Jargon hoped that it wasn't as bad as he feared or even that the reports were exaggerated. Naturally, he was wrong.
He and his troopers silently approached the door to the central communications room, listening closely for anything to give the enemy away. Nothing. He motioned four of his troopers on the opposite side of the doorway before sidling up beside the control panel. He readied his carbine, glancing back at the other troopers, all armed with carbines except for Flanders, who clutched his rifle nervously.
Commander Jargon counted down from five with his fingers in the air for his troopers to see. When no fingers remained upright, he reached for the panel. With a deep breath, he hit the open button, and door slid away. Inside was the large, dark room, the centre of which was occupied by a large communications array. Stairs on either side of the door led onto a platform that encircled the room ten feet off the ground. Stacked against the walls were large computers and cabinets. The bodies of five armoured clone troopers along with six officers lay scattered about the floor. The officers who were face up had a perpetual look of terror frozen on, dead glassy eyes staring in horror at nothing. Blood was spattered on the floor and weapons lay about.
"Alright, move in. Whatever's in here is kinetic," Jargon ordered, moving forward cautiously. He tried the lights beside the door, but they didn't work. "Moonbeams up," he ordered, and all of the troopers activated the lights on their guns. Pointing his carbine up proved that the lights were shot, large holes still smoking. He noticed a vent door on the roof hanging open. He looked back at his soldiers who scanned their surroundings with their lights. "I want four up top, two down here. I'm going to get this place running again. Keep your eyes peeled, and shout if you catch something. If attacked, fall back towards the door."
He watched as Skippy and Duro went up the left side stairs, while two others went up the right. Flanders and another soldier remained near Jargon as he crossed to the computer. It looked intact, so he tried to power it up. The screen flashed an instant but was out the next. Crouching and popping open a low panel, he shone his light inside, revealing the wires had been slashed. He was about to start working on it when a trooper above screamed. He stood hurriedly, hitting his helmeted head on the top of the little opening on his way up. A body crashed to the floor, a dog sized robot atop it, blades digging into the man's throat. It had a round, bulbous central mass with eight spider-like legs, each with a blade attached. Four red eyes were situated on each side, giving it a three-sixty-degree view. Lasers began flying around the walkway up top as troopers began shouting.
"Assassins!" Jargon bellowed, shooting the bloody mechanized monstrosity in the eye, glass shattering and the light going out. It made a hissing sound before leaping at him. Jargon barely rolled out of the way in time, coming to his feet to see it chop Flanders' left foot clean off with an arm blade.
Flanders screamed in pain, falling to the ground with a thud. The other trooper pegged the thing with a bolt just to be returned an ejected blade, soaring at a deadly speed and piercing his chest armour with a sickening crack. The blade stuck to the wall behind the poor guy as he slumped to the floor.
Jargon shot the mechanical menace twice, blasting out another eye. It scurried around the console and out of sight, and the commander backed up to defend Flanders.
Jargon's eyes were drawn to the right as another droid hit the floor with a metal CRASH! He barely recognised the smoking blaster marks before something flew out of the dark at him. He dodged to the right, so the blade missed his heart, but it sliced his shoulder armour and the flesh beneath it, leaving a sharp, burning pain. He was thrown onto his back, carbine fleeing from his grasp. He looked up to see the metal spider charging him, blades upraised to strike.
In a moment, a trooper landed on it from above, foot driving its head into the floor. He hopped off, lighting it up with his carbine. He shot it with one too many bolts as it exploded into chunks of flaming metal that rained down, thankfully not hitting Jargon or Flanders.
Jargon struggled to his feet. "Thanks trooper. What's your name?"
"Mayday," the shiny replied, panning his carbine around. "I'm sure that's all. The two up top took out the third one." Mayday examined the commander's shoulder, then the men on the floor. "Sir, we need medics, now." Skippy and Duro ran down, carbines up and ready. When they saw the scene, they instantly went to tending to Flanders, who writhed and screamed in agony, blood now making a tiny puddle beneath his leg.
"I'm gonna patch you," Duro said through gritted teeth. "This'll hurt."
Jargon crouched beside the console, conscious of the cries of pain behind him, reaching into the opening he had selected before the attack. Crossing wires and doing some dangerous patch working, he brought primary array back to life, humming with energy. Immediately, the room filled with radio chatter, trooper's trying to get a hold of command. Ignoring his bleeding shoulder, Jargon stood and pressed a button.
"This is Commander Jargon. A medical is needed in the Primary Communications Room for our wounded. We engaged assassin droids here and eliminated them. Anyone have a visual on intruders?"
"This is CT 12-2291. The Vault is secured, but the guards are all dead. Jango Fett's DNA has been stolen."
"CT 66/1099, reporting two casualties in the south hall and one critically wounded. Currently stable, can we get a medical?"
"This is CT 5662. We are engaged in combat with three hostiles in the... Hotshot duck! Return fire!" Blaster fire interrupted the communication, both Republic carbines and louder, more generic blaster sounds. "Room 12, Area 51. We have a capsule of stolen DNA that we retrieved. Requesting- Down! Change cover! Change cover!... Kriff! Hurry and help!"
"This is Central. We have a medical en route to your position Commander."
A familiar female voice came over the system, and relief washed over Jargon. "Commander, this is Shaak Ti: are you alright?"
"General Ti, we're fine. We need men in Training Room 12. The cloning template is at risk."
"I'll lead a squad to secure it. I have a medical team already near your position. Sit tight."
"Tango Mike, General. Commander Jargon, out."
"Keep moving!" Chase yelled, shoving Hotshot behind a row of lockers to impede the shots of the two bounty hunters. The squid-faced Quarren was using his rifle to try and pick them off from behind a refresher mounted in the wall. The green, muscular Kyuzo named Vandar kept trying to get close and box them in as they fled in the direction of CCP and Room 12's elevator. Wedge utilised his rotary cannon to fend off the bounty hunter, firing bursts of blue lasers. Chuck was somewhere inside, though he had virtually disappeared. On the other end of the locker room, they could hear Raid banging on the locked door from outside. They wouldn't be able to open it quickly, though, leaving the four troopers in a deadly game with the enemy.
"I have an idea," Chase said, popping a shot at Vandar with a pistol before ducking behind a locker row. "You and Wedge move through CCP into the elevator. I'll hold him off so you can hold out inside Room 12."
"Me and muscle head?" Hotshot snorted, firing his carbine randomly around the corner without looking. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine. That DNA you have is important. I'm not sure who's it is, but I have a guess."
Hotshot shook his head. "Fine. But if you get us all killed, I'll be telling you 'I told you so.'"
Across the room, Chuck hopped out from behind a row of stalls, flanking the Quarren. The bounty hunter turned around to receive a blue bolt to the face, killing him instantly. The death of his comrade distracted Vandar momentarily, and Chase took his chance, dragging Hotshot out of cover and motioning Wedge to follow.
Vandar tried to shoot at them but had to dodge crossfire from Chuck who was going the unlimited clip approach with his rifle.
Chase could easily outrun most people. He had some sort of speed defect having to do with his leg muscles, but staying slow enough that he wasn't actually dragging Hotshot on the floor was a challenge. "Hurry!" he admonished as they entered the lobby. Taking up positions behind a bench, he motioned the other two to continue.
A team of fourteen troopers, led by the Togruta Jedi Master Shaak Ti, barreled down the hallway towards Room 12. They skidded to a halt when they came across several clones lying on the floor, groaning. Some sat, leaning on the wall, while others knelt, heads in their hands. A sizeable scorch mark decorated the floor beneath them, evidence of an explosive being used. A dragon folk man crouched in the middle, armour rent and torn, black blood oozing from numerous wounds. He clenched his vibro-axe in one hand, the other arm hanging limp, and stared down at body of a Zabrak who lay bisected at the waist, most of the horns of his head broken off and on the ground.
"Troopers, help the wounded," Shaak Ti ordered. Four clones with medical packs separated amongst the people in the hall, producing bandaging and salves. Shaak and the rest of her unit moved into the hall and found an ARC Trooper and two clones, all with brown markings, attempting to open a locked door.
"General, our boys are stuck inside with the intruders," Raid reported.
"Stand back," she warned them, igniting her blue bladed lightsaber. The clones backed away as she began cutting into the door. She moved slowly, forcing her blade through the metal in a large, circular fashion, leaving a path of red-hot melted material in its wake. In a few seconds, she had cut all the way around and kicked the door in, making the sliced section land with a clang. She and the troopers entered, instantly seeing a dead Quarren lying by a refresher, rifle still in its cold grip. Carbon scoring marked the lockers, walls, and floors, proof of the firefight that had taken place.
Troopers fanned out across the room, checking every corner and culvert, while ARC Trooper Raid and his companions charged ahead out of the locker room and into the lobby of Room 12. Shaak Ti followed them quickly, hearing the sounds of battle up ahead. In the lobby a clone lay on the floor, pistols in his grip and helmet off, revealing his eyes were closed tight. Another knelt over him, bandaging a wound on the unconscious trooper's exposed shoulder.
Shuriken knelt beside them. "Chuck, where's Hotshot and Wedge?"
"In the training room," he replied without looking up. "The Kyuzo locked the elevator at the top somehow, so I was stuck down here." Raid had run over to the elevator room, beginning to mash buttons on its control panel.
"How's Chase doing?" Joystick asked, setting his carbine on the floor.
"Out like a light, but stable," Chuck reported. "A nice mark on his shoulder, but nothing a day in the bacta-tank won't heal."
"General," Raid beckoned, and Shaak Ti walked over towards the clone. His helmet was off, and she saw the look of desperation in his eyes. Before that, she sensed his anxiety and worry for his soldiers. He was responsible for their well-being, and he felt like he was failing miserably. "Can you help get that elevator down?"
"Yes, of course. Don't worry, your friends will be fine," she soothed, using a bit of energy from the Force to calm his fears. She then proceeded to hold up her free hand, extending her senses through the Force, feeling out the locking mechanism that held the elevator in place. It was disconnected from the panel, which explained why the ARC Trooper was unable to open it. Ti willed the lock to disengage, and she felt it move. Slowly, the platform descended to the bottom, a metal clicking sounding.
Five of Shaak Ti's soldiers, along with Shuriken and Joystick, jogged up, weapons bared.
"Prepare yourselves," she warned them. As the elevator settled, the floor quaked with a sudden and violent vibration. The sound of a large explosive echoed, making everyone freeze. And then the screaming began.
For his whole memorable life, which was anytime that he wasn't spaced out in boredom, Hotshot had known he would see combat someday. Someday. It was that vague, far-off promise that didn't seem real until you were staring it in the ugly, green, mean face.
He and Wedge ascended on the elevator, listening to the sounds of blaster fire down below. Hotshot held up the capsule of DNA, looking it over. Words printed in Aurebesh crawled up the side, labelling it with a long, boring combination of letters and numbers. What caught his roving eye, though, was a name.
Jango Fett.
Hotshot's heart dropped into his stomach as he realised that he held in his gloved hand the clone template for which he and all of his brothers were created after. Trembling slightly, he put it in a hard case attached to his utility belt. No wonder why the intruders wanted it. Without the contents of this capsule, no more clones would be made. Production would stop, and the Republic would run out of their soldiers, potentially propelling the Separatist Alliance to victory as the GAR tried to recover from the blow. Something that small and insignificant looking was actually the key to the Galactic Republic's future success versus the unending stream of Federation Battle Droids.
He hardly noticed when the elevator reached the top. Only when Wedge ran into the room was Hotshot jerked from within his thoughts. He ran after him, stumbling on the slight downward grade.
"There's no way out of here," Wedge panted as they stopped in the middle of the room, propping his Z-6 on his shoulder. Hotshot thought it should get tiresome lugging around such a clumsy weapon and a rocket launcher, but then again, he was thinking about Wedge: Captain Uncomfortable.
"Maybe we can scale the wall back there into the viewing booth?" As the words left Hotshot's mouth, the elevator jolted before descending, leaving no easy starting point beneath the balcony.
"You were saying?" Wedge asked sarcastically. He looked at his gun. "We could stand and fight, but I'm nearly at half ammo. With how that guy was moving around down there, I think I'd run out without killing him."
Hotshot snorted, looking around again, thinking about his surroundings, noticing the left-flank turret was still in place. "Well, you're the one who had the brilliant idea to bring a rocket launcher instead of a sidearm." He began jogging towards the embankment, eyeing the large stun cannon.
"I like big explosives, not puny carbines. What's wrong with that?"
"It certifies you as Grade 'A' Nimrod, that's what," Hotshot snarked, inspecting the gun emplacement.
"It does not!" Wedge hollered furiously. "How about we talk about your-"
"Hey, keep it down, would you? I'm trying to figure out a plan to survive, if you care at all."
Wedge grunted like a primitive, grumbling a profanity. "What's your oh-so-great plan, then?"
"Glad you think it's great, even before I say it! Simply use this turret which happens to be activatable like... this." It hummed to life as he clicked the power. "While there's no kill setting, it'll do to add more suppression fire to the field."
"Hrrmph, fine. That is a good thought," Wedge admitted. He glanced at the entrance. "Looks like he's coming." Sure enough, the elevator was rising the shaft once more.
"Quick, hide behind something. Only fire on my command," Hotshot ordered, ducking out of sight behind the turret.
"You don't command anything you dingus," Wedge groused, dashing for some cover in the back-centre of the room, on a floor area that was lower than the turret's level. He hopped down and hid as the elevator reached the top. Vandar knelt there, blaster ready. Sweeping the room with his cold gaze, he stepped confidently in, knowing that by shooting the controls below on the way up, no one would be able to follow him.
"I know you are here," he stated, walking slowly around the right, eyes searching for hiding clones. "Zere's no escape. If you come out now, I will ensure a quick, painless death."
As tempting as the offer was, neither clone spoke up or stood. Hotshot was sweating under his armour in nervousness, trying to keep his breathing quiet. He listened to the man pacing around, talking in his odd accent.
"You cannot hide. I will find you, kill you, and take ze prize, and your friends below can do nothing about it. I will escape and bring the template to my employer."
'Sheesh, this guy likes to monologue,' Hotshot thought, rolling his eyes. He heard the footsteps approaching, and steeled himself for what he would do.
"How pointless your lives are as clones. You are born, you fight, and die. Zat is your purpose, and other zen zat, you are pointless. Come on, I will help you escape your wretched existence quicker if-"
"SHUT UP!" Wedge shouted, and the sound of his Z-6 filled the air, rattling off. 'Nice job waiting, Wedge,' Hotshot thought. The bounty hunter's gun sounded twice, but Hotshot heard him running in his direction.
Standing suddenly, Hotshot grabbed the turret controls and panned it to face the Kyuzo. The green man barely rolled away from the yellow stun lances that fired from the dual barrels. Following the hunter with his aim, Hotshot clenched his teeth as he tried to hit the moving target that dogged behind cover and vaulted walls.
A red laser flew forth, striking the turret and frying it instantly.
"Kriff, that's no fun!" Hotshot yelled, falling back while firing his carbine at Vandar who returned it in equal amounts. The clone ran towards Wedge, hopeful that together they'd be able to hold the guy back long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
As he neared his machine-gunning friend, something small and round landed in between them. Hotshot barely skidded to a stop when the concussion grenade blew, sending both him and Wedge flying from the forceful shockwave. Hotshot, disoriented, lost his carbine mid-flight before landing on his back, helmet skittering away and off his head. Wedge's Z-6 landed nearby, but the clone that was attached to it was nowhere to be seen.
Dazed, in pain, and head swimming, Hotshot lay helplessly as the bounty hunter loomed over him, yellow eyes filled with murderous intent.
Vandar raised his gun, pointing it at Hotshot's head. "I will admit, your staunch defiance has impressed me, but it is all over. I have you and the DNA at my mercy."
Hotshot's blood ran cold at the masked killer, hoping that General Ti was correct about there being an afterlife, otherwise these were his last moments of existence. Then again, would heaven let him in? He wasn't exactly the saintliest of people: not evil, but a reprobate that enjoyed pranking people and arguing one too many times, especially with Wedge. 'Poor Wedge. He's probably unconscious right now. If only I was less of a jerk, even though he's a big-headed glory hog. Maybe I'll be able to repent when-' Out of the corner of his eye, Hotshot saw something purple flash by, interrupting his thoughts.
Vandar cocked his gun. "Any last words, clone trooper?"
Hotshot, despite his pains from landing hard, grinned broadly. "Yeah, did I mention how stupid you are? I mean, breaking into Kamino and trapping yourself inside this room? You'll be overwhelmed by clones at any moment."
"Fool. I can go up through zat balcony with my ascension cables," he gloated. "Maybe if you were a little wise, you would have thought to bring zem yourself."
"If you were smarter, you would look behind you."
At that moment, Wedge jumped out of cover all the way across the room and behind Vandar, aiming his RPS-6. As the alien turned, a burst of smoke spit from the end of the weapon and a zooming projectile sped their way. Concomitantly, Hotshot rolled away several feet and covered his head.
BOOM!
Hotshot felt the heat from the blast and the ground tremble. He glanced up as the bounty hunter landed in a heap on the floor, cloak flaming. Hotshot, with the realisation that Wedge had only shot it close enough to throw the guy in the air, scrambled across the floor to the Z-6 which beckoned him near the fresh crater in the ground. With a ferocious battle cry, Hotshot hefted the weighty weapon and pointed it at the helpless Kyuzo, pulling the trigger.
Hotshot continued screaming, barrels on the rotary cannon spinning at full speed, leaving the alien riddled with smoking holes. Hotshot didn't care, not even hearing Wedge calling his name and the blood roared in his ears. The fear, desperation, anger, and sheer excitement of the battle poured out through the blaster and into the bounty hunter's exanimate body. After what seemed like days, the ammo ran out, leaving the weapon still rotating but making clicking sounds instead of shooting lasers.
"H-Hotshot?" A nervous voice tentatively asked, and the clone blinked. Dropping the machine gun on the floor with a clatter, he stepped back, eyes fixated in their opponent, silently daring him to move. Still nothing happened. "Hotshot," the voice came again. He turned and saw Wedge, helmet gone and eyes wide. His armour was dented, showing more of his dyed purple under suit, and Hotshot began giggling.
"The... rocket..." he began laughing hysterically, sitting down hard. "You... it... worked?!"
Wedge inched closer hesitantly. "Are you... alright?" He asked the question like he thought his fellow clone had gone mad.
Hotshot wiped a tear away, laugh fading into a chuckle, then nothing. "Yeah, I'm just relieved. Nice shot."
Wedge sat down hard, breathing out a heavy sigh. "I'm glad I didn't fry you. You're a little singed." A glance down revealed that he was right. Hotshot's armour had burn marks, and he realised his hands hurt. With the adrenaline production slowing, he felt his body hurting like he'd been trampled by a Rancor. "Good job with my gun," Wedge said honestly.
"I kinda went crazy there," he admitted with a chuckle, averting his eyes from the torn-up corpse.
"You did good," Wedge affirmed, slapping his back. Hotshot let out an involuntary hiss, rubbing his shoulder.
"Yeah... don't do that," he told his brother, looking towards the elevator as it came up, occupied by Shaak Ti the Togruta Jedi with her blade ignited, Raid, Shuriken, Joystick, and several other clones. The group rushed over, most with their weapons aimed at Vandar. General Ti waved them down when she saw that he was dead, a look of mortified disgust decorating her red face.
"Boys, you alright?" Raid asked, looking them over.
"Yeah, we're good," Hotshot informed him with a smile. "Sore, but good... oh, and the chump is dead."
"That goes without saying," Shuriken said with a hint of admiration in his voice. "You two tore him up."
"Let's get you two patched up," Raid said, hoisting Wedge up and supporting him. Shuriken did the same with Hotshot, who groaned at the contact.
Shaak Ti approached them, white marking on her face knitting together in sympathy. "I am glad you survived. You have truly accomplished a great feat."
"Will this make it medal worthy?" Hotshot asked, producing the cylinder he had put his life on the line to protect. General Ti smiled kindly, accepting it.
"It does. You and your squad will be honoured greatly for your service."
Joystick laughed, walking along with them as they started for the elevator. "Looks like you're not shinies anymore! After you're recovered, we're getting you all painted up."
Wedge examined the red brown colour of Joystick's armour. "It looks like you rolled around in the mud, if I'm being honest."
"Well, we can always make it match your undergarments!" The pilot laughed loudly at Wedge's angry expression.
Four days later, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker stood stiff and straight, checking the time on his arm. Beside him, his Padawan Ahsoka Tano and Captain Rex waited as well. Without glancing behind him, Anakin could feel the restlessness of the thirty plus Torrent Company troopers that stood in a tight formation. They all awaited the arrival of Commander Raid and his new unit inside the main hangar of the Resolute. Currently in the atmosphere of Kamino and hovering over Tipoca City, their scheduled pick-up of the ARC Trooper had passed a minute ago, and Anakin was beginning to suspect something was amiss. He sighed in relief when a gunship came hovering down inside. It landed on the deck, left door facing the awaiting Jedi and 501st clones. When it opened, Captain Rex called out the order:
"Company at attention!"
The collective stomp many right feet was heard as three ARC Troopers led a group of fourteen soldiers and an astromech out, all in the colour of Fang Company. They stopped ten feet away and saluted Anakin. Raid stepped forward after they let their arms down.
"General Skywalker, may I introduce Disaster Squad. Chase, Rocky, Tunnel, Evals, Hotshot, Wedge, Mike, Recoil, Chuck, Speedo, and Nerd." As he spoke, a trooper stepped forward in response to his name being called. Their colour patterns all were identical red brown stripes and larger areas.
"Greetings... Disaster Squad," Anakin said, curious at the name. "I am Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. This is my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano." The togruta waved somewhat shyly from behind her Master. "And Captain Rex of the 501st Legion. We welcome you aboard the Resolute and are honoured that you can serve alongside us."
"Thank you, sir!" They called out together, saluting once more.
Anakin chuckled. "At ease, gentlemen. I never was fond of formalities, so if my Captain agrees, I'll allow you to meet the troops." He waved to the men and all at once they came forward while the newcomers walked towards them. Helmets were off in a moment as the clone commenced welcoming each other and talking excitedly.
"Master, may I..." Ahsoka looked at Anakin pleadingly, and he nodded. With a smile, she ran off to meet the clone.
"Heh, little ones," Skywalker snorted, earning a chuckle from Rex, who had removed his helmet. Raid made his way towards them, skirting around the crowd of clones. "Commander Raid, so good to see you."
"Likewise General," he responded as they gripped arms. Rex exchanged a similar greeting with him.
"So, I take it everything went well?" Anakin asked, knowing full well that there'd been some sort of incident on Kamino a few days before.
Raid grinned. "Mostly. It was pretty easy to pick our squad, especially since they handled themselves so well against the bounty hunters."
"Bounty hunters?" Rex asked, eyebrows raised questioningly.
Raid nodded grimly. "They infiltrated Tipoca and tried to make off with the cloning template. Luckily my boys were able to take them down, but not without some serious fighting."
Anakin rubbed his hand over his face. "Let me guess, hired by the Separatists?"
"Most likely."
"They're getting bold," Rex said, frowning. "And to have gotten the DNA... either they were really skilled, or security needs to be vamped up."
"Hey, Skywalker!" Joystick called, strutting over from the dispersing crowd. Clones spread out, going this way or that, showing the troops of Disaster Squad around. "Where'd the Obex get off to? Hiding it?"
Rex grinned. "Nah, it got blown up near Rishi." Anakin grimaced at the reminder that his favourite Nu shuttle had been permanently destroyed on that dark and desolate moon.
"Really?" Joystick asked, nodding appreciatively. "Wow, who were the terrible pilots who flew it into that mess?"
"That would be me and Commander Cody," Rex replied coolly.
Joystick whistled. "Sounds like someone needs to go back to flight school!"
"I had barely repaired it after your little excursion on Ryloth," Anakin butted in pointedly.
Joystick waved a dismissal hand through the air. "Now, stop bringing up old stuff. Anyway, it's not like I completely and utterly destroyed it, unlike some other high-ranking officers I know."
"Some high-ranking officers you know can put you on horrible, menial chore details," Rex threatened playfully.
"Not this time you can't," Joystick retorted, wrapping an arm around Raid. "This is my boss now."
"And I agree that you might need some punishment to help you learn your place," Raid said dryly.
"I forgot how it was having the likes of you on this ship," Anakin said, shaking his head.
Joystick grinned evilly. "Don't worry, I brought more of me."
"What do you-?"
CRASH!
The four of them looked in startlement across the hangar where Speedo stood with Vaughn and Hardcase, having accidentally toppled over a stack of crates onto Wedge and a Y-Wing, shattering the cockpit shield. Hotshot stood nearby, laughing like a madman and pointing at the pinned trooper, who cursed and yelled furiously. Shock marched over, hands on his hips and scolding Wedge about his language.
"Yep, more of me," Joystick said cheerfully.
"Somebody broke that!" Hotshot called, pointing at the Y-Wing.
Anakin sighed, covering his eyes with a hand. "Great. What have I done?"
"It's not too late to drop them back on Kamino," Rex suggested in a hushed voice.
"Too late," Joystick said, walking off towards the chaos. "There's a 'no returns' policy on our group!"
"We're stuck with you then," Anakin sighed, watching Ahsoka racing the clone named Chase across the hangar. Chase, amazingly, was leading by a full two metres. Mike and Evals were describing the bounty hunter attack to Mixer, Redeye, and Coric, waving their arms around to show actions or emphasise important details. Fives and Echo were arm wrestling with Recoil and Chuck, while Nerd talked medical procedures with Kix. Near to them Shuriken and Leroy were sitting with Mate, talking sarcastically and pointing at the mess at the Y-Wing, and Tunnel walked with Rocky and Appo towards the barracks. Anakin smiled, glad that the troopers seemed at home. "Well, since we can't put you back, we might as well make the best of it. Welcome home, guys."