait around as he settled Mann and turned to run, taking off at a full sprint back down the center of the corridor, seeing the rear troopers look back at the sound of heavy gunfire from where they'd come.

"GO! GO! GO!" Griever yelled, blitzing past the rear troopers with his DC-17 back in hand and firing at what was left. His shots were inaccurate, but still hit half the time. The remainders of the droid patrol were finished off, and the rest of the squad only had time to look back at the Droideka's that had deployed while they'd been distracted, and more heavy fire from each Droideka's twin blasters came in, the unique noise of Droideka blasters searing into each trooper's mind that staying around was not an option.

Their orderly charge was gone, replaced by a frantic run that carried them away from battle rather than towards it. Dale was overtaken by Griever quickly, the big Clone breathing heavily in his helmet as he hustled past into the next corridor just in case something else was waiting on them. His armor could take hits, but the other troopers wore only light gear. This had been a recon mission, not an assault.

The last trooper got around the corner, saved from the Droidekas, and they hurried down the next corridor at a full sprint, weapons held in two hands and swinging wildly without any thought of trying to aim and actually fight back. Another corridor opened to the right, and Griever spotted the chemlight, shifting as he ran without losing much speed. A few of the troopers nearly overshot, one forcing himself into the wall simply to keep him from having to turn back and stick out in the open for longer than was necessary.

At the end of the corridor, Griever saw natural light filtering in from outside. It had been dark when they'd entered. Glancing back over his shoulder, Griever could see more droids coming from where they'd just been, likely having come from a secondary corridor not past where they'd turned into this one. He cursed again and slowed to a stop, his back to the exit, and began firing his blaster into the line of droids that seemed to grow more and more with each second.

Just how many clankers had been activated? He asked himself. He didn't get an answer.

The rest of the rebels sprinted past, getting to the exit and turning back, crouching and firing around each other to try and keep as much fire on the droids as possible to cover the Commander. When the rest had gotten out, Griever finally turned and ran to the exit, and Dale smashed the control panel with the butt of his A280, the doors slamming shut and sealing the droids in.

With the threat of death finally sealed away, each of the troopers let out explosive sighs, all of them sliding up to the wall and dropping to the ground. They were breathing heavily, chests rising and falling, and sweat had soaked through their fatigues in the sprint from the armory to the exit. Dale, face covered in sweat and doubled over with his hands on his knees, looked at Griever with his mouth hanging open, pulling in as much air as he could.

Griever had lowered Mann to the ground again, and the only sign that the Clone was even winded was the noticeable rise and fall of his heavy shoulder pauldrons. After a moment, Griever took his helmet off and set it in Mann's lap, a frown on his face. When he looked up from the downed trooper and noticed Dale staring, he raised an eyebrow. "You good, Trooper?" He asked, his accent unfiltered now and more noticeable. Concord Dawn wasn't one you saw often outside of the Outer Rim.

Dale nodded, taking in Griever's appearance. He rarely took his helmet off, and with his head and face exposed now, he was getting some stares. His head was shaved bald, and his skin was covered with marks and scars, the most noticeable crossing over his lips, up and almost onto his nose, before terminating above his left eyebrow. His left eye had escaped permanent damage, but the scar had been bad enough that it was pale and thick. Something big had made it.

Dark eyes looked back at Dale after a moment, the Clone rising from his kneel at Mann's feet. "Well," he started, his eyes roving over the rest of the squad that had put all eyes on him. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't think I wanna go back in there," he said, a faint smile on his lips. The movement made the scar that crossed his face twist and warp slightly.

Dale only shook his head at that, pulling his handheld from his belt. "Me neither, Commander." Despite the situation and what had just happened, those still alive couldn't help but laugh shakily at the thought of going back in. Dale's handheld lit up as he pressed a handful of controls, and a few moments later, he looked back to Griever. "Ride's called, sir. Be out of here in the next hour, hopefully."

"Understood." The Clone pointed to two troopers, one from his squad and one from Dale's. "You two, first watch. Weapons up. Rest of you, eat something, drink something, take a break. Twenty minutes and we rotate." A glance at the rest, before he nodded. "Execute."

Picking his helmet back up from Mann's lap, he put it back on his head, and his face disappeared as the Phase I visor covered it. His DC-17 slid out of its holster again and he stood to join them, nodding at both as the rest of their force took the time to catch their breath and try to slow their heart rates.

As Griever readied himself for anything that might come out of the dense forests past the perimeter fence, he let his thoughts drift to Mann. Mann had been the only other member of his squad that had seen the Clone Wars, and the loss of another old hand put another pang of hurt in the Clone's heart. He'd lost many brothers, and with the rebellion, he continued to lose brothers and sisters not of his blood, but of war and necessity. Every loss chipped away at him more and more, and with a glance back at his squad, he thought of Gea.

She was sitting against the wall, next to Mann, quietly trying to eat one of the ration bars she'd stuffed in her pockets. He could see her shoulders shaking, and he knew she was struggling, coming off of the adrenaline that had flooded her system during the fights. He shifted his helmet to look at Nora. She met his gaze, and he jerked his head slightly towards Gea. Nora caught the sign and nodded, standing up and moving to sit next to Gea, the two starting to talk through what had just happened.

With an hour ahead of them, Griever looked to the sky and frowned. One day, he would put down his guns for good. He wasn't sure when, or if he would ever see it, but he knew there was no other option left for him than to finish this war that had been brewing since the day he'd defied Order 66, since the day he'd had to fight his way through his battalion, since the day he'd seen General Gana get cut down by blue blaster bolts rather than red.

Shaking his head, he sighed, and counted out the minutes as he waited for the U-Wing that would pick them up. With the fight over, Griever was left alone with his thoughts once more.