I own neither Star Wars or Goblin Slayer
Star Wars is owned by Lucasfilm (Disney)
Goblin Slayer is owned by Kumo Kagyu
CHAPTER II: The Situation
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There was only silence in the dark world he found himself in.
Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? Becoming one with the force or joining with the oversoul?
Trill Trill Trill
These speculations would soon be proven false as he was thrusted back to consciousness as his helmet flickered the life, the familiar chime of his vitals bringing him to.
05 sucked in a breath soon exhaling as he felt his arms tense towards his chest as pain pulsated throughout the entirety of his body.
Blinding lights of his helmet's heads up display activated, filling up his vision with blue. He knew his helmet was attempting to give him vital data on his current situation, yet all of it was simply a blur.
"Need… Bacta…" He gritted his teeth as he pushed the harness upwards, unrestraining him from his seat.
As he stood, he almost lost balance, but it seemed that the soles of his boots were still magnetized, stalling his fall.
Leaning up against the seat, he unmagnetized his feet and nearly collapsed as he fell to his knees.
With heavy breaths, the commando struggled to put his arm over his head, hearing the hissing of the hermetic seal of his bag opening.
"Come on… you've experienced… worse…"
After a moment of rummaging through his bag, he managed to reach what he was looking for. Pulling it out without care for what might get pulled out, a cylindrical blue vial was now in his hands. Feeling for the brim, he faced it towards himself and slammed it with as much force as he could..
With a jolt of electricity, he felt his breath escape him for a moment, before he felt the warmth of the small dosage of bacta flow into him.
The pain numbed quite a bit, toning down to a more manageable 'agonizing' rather than the previous 'near debilitating', his vision slowly returned to him.
"Thank whoever… invented bacta processing… implants…" He thanked the cybernetics which were given to him on his eighth birthday.
Finally, his eyes managed to focus so that he could see in front of him.
First, he began to collected the few items which had been accidently tossed out of his survival pack as his eyes scanned over the readout his H.U.D was displaying.
For starters, his vitals were registering in quite terribly, the bars only having three red bars on each side. If it weren't for the emergency bacta charge in his medical kit, he was unsure of his chances of survival.
Next, he ran his hands over the front plates of his armor. When he was certain that he could not feel any deformities or other imperfections with the armor itself or the seal, he let out a sigh of relief. Furthermore, the suits built-in deflector shield slowly went up, indicating that the energy cell in charge of his suit was not out.
With his gear in order, he did his best to recount the events that led him to this moment.
First the pick up from Cossul III… then the flight out of atmosphere… and then a Separatist Flotilla damaged our ship. Grabbing onto the extra harnesses for support, he moved down the line. Finally damage to our hyperdrive… that means the pilots got us out somehow… and we must've crashed.
That was the only plausible explanation for his current situation.
Well at least the emergency light is on. He looked up at a dim red light, which meant that the auxiliary power had kicked in.
With that solved, now needed to ascertain the status of the crew.
"Pilot, do you copy?" He asked through the communication line.
No response.
"Shuttle squad, do you copy?"
No response.
Slowly getting up, he began to move, tapping a button on the side of his helmet. The flashlight turned on as the world was now seen in shades of grey due to the low light setting on his visor.
What he saw before him did not shock or surprise him.
All around the passenger cabin, he could see around ten clones motionless. Some were still seated in their chairs, their restraints keeping them in place, while others had not been so fortunate, laying in unnatural positions all around the cabin.
Looking around, he quickly recognized the clone with a pauldron, the rescue team's Sergeant. This clone sat motionless in his chair, and the commando soon limped up, his helmets diagnostor function scanning the body.
"Sergeant, you still with us?" His hand gently touched the pauldron, scanning still in process.
No response, and his helmet soon confirmed what he suspected.
This Sergeant was dead.
He followed the same procedure for the other clones as he shambled around as carefully as he could, being greeted with the same outcome. For those who had been lucky, still in their final resting place, and for the less fortunate, their bodies remaining in the unnatural position.
At a glance, he could only guess the cause of death.
Most of them must've died on impact, perhaps their necks had been broken, or maybe the seal of their suits gave out and they suffocated? Others might have suffered a more… protracted death if they were tossed around the cabin.
Damn it. His fist balled up as he slowly got up.
How they died shouldn't have mattered, after all, clones who died like this were nothing unique to him, as the Grand Army would say they 'died in service to the Republic'. Sitting back down, he clicked another sequence of buttons on his helmet.
Easy… 05 inhaled, looking at the clenched fist. Anger has it's time and place, and now is not it.
The commando exhaled as he simmered down, his digits extending outwards, before being brought up to the side of his helmet. With the pressing of a sequence small buttons, a pop up appeared on his H.U.D., with the previous vital status.
[RC-02/105 CURRENT VITAL SIGNS: NON-LETHAL CRITICAL]
[PREVIOUS RC-02/105 VITAL SIGNS: INCAPACITATED]
-TIME ELAPSED: 33 HOURS-
= Current Day: 15: 3: 14 ArS=
The commando stiffened at the readout, and began inputting another sequence of buttons, accessing the incapacitated recording, which would activate if he had been moved in any way since his incapacitation. There was nothing logged, meaning that he'd been in that seat since he crashed.
Realizing the direness of this situation, he began to limp towards the cockpit.
I need to get in contact with The Venerator, or any Republic aligned force. 05 told himself. It is now a priority to see if this shuttle is still operational.
Limping towards the cock pit access, he could feel a slight incline in his step, meaning that the shuttle had landed at a bit of an angle.
As he got to the door, he pushed the single button, and after a moment, it parted. That too was a good sign, seeing that none of the internal workings had taken significant damage.
Moving through the compartment, he could see warning stripes around a large portion of this floor, which indicated a boarding ramp. He was surprised that it was still closed, as crash landings tended to rend those inwards or straight off.
Regardless, he moved up to the door which separated this room from the pilots, and when he opened it, he was met with a similar sight that he had seen in the other room.
The two pilots were slumped in their seats, and the gunners were slouched on the floor, one as if he crawled towards the center of the pit.
Shaking his head, he made his way to the pilots seat, and carefully laid him on the ground.
Flipping a few switches, he could see that the main power cell activated, and the emergency lights turned off, while the main ones reactivated.
Turning off his low light visor, he checked the status of this vessel.
Kappa-Class Shuttle designation K-1138. Hull integrity at seventy-two percent. Main power cell is functioning at half efficiency. Main power generator is functioning at twenty-five percent efficiency. Auxiliary power generator is working at fifty percent… though the shuttle is advising recalibration… possibly due to the rough landing. Life support system is still functioning at full capacity… He continued to go down the list of operable systems and for the most part, the shuttle landed a lot softer than he expected …shields are currently inoperable and the communications array has been heavily damaged.
Flipping on the hyperwave transmitter, he attempted to first connect to any Galactic Republic channel, only to be met with silence. That was odd, because even if the onboard communication's array was on its last legs, he should still receive a signal if he tuned into the proper channels.
Next he attempted to tune into the general civilian channel, only to be met with silence again.
Concern growing, he tuned into the smugglers channels. Once more he was met with silence.
Looking at the panel, he was about to put in the last set of communication codes before pausing. These were Separatist codes, and if he inputted them, he'd could expect for the C.I.S to bring a large welcoming party.
Weighing the pros and cons, he finally decided to connect. Silence.
Finally, perhaps out of desperation, or some misguided sense that it would work, he attempted to use the subspace transceiver.
Once more he was met with nothing but silence.
Teeth gritting, he slammed his fist into the terminal.
Temper 05. The commando unclenched his fist as he exhaled, looking around. Everything is not lost yet…
Tapping a few of the keys at the panel, it moved on to the primary flight systems.
Stabilization fins are still attached, although I'll need to see the damage myself. Landing gear is still retracted. the main engines has received moderate damage and requires repairs and the secondary engines on the top has received heavy damage require repairs as well. Repulsorlift coils are undamaged and operable. He moved to the next chair, looking over the hyperdrive systems. An experimental Class 0.75 Hyperdrive was critically damaged and was leaking hyperfuel… and the Backup Class 18 hyperdrive is non-responsive… and worst of it, the navigation computer is non-responsive.
Things looked pretty bad but… he might be able to work with this. He was no starship engineer, but their training required them to have basic starship knowledge in cases where they were in charge of their own exfil.
However, if the damage was too significant and required a dedicated starship drydock, then he'd be S.O.L, unless he was lucky enough to land on a planet with the industrial capabilities and facilities for repairs or replacements of the damaged components.
But if the communications situation was as it was, it seemed that he was on his own.
Let us see if we can get the landing gear down… Pressing a sequence of keys, the shuttle shuttered for a moment before the sounds of hydraulics pushed metal up away from the ground.
After a few seconds, the incline the shuttle began to level out, and it didn't take long for the upturned dirt which covered the transpirsteel visor to slide off the angled cockpit, the shuffling of earth and its subsequent collision with the ground gave way to the outside world.
The first thing he noticed was the darkness of this area, with dual moons alongside shimmering stars from high above, one shining of a crimson red and one of a dull sickly green.
The next thing he noticed was the surrounding terrain, which looked like forest of some sort, perhaps trees or some arbor-like vegetation?
Soon a muffled growl from below caught his attention, causing him to reach for his blaster pistol, only stopping when he realized where the source of the sound was; himself.
It had been roughly two days since he last ate, so the least he could do was take a moment.
The seal on his bag opening, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed a sealed ration pack bag which contained a days' worth of nutrition.
Putting it on the terminal, he soon took off his helmet, a quieter hiss coming from it as he set it off to the side. Reaching back for the bag, he tore it open out came six energy cubes, of no color.
Pinching one of them, he plopped it into his mouth and allowed for it to sit in his mouth for a moment, letting himself enjoy the sweet taste of the cube before chewing. As he popped the second one into his mouth, he thought about his current situation.
Troopers are dead. Currently shuttle is inoperable and I am unable to use the communications array to send message off world. Tossing the third and fourth cube in, he continued to chew. Maybe something abord this shuttle has something to rectify it?
Pressing a few keys, he checked what was logged on the shuttle's standard kit manifest and its locations on board.
There was a Pretormin Environmental™ crash survival kit, which as the name implies, carried a variety of gear which should help in the case that individuals survived a crash landing. This was located on the port side storage, middle compartment.
There was an AlderaanMotors™ All-Purpose power generator and an auxiliary power generator, with a number of spare parts to repair essential functions should the generator be damaged in the crash or sometime after. The main generator and half of the spare parts were located on the starboard side storage bay but the auxiliary and the rest of its spare parts were located in the port side storage, rear compartment.
A starship tool and weapon repair kit, which were stored in the cargo hold to repair damage done to the weapons systems when landed. Those were in the starboard side storage bay.
A large emergency repair kit, which carried the items needed to repair major components so that they would function. The larger components were located in the starboard storage bay where the smaller ones pieces were located in the port side storage bay, rear compartment.
Finally, an IM-6 battlefield medical droid was ordered alongside this ship. It was standard issue in all troop transports and other vehicles of the Grand Army, located also in the starboard storage compartment.
With the last of the energy cubes finished, he got up and hobbled towards the cargo bay.
First he checked the starboard side storage bay, and just as the manifest had stated, all of the gear listed was there. There were a few other crates which he easily identified as weapon crates, although he was somewhat confused why these were here rather than in the designated armory.
Given how the back end of this storage bay had a large cargo door, he supposed that the troopers had simply carted everything in here before heading out on mission.
He supposed that he could check their contents later, first he needed to find the medical droid.
It didn't take long, as the crate was bearing the easily identifiable Red Sigil on it. Popping the lid off, it revealed an IM-6 Medical Droid just as the manifest stated.
Looking down at it, this model of the IM-6, it seemed to be a more up-to-date Cybot Galactica™ product. It shared many similarities of the traditional IM-6 droid, such as the four lenses on its faceplate and a more box-like torso, but unlike traditional models it boasted a newer set of arms with hands for finer manipulation and two dome repulsorlifts as its form of movement.
With the flip of a switch, the unit activated and began to hover above the crate. Turning to him, its violet sensor lit up as it scanned him before speaking up.
"Salutations RC-02/105, I am IM6-173021440932399151385." The feminine voice of the droid introduced itself as it flew back to the crate, and pulled out a repulsor-stretcher. "My medisensors have analyzed your vitals and current status and has discovered that you are in poor health, a code [ORANGE]. I advise you lay down and rest while I begin to administer first aid."
"I am stable, but there are others that should be checked up on first." He informed the droid of the situation. "We crashed landed and I've only got a brief look at each of the rest of the troopers."
"And so you wish for me to see if there are any signs of life however faint?" The droid asked and the commando nodded. "Very well, may I have access to your communication line for rapid response?"
Turning around, the droid flew up to his back.
"I have synced up with your communication line RC-02/105."
"Copy that, you should receive a notification should I be incapacitated." The commando turned back to the droid.
The droid dipped its head as it proceeded to pick out a few items from the box before zipping out of the room through the storage bay door. He knew it was wistful thinking to hope that somehow the function modified into his helmet had missed some sign of life, but he needed to hope that someone else had survived.
His next destination was the port storage rooms.
First checking the center port storage room, he opened it up to find two cots, both of which had body bags secured. Both bags had identification numbers of the deceased along with a holotag.
These were the two who had died right before the shuttle made the jump, so there was nothing he could do for them. Looking underneath, he found a box, and pulling it out, it was a standard issued bag for clones, and in it was the standard equipment for a medic.
Useful. Pushing the crate back, he pulled the second crate out and when the lid was off, the survival kit's items were in there, along with a datapad which listed out the items within.
Grabbing the emergency beacon located within it, he activated it. The small item lit up, and began to beep softly, transmitting the location of this vessel.
These small items oftentimes stayed active for seven standard days before needing a recharge.
He stood back up and moved to the final room, the port rear storage.
As the door opened, he was somewhat surprised to see that it was in the worst shape.
Crates and other forms of cargo spread all around the bay, and it was only through some miracle that the boxes remained shut. The largest of crates had left drag marks on the floor as it shifted from its original position, all the way across the bay.
There was a hole in the hull.
It was a meter and a half in length and slightly taller than himself in height.
Through solid durasteel with reinforced with duralloy plates.
Which meant whatever had hit them before the jump was completely capable of obliterating this shuttle in an instant.
Yet here I am.
He looked at the considerably small hole given the size of this shuttle, but there was a larger problem that he was concerned with.
The crate which housed the commando droids was gone, and a number of other crates were too.
He could not find the auxiliary generator, nor could he find a number of spare parts and tools.
I don't have time to search for it now. He gritted his teeth, given that he had so many problems which were piling up.
If they survived the impact, he'd just need to hope they are mangled beyond repair, and if they were not, he'd hope the gear would be abandoned and forgotten until he could try and find it.
On the bright side, the planet wasn't as inhospitable enough to instantly freeze or cook him alive.
So there was that.
Focus, first get an idea what you have to work with. He turned to the giant hole in the hull, given that it was blocked off by a crate, he probably shouldn't let it linger for long. Then deal with that.
"RC-02/105, this is IM6-1730—"
"I read you."
"I have completed my scans and there is bad news." The droid's voice with emulated sympathy paused before continuing. "The other occupants of this vessel have perished."
"This confirms what I suspected then." The commando sighed as he left the port storage bay and began to move towards the small hanger bay. "It is unfortunate."
"What do you wish for me to do with the deceased?"
"Bring them to the main cabin of the shuttle. I'll see what I can collect from them and then we'll worry about their… funerary arrangements."
"I understand." The droid disconnected from the line at that moment, leaving him in silence as he entered the hanger cabin.
As he entered, the lights activated and what he was greeted with was the three speeders, tipped over or in some manner heavily damaged.
The two BARC speeders within the hanger bay were heavily damaged, both of which seemed worse than when they had left the Cossul system. One had one of its side thrusters thrown off, whereas the other one had a number of blaster bolt markings all over its protective shell.
The STAP speeder was split into two, the neck of the speeder having snapped off from the remainder of the speeder itself. Aside from that, the floor where it had first crashed and the bottom portion of the speeder had fire-foam residue all over it.
It's likely they were damaged further in the crash. He moved up to the least damaged of the two BARC speeders, which was missing one of its twin blaster cannons, a few of its stabilizing fins, and one of its four handles.
For a moment, he considered just leaving it be, however he would not know how damaged it was if he did not turn it on, and so he activated it, powering up with a hum as the main power cell came to life.
The engines began to intake air as the repuslorlifts inside the machine allowed for it to hover, so he sat on it.
The moment of truth.
He revved the thrust control for the speeder and after a few seconds, the speeder began to sputter before one of the engines caught fire and the bike's safety mechanisms activated, cutting off all power to the bike as the flame slowly grew.
The commando did not panic as he rushed to one of the four corners of the hanger where the fire-foam canisters were. Taking the red canister, he sprayed the offending piece with it and soon enough the fire was put out.
Speeders are currently inoperable then. He sighed before looking at the speeders. Will need to see what can be salvaged and repaired.
"RC-02/105. I have moved the deceased to the main cabin."
"Understood." He stated as he walked towards where his brothers now laid.
He'd strip the dead of their gear and then take account of it.
After all, resourcefulness was the way of the commando, and a lesson thoroughly implanted into him by the Cuy'val Dar.
ooo-/*\-ooo
Hours passed by as he took account of each piece of armor collected and of all the gear brought on by the squad attached to this shuttle.
Much the gear was what he'd expect from two shuttle pilots, two gunners, two speeder pilots, and a ten man squad.
There were a few sets of the newer 'Phase Two' clone trooper armor. The Sergeant had a set, and so did a few members of his squad. It must've been recently issued, for he felt no imperfections in the pieces, and the weight was notably lighter.
The rest were wearing the 'Phase One' clone trooper armor, pilots and gunners with their specialized armor and the remaining troopers wearing the standard armor. Almost all the pieces in field serviceable conditions, with exceptions being the two clones who had been in the body bag, the cuirass having been cut open by the vibro-sword of the commando droid.
The weapons collected from all the dead comprised of eleven DC-15 blasters, seven of the -S model and four of the longer -A model, ten DC-17 commando pistols, a Z-6 rotary cannon, and even a RPS-6 rocket launcher.
For their munitions, most of it was located on their utility belts.
Beginning with the blasters, they carried the standard amount expected of them, as for every blaster rifle there was two tibanna gas cartridge and an additional seven power packs. For every blaster pistol, there were two tibanna gas cartridge with three additional power pack.
The Z-6 rotary cannon had only the singular tibanna canister good for two thousand shots housed within it, and three power pack drums with enough power for two hundred shots.
For their explosives, this also included the standard issue of three grenades per clone, twenty of them being thermal detonators and the other ten being droid poppers.
The RPS-6 rockets were located in the starboard storage bay, and having opened up the crate, he found twelve rockets.
Of course, they carried other items, such as grappling hooks, field medic kits for stabilization, field rations, a couple of multitools, and a number of flares, the red being the droid attack warning flare, the blue being for friendlies, and yellow for either illumination or distress. An electrobinocular pouch with the accompanying electrobinocular was found on the Sergeant.
Now for my gear.
05 now moved for his gear, and checked everything that he had brought.
Once more, he checked his blasters.
The DC-17 had ten unused blaster packs, excluding the one currently plugged into it, the blaster reading the number 'thirty-five' on its counter, and he had ten sniper clips and eight anti-armor shells, four strapped to his leg and another four in his bag. His DC-15 blaster pistol had been unfired, and he had another plasma charge bank in his bag should he need to change its cylinder. He did notice that its battery could use some charging due to its use on the stun setting.
For grenades, he had four thermal detonators, four EMP grenades, and five sonic detonators and five flash detonators.
He had his medical supplies, and five days-worth of rations.
Overall, he could consider himself fortunate that he had brought some extra munitions and that these clones saw fit to bring the gear mandated by the regulations to what was supposed to be a simple exfiltration.
"Sergeant." The voice of the IM Droid speaking to him not in the comm link, but through its vocabulator broke him out of his cataloguing. "My chronometer is synced up with the shuttle's flight recorder, and my chronometer has just informed me that it is roughly day break now."
"Daybreak?" The commando tilted his head. Had he been at this for hours?
"Yes, daybreak." The droid nodded. "Your vitals have improved slightly, although it is recommended that you get some rest."
"I cannot, I need to make sure that the surrounding area doesn't have hostile fauna and locals" The commando shook his head, prepping his blaster as he walked towards the exit ramp. "Then I need to begin preparing the disposal of the bodies."
"If you do not wish to follow my recommendations, perhaps I should be of some assistance to you?" The droid asked as it hovered after him. "It would be best if we searched the area together."
"Negative, it might take longer but it's the safer move once I've searched the immediate area." His voice was calm but commanding. "Once I tell you, you can start collecting larger stones and I'll collect firewood, digging a mass grave will take too long."
"I must still protest due to your current state."
"I won't put myself in needless danger IM6." The commando tried to give the droid some assurance as he pressed a few keys, which detailed the data gathered of the environments surface. "If there is anything dangerous is out there, I'll use a sonic detonator to distract it and move back to the shuttle."
Eyes skimming over the panel, he could read that the surface was oxygenated, however it didn't
"Once the ramp is down, analyze the surface's air, see if there's anything harmful floating around." Pressing the keys on the boarding ramp's controls, a wall lever popped out. Pulling downwards, the room depressurized as the ramp lowered, smoke puffing out the sides of the ramp as he moved down it.
"It will be done." The droid followed close behind as he walked down, a humming sound emitting from the droid. "Beginning analysis."
It didn't take long for the sun's rays to reach him, and if it were not for the automatic polarization of his visor, he was certain that he would have been blinded by the sudden change in lighting.
Looking around, he could see the lush grasses had been upturned to reveal fresh earth, the trees around either uprooted or messily cut down in two for at least one hundred meters from the impact point.
It'd be best to scout twenty meters around each side of the crash site. The duraplast-plated man deemed the First, around the shuttle. Then the immediate forest around here.
With plan in mind, 05 set forth, blaster at the ready and head on a swivel for any potential threat.
The clone could see a number of superficial damages, such as the many scrapes and scratches on the hull, and hairline fractures on the shuttle's cockpit visor, and of course, the port side hull breach. As for other damages, he could see that the main turret located on the top of the shuttle had sustained slight damage, only one of the barrels being bent out of shape. For the stabilizing fins, the starboard fin was alright, whereas the port fin was plagued with a series of bends.
Duralloy was strong, but falling out of orbit was definitely one of the things that could bend this metal.
"Sergeant, my initial test analysis and subsequent test analyses are complete." The droid chimed in on the comm channel. "The air on this planet has no harmful microbes or other particles which would be lethal to your health."
"Copy." The commando responded. "Beginning to establish a perimeter."
Entering the forest proper, he moved with surprising quickness and stealth for someone wearing armor, carrying equipment and other essentials roughly weighing to forty kilograms of gear.
His helmet's Tactical setting picked up movement, and he quickly turned to the source, a rustling set of bushes and other shrubbery.
Remaining completely still, his blaster was trained on that area, ready to unleash a barrage of bolts if need be.
Another moment passed before the creature finally made its appearance by poking its head through the foliage.
It was a remarkably… ordinary creature. The creature was a large and simple quadruped with slender legs, with a light brownish fur coat with a tinge of grey. It walked out into the clearing and its head got close to the ground before it began to eat some small red looking berries from a bush.
His helmet did not have a name for the animal, but after a quick analysis the helmet simply identified the creature as a 'Cervidae'.
Its ears flicked as it chewed the berries, eating leaves and all.
It must've been a herbivore of some kind, meaning that it wouldn't go out of its way to eat him, which was a good sign all in all. Once it was done, it raised its head, soon realizing that there was a stranger there.
He was honestly surprised that it hadn't noticed him sooner, as his silvery armor was blatantly out of place. Yet, his stillness garnered the curiosity of the 'Cervidae' and it approached him slowly. Before long, the large creature had reached him, and was sniffing the end of the barrel of his DC-17m.
Slowly, he moved his left hand from under his blaster to the 'Cervidae's face.
"Shoo."
As if it understood his words and the gesture he was making, it began to walk away from him, not without giving one last look before prancing away.
Friendlier than most fauna I've met.
His mind wandered for a moment, where large avian creatures on some planets would attempt to carry other troopers and his squad mates, or when the ground would open up to try to eat a man whole.
Continuing along the designated perimeter, he also discovered a stream which passed through the left side of the crash site.
A source of fresh water was always good to have nearby.
The rest of the perimeter passed by without incident or signs of threat, and around an hour later, he brought his hand up to the side of his helmet.
"IM6, this is 05. The area is clear."
"Shall I commence collecting stones?"
"Yes."
The communication cut off as he holstered his DC-17m. He began to pick up wood which would be useful in the creation of a pyre.
Another two hours passed as he and the IM6 droid created the pyre.
Taking off the under suits of each clone, he could see how each of them varied, from scars and tattoos.
The Sergeant of this squad had an arm cybernetic. It was a common replacement one would expect to receive as a front line trooper, so he had IM6 remove it and place it away.
Carrying each body out, the medical droid cataloged the identification number of each dead trooper. Later, he would take the time to look into the deeds of the fallen.
The pyre itself was not anything special, primarily consisting of sturdy branches to lay them on, kindling underneath the bead of branches, and larger logs meant to sustain the flames once the flame was sufficiently large enough.
He then made a torch by lathering the top in tree resin and using tinder collected and attaching it to the top. Setting it aflame with a fire starter provided to him in the survival kit, he looked at the flame.
It wouldn't burn long, but hopefully it'd be enough to get the fire going.
"I was never one for words." His eyes looked to the pyre where his brothers lie motionless. "Your fight is over. May you find peace wherever our souls may go."
Ceremoniously lowering the torch in, the fire slowly turned into a roaring flame, and he simply stood there, watching.
Silently, he recited the numbers of the fallen clones, those who would never get to see their squadrons again, their battalions again, their fellow batchers again. Nor would they ever get to see the vast oceans of their homeworld, Kamino, ever again.
"RC-02/105." The voice of the medical droid broke him from his trance. "I suggest that you come inside and receive treatment."
Looking up at the sky, it was becoming dusk and it wouldn't be long before nightfall came around.
"I have prepared everything. With your bacta processing implants, you should be fine by morning."
Seeing no reason to disregard the droid desire to treat him any longer, he nodded and walked back into the shuttle, flame still going strong.
After the droid treated him, he continued to do other tasks onboard the shuttle, such as setting up the power generator and organizing things to where he'd easily find them.
Eventually he rested on one of the cots, putting his bag to the side.
Tomorrow he'd start his reconnaissance operations earnest.
ooo-/*\-ooo
05 woke up at the crack of dawn.
After a routine check to ensure all of his gear was in tip top shape, he picked up the electrobinoculars, TD1.3 model, the latest model the company had to offer to the Republic. He activated it and looked through, ensuring that it was properly calibrated and there were no damages which could've occurred in the crash.
Once calibrated, he strapped it to one of the spare utility belts that he had recently come into his possession.
Deeming his preparations done, he decided it was time to head out.
"Notify me over the commlink if anything should occur while I'm gone."
The droid slowly stirred to life as it looked at him, currently plugged into the power generator which had been set up in the storage bay.
"Understood RC-02/105." The droid simply confirmed as it went back to its dormant position.
The standard commlink had a standard range of fifty-kilometers. He was currently planned to scout out civilization, although he wasn't certain if it'd take him out of that fifty-kilometer radius.
Still, it wasn't the first time he was on a planet which he could not rely on communication relays.
Initially, he considered climbing on top of the Kappa-class shuttle, but decided against it as it would not get him above the tree line which towered way above him and the shuttle. At most, he'd be seven meters above the forest floor, which was at least half the height of the shorter trees.
So he decided on his next plan.
Walking over to the stream, he looked both upstream and downstream. It had been a short bit since he had to rely on his land navigation skills, however if he remembered the lessons that the Kaminoans had taught him correctly, and from the experiences told to him by the trainers who had been on dozens of worlds before, downstream tended to be where civilization clustered up.
However, he could not discount whether or not if civilization was industrious enough to find a way to settle properly upstream. Be it through some technological means or otherwise naturally occurring reason.
Either way would likely lead him to some form of civilization, as he'd learned that most planets oftentimes had built their towns and cities around bodies of water.
Deciding to rely on his knowledge from training, he chose to begin walking downstream.
Following alongside this stream, he marked the trees with small blazes as not to lose his ways. He could not help but notice how lush and alive the forest was. He often found his eyes looking towards the sky, the lack of starships and other flying craft polluting the skies allowed for the smaller avian of the world to claim the heavens as their own.
The forests found him reminded of his time on Kabal, Carida and a number of other worlds with large arboreal swaths like this.
This prompted another question in his mind.
How was this world seemingly untouched? Most space faring civilizations either claimed dominion over their homeworld or the many moons around and neighboring systems around them.
Better yet, why hadn't smugglers or pirates set up an outpost here? Surely a planet with such little notice would be great to lose the attention of galactic authorities and the like?
This continued for a couple more hours before he came across the first sign of civilization.
It was a stone bridge. It was worn, the corners crumbling but the main structure maintained enough to cross.
On both sides, connected a dirt path he would generously call a road, bordered with large shrubbery and hedges, surprisingly well maintained given how out of the way this seemed to be.
Looking down both lengths of the pathway, he did not see any creatures nor beings along it, so he decided that it was time for him to move up to it.
Crouching down to get a better view of the worn and beaten path, he could see a number of biped footprints, along with thin trails which indicated locomotion of some kind, perhaps a wagon?
The most recent of these tracks were from at least the past night, an equine-like species and deep wagon tracks carrying something moving towards the west while the older set of booted tracks went towards the east.
These were good signs, as non-sentient creatures don't create roads and bridges, nor do they put metal shoes on their animals or wear clothing such as boots.
With these two sets of tracks available to him, he decided to follow the more recent of the two tracks. If they were both fresh enough to occur at the same time, he'd have some difficulty deciding on which way to go, but common sense dictated that a wagon carrying cargo would be heading somewhere populated rather than a lone pair of boots.
So, he reentered the forest, and made use of the shrubbery to ensure that he was out of sight.
Another three hours passed, the commando trekking slowly directly parallel to the path, finally reached the edge of the forest. Like the path, thick shrubbery lined the borders of this forest, and he could see glimpses of structures from his current position.
Seeking a better vantage point, he continued alongside the border of the woods and when it became clear that the distant hills made it difficult to see anything more than the largest of buildings there, he looked up for higher ground.
Putting a hand on a branch, he pulled down on it, and when it didn't collapse, he began to pull himself up. A few minutes later he was at least five meters off the ground, he was now able to see what the tall shrubbery had been hiding.
A town, not walled off, positioned right next to a river surrounded by a river whose riverbed started maybe five or six meters out from the treeline, disappearing from his sight at a bend, the rivers width maybe being roughly 30 meters. He could see many building rooftops, so it had to be moderately populated at a minimum, although his current height still made it difficult to note any more details.
Reaching out for a higher branch, he tugged on it. After it didn't collapse with his full weight, he continued up, taking care to avoid damaged branches. Less than ten minutes later he was another ten meters higher, and at the perfect height for observation.
Giving himself some time to properly fasten himself, he pulled out his E-Binoc's from its satchel. With it having an effective range of six hundred kilometers, he began to see the town with much better clarity.
The first thing he noticed was the river bent in High Galactic 'C' shape, with six bridges crossing over at various points of the river, one north, two northeast, two southeast, and one south. It seemed that the eastern border was guarded by a metal fence atop a small brick wall.
Looking around, he quickly found the tallest building, and to his frustration, there was no sign of an antenna which would indicate a communications array. In fact, he looked around and could not find any sign of electric-based technology, as there were lantern and lamp posts which were likely used at night, as well as the road not even being paved in asphalt or some concrete variant.
To make matters worse, he could not find a single flag or standard flying. He continued to scan the area, but no standard made themselves evident to suggest an allegiance. None of the Galactic Republic, Confederacy of Independent Systems, or even a Galactic Republic with the Neutral Alignment sigil adorned onto it.
Zooming in at that area specifically, he took note of two guards at the gate, humanoid in build, armed with a metal pike and armored in what appeared to be hardened leather mixed with metal plates.
These weren't the only armed people walking around. It seemed that there were many people entering and leaving the town, armed or dressed in rather… strange fashion. All of them were human or humanoid in some capacity, coming in all shapes and sizes. Some looked more youthful than others, some boasted longer ears or had more facial hair, and those that bore animal characteristics.
05 found some of these animal characteristics somewhat unsettling.
Sure he recalled some talk from the rank and file in transit about individuals who fit the bill of these near-humans, although he was fairly certain that they did not have those bestial faces in mind.
He soon realized that he had lowered his E-binoc while thinking about these near humans.
Refocusing, he lifted it back to his visor, analyzing their arms and armor.
Much like the guards, their gear was rather antiquated, not even a slug thrower in sight, although he did see a number of bows and crossbows.
A feudal planet. He guessed, which was not a good thing.
If that was the case, he would be lucky to boast arms, armor, and technology which this planet has never seen, yet at the same time that makes him more of an outlier, and a potential target. He didn't doubt his abilities to survive an attack from a bunch of feudals, yet there was only so much a blaster, duraplast armor, and a deflector shield could protect him from.
Looking up at the sun, he could tell that it was roughly mid day, and if it took him seven hours to reach this area, he should begin making his way back to the shuttle.
Rappelling down the tree, he doubled back to the shuttle, making sure he was not seen by any locals. Once back, he was informed that nothing had occurred while he was away, and with a nod he explained that he would continue his reconnaissance operations.
A week passed by with no off-world response to his transponder.
Over the course of that week, he'd learned a bit more of the lay of the land.
First, he'd found a cross road with several signs pointing in different directions. He had expected not to be able to read it, but was surprised to find the script to be a variant of Aurebesh, slightly cruder and more primitive sure, but not undecipherable.
'Frontier Town' was the name of the settlement which he had seen, meaning that he was likely on the fringes of this planets civilized world. Another sign mentioned a 'Water Town' some three hundred kilometers in a direction in towards he east.
There was also a farm nearby this town located atop a large hill with wooden fencing surrounding a large portion of the land. This fencing wouldn't keep anything out, but it would keep things in, as he could see herds of livestock roaming about.
Aside from these two locations, a number of hamlets within the fifty kilometer area, many of them having roughly fifty people, but nothing more than a hundred people.
Something that did merit some acknowledgement was that he met no resistance as he traveled through the forest, as it seemed that the locals did not enter it often, nor had he encountered any wildlife.
It was concerning to him. Surely a planet wouldn't be all sunshine and bacta, now would t? Something did not add up, with the inhabitants he's seen so far, what was the reason for the high concentration of armed individuals entering and leaving that town? Was there a war currently going on? Was there a threat he had yet to encounter?
Perhaps this worry was all for nothing, stemming from his years of commando training by the Cuy'val Dar. Their training was brutal and unforgiving, and to top it all off, one does not survive the Killing House without their wits and doesn't leave the battlefield without a dose of paranoia.
Recharging the transponder, he could only hope that someone would find him, or something more interesting would happen… and besides…
Its just another glorious day in the Grand Army of the Republic.
ooo-/*\-ooo
[15:4:22 ArS]
A month passed by quickly, and the leaves of the forest had begun to change from their once lively and lush green to a wonderful shade of yellow and red, occasionally falling off their branches and landing everywhere.
It seemed that autumn was here, and he had yet to be picked up.
Over this time, he kept himself busy with surveillance-reconnaissance assigned to himself by himself, hunting and foraging, and seeing to repairs.
For what he had learned over the past three weeks since his initial week here, the lack of mass industrial facilities meant that this planet had yet to enter it's industrial age, yet the signs of aged roads and ancient structures here and there proved that they were beyond an age of bronze and iron. He could quite certainly say that these people's technological classification would fall a Feudal Class of civilization.
It seemed that this planet operated on a twenty-four hour day, twelve allocated for day, twelve allocated for night. And although difficult to tell, it did seem that it operated on an average of thirty days for a full lunar cycle to complete.
Despite it being such a large galaxy, many planets exhibit a lot of the same qualities.
For survival needs, he was able to manage those all by the end of the second week.
That stream of fresh water he happened upon his first day awake was a great boon for him, allowing for him to not worry about having to go too far for water and washing up whenever he could.
The IM droid had advised that he clean himself up at least twice a week given that they were in a survival situation. 05 understood the importance of cleanliness, especially with how little he knew of this world.
Next was ensuring that all of his supplies would last, as the importance of wasting as little as he had too was practically beaten into him by his training Sergeant, so in order to preserve most of his non-perishable rations, he took to hunting whatever game he could using a DC-15A Blaster Rifle he designated with a 'HR' in Aurebesh, and foraging whatever wild nuts and berries he could find.
Normally, he'd need to do the standard 'safety' checks when dealing with local fauna and flora, but with the substance analyzer and the IM droid, it was quite easy for him to know what was and wasn't safe for consumption.
After that it was a simple manner of hunting these 'Cervidae' and 'Suidae' and hauling them back to his shelter, skinning the animal, and preparing what was edible for cooking and eventual storage.
For the fruits and nuts, it was a lot simpler, as it was simply collecting whatever wild berries and nuts he could find.
05 had even brought the IM droid along to help him carry and collect more.
It was a relatively bland diet with an occasional sweet cube here and a hefty portion of berries there, but when compared to the slop served on the mess deck of The Horizon most days, he couldn't complain.
This planet was pristine and prime for the picking.
Which made him wonder why no one had swooped by yet, either to bring them up to speed with the rest of the greater galaxy. He entertained the idea that he was on some backwater planet on the Outer Rim, yet that seemed off as smugglers, pirates, and slavers would've eventually found this place, even by accident.
Then he had recalled the location of the Cossul system in the Galaxy. Although it was technically in region known as the 'Expansion Region', there was a chance that the jump could've been made into the Unknown Regions.
It'd be great if he was somewhere in the Expansion Regions or the Outer Rim, as that would allow for someone to find him before the war's end.
However if he was in the Unknown Regions… well he hoped he wasn't in the Unknown Regions.
If the navigation computer was working, then he'd be able to discern that information, but at the moment, it was not functioning, which segway's into another set of problems.
05 was taught how to pilot and fly craft such as these.
05 was taught how to break into crafts, both civilian and military grade.
05 was taught how to jury rig repairs in the odd chance that something went awry on a mission.
It did seem that starship repair was much more difficult than what many of the instructors of the Cuy'val Dar and the pilots of the Republic Navy had led him on to believe.
Patching superficial damages such as the hole in one of the ship's side? No problem, a simple weld on both sides and a pressurization test, its practically good as new.
Repairing and replacing components which were reducing the efficiency of the shuttle's main and auxiliary power generators? A lot simpler when there are two working power generators on board to reference too.
The recalibration of most onboard systems? A simple sequence of buttons and they led him to more problems for him to mend.
Fixing up the damages dealt to the main engines and other damaged systems? He'd be likely to find a viable way to fix the engines and workarounds to make the main systems work… but that'd take time.
And with the main hyperdrive unit out, he'd need to rely on the secondary hyperdrive.
Still, he couldn't help but feel helpless.
Sure, most of the clones in the Grand Army would die for a chance for some time away from the Front, regardless of how they ended up like that, however he was not like most troopers.
Strange feelings stirred within him, and he failed to understand why he felt like that.
He couldn't say what it was for sure that made him feel this way, perhaps it was because of the lack of hostiles that made him easy, or maybe it was because as a Republic Commando. He was never in one system for longer than two months, as the Special Operations Brigade always had some task for the squad he was attached to engage in. Constantly on the move since his deployment from Kamino.
Once he had gotten a good lay of the land and tended to all the immediate survival concerns, he found himself making a regimented schedule, including watches, times set aside for him to continue the repairs, and full reports submitted to the flight recorder, so that in the case that he perished, this shuttle would be of some use to the Republic.
To say the least, he couldn't believe that he looked forward to the watches he set up.
Focus on what you can control. 05 told himself as he patrolled around his shuttle during the designated 'Watch Blocs'. DC-17m in hand, he continued to walk around. Remaining vigilant is the key to survival.
The commando remembered how the IM droid was confused with this routine he had developed for himself, but he simply explained that it was to maintain a healthy schedule and maintain self-discipline.
To his surprise, the droid had wished to join him in his activities, to which he assigned the task of patrolling the interior while he was asleep.
The night ambience of the forest was calm, as most of the local fauna had gone to sleep, and with the occasional hoot or howl in the distance, it seemed that all was peaceful. He had begun right after the sun had set, and although the sun was out for most of the day, it seemed that the night had brought with it clouds which blotted out the moon.
They looked a lot like the ones that covered Kamino most of the year.
A drop of water hit his helmet as it began to trickle, and it didn't take long for the rain to become heavier.
"It is now Zero-Hundred Hours." The IM droid chimed over the short range communications, having grown accustom to the schedule. "Do you wish for me to lower the ramp now?"
Checking the internal clock in his helmet, he could see that it had reached quad-zero. He must've lost track of time.
"Soon, once I'm near—"
Over the sounds of the rain hitting earth, a distant sound echoed through the night, feeling a light tremble on the ground.
He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but his gut told him that it was an explosion of sorts.
"Negative, I'm going to investigate something." 05 reported, not waiting for a reply before beginning to move out.
Blaster raised and Low-Light mode activated, he moved with practiced caution as he navigated his way through the forest towards the origin of that sound.
As he got closer, the tactical readout informing him that there were five entities moving in one direction. His helmet's augmented sensors picked up the rushed run of a wounded entity and the subsequent of the other four, which he assumed were trailing.
It didn't take long for him to find a trail of blood and footsteps. Taking a quick look at them, he noticed four small pairs of footsteps and one pair of booted footsteps. Thanks to the sophistication of the helmets visor, he was able to lock onto the trail and follow it, small pointers leading him closer to these individuals.
As he got closer and closer, he could tell that the booted footsteps became more and more uncoordinated, most likely due to blood loss, or perhaps exhaustion.
Whoever was hurt was desperate to get away.
"Get back!" A panicked and exhausted voice cried out. A quick analysis on the helmets visor identified that there was at least an eighty percent probability that the speaker was female, an eight percent chance that it was male, and a twelve percent error margin accounting for non-human species.
What he found surprising was that she was speaking in galactic basic, although the accent was evident.
"Stay back damn you!"
It was followed up by a number of more primal and bestial growls and chants that he could not understand.
Moving quickly, he soon found himself at the edge of a clearing, where four little creatures had surrounded a young woman in armor that protected her abdomen at the most and a few plates which protected her thighs.
She was still up what looked like a rapier in hand, swinging wildly in what she must've assumed as one of her few options of keeping these offenders off of her.
Her pursuers however did not look like pirates or bandits, rather they were the size of children and dressed in what could be best described as tribal garb, bare-chested and loincloth at the waist.
"I said stay BACK!" She yelled out as one of these little men got too close.
The creature fell back as it seemed that long nose was cut, cries of pain being heard from it, whereas the other three laughed at its misfortune.
It seemed that her plan was working, well, that was until two of them picked nearby stones and handfuls of mud and began tossing it at her.
The natural reaction to guard one's face from incoming projectiles was too great as she shielded her face, giving these little men the opportunity to charge her and tackle her to the ground.
The commando almost moved in when he remembered that the Republic Navy and by extension the Grand Army of the Republic was technically supposed to avoid making contact with alien species under the Unknown Alien Encounter Orders.
The three little men finally managed to pin her and cut the straps which kept her armor, revealing a bloodied ruffled shirt, and with her pinned down as such, she was certainly an easier target to harm.
It was an older set of laws which dictated first contact protocols, as to avoid any potential diplomatic incidents to the Galactic Republic and any unmet government.
As one prepared to stab, she kicked it down to the ground, it landing on its back and mud splashing all over it. The two holding her down laughed at the muddied one's misfortune, causing it to let out angry noises, as it looked like a fool now.
Under these UAE Orders, he was supposed wait for the Galactic Republic authorization to allow him to interact with the natives of this planet, meaning he should just let this run its course.
Lifting up its dagger in rage, it was about to drive it straight into her lower stomach, which would undoubtedly be a lethal wound without immediate care, and even then, with this world's tech level, nigh impossible to treat.
An unfortunate way to die, but it wasn't anything he hadn't witnessed.
However it seemed that the one with the cut nose got up and grabbed its arm, before speaking some gibberish to it, and it seemed that they all made noises in agreement. She lifted her head up barely, and he could see in her eyes that she was out of it, too exhausted and too wounded to be considered a combatant.
05 flicked a dial, which turned off the safety. He knew he shouldn't intervene, there were orders in place, and good soldiers follow orders.
Then these creatures began to forcibly remove the clothing of this woman, and he managed to catch glimpses of something more than sadism and malice.
Good soldiers followed orders… yet he was certain that as a Clone Commando under the jurisdiction of the Special Operations Brigade, the fine print of the UAE Orders doesn't technically apply to the Grand Army of the Republic. With a bit of… creative interpretation when asked about his intervention, he was certain he could justify his actions here.
Lifting up his DC-17m, his helmets H.U.D was already relying the tactical data needed for this encounter.
And besides, the UAE Orders were antiquated laws which were going to be repealed in no time.
With precision, intent, and justification, there was nothing stopping his blaster from firing.
Hello everyone!
First thing's first, Happy New Years!
I was hoping to get this chapter out within the first week but sometimes it be like that.
For those who read the original iterations of this chapter, yes I've done changed a lot, but I was looking up a lot of military stuff and so I've tried to incorporate that into the standard kit. Also I've kinda just thought what would make sense for a shuttle to have given on what I've seen on Wookiepedia, Clone Wars show, and the movies.
Tell me what you think and I'll hopefully get that third chapter out sooner rather than later!
