A mission! Nearing the end of their stay in the capital,
Disaster Squad is given an assignment to complete.
Will it be as simple as it seems,
Or will it prove more challenging than they would ever anticipate?
A few weeks earlier…
"Hurry up!" Evals called, running down the hall, dodging a Kaminoan and a medical droid. As he went, his loosely attached left shoulder plate fell off, clattering on the polished floor.
"One mike!" Mike replied, hurriedly scooping up the fallen armour piece as he ran after him. [1]
"Sorry Shina Te!" Tunnel apologised to the tall necked alien woman as he nearly crashed into her, following his brothers. The three clones rounded the corner, following the familiar route to the trainers' living quarters. All of them were dressed in full armour, minus their helmets.
The Kaminoan chuckled to herself, shaking her head. "Boys."
Evals, Tunnel, and Mike passed door after door, heads flicking from each one to the next. Finally, Evals skidded to a halt, the other two slamming into his back and sending all down in a heap.
"Sorry!" Tunnel said, trying to pick himself from atop them both, accidentally bonking his elbow into Evals' head. After a short confusion, they all stood before the door. Brushing himself off, Mike knocked, stepping back a little. Each of them waited anxiously, rocking on their heels or tapping their feet.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door whooshed open. Standing, arms folded and blocking the entrance, was a young woman that was about seventeen, wearing red Kamino fatigues. Her light brown hair was braided tightly, resting on her shoulder. Light freckles dotted her tan cheeks, and an unimpressed expression graced her face; steely grey eyes drilling through the clones' skulls.
"What do you di'kuts want?" She demanded, looking each man over coolly.
Evals grinned, reaching forward to hug her. "Di'kuts? Is that how you greet your brothers, Tori?" An instant before he made contact, the girl grabbed his arm, twisting it. As he stumbled, she jerked him into the door frame, pinning him against it. "Ack! Great to see you too!"
"Catori?" A female voice inquired from inside. "Is that the boys? Let them in!"
Suddenly, the girl chuckled good-naturedly, releasing Evals and punching his un-armoured shoulder. "Welcome back, bruv. Mum's been waiting." She gestured the clones in, turning on her heels and strutting in. Evals grimaced, rubbing his shoulder. Mike and Tunnel laughed, pushing him in.
Walking through the entryway, they made sure to wipe their shoes on the medium sized, course brown mat inscribed 'Scram' in rich calligraphy letters within wreathing flower designs. After cleaning their armoured boots, they proceeded to the living room. A glass-topped table occupied the centre on a red carpet. Atop the table was a vase of various flowers, a stack of magazines, and a Westar 35 blaster pistol, an exclusively Mandalorian weapon. Surrounding the table were three plush, red chairs and a matching love seat couch. A window provided a view of the rollicking Kaminoan ocean and the dark, grey clouds blanketing the sky.
"You boys make yourselves comfy!" A woman's accented voice came from the adjoining kitchen. Deliciously sweet smells wafted through the air along with fast-pace music on low volume incorporating electric guitars, drums, and singing in Mando'a.
Evals and Mike quickly claimed a chair for themselves, while Tunnel plopped on the couch. Smirking, Catori picked up a magazine titled Arms and Hammer and sat beside Tunnel, crossing her legs and opening the paper-back booklet. Images of different weapons catalogs were contained inside, though she only viewed it halfheartedly. After a few seconds, she looked over at the others. "So, you ready for the final portion of ARF training?" [2]
Mike sighed, shaking his head. "We're not going to be able to make it."
Catori furrowed her brow. "How come?"
Evals opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted when a tall, lithe, brunette woman entered, a tray in her hands with a steaming teapot and several cups. Evelynn Krijger smiled kindly at them, setting the tray on the table. She wore over her dark clothes a painted violet beskar chest plate and pauldrons hallmark of the Mandalorian people; a culture of traditional warriors and artists from the planet Mandalore. Her hair was knotted back in a bun and held in place by a scarlet ribbon. "Help yourselves to some Cassius tea."
"Thanks, ma'am," Evals said, pouring himself a cup while she went and sat in her own chair.
Tunnel leaned forward, pouring one for Catori and himself. "Been keeping Tori busy on the sim?"
"Oh yes," Evelynn replied cheerily, folding her hands on her lap. "Despite not being a clone of the Grand Army of the Republic, she will have all the qualifications of an ARF Trooper."
Catori snorted, sipping her tea. "I'll show that brain-headed trainer Bric that a girl can do this course."
"Kinda ironic, seeing as a woman teaches the course," Mike observed, gesturing towards the Mandalorian with his cup.
Evelynn smirked, rolling her eyes as she poured her own cup. "He is very opinionated, and he could stand to be wrong a few more times to deflate his arrogance. Don't slurp, love." Evals had indeed begun slurping his tea. His eyes widened and he nodded, slowing his pace at drinking the beverage.
"We'd all prove him wrong from his earlier judgements by passing the test together," Catori said hesitantly, glancing between the clones. Suddenly, the troopers all were looking intently at their tea cups. "Right?"
Evelynn sighed, setting her cup down. "Dear, the boys are being deployed tomorrow morning."
"Wh-what?" She looked around in shock. "You are?"
"Yeah," Evals confirmed slowly. "We've been assigned to the 303rd under ARC Commander Raid."
"We knew it might happen like this," the Mandalorian woman consoled her daughter, taking a sip of tea.
Catori shook her head, putting her cup down hard. "We were supposed to graduate and be part of a squad. Together!"
"We are technically the property of the GAR," Mike said with a smirk, placing down his own tea. "They deploy us however they wish."
"It's not fair!" She protested. "We were planning on it since day one!"
Tunnel put a tender hand on her shoulder. "And we can keep planning on it. In about two months you'll be done training, and we can request you join our unit as a volunteer."
Evals nodded enthusiastically, sipping his drink. "Then you can help us bust the clankers."
Evelynn tutted, placing her cup on the table. "Not like that you aren't. Have you learned nothing about wearing your armour?" She gestured him over. Hunching his shoulders and colouring in embarrassment, Evals crossed the room, retrieving his missing shoulder plate from Mike before sitting on the floor, cross legged, in front of the woman's chair, back towards her. The three other occupants snickered as she began adjusting his gear, tightening it and muttering to herself. "I believe your trainers have taught you better than this."
"Sorry ma'am." Evals' mortified expression made the others crack up even more.
"Don't laugh; I might do you two vagrants next," Evelynn informed his squad-mates.
When the laughter died down, Catori frowned a little. "I guess you came here to say goodbye, then?"
Mike began fishing through his pockets. "More like deliver a parcel." He produced a small black box that fit in the palm of his hand. Opening it revealed a small strand of crystalline blue and silver beads nestled inside the padding.
Catori gasped. "Denla beads? Where did you get those?"
Evals shrugged, earning a light slap from Evelynn as she attached his shoulder plate. "Nerd has a knack for finding… well, anything here. I'd recommend not telling the Kaminoans where they came from, Tori, in case they think they're missing some."
Mike handed her the beads, while Tunnel produced a strand himself and put it on the table for the Mandalorian woman who finished tightening Evals' gear. "A little parting gift until we see each other again."
Catori attached hers on her wrist as a bracelet, admiring them fondly. She looked up at the clones, wearing a sad smile. "They're beautiful. I think I just might miss you chumps."
"I'll take that," Mike said with a chuckle. "I know we'll miss you guys… especially the cooking."
"You didn't pick any of it up?" Evelynn asked incredulously, releasing Evals from captivity. The clone made a hasty getaway to his chair, fidgeting under his regulation-adjusted armour. "I would be disappointed if you learned nothing."
"No worries, ma'am. I've got it all," Tunnel replied, tapping his forehead with his index finger.
"Good soldier." She looked at her watch, smirking. "I have to go teach Kilo squad now, and you three had best be prepping to leave." Everyone stood, looking at each other in silence for a few moments. Evelynn grinned proudly at each trooper, eyes looking only slightly moist. "You'll make me proud out there, won't you?"
Tunnel nodded, saluting. "Yes ma'am." The other two mimicked his movement.
"Those Seppies won't know what hit 'em," Evals declared.
"You will be some of the finest soldiers, my adike." [3]
Catori nodded. "I'll be right behind you guys, so save some clankers for me."
Mike laughed, smiling warmly. "Bet."
"Ret'urcye mhi," Evelynn said; words of sadness at parting yet courage for the future, expressing hope to meet again. [4]
The clones nodded, repeating the farewell: "Ret'urcye mhi."
Joystick stirred, slowly fading into consciousness. He could feel the light on the outside of his eyelids trying to sear through to his peepers. Stirring, he opened one, then the other, staring at the roof of the barracks. Sitting up and pushing the sheets off his body, Joystick rubbed the rheum from his eyes and looked around from his top-bunk perch. All of the other beds were unoccupied, save it be the one below him.
Getting on his belly and hanging down over the side, Joystick smirked at Dusty, who was sprawled out, sheets a mess, and drooling from his open mouth. Wearing only his black GAR fatigues pants, his foot twitched spasmodically, kicking and bucking.
Swinging around, Joystick dropped down from his bed, lightly landing in a crouch. With an impish grin, he ripped the pillow from beneath the sleeping clone's head and whacked him with it. "Eight A.M. wake-up call!"
"Wut?! Imawake!" Dusty jerked up in a panic, head looking every which way. Joystick began cackling hard at his friend's discombobulation. Dusty's eyes narrowed, focussing in on him. "Oh, fink das funny, d'ya?"
Joystick cleared his throat, putting on a deathly serious face. "No, not at all. Come on, let's get breakfast."
Dusty wiped a hand across his eyes, rolling out of bed and plopping to the floor in push-up position. He boosted himself with his arms and hopped to his feet. "Now you're speaking my language."
The two walked together out the barracks door and into the hallway. Turning towards the kitchen, they set off, talking about various topics. They had only gone for two minutes before rounding the corner face to face with Hotshot and Wedge, both armoured.
"Well, well, look who it is," Wedge said, looking them both over. "You slept in late."
"Either that or you woke up ridiculously early," Joystick rebuffed, smirking.
Hotshot snorted. "Got that right. Yesterday was crazy with all that terrorist nonsense and we got to bed late. Finally headed down to breakfast; wanna come?"
"That was our plan," Dusty replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "Let's-"
"GET BACK HERE!"
The clones all whipped around in surprise, startled to see nearly twenty mouse droids fleeing down the hall, swerving and squeaking, on a direct course for their feet. Pursuing them was Nerd, a net in one hand and a screwdriver in the other.
"Dodge!" Joystick called, diving out of the way as they raced by. Hotshot and Dusty both flattened themselves against the opposite wall, watching as the little robots zoomed on. Wedge leapt into the air, grabbing the bars on a roof vent and pulling himself up.
Nerd managed to tackle a fleeing droid, wrapping it in the net as it squealed and bucked. He began cackling as he stood with his prize in captivity. "Gotcha! Muahahaha…" He seemed to realise that the other clones were staring at him in concern. He smiled widely, tucking the droid beneath an arm. "I'm just going to run a few tests on this guy with his emotional simulator module to explore the concerns of the inherent risks of artificial intelligence and negative reactionary responses to untoward treatment and unfavourable circumstances." Nerd turned and walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Joystick and the others more confused than before.
"Uhhh," Dusty blinked. "Should we…?"
"… Nah," Joystick decided. "It's… it's fine."
Wedge fell from the roof with a loud crash. "Argh!"
A few minutes later, Joystick, Dusty, Hotshot, and Wedge entered the mess hall, large door whooshing open. Instantly, delicious smells assaulted their nostrils; sweet and savoury scents, along with the distinct smell of cooking spices. Joystick's eyes widened as he cast his gaze towards the kitchen, seeing past the bar Tunnel, Mike, Evals, and Ahsoka busying about the stoves and counters.
"What do we have here?" The pilot asked loudly, walking up to the bar and leaning over it, observing a wide, steaming pot of brown and white grains sitting on a deactivated back burner.
"Joystick!" The Togruta Jedi exclaimed exuberantly, turning her head briefly before returning her attention to the pot in front of her as she stirred the contents with a metal spoon: a thick, bubbling stew filled with large chunks of different multicoloured roots, thick grains, and cubes of meat. "Tunnel, Mike, and Evals are teaching me how to cook!"
Dusty crashed into the bar, taking a dramatically deep breath before sighing hard. "How to cook heaven? It smells like angels are in that stew, along with a whole pantheon of gods." His stomach grumbled thunderously, making Hotshot chuckle as he and Wedge walked over.
Tunnel glanced over with a smile, his forehead wrapped with bandages from the day before's riots. He had received a nasty concussion from a thrown brick and spent the rest of the night in the medbay under the watchful optics of DX-4, the 501st's medical droid. Joystick was surprised that the taller-than-average clone was on his feet so soon. "They're traditional Mandalorian foods," he informed them as he stirred another large pot full of a creamy substance: a soup of sorts. [5]
"Mandalorian?" Joystick queried, raising an eyebrow. "Where'd you three learn to cook?"
"From their mom," Wedge snickered. Hotshot chuckled as well.
Dusty looked at them all puzzled. "Mom? Clones don't have moms, genius."
"They did," Hotshot replied, pointing at the cooks as they exchanged glances. Ahsoka looked between them, brow furrowing.
Mike sighed like this happened a lot. "We didn't have a mom, y'know, biologically. Do you know that trainer on Kamino? Evelynn Krijger?"
"Captain Evelynn Krijger?" Joystick clarified, thinking back to his days in the facilities. "ARF Trooper training course number four? I heard she's super strict and has the eyes and ears of a Naboolian hawkbat. Fearless like one too." [6]
Evals laughed at the description of the woman, sprinkling some seasonings into the creamy soup. "All true, though there's more to her than that. She kind, patient, caring, and empathetic. Somehow, she came across us during our second-to-last year of training. We were trying out for the ARF course, and… I dunno, we may have left a good impression, or she could've taken pity on us. Who knows? But she selected us for her course despite our mediocre performance. We ended up meeting her daughter, Tori. She was taking the training as well, and somehow we all became close."
Wedge grunted, rolling his eyes. "A miracle you did. That girl is a night terror."
"You just say that 'cos she wouldn't put up with your arrogance," Mike retorted, pointing a knife at him before resuming chopping some carrots. "Honestly, her sneaking those flying snakes into your locker was the funniest day of my life."
Hotshot grinned devilishly. "That was brilliant." Wedge snorted a curse beneath his breath, glaring in remembrance of that day.
"Time out!" Dusty called, making a capital T with his arms. "You were in ARF training?"
"Yep," Tunnel affirmed, turning off his pot's heat. He turned around, smiling lopsidedly. "We were doing good near the end, too. Anyway, one day the captain invites us to share dinner with her and Tori. We talked about… heh, everything really, from life as cadets to current galactic events, until curfew hit and we had to leave. She invited us over again the next day. Visits became more frequent, and we all began relating more. Guess who ended up naming Evals."
"Really?" Dusty raised his brows appraisingly. "Makes sense. No clones I know would call you something so horrible and tasteless."
"Hey!" Evals whipped around, mock fury in his eyes.
"Interesting," Joystick observed, hopping up onto the counter and sitting. "Never heard of something like that before. I'm surprised the Kaminoans allowed it."
Tunnel winced. "That's… an entirely different and long story."
"Well, screw it," Dusty interrupted, eyeing the food which was now done and giving off amazing fragrances. "Tell me about da food."
The taller clone smiled, gesturing proudly towards the stove. Ahsoka bounced on her heels, eyes full of joy as Tunnel began talking. "This first one is boiled quinoa and wild rice." He gestured to the pot of grains. "It's an all-round good base for many cultural meals. Tasty, but not overwhelmingly so. Next is the tiingilar stew." He pointed to the pot of chunky stew with all the vegetables. "This is a traditional Mandalorian dish that's very delectable. Normally, the people of the planet eat it incredibly spicy, and that's how Evelynn served it to us. We've toned it back because the rest of you aren't used to it."
"What's that?" Hotshot asked, pointing to the last one.
"That's pog soup. It's a very common dish on Mandalore and her colonies. Sweeter and creamier than tiingilar, and a good alternative if one can't handle the spiciness."
"What's a pog?" Wedge whispered as Tunnel explained the meal. Joystick shrugged, fine with finding out for himself.
Mike began serving some bowls, setting them on the bar. "Normally we'd serve the meal with tea. Cassius or something, but we don't have it and, honestly, I'd rather not roam the markets or streets."
"Good policy," Wedge approved genuinely, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into the tiingilar that he had been served. He paused as he watched the others accept their own bowls and the cooks all retrieve their own. Tunnel began shaking a red powder from a shaker into his, Mike's, Evals', and Ahsoka's food, each of them mixing it thoroughly. "Whoa, whoa; what's that?"
"Hm?" Tunnel looked at the glass container in his hand. "Oh, it's tiing; the seasoning blend that gives the tiingilar its kick."
"Can I have some?"
"Erm, I don't think that's a good idea. We have eaten it before with this amount, while you… uh, haven't."
"But what about Ahsoka?" Wedge pointed to girl with an almost accusation as she froze with a spoon halfway to her open mouth. "She hasn't."
"Togrutan cuisine is spicy too. Our people are built to handle it," she replied with a shrug before sticking the spoon into her mouth, humming in delight.
Wedge huffed, reaching for the little jar. "I'm pretty sure I can handle a little spice."
"I-I don't think you-" Tunnel stuttered as the seasoning was snatched from his grasp. Everyone's eyes widened as Wedge began shaking it onto his stew profusely, making a little red mountain on his food. "Th-that might not-"
"It's the same amount you put, give or take a shake," Wedge interjected, plopping the jar down. Unbeknownst to him, several other clones had begun to arrive, instantly drawn over by the spectacle. Grins were exchanged as the trooper began to stir his stew, the liquid turning from a brown colour to something closer to mahogany.
"Idiot is gonna kill himself!" Someone muttered as Wedge scooped up a large spoonful, shovelling it into his mouth. All eyes were on him as he chewed thoughtfully and slowly, seeming intent to draw it out.
After forever's amount of time, he swallowed, looking about in triumph. "See? It's not so…" he coughed, eyes squinting in concern. His eyes widened again in alarm as his face began to flush. Wedge coughed harder, pounding his chest with one hand and dipping his head. Face turning red, tears began welling up in his eyes and trailing his cheeks. "Augh… I- Ack! Water!" He gasped hoarsely.
In a flash, Tunnel disappeared and returned with a glass of blue bantha milk, handing it to the trooper who instantly downed the entire glass, hacking and coughing afterwards, nose beginning to run.
"Whoa!" Dusty exclaimed, trying a bit of his own. He blinked hard, tongue lolling out as he panted. "It smells like heaven but burns like hell! I thought you held back?!"
"We did!" Mike retorted with a smirk, partaking of his with no reaction. "You're just a wuss."
Joystick tried a little, surprised at the heat it packed. The small spoonful already had him desiring a drink; not to the extent of the idiot that was nearly on fire, frequently addressed as Wedge, but still… it was spicy. Hotshot, to everyone's amazement, ate a spoonful. Then another. And then more. In fact, he devoured his bowl of tiingilar in twelve seconds flat and moved on to eat Wedge's with no problem, humming in satisfaction while having zero negative reactions.
"Y-you said the… pog soup wasn't as bad?" Wedge asked shakily, wiping his face with an arm ineffectively due to his armour.
"Yep. Let me get you some," Tunnel said cheerfully. "Anyone else want to try something?"
Clouds obscured the sky above the Republic capital of Coruscant. Airspeeder traffic was heavily congested for the early morning time, and large freighters ascended and descended at the ports, hauling goods and exotic products from across the galaxy that would supply the citizens of the city with many commodities. Occasional Navy ships flew through the upper atmosphere, their outlines barely visible in the grey haze overhead. Despite the bustle of the city, the grounds around the Coruscant Guard's headquarters were still and peaceful, with only the occasional sentry marching on duty or a troop of the armoured soldiers on exercises.
The tranquility would soon be shattered.
"COMMANDER FOX!" A clone whose armour was decorated in the red patterns of the 65th Shock Trooper Corp yelled, running up the wide steps to the main administrative building. He took two steps at a time, practically kicking the doors down as he burst into the front room. Several clones on duty startled as he charged by and into the halls, continuing to shout hyperactively all the way, "COMMANDER FOX! COMMANDER FOX!"
"What the hell is it now, Flik?!" Another trooper, Cor, hollered, poking his bald head out of his office. "Rat-lizards do not classify as an emergency!"
Instead of replying, Flik began knocking hard on their CO's door. Several other troopers began to assemble in the hall, curious or disgruntle. [7]
The door swished open, revealing an armed and armoured Fox standing with a cup of coffee in his hands inscribed 'I hate Mondays' on the broadside. His face had his signature perma-scowl which made him look constantly annoyed and sleep deprived to any casual onlookers, but not his men. They knew how to tell his emotions, even beneath the helmet, though sleep deprived wasn't far from the truth. "Yes Flik?"
Flik saluted breathlessly, holding a data pad in his left hand. "Sir! I found the droid from the heist!"
Fox was instantly intrigued, fixing the trooper with a curious stare. "Continue."
"Well, I was looking into the different trooper formations that were present during our anti-terrorist operations yesterday. I managed to pinpoint with drydock authorities and run an operational number." He lifted up the pad, showing the C-series astromech that had been present during both the operation and the robbery of the 65th's exercise gear.
"Designation C1-M8," Fox read aloud, squinting at the various pieces of information. "In service on Ryloth a few months ago under the Outer Rim Garrison." He looked up. "The Garrison was wiped out."
"Exactly," Flik exclaimed a little too loudly, making several troopers chuckle. "He is now in service on the GAR Resolute; flagship of the 501st Legion."
"The 501st," Fox muttered ruefully, swishing his cup around a bit. "They've always been a group of undisciplined jokers, especially Torrent Company. So, Rex has decided to continue his pranks from training?"
"What now?" Burn asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Do we... I dunno, bring some sort of charges for misdemeanours against them?"
"No," Fox decided after a moment of thought and a sip of his beverage. "That's too petty. After all, it was replaced easily enough. However, it's more than a few treadmills and weight machines of a matter: it was an insult to our honour as the 65th."
Cor wrinkled his brow. "Then... what do we do?"
Fox's eyes gained a rare mischievous, almost scary, glint. "I say we should return the favour in a like manner as they have rendered."
Halberd laughed deeply, cracking his knuckles. "It's as the good book says: 'What goes around comes back and slams you in your karking face!'" [8]
"I'm pretty sure it doesn't say that" Burn said.
Halberd snorted, though not without humour. "I was paraphrasing, ya moron!"
"The 501st usually goes to 49's before being deployed," Flik chimed in. "Orders are coming in to send them to the Outer Rim, near the Slice."
"Let's get thinking," Burn said evilly.
"Go! Go! Go!" Went the small gathering of clones as Hotshot and Evals downed huge spoonful's of heavily spiced tiingilar rapidly, both staring at each other as their faces turned red from the intense heat. Mike was there looking past unimpressed, while Ahsoka and Tunnel spectated in worry. Joystick, however, was busy making bets with several other pilots on who'd quit first. It wasn't irresponsible because they had a medic in the room: Kix was at an abandoned table, trying to eat pog soup and read the reg manual in peace.
"They're both going to the medbay," Skimmer whispered with a snigger, betting a few credits on Hotshot winning.
Oddball shook his head, crossing his arms. "Nah, they'll just lose feeling in their tongues for a rotation or two. Twelve creds on Evals."
Joystick was about to butt in when the PA system turned on:
"Disaster squadleads; your presence is required on the bridge by General Skywalker and Captain Rex."
Chase quickly dislodged himself from the crowd of spectators, marching briskly for the door.
"Heh, glad that doesn't mean me," Joystick laughed to Dusty who grinned.
Corporal Joystick; please report to the bridge for briefing."
Several heads turned to Joystick who groaned, whinging his way towards the exit. "Dusty, collect my bets for me!"
"It'll be taxed!" His copilot called back, earning laughs from the nearby troopers.
"He's a regular politician," Joystick muttered to no one in particular as he walked down the hallway. He passed clones on errands, nodding to them. Each returned it with a smile, making Joystick glad that the 501st had been so hospitable during this transitory period for the Outer Rim Garrison remnants. He wondered when their separate deployments would come about, and whether or not he'd miss working with the pilots of Torrent Company. His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar whooping sound. "Mate?"
He turned in time to see Mate and another astromech that was white and blue, R2-D2, roll by as fast as they could go. Mate was considerably quicker, rapidly crossing ground while balanced on his central strut. R2, however, was barely moving at an acceptable speed, squealing in panicked terror.
"What the-?" Squeaking drew his eyes behind him again. He wasn't surprised to see the mouse droid, only the knives.
The little black bot bolted down the hall, several blades of various length, width, and sharpness attached to it on all sides by the use of rope, tape, and glue. A large, round Morningstar head sat upon its top, bristling with iron spikes. The weaponised maintenance robot swerved lethally, purposely steering at Joystick's feet as it made the angriest and most malicious squeaks that the pilot ever had the displeasure of hearing.
Attempting to dodge, Joystick sidestepped its charge, watching in mortified astonishment as it turned one-eighty and came back at him, blades glinting wickedly. "Hey! Are you trying to make diced clone outta me?" He jumped over it, deciding his best course of action would be to disengage from hostile contact. As he made a dash down the hall in the direction of the elevator, he turned his head to see it pursuing closely. Fearful sweats broke out on his forehead as he had never witnessed one of these things move so fast, almost like its motor had been upgraded. "Keep being like this and you won't have any friends!"
The droid squeaked like 'I don't want friends; I like being violent and mean!' as it continued after him, front blade nipping at the pilot's heels as he turned the corner to see the elevator closing at a painfully dramatic and slow pace.
"Wait for me!" He hollered, pouring desperation into his stride. He covered the last five feet with a lunging dive, crashing inside the lift an instant before the door shut. The metallic clang and enraged squeal indicated that the droid had impacted it. Breathing hard, Joystick looked up to see two 501st troopers staring at him oddly. He smiled affably, standing up and brushing off his armoured knees. "Man, the mice this rotation, am I right?"
The one on the right muttered an acknowledgement, whilst the other coughed into his fist. The three continued to stand there awkwardly, eyes wandering to avoid staring, until the door opened, allowing Joystick to take his leave. He jogged to the large sliding door to the bridge, finding General Skywalker, Captain Rex, Raid, Shock, Awe, Shuriken, and Chase standing around the large command holo-terminal.
"Welcome, Joystick," Anakin greeted genuinely, slapping the clone's shoulder as he came to the table. "We're ready to start now, Rex."
"Disaster Squad has received an assignment," Captain Rex announced, spreading his hands across the rim of the terminal. "You're going to the planet of Trogan in the Outer Rim. A moderate Republic force under the command of Jedi Knight Keegan is stationed at the outpost there and requires a shipment of weapons and munitions that has just arrived here on Corsuscant from BlasTech Industries and Merr-Sonn Inc. You are to deliver them."
Anakin nodded, pulling up a blue holo-map of the Outer Rim Territories with a few button presses. It zoomed in on a star and its planetoids, highlighting a medium sized planet with a green outline. "Separatist presence on the surface is minimal, and an Acclamator-Class Assault Vessel is in orbit, providing air support. Separatists have been too wrapped up with our nearby fleets to present a significant threat, allowing us great access to the titanium mines and deuterium reserves on Trogan."
"Sounds simple," Shuriken observed. "What's the catch?"
"Catch?" the Jedi asked.
Joystick rolled his eyes, smirking at the sniper. "Hey Mr. Pessimist McDoubter, it's an easy assignment. You should be happy."
"How do we get the assets to the location?" Awe interrupted, looking up from the star chart.
Rex smiled, pressing a few buttons on the console. The map instantaneously disappeared, being replaced by a new projection. "We've put through orders for your unit to receive a fully outfitted Charger c70 Consular-class frigate for permanent usage because the General, erm..."
"I don't want you borrowing anymore of my ships," Anakin groused, specifically towards Joystick who began to chuckle. "It'll also provide you with housing for your men when out on your tour of duty and assignments. Of course, you will still report to me, but this will give you some autonomy. It's waiting for you at the shipyards; brand new and unnamed."
"Wait, you mean... my own frigate?" Joystick suddenly asked, a thrilled undertone to his voice as he examined the hologram of the ship. "Nameable and unowned and-"
Skywalker held up a hand, a small smile being concealed by a stern look. "It belongs to the GAR and your unit, under the supervision of your Commander and his advisors."
"Still, this is so awesome!" He enthused.
Raid shook his head in amusement. "When do we leave?"
"Immediately," Captain Rex informed them, powering down the terminal. "Gather your men. The 501st is deploying later today, so we'll forward a rendezvous location for you after your task is complete. That is all."
"Sir!" The assembled clones replied, saluting both the Captain and the General before taking their leave, filling the elevator space as they exited the bridge. Chase hit the button, making the door close and the enclosure descend.
"Our own ship!" Joystick repeated giddily. "One with a good hyperdrive range and lots of guns!"
Shock laughed, patting his shoulder. "Alright, throttle back dude. It's exciting."
"It'll be good to get off Coruscant and see a little action," Awe mused. "I don't expect they'll put a rookie unit like ours on very big combat assignments, though. We better get ready for lots of security detail and cargo shipments."
"Who knows," Shuriken countered. "Things have a way of going south on missions, if you remember Malevolence."
Raid shook his head. "Let's hope the Separatists never muster something like that again." The elevator dinged and the door slid open. The ARC trooper was about to step out when Joystick stopped him with a hand, looking out cautiously. "What?"
"There's some sort of murderous mouse droid prowling about," he responded, slowly stepping out. "It attacked me earlier."
"A mouse droid?" Shuriken deadpanned. "Murderous?"
Joystick whirled on him, pointing a finger. "It had knives, gorram it! And a big, spiked ball thing on its top! If not..." His eyes widened in realisation. "Nerd!"
"Huh?"
"Never mind, I'll ask him later. Let's go get our ship."
"Alright, what's so special that you dragged me over here," Wedge complained to Hotshot as they entered into hangar 7-MC14. Both clones were fully armoured, head to toe, and carried their weapons. Each also pushed a hover cart with supplies that Hotshot had said they 'needed.' It included rations, cleaning supplies, spare bed stuff, repair kits, and Hotshot's wide variety of game components.
Hotshot looked at him with a face of mock horror. "You dare question the orders of COMMANDER RAID?" He raised and emphasised his voice at the end, nodding to the rest of Disaster Squad which was assembled outside the landing zone. Most of the troopers stood, while several sat atop crates and boxes marked with GAR and 501st symbols. The mentioned ARC trooper turned, helmet hiding whatever face he was making, though if either Hotshot or Wedge had good people skills, they would be able to judge by his posture that he was in a good mood. "I'mma report you!"
"Report my butt, moron," his companion sneered, shouldering his slung rocket launcher.
They came up to the rest of the clones, and it was then that Hotshot noticed that Joystick, Dusty, Shock, Awe, and Mate the droid were missing. "Hey, where are the others?"
"Right about there," Raid replied as the rush of engines overhead drew all attention. The familiar shape of a frigate loomed above.
"What?" Recoil mumbled in awe, looking up as the angular Charger c70 descended to the pad, landing gear extending from the bottom. The lengthy main body ended on the front end with the cockpit and iconic round pod on the underside. Halfway through the fuselage, the ship widened out into a large main body, slightly slanted, before narrowing again, only to widen once more in a trapezoidal aft body. It all ended in three, large, circular engines which belted out exhaust and low power engine flames the colour of the blue sky (if not for the ridiculous number of clouds obscuring it at that moment). "A Consular?"
Raid nodded, picking up his ARC pack from the floor. "Yes. We've been assigned a frigate for our upcoming mission and all after it."
The air was instantly buzzing with questions about this surprise mission and the top speed of the craft and when did they leave. But one stood out above the rest:
"What is it named?" Chase asked, folding his arms as he sat upon a wide crate of ammunition.
"Ugh," the Commander groaned, putting a hand to his helmet. "That was horrible. First it was Kick Butt, then Destiny's Bounty or Flying Kick-a-Pow. Next Dusty said Obex 2.0, but I said no to that. They finally settled on Storm Seeker, which I hope isn't a prediction."
"I hope not," Tunnel mumbled earnestly. The ship set down gently upon the ground; its wide boarding ramp lowering To open up and reveal the interior. Waiting there was Awe who looked in a pretty good mood.
"All aboard!" The ARC Captain bellowed loudly, waving them all inside. "We will be departing in an estimated five minutes!"
With not so much as a glance between each other, the clones quickly picked up their gear and rushed aboard to the amusement of both present ARC troopers. In no time, they were all setting crates on the floor in the cargo bay which was already half-occupied by stacks of containers marked for weapons, ammo, charges, and medical supplies.
Mike was the first to observe these details, casting a questioning look towards his COs. "What's with all the weapons?" [7]
"Our mission," Raid replied officiously, drawing the rest of the chattering soldiers' attention. "We will be delivering this weaponry to an outpost on Trogan to restock their supplies. A simple delivery run, it should provide us with the time to get used to our new vessel."
"Welcome aboard!" A voice shouted, making many of the men flinch in surprise. Joystick walked in; arms spread proudly as his lack of helmet allowed full view of his wide grin. "I will be showing you to your new rooms while Dusty and Mate get us underway!" As he spoke, the boarding ramp closed, and the entire hull rumbled in takeoff. "Before we do, you'll each be grouped into bunkmate units comprising of four of us. Mike, Evals, Tunnel, and Rocky all share."
"Please not Wedge," Hotshot barely whispered, inaudible to anyone else.
"Dusty, Hotshot, Wedge, and I will have the next quarters."
Hotshot rolled his head back in exasperation and defeat, side glancing at Wedge who was visibly displeased.
"Chuck, Recoil, Nerd, and Shuriken get the third one," Joystick continued on. "And Raid gets the last one with Shock and Awe: the ARC Suite. Chase shares with them."
"Sounds cozy!" Awe laughed, slugging Raid in the shoulder. "Let's get settled!"
KAROOM!
Logi jolted from his doze in startlement, falling from his chair. He had been working on tracking energy usage levels in the power room of Trogan Alpha-One Base, the biggest (and conveniently only) Republic installation on the agrarian and mining planet out in the Outer Rim. It was located close to the largest of the few cities with the only major spaceport on Trogan named Karul which was just a few klicks southwest. It was a peaceful planet with citizens who were loyal to the Republic, giving the GAR Battalion stationed there plenty of leisure time as the Separatists weren't inclined to attack. Logi found his days spent logging supply shipments and usage, helping Intel track communications, and reconfiguring the local Battle-Net receiver... twice. It had been a constructive and well spent deployment so far, as he had been there since his training had ended on Kamino just after the engagement on Geonosis. He had begun to get used to the lazy attitude and peaceful atmosphere of the installation, finding himself falling asleep on his self-appointed task.
Yet the sound of an explosion had shattered the tranquility of the morning, sending him sprawling across the floor. Dust rained down from the roof of Sublevel 2 as the ground trembled, rattling his teeth when another detonation ripped through the air, sounding much closer. Dread filled him as he heard the distinct sound of the airstrike sirens wailing away, piercing his eardrums with their bone-chilling cries.
They were under attack.
Recovering a fragment of his wits, he stumbled to his feet, snatching his helmet and DC-17 pistol from off a table before running for the door. As he moved, his helmet found its way atop his head and the buzz of frantic communications filled his head:
"-coming in. Repeat, Vulture strike craft escorting Hyena bombers!"
"This is CT 12-6934! Infantry deployment vehicles are landing in at several points across the Torriera Territory! Locals are fleeing!"
"How the hell did they get in atmosphere without detection?!"
"Multiple casualties on the outer defences. Medical is requested along with heavy weapons to clear the AATs."
"We're trapped in the city by rapid deployment craft! We need air support or else my squad and the civvies are getting roasted!"
Logi was taking two steps at a time as he made for the main floor, passing rushing clones moving this way or that. When he exited the stairwell at the top, he was greeted by a large and hastily assembled unit of clones; all shinies like him. Standing at their head was a clone with a Z-6 rotary propped on his shoulder in his right hand and a carbine held loose in his left. When he yelled at all the troopers, his voice had a brogue to it, strangely enough.
"Alrighty ye squaddies, we've got Seppies pushing at tha front gate wae a whole kark ton of clankas!" He spoke with authority and confidence as he scanned over them. "Our lads be tryin to retreat from patrols an' tha frontal troops were hit by bombers. Our task is to haud that entrance against whatever the damn hells may throw our way an' send tha gommy baws away to bile their heads!" He clipped the carbine to his belt to hold his machine gun properly, giving the barrel a spin as the soldiers let out battle cries. "I want ye all to pick positions on tha battlements an' trenches."
As the clones all charged out into the main grounds of the compound through a set of double doors, Logi wondered if he should follow or try and find his usual Sergeant when the commanding soldier marched over to him, offering up the carbine. "Ye need a proper set weapon to fight. We need ev'ry man on tha front."
[1] A mike, in military terms, equates to a 'minute'. Mike the clone's name comes from the word and his tendency to replace minute with 'mike' in normal conversation.
[2] Arms and Hammer is a periodical for a Mandalorian weapons dealership and manufacturing company based in Coruscant. CEO Kellor "Mr Mean" Vedun had long relocated his business after the Civil War on Mandalore had left it transitioning to a pacifist society. Rather than be forcefully exiled and lose his company, Vedun moved it to the heart of the Republic, anticipating large profits in the coming days with the Separatist Crisis heating up. He was correct and has since become very wealthy because of the subsequent war.
[3] "Adike" is the Mando'a word for "sons" (Grondin, K. G. G. (110 BBY). Kelrin's Mando'a Dictionary and Thesaurus: Expanded Edition (2nd ed., p. 17). Timeless Press).
[4] "Ret'urcye mhi" is a Mando'a word meaning "Goodbye" in a fond and/or affectionate way, usually when another meeting is not certain. It equates to "Goodbye; maybe we'll meet again" (Grondin, K. G. G. (110 BBY). Kelrin's Mando'a Dictionary and Thesaurus: Expanded Edition (2nd ed., p. 1116). Timeless Press).
[5] Soup: a liquid dish, typically made by boiling meat, fish, vegetables, etc., in stock or water.
[6] A Naboolian hawkbat is a fearsome creature with a large body and a wingspan of fourteen feet that lives in very remote areas of Naboo's wide forests and marshes. It is a nocturnal predator know to be able to lift an adolescent Narglatch if it so desired. Their thick, leathery hide is a prized material for footwear manufacturers; a pair of Naboolian hawkbat boots could fetch a hefty sum of credits from an eccentric buyer. It has some relation to the hawkbat species found on Kashyyyk and Jrákk'alah respectively.
[7] "CO" is an acronym that stands for "Commanding Officer."
[8] The 65th Coruscant Guard trooper, Halberd, does not mean the Earth Bible when saying "the good book." Amongst the clones and depending on specialisation, this could refer to a plethora of regulation manuals, operator's guides, and other literature designed for the military, some of which are updated versions borrowed from several historically successful armed forces from across the galaxy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Do you guys think the vocabulary explanation is a little too much with fake references? Just curious, because I added it to this one for fun. Feel free to make your opinions known!
PS. I will explain more about Tunnel, Mike, and Evals' "Mom" (as Wedge so bluntly put it) soon enough. :)