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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter Eight - Aftermath (Sneak Peek)

20 BBY Capital City Manuk

“Kian, get over here!” Shave drags Mer’en’s limp body from the flames. I don’t remember if I blacked out or when I came to, but I’m up now, clutching the side of my helmet and looking up to where Shave appears like a ghost from mist.

I stumble forward and grab Mer’ens other arm. Turning, I can see the whole city. Shave was right.

It’s gone. Flames and smoke. It looks like parts of the walls were affected. Where we are, close to the back gate, we’ve been entirely cut off. It looks like one of the towers collapsed and formed a barrier across the city center. We could route it, but there’s destruction everywhere. I grip Mer’en’s arm. The sergeant groans.

“Aftermath? Bevik?” I pant.

“Here,” Aftermath’s voice comes weakly over the comms before they return to static. “My head hurts, though.”

“Get up, and get over here,” Shave demands.

Aftermath appears, limping. He looks around. “We’re cut off.”

“We have to get out of the city. This whole thing was rigged,” Shave says, his voice edging on snapping. “And we have to get the sergeant to safety.”

“Bevik?” I ask, a broken record at this point.

Aftermath looks around. Then he bursts forward and races toward the epicenter of the impact. Shave turns his head. “Aftermath, get back here!”

Aftermath charges without answering. I cling to Mer’en and try not to let my body collapse as badly as it wants to. My ribs are sore and my throat stings.

Moments later, Aftermath returns. All he carries is a helmet. He says nothing, but the helmet is clearly Bevik’s.

Was Bevik’s.

“Let’s go,” Shave says. “We need to make for the gate.”

“We have no cover there,” Aftermath says.

“The droids are gone.”

“Then who did this!”

Shave hefts Mer’en higher on his shoulder. “I told you, this was a trap. We need to move before it becomes our grave. Now head for the breach in the wall and follow me!”

I don’t dare argue. I agree with Aftermath, but also with Shave. There are no good options. So I limp along and help carry the sergeant to the breach in the wall where we carefully pull him over the debris and out into the open. Aftermath leaps over. He picks up a blaster along the way and keeps it trained on our surroundings as Shave settles Mer’en against the wall. He works the sergeant’s helmet off.

“You with me, sir?”

Mer’en’s eyes flicker. I crouch close and keep half an eye out as well. We can’t afford to become sitting targets.

“Right, well, halfway,” Shave mutters. He reaches back and hisses a curse. His medical pack is shattered. Shave stands up. “You two, stay right here. Protect him.”

I nod. Standing, I move beside Aftermath. I don’t have my gun anymore. Kriff it all. Aftermath glances back at me and my empty hands.

“Go grab one off the droids,” he says.

“There’s plenty around here.” He gestures to the graveyard from only a few hours earlier.

He’s right.

I jog out and pick up one of the better looking blasters. It’s still got a few rounds left. I sling it across my back and pick up a second before retreating. I can’t help from checking on the sergeant as I return. Mer’en has his eyes open but I’ve seen rookies who took a hit get the same dazed look as they fight off unconsciousness.

“Sir?” I take up position on the other side with my back to Mer’en. “You staying with us?”

Mer’en coughs. “I’m fine. Just keep a close eye out, we,” he breaks off, gasping. “Might. Not be alone.”

“Rest, sir,” Aftermath snaps. “Shave will be back.”

I scan the perimeter. The forest has about a one klick radius around the city, giving space for the road. I can’t see into the foliage, though. The purple and blue underbrush as well as the thick trunked trees obscure everything. So I listen to the chattering of alien birds and the rush of wind in branches.

I feel like I’ve been holding my breath ever since we landed. Something is waiting for us but I can’t see it, I can’t hear it, I don’t even know if it’s real.

Mer’en coughs loud. Aftermath retreats a step and is out of my peripheral. I see an incoming message. Private line. I accept the message on my HUD with a tap on my commlink and Aftermath’s voice comes through loud and clear.

“Shave might not get back in time.”

I won’t ask what he means because it’s blatantly and painfully obvious. “Do you have your medkit?”

“No, you?”

I check. Shave didn’t ask for either of ours and now I see why. It’s gone. There’s a scorch mark across my armor and I do feel bruised, but half my gear is missing. I put my hand back to my blaster and stiffen. “We’ll have to wait for him. I don’t think there’s much out here that’s bigger than us.”

“You sure about that?” Aftermath’s boots crunch back another step.

A screech echoes overhead and I look up. We didn’t get time to read up on this planet. There was barely enough time for Shave to pull me aside in the interim in order to get bacta on my face and remove some of my bandages.

But I don’t need a debriefing to know this creature looks and sounds mad. Wide see through wings spread overhead, a purple domed head with horns sticking up where ears should’ve been. It screams.

Mer’en gasps and I whirl around. He’s trying to get up. “Stay down, sir!” I hiss.

Mer’en grabs the rubble anyway. He sticks out his hand. “Give me the second blaster, Kian.”

“No, you’re injured!”

“Give it.” He insists with a simple outstretching of his hand.

Aftermath trains his blaster on the creature. “Kian we need to move out of here!”

“I know!” I look at Mer’en and then at the circling creature. Reminds me of a carrion bird circling the dead, except we aren’t dead. I look at the city, though. There’s more of them. I turn quickly and ignore Mer’en’s weak protest.

“Should be weak somewhere, right?” I ask Aftermath.

“We can’t waste shots.”

“Eyes then.”

He glances at me and then nods firmly. “Eyes.”

The creature has bulging white eyes. It moves erratically, darting in and out of my range. I track it as it circles, closer, closer, almost there, just a little closer.

“Shoot it!” Mer’en orders from behind me. I squeeze off the shot. Aftermath fires at the same time.

In a tangle of wings, smoke, and screaming, the beast recoils and falls. It crashes to the ground, still twitching.

“Take that!” Aftermath sinks several more bullets into its fleshy hide. It lays still.

“There will be more,” Mer’en breathes.

He’s on his feet, somehow, and gripping the rubble. “We need. Need to go.”

“Where?” Aftermath asks. “We don’t know where Shave is and we have no medical supplies.”

Mer’en staggers. He grabs Aftermath’s shoulder. “We have to regroup. Shave is. He’s smart. He’ll. Find us.”

Aftermath looks at me. I nod. The sergeant has a point and if we don’t move Shave might not find anything here but bones. The alien vultures have begun to circle the smoking city.

“Alright,” Aftermath sighs. He grabs Mer’en and drags the sergeant’s arm over his shoulder. “Kian, keep a look out for more of those nasty birds.”

“Got it.” I train my blaster skyward.

Aftermath taps his comm. “Shave if you can hear me, or if you can’t, we’re going to try and find somewhere to regroup. Meet us when you can.”

He cuts the comms and we limp off in the direction of the wall. Mer’en keeps up, somehow, though he’s panting. I keep my blaster trained, eyeing every vulture that takes too wide of a swing.

We aren’t dead yet, kriffing vermin.

We reach the corner and Mer’en is struggling. Aftermath slows and pokes his head around the corner. “I don’t see anyone,” he says. “I think–”

Mer’en coughs worse than before. I drop my blaster. “Sir–”

“You gotta sit,” Aftermath practically shoves Mer’en down. He kneels beside him and I assume we both try to ignore the blood running down the sergeant’s chin. I know I do. I don’t want to admit the truth as many times as I might be forced to.

Mer’en leans his head back. The exhaustion is clear on his wearied and worried brow. Aftermath kneels beside him.

“Can you make it, sir?”

“I just gotta,” Mer’en struggles, “rest.”

Aftermath looks at me. He shakes his head. I clutch the droid blaster to my chest and kneel beside him.

Mer’en’s eyelids droop as he coughs.

“So, what farm are you gonna buy me?” Aftermath asks, but his voice is quiet.

Mer’en just stares up at the sky.

I tap my fingers against the blaster and look around. Surely Shave should be back by now and looking for us. If he can just get here in time. I’m shaking my own head at myself and I hate myself for it.

But this is the truth I keep denying. We’re canon fodder. Expendable. We’re clones.

Every mission survived is one step closer to the grave. We’re all marching to our deaths.

Glancing back, I see that Aftermath has taken to staring at his boots. He’s never been quiet this long but I don’t feel like speaking either. There’s nothing to say.

Aftermath peeks up at me. I look back.

Mer’en’s eyes are unfocused but directed at the sky. The color has all left his face. I can see the red blip on my HUD telling me there’s not a vital sign left in him.

I’ve seen so many mangled and broken bodies of people I knew, with faces that looked identical to mine. So many that the peaceful look on Mer’en’s face leaves me cold.

Aftermath gets up. He takes Mer’en’s helmet and sets it beside the sergeant. Aftermath salutes. “So long, sir.”

I struggle up and stiffly salute. “See you on the other side.”

“Let's go,” Aftermath mutters. He pokes his head back around the corner and then looks up as a faint screech echoes closer. “We can’t stay here.”

Voices. I can hear voices. Aftermath and I are met with a wall of rubble, though. One of the walls collapsed outward after the explosion. The tower is behind us, though, and I can see a bit of a path through the city that routes inward around the rubble.

Aftermath looks back at me, and the gaping hole in the wall. “I think we ought to go through the city now.”

I look back. Still no sign of Shave.

“We need to be careful.”

The vultures overhead have so far left us alone, but I’ve heard blaster fire and seen a few more fall. I’ve already shot down two myself. I lift my blaster as Aftermath retreats beside me.

“We stick together,” he warns. I nod and we veer toward the rubble. It’s easy to climb inside. It’s still carnage. The smoke has been billowing overhead and grown darker, but the fires appear to be burning lower than they were earlier.

There’s bodies scattered as we pick along the edge of the town staying away from the worst of it.

A vulture sails past us, claws extended for the white armored body mangled on the ground.

“Get away!” I yell and jerk around, firing several successive shots. The vulture screams and spreads its flimsy wings. I sink two bolts through them. It sails off wounded.

I lower my blaster and jog toward the body just to see who it is.

“Kian!” Aftermath calls out, but he says nothing more after that. I ignore him and kneel. It’s horrifying. I roll the man onto his back, hopeful maybe to find a life sign, but my HUD is already telling me this guy is long gone. My eyes confirm the fact. His face is nothing but melted skin. The plastoid armor he wears is practically fused to the bodysuit. I can’t even recognize shared features with the amount of damage.

Aftermath walks up behind me. “C’mon,” he says.

I stand up and grip the borrowed blaster tight in my hands. I nod.

Aftermath shades his helmet visor. This time he pulls away from me and heads deeper into the city. I jerk to my senses and follow him.

Fire smolders on purple wood. I look around but I don’t see anything until Aftermath comes to a stop in the middle of a damaged roadway. It’s two bodies this time, but one of them is familiar.

Aftermath drops to one knee. “Shave,” he jerks the man onto his back.

His hissed curses are audible over the comm line. I creep up behind, glancing at the smoky sky before looking down.

“He’s gone,” Aftermath sighs. He slams his fist on the ground. “Kriff it all!”

Shave’s body is mangled worse than the last. I recognize the paint on his armor but beyond that it almost looks like something…ate the skin off, leaving muscle, sinew, and bone clinging to armor. The bodysuit is shredded. I’m not even sure I’d call his corpse human anymore. The body beside him is no better, missing whole limbs.

It’s clear Shave stopped to help and likely fell prey to the vultures. I swallow hard.

Aftermath curses a few more times and finally, stands up. I can’t keep looking so I train my eyes on the sky until I know he’s ready to leave.

“Can we at least bury the body?” I ask.

“No time,” Aftermath sighs. “I’m gonna shoot the next vulture I see right through the face.”

I nod. I don’t know if I’m finally numb to it by now, or if the helplessness has just set in, but I’m too disturbed to mourn.

We leave. Picking through rubble and bodies and shooting down the occasional vulture, we make our way toward another broken wall. I hear the voices again. Aftermath breaks into a run, and I follow him as he vaults over broken stone. Through it, through the smoke, I see the first good news of all afternoon: Living breathing clones.

“Sir!” Someone points us out. “More survivors.”

I land on the other side of the rubble and am almost overwhelmed by the others crowding in and grasping our shoulders, clapping our backs. We made it. I pant and finally loosen my grip on the blaster.

“Thank goodness,” I hear someone breathe. It sounds like General Kenobi. He stands off to the side near General Nidor, both of them dusted in smoke with scorched robes. It looks like the survivors have collected behind the bones of downed tanks now forming a barricade near the wall of the city. There aren’t many of us, but we’re alive.

“Listen up!” General Nidor’s voice booms across the yard. I turn. General Nidor stalks forward with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Our numbers may be thin, but I know of a small farming settlement forty clicks east. They were not evacuated because there was no time. If we can make it to the settlement we will restore communications with the Harbinger and send for aid.”

“The droids appear to have left,” Kenobi cuts in and bows his head to General Nidor. “If we can confirm this fact, I believe we can consider this a victory despite,” his brow furrows and his eyes are dark with sympathy, “our losses.”

“Let's go home,” calls out the Captain, who by some miracle appears to have survived.

Home. I look at Aftermath and he grabs my shoulder. I’m with him, we’re both ready to get off this forsaken rock.

part 2 coming tomorrow 4/28!

#part one #star wars #clone wars #clone trooper oc #tw war #dar'aliit fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #cw death #general kenobi #commander cody #tragedy #injuries #chapter 8 #fight scene #reblog is appreciated #sneak preview

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter 6 - Personal Business (pt 1)

Sorry, no sneak peek bc I was away from the weekend. I'm gonna include a link here and pt 2 will be posted tomorrow!

13 BBY Nar Shadda

“Myren…” I look dubiously at the clothing bag. “You’re sure this is a different suit?”

I trust Myren’s fashion implicitly, mostly because she has a sense of fashion, and I don’t. But I cannot see the difference between this suit and yesterdays. Not to mention the day before that. The disappointed look on Myren’s face tells me that is no fault of the suit.

“Commander,” she pauses what she’s doing and faces me. “How many clothes do you own?”

I look off. “Well, two bodysuits, civvies, and a uniform. And now the suit you bought for me on Naboo.” The urge to defend myself sticks in my throat. After all, not many people own two bodysuits. You have to keep one clean at all times, given the fact we wear these things every day.

Myren nods. “I see.” She sighs. “Yes, it’s a different suit.”

I take her word on the matter and get dressed. Different or not, I do think I’m getting used to wearing clothing that would restrict my movement on a battlefield. I still don’t have to enjoy it.

I do however enjoy the slight blush on Myren’s face when I return to the room. And I am thankfully to see the dress she’s wearing is a different color. She is beautiful.

“Ready?” I ask and offer my arm. It’s awkward, I assume. I can feel the rest of the team staring. They can stare all they want.

“Yes,” Myren agrees.

“You’re beautiful by the way.” I can’t look her in the eyes when I say it. Someday, maybe.

I can however see the faint blush on her face from the corner of my eye.

“Thank you.”

With a deep breath, I attempt not to think about the comments that will be made later and lead her down stairs. We landed here three days ago. It’s harks back to a time I’ve almost forgotten, sneaking around undercover and trying to gather information. I never was good at being covert, but there’s high stakes.

And there’s high stakes sabbac, which I have to win today or else. My only two opponents left are Jabba and Molto Shore. Stopping future terrorist attacks will depend on whether Shore or I come out on top.

At least the one thing I have mastered is keeping my cool under pressure. We walk to the gambling floor. There’s plenty of spectators. I let Myren go, she probably won’t stay long today. It’s been nice to have her there, mostly because having her around is in many ways a nice distraction from the weight currently set on my shoulders.

I did win the ship wide Sabbac game, so I’m also partly to blame for throwing my lot in for this. The universe will be a better place if I win, though. And—I try not to smirk at the thought—we could buy so many weapons with the winnings. The pot is already millions.

Myren vanishes into a crowd. I take my seat. My team is with me. They make for some impressive bodyguards. I know they have my back, so there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing except the game of course.

Molto Shore isn’t my favorite person. I actually despise him, mostly because of how much trouble he’s gone to already and what he’s involved in. Terrorism is nothing light. But for now, I have to smile.

To everyone here at this table I’m Rinn, a former clone trooper who took up arms dealing after the war. Believable story, and not too far-fetched given my own disposition toward weapons. Beautiful things. Beautiful and deadly.

Here in the underbelly of the universe on the backstreets of Nar Shadda, deadly gets you places. So, I flash my deadliest smile at Shore, and let the game begin.

20 BBY Abandoned Outpost

“There.”

I wince as Shave finishes the injection. Bevik is already here with his helmet in his hands. He looks afraid to breathe, but clearly, it’s safe.

“How the heck does this work?” Aftermath asks. He’s messing with the medical instruments despite clear instruction to touch nothing.

Shave throws the empty injector at him, and Aftermath dodges it. It rattles onto a tray The medic glares at Aftermath. “It’s a neutralization agent what more do I need to explain?”

“Yeah but it’s not like the air is in the bloodstream.”

“This kills it off, okay? Just don’t worry about it.” Shave huffs. “Kian take you helmet off.”

“Sir yes sir,” I mutter and remove my helmet.

Aftermath snickers.

My face doesn’t burn near as bad here. Actually it’s been numb for a while along with my arm, which Shave already mostly treated. A wrenched shoulder and several fractures in my wrist. Nothing a little bacta and splints couldn’t heal.

As I look up at Shave, who also isn’t wearing his helmet now—he apparently tested the first batch of neutralizing agent on himself—I see him grimace. “You’re gonna need a real medbay for that,” he says and reaches for my head.

I close both eyes as the tape and gauze peels off. Now it hurts like hell.

“Aftermath, grab me a painkiller!”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to touch anything.”

“I will stab you extra hard next time you need shots.”

“Coming,” Aftermath’s tone implies he’s rolling his eyes. In a few moments there’s a sting on my neck and after the briefest burning my skin is tingling and numb again.

“I’m going to clean this off and rebandage it,” Shave says. “Arm too, and then we’ll just have to wait until we get picked up.”

“Did we figure that out?” Bevik asks.

“Mer’en isn’t back, so I’m guessing now.” Aftermath comes and stands beside me. He puts out his hand. I blink sideways at him and take it and I realize why as soon as Shave touches my face with the cleaning spray. It burns worse than the acid. My hand clenches.

Aftermath squeezes my fingers. The burning subsides but I keep up the tight grip until all the bandages are applied.

“That should keep it all covered,” Shave helps me sit up. I glance at Aftermath and he just nods. It’s all the thanks he needs.

I lean forward and Bevik hops down to come over there. “Well, seeing as we’re going to be stuck here a while, shouldn’t we at least make something of it?”

“We need to stay alert in case of Clankers,” Shave reminds him.

“We are going to stay alert,” Bevik smirks. “What’s more alert than betting?”

“No!” Aftermath shoves over and sticks a finger in Bevik’s face. “I am not betting against you anymore! You cheat, and you steal and I always get stuck cleaning refreshers!”

Bevik laughs. I lean around Aftermath and cock an eyebrow at him. This is a horrible idea, but all my senses feel a little dull after the painkiller. I turn to Bevik. “What kind of betting?”

“Sabbac?”

I grin. “I’ll play.”

“You are making a mistake,” Aftermath tells me.

Shave laughs. “Not me, I’m out. You two can have fun.”

“C’mon!” I turn to Shave. “It’s no fun with only two people.”

“Nope.” Medic lifts his hands. “I owe too many rounds of beer to Bevik already.”

“And you’re gonna make good on that!” Bevik calls out. I laugh. Maybe I’m just loopy but I laugh anyway.

“Okay, so maybe not sabbac,” I offer. “How about Dejark?”

“You’re on!” Bevik slaps me on the back. “What’s the bet?”

I eye him cautiously. It’s always important to size up the other player. Aftermath says Bevik cheats, but everyone who’s a sore loser says that. Bevik is like me. He plays a good game, and he plays it well.

Take that Hook.

I blink at the thought and realize Bevik is still waiting for my answer. My head is too fuzzy to think of anything good so I hop down and just shrug. “How about a round of beers?”

“Perfect.” Bevik hooks his thumbs in his belt. “Three games. Winner buys the other guy drinks.”

“You’re on, vode.” Read on AO3 ->

#dar'aliit fanfic #read on ao3 #fanfic #clone wars #imperial agent #clone trooper oc #clone squad #star wars the clone wars #gambling #new chapter #part one #star wars fandom #romance #updated with timestamps

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the-baddest-of-batches · 11 months

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter Seventeen - One Night Decisions (sneak peek)

19 BBY Illandin

Something shoves me out of bed and I stagger, almost falling as I catch the edge of the sheets and manage not to topple onto the floor. "What?" I mumble, my eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Get up," a woman's voice hisses. "Now!"

"Huh?" I blink open my eyes. Where am I? And who're you?"

The Twi'leki woman grabs her shirt and drags it on. She gestures wildly to me again. "Get up and out of sight!"

I twist over and plant my feet on the floor. The hell are my clothes? I find a few of them and slip into them, hurrying toward the refresher. How did I get here?

There's a heavy knock on the door. I recognize the sound, but I was certain I'd dreamed it.

Light cracks under the door and I can see shadows moving as I peek through the slightly cracked refresh door.

"What's up?" The Twi'lek woman—I can't remember her name to save my life—leans toward a shadow in the doorway.

"You vanished last night. Where'd you go?"

"I had an emergency."

There's doubt in the voice. It sounds like another woman, but I can't tell exactly from the low tone's they're whispering in. "Emergency? Lailana, you know you can tell me if you need off, but this is the fourth time you've vanished without a word. I don't want to do this to you."

"I swear, it won't happen again!"

So, I'm definitely not the first. That should hurt more than it does, but I can't even remember this woman's name. There's a comfort in the fact she likely won't remember me either. I'm not here to get attached.

Something buzzes on the floor of the room. I pat my pockets wildly. My commlink.

"Come in," comes a muffled voice.

"Kian, come in."

Both women turn around. The shadow—who appears to be a woman who looks tough as a soldier—shoves past Lailana and into the room. "Lailana, are you in trouble?"

"No!"

She turns. "I told you, you can tell me."

The commlink buzzes again. "Lieutenant Kian, come in!"

I hope they can't hear my name, but the stouter woman whirls around and my stomach sinks. I can't let her find that commlink.

Lailana whirls, lips parted in defense. The woman leans among the blankets and reaches for my commlink.

I shove open the door and stagger out. "Don't touch that!"

Two pairs of eyes snap to me. There's fear in one, and disappointment in the other.

"Another clone," the stout woman sighs.

I put my hands up. She's got a blaster clearly held at her side, but she makes no move for it. Instead, she straightens up and fixes both hands on her hips. "Lailana."

"This isn't her fault," I say.

In two strides, this woman is in my face. Her skin is deeply tanned. She looks like she might've seen more of the universe than even me. She levels her glare at me. "I remember you," she says. "I remember a whole lot of your kind. Stay out of my bar."

"I—" I open my mouth. I close it.

"And you!" She whirls to Laialana. "You're fired."

Lailana's face mottles a deeper purple. She glares past her boss and right at me.

The woman before me stoops down, picks up my commlink, which is now buzzing incessantly, and slaps it in my hand. "You should get back to work, trooper."

I stare at the comm and finally shut it off. The stout woman stalks off and leaves the door open. I look at it. I don't have my boots. I'm still missing my jacket, and my socks.

"Get out." Lailana points to the door.

"What? You're the one who—"

"Get out!" she screams and snags something off the floor which comes flying at my face. I duck fast and break for the door, skidding out into what looks like a back alley. Laialana screams some foreign curse at me. I dart around the corner and into the street only to realize I still don't have my shoes. The pants I'm wearing are not mine, but they do fit, and the shirt somehow is the one I was given.

I look at the commlink, muted, but still blinking rapidly. I click it on and lean my head against the duracrete wall, looking out bleakly at the people trailing past me.

"Lieutenant!" It's not the captain's voice anymore, but Nidor's. "Where are you?"

"Great question," I mutter. I don't recognize this district. I'm not even sure I'm on base anymore. My head is foggy and there's a headache beginning to pound at the base of my skull.

Nidor's voice turns taut. "Get back to base, now. And tell me you won the kriffing game."

"Sure, I did." I remember that much. I rub at the side of my face.

"Then you'd better have something to show for it."

I look at my pockets. "Yeah, sure," I mutter.

The commlink finally snaps off. I straighten up. I feel more like someone ran me over with a speeder bike. I should get something to eat, but I'm pretty sure I don't have any money left after last night. Won't the General just love that. I shove the comlink deep in my pocket and groan. "I hate that kriffing jedi."

#star wars #clone trooper oc #dar'aliit fanfic #clone wars #fanfic #clone troopers #sneak peek #wattpad #ao3 fanfic #jedi oc #bad decisions were made #reblog is appreciated

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter Thirteen - Big Picture

20 BBY Capital of Roche

I lift the blanket and am tackled by the flying limbs of a rogue ten year old. My helmet rolls across the floor. She's sobbing.

How the hell am I supposed to comfort a sobbing child?

I lean over and cautiously pat her head before quickly realizing if she opens her eyes she'll see the corpses of her parents. Without another thought I scoop her up and turn around so she can't see. Her head draws back, streaked in tears.

"It was so loud," she sobs. "And the ground shook, and there was screaming, and-and," she tears up again. I stare at the corpses and grimace.

"It's okay," I mutter. I kneel and pick up my helmet. "See, you're okay?"

"Where's my mom!"

I can't do anything but hold her. I have no idea how I'm supposed to handle a child, but I've seen plenty of crying kids around the Coruscant districts. Usually the parents just hold them and console them. Some scream back. I don't think that'll help here.

How am I supposed to get her out of here without seeing the carnage? I don't know if I can.

She wraps her arms around my neck and sobs on it. I stiffen a little. Maybe it bothers me because I wish I could have been her. Clinging to someone bawling my eyes out when the world around me became needlessly violent. Clones don't cry, though. We're bred for this.

I'm not a child. I'm a soldier.

She hugs me tighter. Pain stings down my shoulder. That hurts. I try not to gasp and look for another way out. There has to be something.

She's crying for her parents again. Her head is buried in my shoulder, so I suppose it's now or never.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?"

She hiccups on a sob. "Y-yes."

"Look at me and tell me your name, okay?" her head lifts. Her eyes lock on mine. They're pure white.

"Roje."

"Roje, nice name. Favorite color?" I take a couple of steps toward the door and her teary gaze is still locked on me. I try not to direct her anywhere else.

"Uh...orange."

"Animal?"

I keep asking questions until we're through the door and out of sight of the corpses. There's civilians in the street now, people emerging from homes to see what has become of their city.

"Roje!"

Roje turns at the sound of her name and smears her hands across her face before bursting back into tears. "Nama!"

I relinquish the sobbing girl into the arms of Name, Roje's, aunt, sibling? I don't know but they know each other. I step back. Roje's safe. She's alive.

I feel like I'm still holding my breath, though.

"Thank you," Nama, the older woman consoling Roje, has tears in her eyes too. I can't look at her so I nod. "Take care of yourselves." I turn, regretting it almost. I won't know their fates. I can't let myself get attached, because they're still people. Human beings whose lives will run out.

But for now, they're alive. And there's a universe full of them. I can't keep gambling and pretending not to care.

I pull my helmet on and ping R3. "C'mon. We'd better get back and make sure none of the Dar'Aliit got themselves shot."

I admit that I half expected another slap across the face. I was told to go with Fang Company and I clearly defined that order. But the General meets me aboard the bridge and there's something of a proud smile on his face.

That irks me more than his anger.

"You brought back valuable intel," he nods in my direction. Officers on all sides glance around at us. The Captain stands stiffer than normal.

"Well done," General Nidor about faces to the bridge windows. The ship is battered, but still here. "and on top of that you prevented civilian casualties. I'm almost proud of you."

Need I remind him that he wanted me to join the 560th? I don't think I will. This time. I'm still holding my breath for the other shoe to drop.

"I'm making you Lieutenant."

"Sir?" I balk. Lieutenant? Of what? I don't command anybody. I don't want to.

"I said I'm promoting you, trooper. You'll be Lieutenant of the Dar'Aliit and work within Bad Company. Addie here can brief you."

This is starting to ring less of a real honor and more of an underhanded attempt to corner me. He knew I'd do my job. He knew I'd earn this, and now I'm right back where I started. I hide my scowl behind my helmet.

"Yes. Sir."

"This will be imperative. The Dar'Aliit are being redeployed immediately."

There it is. I turn and look at Addie, who steps up.

"The other's came back earlier. I've already debriefed them on what we already had but you brought us the last piece of the puzzle." Addie informs me. "You all will have immediate redeployment to the Nashan sector. Intel from the tactical droid indicated there are several high ranking officers set to meet on Caeopa. We had heard rumors. This confirms it. Our goal is to intercept and capture them for questioning."

Our goal. I glare at the back of Nidor's head.

"This is of the utmost importance, please keep that in mind. Otherwise, you are dismissed." Nidor pauses and turns to me. He crosses both scaly arms over his broad chest with an air of victory. This was an argument without a single shout. And I hate to think that I'm the one who lost.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Kian."

He stalks off, leaving me alone with Addie who steps a bit closer. "He really has a grudge against you."

"Mutual disrespect," I mutter. "Thought you already knew."

"I knew you two hated each other," Addie pulls off his helmet and sighs. "You don't want this, do you?"

I shrug. "I just want to keep the galaxy safe. If this is the price, I'll pay it."

"Meet me in the briefing room in five, bring the others. I'll give you all the whole run down."

"Yessir." I stalk away from him and glance back at the planet turning in the windows. Someday, I'll beat that Jedi at his own game. And I'll do it without burning down the universe.

4 BBY Calamity Crew Quarters

I already have two for the collection. After this, maybe two more. I look down at the broken lightsabers I keep on my belt. A couple rookie stormtroopers asked about them once, back when I was a trainer.

I think the stories horrified them more than the prospect of a clone carrying lightsabers. They're broken anyway. No real threat.

I leave them to hang off my belt, and pull on my helmet. The second is fresher, a new addition. The other one, it's older than my career here in Winterfang. Not that that means anything. I've only been Commander here a few months.

I've seen Dross eyeing the saber sometimes, though. He nearly died to the second one when that padawan tried to take off his head. Settled for his arm instead, I suppose.

I blink and my HUD comes on. We've got a few hours till we make the drop to the planet surface. The inquisitors are here and crawling all over the ship. They've got their own lightsabers and sticks up their own butts about who should be going out chasing down rogue Jedi.

I'll stick to the fact I own two lightsabers, and I know exactly how I got both of them. That's enough experience for me to say I don't need force sensitive babysitters around.

But the Empire won't see it that way. All governments are the same. Has been since the clone wars. You become a force user and suddenly you're the top dog. Everyone else is just supposed to fall into rank and file.

I toggle the door control and step out into the hallway of the crew quarters. A dark cloaked inquisitor passes by. His glare falls on me, his subordinate.

I almost pity him. They have to think of us as less or else face the reality that they're the leashed dogs of something much, much bigger.

20 BBY Krayt Bomber Bay

The hanger bay is empty. I've managed to avoid the troopers in the halls, and now that the debrief is over I'm clear of all Dar'Aliit members. Mostly because as Lieutenant, I had the power to order them to the barracks to prep for landing. Maybe this whole command thing isn't the worst idea. We'll be dropping out of hyperspace any minute now so I need to hurry up. R3 bumps my leg and I almost curse at him.

The bombers in the hangar all lay dormant. I poke my head around the corner and do a double check. I exhale slowly. I'm no pilot, but this is the only option. Maybe it'll finally get through the General's scaly hide that I do not need help.

"Go," I whisper to R3, now that I've confirmed we're clear. Keeping low, I jog across the hanger to the nearest bomber with the ladder still propped against the side. In a few short steps I'm inside. I slip into the pilot's chair and look at R3. He rolls under the back and vanishes before appearing behind me, snug in the astromech cockpit.

I can hear some of the chatter on the ship running through the comm line I left open but muted, just in case anyone catches wind of what I'm doing.

Now I just have to wait for the blast doors to open.

There's a shudder. I flick switches across the board and watch the controls light up. It looks like a simulator. Not one I did frequently.

"R3," I check our private line. "Ready?"

The shuddering stops. I buckle in. According to Addie's briefing, the plan was to drop out of hyperspace and deploy us, the Dar'Aliit to the surface.The goal, capture one if not all of the separatist leaders on the planet below. Not a difficult job given basically none of them are military leaders.

All we need is information. I know how to get information.

Starlight peeks through overhead. I flick on a few more switches and I can hear the thrusters heating up. I grab the controls and pull back, gently, this thing is more sensitive than Lekku.

Landing gear, gotta put that up.

I hear the ladder clatter off the side. Kriff.

Static over the comms as the bomber hovers, turning carefully toward the shields keeping out the atmosphere.

"Bomber A-17 what are you doing? This is control, I repeat, what are you doing?"

I slam my hand on the comm and shut it off. R3 beeps something nasty at them. I think this droid and I will get along.

The bomber nose comes around. I manage to get it up so we're clear of the other ships, and in the clear for the shields. Now the tricky part, getting out without getting shot.

Static. "Bomber A-17 come in!"

I shove the controls forward and the whole thing zips forward. I'm shoved back by inertia and I pull it around just in time to punch it out of the hanger bay. The panicked static crackles for a few seconds, then it's gone as I'm up in space with nothing but stars around me. It would be beautiful if I had the time to stop and stare.

I push the controls down and head for the planet. The bomber handles much more delicately than I remember. The simulation controls were always sticky, though.

R3 beeps at me.

"I'm aware. We're going down easy, don't worry. I think I know how to handle this." I am only half lying.

The bomber shudders as we hit the upper atmosphere. Caeopa looks blue from outer space, but that's only because so much of the ground has the same blue tint as its oceans. Landing is going to be a royal pain.

I glance back. The republic star destroyer is fading and fast. I swallow hard. The General's certainly going to demote me for this. I'm okay with that.

Give the promotion to someone who wants it. I'm fine on my own. I'm going to protect this galaxy the one way I was taught to, by going out and being canon fodder myself.

"So long, sir."

R3 screams at me. I look down. The controls are also screaming at me. Kriff.

Red lights, klaxons, what does it all mean? The altitude line is off. That isn't good. Kriff. Kriff. Kriff. I jerk at the controls. The bomber takes a dive. R3 beeps wildly.

"Well then you take over, you lump of metal!"

R3 groans. The outside of the ship is starting to burn up in the atmosphere and I am realizing I should've stolen some pilot's helmet. I haul back on the controls as hard as I can. New klaxons are going off. Static cuts in and out. The ground appears without warning through the clouds and there's not enough time to pull up.

"R3, eject!" I yell. The droid whistles, curses at me in binary, and ejects. I cut every thruster, just to slow the descent, and I slam the eject button for myself. The webbing against my chest tightens. I gulp down a breath and in a rush of air I'm free falling. My head spins. There's not enough air up here. I should've waited a few more seconds, or maybe let the droid fly.

This was a dumb idea if I ever had one.

I gasp and my vision fills with spots. I try to blink but the world is just a haze of clouds and ground all spinning together into one dizzy feeling. My stomach flips as gravity sets in and I lose all consciousness.

New chapter sneak peek coming...5/15!

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit Chapter 7 - Something to Fight For (Part 2)

1600. Kenobi and his men are here. My blaster is in my hands. I stand inside the gate ready for whatever comes through it. The guard up in the tower hasn't given the order to open it yet, but my heart hammers in anticipation.

General Nidor heads us off. General Krell never did that. I wonder if that's the difference between him and the others.

The guard yells. "Open the gate! They're here!"

And one by one, like a bristling hide, blasters click into place. I check my ammo. I sight up. I'm ready.

There's blaster fire outside the wall. Cannons boom. The ground trembles with a far off concussion and then the gate grinds open. Nothing can hide the carnage anymore.

Droids, tanks, SBD's there's a sea of them, but like a Krayt dragon's jaws we close around them. General Nidor yells and I'm running. I fire. Each droid is nothing but a red blip on my HUD and scrap when I'm done with it.

Clones are men. We're brothers, and we fight for that spark of light that lives in us. I grew up knowing I'd die, but here in the middle of the battlefield, all that matters is killing and surviving. We think like men, desperate, dying men. Droid's can't do that and that puts a world of a difference between us.

We burst through the ranks. The SBD's lay covering fire. The men above us on the wall return with our own. A separatist tank fires on a squad to the left. There's a plume of black smoke. There's screaming. The shockwave almost knocks me off my feet, but General Nidor is scaling the beast and with deft slices, it explodes. The Jedi lands near me, agile as a cat.

I bust in a droid's head with the butt end of my blaster. I reload, the motion is as natural as breathing. For the first time I feel cool under fire.

"Kian, on your six!" Aftermath's voice breaks into my comms.

I whirl and squeeze off two shots. Laser cuts through metal and a B1 crumples.

"Nice shot!" Bevik calls. "But I'm at fifteen already."

"Hah! Seventeen!" Aftermath pipes up.

I slag another droid. How many have I killed? I wasn't keeping count.

"Twenty-three," cuts in Shave, his voice ever calm.

"Butt out," Aftermath snaps. "We didn't include you in the bet."

"Doesn't matter if we don't all survive now does it?" Shave retorts. "That's twenty-five."

The banter is like a comforting white noise. It blocks out the screaming as I cut down another droid and return fire on an SBD that nearly nicked me. A green blade flickers through it, mere feet in front of me and takes the whole thing down.

I forget to keep firing, the afterimage of the lightsaber burned onto my retinas.

I'm shoved down as a tank shell explodes overhead. It's Mer'en. He scrambles up beside me in the rubble.

"Don't freeze up," he mutters.

I open my mouth to argue, but I can only get to my feet and blink rapidly in search of another target between the blaze of fire. Mer'en's right. I can't let myself panic. I have to focus.

A droid fires at me and I dodge. In two short leaps I tackle it, busting in its head with laser fire. Exhaling, I get up. "One."

"What was that?" Aftermath yells over the noise of an explosion.

I shake my head and mow down another droid. "I want in," I call over the comms. Other lines are busy with other chatter. "That's two."

"Two!" Bevik laughs. I grimace and duck behind the cover of a broken tank. Aftermath slams shoulders with me. He looks over.

"Two's not bad, but you're gonna have to keep up," he says. I eye the droid sighting him up and blast it. Aftermath looks over his shoulder.

I grin. "See if you can keep up."

"We kicked their metal shebs!" Bevik pumps his blaster in the air. "Man, that feels good."

I'm glad he's excited but it's all worn off for me. I only counted twenty kills, after I started counting. Everyone beat me out, not that there was anything to lose.

Our lives. We could've lost our lives. I'm much happier losing a bet.

And the town is ours. No, the planet is ours. The Generals are both outside the wall setting up guards, calling in heavy weapons, and talking. I follow my squad back through the gate, though, and into the city where we wander among the other groups and look for somewhere to rest.

I'm beat, but still on high alert. Anything can happen.

"I'll bet the locals could build a new town out of all the scrap," Aftermath says. "And this one is still standing, ain't it, Shave?"

Shave declines to respond. Mer'en veers toward an empty house. We file in and take up the porch like before. I sit against the railing this time, though.

"You know, the separatists pulled out rather quickly, do you think they realized this place was a lost cause?" Bevik asks.

"I think they figured they'd win," Aftermath shrugged. "But we showed them."

I look down at my blaster. We did indeed "show them."

Mer'en straightens. "I'm going to get some water from inside. I hope the locals don't mind sharing."

"That's called stealing," Bevik calls after the sergeant as Mer'en ducks inside. He stretches. "Guess we could get back in time for the game now, Aftermath, what do you think?"

"I think we have a better chance of finding an uplink on an officer's comm."

"Well frag that," Bevik sighs.

I inspect the little house. The locals can't be very tall. Everything is short and squat. The home is something of a dome. Not made of metal, though reinforced by it now. It looks like it was originally carved out of the same purple wood that grows here, even down to the steps and railing. It's beautiful really. The architecture is not something I can fully appreciate, but the handiwork is.

There's a faint beeping from inside. Bevik hears it too because he leans over toward the door.

"You good in there sarge? Trigger an intruder alarm?" he laughs.

I stiffen. "Bevik, maybe we should go inside and check it out. What if—"

The ground rumbles. I grab the railing of the house and lunge over it. As I land, I see a plume of smoke rising in the near distance. The four of us stare at it.

"The hell was that??" Aftermath mutters.

Bevik whips around. "Mer'en, get out h—"

"Bevik, don't—!"

Shave whirls. I whip around. Bevik gets two steps to the door and I realize I can't hear anything. No voices. No birds. The dead silence hits me harder than a shock wave. Time doesn't move. We're suspended, waiting for the hammer to drop.

The air explodes hot. My eardrums pop loud and I'm slammed back. I feel my ribs crack as I hit the ground, gasping. Everything is white noise, and white-hot pain. My helmet tries to buffer the noise, and my visor darkens against the flash. Blind, I grab at the dusty ground, panting hard as I crawl up to my hands and knees.

Vision returns, slowly and leaves me stunned with horror. Fire consumes the house in front of me. Shadowy figures lay in the dust, still amid the flames. Smoke rises overhead. I scramble up, my legs shaking but adrenaline pushing fear from my veins.

"Mer'en!" I yell. "Bevik!" I stumble but the shadows are still too far away. They're ghosts in the smoke.

"Aftermath!" My knees give out and I slip into the burning sand. "Shave..." I choke on the smoky air making it through my cracked helmet visor. My eyes water from the sting and I cough, sinking to the ground. "No! Please...not again!"

13 BBY Calamitycrew quarters

I recoil and sit up. Cold sweat burns down my face as I clutch my blankets in hand. Another nightmare. I rub my face against my scarred face and lift my head to survey the dark room. It's the dead of night according to standard hours. Everyone should be asleep. That includes me.

I toss aside the covers anyway and put my feet on the cold floor. Maybe it's only because I've lived half my life on ships set for one place or another, but the Calamity feels right at home. It's cold, unfeeling, and groans a little at night when everything is silent.

I get up and stumble to my door, which slides open at the lightest touch of my hand. A faint light floods the familiar halls. There are other doors, other crew suites, each occupied with snoring sleeping bodies. I pad quietly toward the common area and galley.

Entering, I half expect to see someone up because I can hear the holo vid from outside, but the common room is empty. There is however a holovid playing on the table.

Bolo ball match. It looks recorded. I don't look at the time stamp, but I just have the gut feeling. I slide into a seat. I've never watched a Bolo ball match to save my life.

Sports in truth are much like war, except no one is trying to kill anyone else. But they're all trying to win. Maybe that's why I hated sports. Or maybe it was all the late-night yelling.

Slumping forward, I lean my chin in my calloused hand and stare at the screen. Blue and white team. Red and green team. Looks like blue and white might be winning. I don't know how to score, but the bottom left shows it.

The ball flies across the arena. Player's scramble. It looks like a tussle.

Who does this belong to?

I blink my eyes. The light is making me sleepy, that and the silent repetitive plays over and over again. There isn't any sound, it's just an old vid someone left on. Maybe it belongs to Dross. He strikes me as the type to watch sports.

The more it drags on the heavier my eyes grow. I eventually lay my head in the crook of my arm so I can keep watching without really paying any attention.

It's almost like watching a ghost. The past meeting the present in some form of eternally understood conflict. No sound, no context, not even an explanation. I don't know who will win, but I can see they both believe it'll be them. The sweaty faces. The yells without any noise.

And the ball sailing back and forth locked between two sides.

I wonder what color Bevik was going to dye his hair? Nyo tried to go green and red. Would they have been on the same side?

My eyes sag. What does it really matter? I let my head drop. We're all just the ball in the middle, getting kicked around until the game is decided.

(Chapter 8 Sneak Peek coming Thursday 4/27...)

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter 5 - Cogs in the Machine (p2)

The gorge seemed to move further the more we walked. Aftermath kind of hovered between me and Bevik. I could tell he was worried, but Bevik was fine. I took glances back at Kit.

He appeared fine. Came to walk silently beside me. I appreciated the silence.

We reached the gorge in several hours, now we approach the outpost itself. It looks empty, abandoned really. Not a clanker in sight. There’s a bit of yellow, I think water, dripping from a pipe on the ground as we all group together with blasters ready. I grip Kit’s holdout pistol in my good hand as we approach the base airlock.

Mer’en gestures Kit forward and he pulls off the control panel cover. In a few moments the airlock grinds loudly. I turn and snap the pistol up, keeping an eye on the landscape.

Readouts said this place isn’t inhabited. The listening post is almost fifty years old. Used to be a research station that got abandoned. Reason unknown.

The grinding is louder and Kit sits back. He looks like he’s panting. “It’s stuck,” he whispers. “I think the gears are too old.”

“Can we get it open any other way?”

“Not without compromising the integrity of the airlock.” Kit’s voice is hoarse. I glance back at them because something isn’t sitting right in my gut.

“Are you sure the droids aren’t here yet, sir?” I ask Mer’en.

He looks back at me then gestures to Kit. “Try again,” he orders. “Everyone, train your blasters on the airlock.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

I turn and duck into the side of the building beside Aftermath. Kit fiddles around with the panel. Sparks fly and the door gives another heavy groan before there’s the tumble of a lock and it slips open, almost too easily.

Laser bolts pour out.

“Fire!” Mer’en shouts and sends a volley of shots back into the airlock.

There’s a tinny scream. I empty the holdout blaster and as the smoke clears there’s nothing but melted droid spilling out.

“Clankers are here,” Aftermath calls out.

Kit slumps against the outside of the wall. “Should…be good…now.”

I drop the empty blaster and jog over to him. “Are you okay?”

Kit gives me a thumbs up. I look into his face, though. There’s a sickly yellow pallor to his skin. He smiles at me. “Fine.”

I don’t want to believe him but the others are headed inside. Mer’en directs us to home. I grab Kit’s hand and help him up this time. We follow. I don’t have a weapon anymore so I trail behind Aftermath and keep half an eye on Kit.

The door is shot, so it doesn’t close as we slip inside, but as the interior door slides open it’s clear this place hasn’t had a human touch in forever. The air tastes stale, even through a helmet filter.

Mer’en and Bevik run ahead. “Nothing,” Mer’en calls. “Clankers must be deeper in. Aftermath, stick with Kian. Kit—”

Kit grabs the wall and doubles over coughing. I turn in time to see the blood spattering the inside of his gloved palm.

Shave breaks away from Aftermath. “He’s injured!” he calls to Mer’en. I want to go after Shave, but I stay where I am. My chest is constricting.

Aftermath puts a hand on my shoulder, and it reminds me he’s there. I’m not alone. Shave is here. No one’s going to die.

“You’re shaking,” Aftermath mutters.

Kit slumps down. Shave follows him. I can’t see anything, but I can hear the horrible hacking and coughing. It churns my stomach, so I turn my back. Aftermath loops his arm around my shoulders and keeps a careful watch as Mer’en and Bevik cover the corridor.

It’s excruciating to wait. To listen. To know there’s nothing I can do, and at the same time it’s all my fault.

But the silence at the end is worse. I hold my breath until Shave speaks up.

“He’s gone.”

Aftermath stiffens.

“What?” Mer’en asks.

“His respiratory system is all burned through. Looks like whatever is in the air reacts with anything even remotely liquid, including your insides. No one takes off their helmet until this place has been vented, got it?”

Aftermath’s hand forms a fist over my shoulder. He bows his head.

“Shave, stay with the body. We’ll clear the outpost,” Mer’en orders. He looks back at me and Aftermath. “Kian, Aftermath, stay with them.”

I don’t want to, but I’m no good injured.

“Yes, sir,” Aftermath says stiffly. He removed his arm from my shoulders and steps toward Shave. I risk a look back. I don’t feel sick this time. Maybe it’s because Kit’s eyes are closed. He looks like he’s asleep. He looks peaceful.

If not for the blood smeared across his mouth, you might’ve never known he was dead.

Mer’en and Bevik head off. Aftermath walks over there and I follow him slowly, unsure if I really want to be here. Aftermath slumps down beside Shave and leans his head back. I sit beside him and draw my knees to my chest.

“You should both keep your helmets on until we know what did this,” Shave says. He looks over at me. “Especially you, Kian.”

“What the hell was it?” Aftermath asks. “None of us got sick, but Kian and Bevik both took off their helmets.”

“Like I said, probably something in the air reacting with moisture.” Shave sighs.

I wish I could pull off my helmet and scream. I don’t even deserve this. Everywhere I go, people die. And these two, they’re talking about it like, like it’s another day.

It is another day, but it’s also another face. Another brother. I press my hands to the sides of my helmet. “I’m sorry!”

Aftermath looks over. “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“Yes I did!” I snap back. “He would’ve lived if he’d kept his helmet on! But I’m wearing it.”

Aftermath’s voice takes a tone colder than I’ve ever heard. Aftermath, I don’t think, even knows how to be cold. But he’s ice when he answers.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of it. We are soldiers, Kian. We’re grown in tubes and sent to die. That’s what we do. It’s hell, but it’s the truth.”

Shave sits forward. “Aftermath is right.”

“But—”

“No!” Aftermath slams a fist into the ground. “Look, you start to blame yourself and you’ll never learn to move forward or move on. We’re all going to die, someday, somehow, whether it’s here, or on another forsaken field of war. It might be somewhere nice, it might not. Doesn’t matter.” He sighs. “Look, sometimes, there just isn’t anyone to blame.”

“Then what do I do?”

Aftermath leans back. He throws an arm over my shoulder and shrugs. “Cry. Scream. Take it out on the next clanker you see. Just, let it go, okay?”

I know I can’t see Aftermath’s face, but I think he probably feels the same way I do. Helpless. Small. Another cog in the machine. And I know he’s right, but I just don’t feel any better knowing that the universe won’t care, or even hear, my scream.

“Base is clear.” Mer’en shrugs off his backpack. Shave wanders around the medbay we reclaimed. We’re all still in helmets. Kit’s body is covered at least now, but stretched out on the table behind me.

“Well that’s good. Lots of droids? Injuries?” Shave doesn’t stop medlding with the ancient equipment. He’s unpacked everything he has onto the various tables and trays. It looks like more than I would’ve expected to fit in a medical kit.

“We’re fine,” Mer’en says. He comes over to me. I’ve been sitting on this cold table for about an hour now waiting for Shave to find whatever cure he’s been working up based off Kit’s autopsy so he can neutralize the component in the air.

According to Shave if any of us start breathing in here even though there’s no further component, our lungs will likely melt out thanks to the chemical composition of the agent which reacted to the blood on my face. Its water-based acid. Harmless in a dry environment but activated by liquid. And humans are just big fleshy bags of water. At least now I know why half my face will be scarred for life.

Mer’en leans back. “How are you doing?”

I shrug. “No worse for wear.”

He pats my shoulder. “Good man. Shave, any progress on neutralizing?”

“You can likely take your helmet off, Sarge. You never removed it outdoors.”

“I’d rather not risk puking out my organs.”

Shave chuckles. “Smart.”

“I’ve made some progress. I don’t exactly have a full medical station here, you know. Worse comes to worse we will have to ship Bevik and Kian back to the Kaminoan medical station to get proper treatment.”

“Think you can stand to wear your helmet a little longer?” Mer’en looks at me. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Sure, sir.”

“They need water,” Shave wags a finger in my direction and wanders off again. He drags the sheet back over Kit’s face as he walks by. The sight is disturbing me less with each moment. The body is here, but it’s just a body. This place is strange and unfamiliar and it’s all beginning to look just like a bad dream. So that’s all it is for now.

Shave picks up the injector he’s been working on. He flicks his fingers against it. “So either we need to make contact and get off this planet soon, or I will have to finish this. How comes breaching the array?”

Mer’en rubs the back of his helmet. “I put Bevik on it. He has so far threatened to shoot the computer twice and almost shoved a grenade in the main panel. I told Aftermath to work on it.”

“Ah yes, the demolitions expert and the heavy weapons expert. They’ll surely find a way to breach the computer.”

“If by breach you mean—”

“—destroy it, yes that’s what I mean,” Shave walks and stands on the other side of me. I look between them. Kit was our only slicer.

But he’s not the only one who can slice.

“How old is the array?” I ask.

Mer’en turns his head sideways to look at me. “Old? It’s pre-republic. It’s basic tech, though. The only issue is the fact that getting into it requires bypassing the security because no one is alive anymore who would remember the codes.”

“So, you just need to get in a backdoor?”

“What, are you a slicer?”

“No.” I hop off the table. “But I listened to one. And I’ve got the same basic training as the rest of you. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“The array blows up.”

I nod. “And what’re the chances of that happening right now?”

“At least doubled if not quadrupled given who’s down there,” Shave butts in. He looks at Mer’en. “Give the Rookie a crack at it.”

Mer’en shrugs. “Sure. C’mon. I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

“You always say that,” Shave scoffs.

I follow Mer’en out and am taken down to the controls room. We enter amid the anticipated argument.

“If we blow it up, maybe that’ll trigger an alarm!”

“And maybe it won’t!”

“Well what was your plan going to be genius?”

“We only blow up the part that’s keeping us from logging in!”

“Shut it!” Mer’en’s voice takes over the room. I stiffen beside the door and both Aftermath and Bevik look over.

“Sir,” Bevik shoves past Aftermath. “We were just trying to figure out the most key points of getting the system to—”

“Can it,” Aftermath cuts in. “He heard the whole thing.”

“Yes, I did.” Mer’en crosses his arms back over his chest. He gestures with one finger to the array computer. It is old. Older than dirt, not to mention the republic. Kit really is the better person to do this, but he’s not here.

A hand settles on my shoulder. I jump but it’s Mer’en who turned back around and is pointing back at the computer with it’s disassembled panel lying on the dusty floor. “Just try to bypass the security. It’s not a military outpost so if you can get in, we can make contact. Then we’ll get the real techs down here, got it?”

“Yessir.” I jog over to the computer and snatch the tools away from Aftermath, who left them on the chair. He huffs and sits down.

Crawling under the computer I can see it’s just a tangle of wires. I’m fully out of my depth. This isn’t a bomb where I can cut one wire and be done. I study the mess and find a port, but there’s nothing to plug into it. I poke my head out from under the computer.

“Sir?”

“What?” Mer’en walks over.

“Do we have a datapad or small computer?”

“Oh!” Aftermath stands up. “There’s one in the backpack we brought with us. Packed it to monitor air quality.” He vanishes and reappears with the datapad in hand. “Catch!”

I nab the datapad out of the air and set back to work. Plugging it in brings up a much more familiar display. I do know how to crack a basic datapad code so I set it up to unscramble and in a few moments the screen is flashing green. There’s a bit of a spark and I see everyone overhead start moving. Poking my head back out I can see a black and green readout on the array screen. There’s the faintest sound of feedback.

I crawl back out. “Working?”

“You did it,” Aftermath claps his hands. “Nice job!”

Mer’en grabs the comm. “This is base to Republic Ship Harbinger.” Static and then a muffled voice.

“Outpost, this is Harbinger, we read you. Please confirm codes.”

After a brief exchange of codes and some tinkering the connection clears up. I realize there’s monitors all around the room and upon further inspection it’s clear each monitor is set to monitor different sectors of space.

“Sir, don’t you think it’s weird there was only a handful of droids here?” Aftermath wanders around the chair and picks up the panel. He slots it back into place.

“I’d say it means we beat the tinnies,” Bevik says. “but don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of ammo waiting if they make a second attack.”

“I think now that we’ve established contact we should be save to relinquish the base to the ground team,” Mer’en says. “We need to warn them about the air, though.”

Shave wanders in. “Good news,” he leans against the doorway. “There is a neutralizing agent.”

“Bad news?” Mer’en turns.

Shave shakes his head. “All around success, at least so long as I can test it on someone.” He points at Bevik. “You didn’t get half your face burned off. You get to be the test subject.”

“C’mon!” Bevik throws his hands in the air with a sight. “I’m always the test subject.”

Shave doesn’t argue. I walk to the chair and look down at the computer. “Sergeant, do you think we could maybe tune into the Seps comms now and see what they’re up to?”

Mer’en appears over my shoulder. “Not a half bad idea. Do you think you can find the frequency?”

“I can try.” Despite the fact the equipment is old it becomes clear which buttons are for which. These people were straightforward to say the least. Though I don’t recognize the language.

With a bit of whining and static I can make out robotic voices and the familiar commanding tone of a tactical droid. This has to be it.”

“…There is a 90% chance that the ground scouts have been destroyed. We shall prepare a second ground team. Advise caution. Hostile may have secured the area, but they must be eliminated…”

The tinny tone trails off. I look at Mer’en and make sure to press the key to mute any open comms between us.

“So they do know we’re here but they only sent one ground team, why?”

“Maybe the air and the droids don’t agree,” I suggest.

Aftermath paces around. “We should triangulate that transmission and figure out where they are. If we are, can’t the Harbinger shoot them down?”

“Yes,” Mer’en sounds like he’s smiling. “Kian?”

“On it.” I turn back to the dials and plug the datapad back in. It takes only mere minutes. “Coordinates ready,” I say. “They’re hidden on the dark side of the moon.”

“Harbinger, do you copy?” Mer’en toggles back to the main comms.

“We copy.”

“We’ve got a location on a separatist flagship. Dark side of the moon.” He gestures to me. “Sending coordinates now.”

I complete the send.

“Received,” comes the response. “We will rendevouz in ten standard hours for retrieval.”

“Copy that.”

The comms go dead and Mer’en stands back. He looks back. “So, I guess that leaves us with only one problem,” he looks at me and Aftermath.

Aftermath cocks his head, but I get it. I look up.

“How’re they going to get us, if they can’t even land in this atmosphere?”

#fanfiction #star wars #the clone wars #dar'aliit fanfic #part 2 is here!#chapter 5 #new chapter #vode #clone squad #brothers #cw death #life lessons

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Sneak Peek: Dar'Aliit Chapter 3 - Wrong Side of Heaven

We all know the plan. I crouch beside Nyo. Hook has his back to the tree across from us. On my left is the 212th trooper, Aftermath. The plan is to capture a Jedi. My blaster wavers ready in my hands.

My head hasn’t really been able to stop reeling, however. In the silent shadowy world, I feel almost like something is coming from every side. The captain took several troopers back to base. We’re holding the forest in case he runs.

He is a Jedi after all. That’s the part I can’t reconcile no matter how tightly I grip my blaster nor my ideals. The Jedi are supposed to be on our side, fighting with us, for us, for the Republic. But the Captain called him a traitor. He said this guy was using us.

Why? Who would do that?

I shake my head and focus. Somewhere in the distance there’s blasterfire and my stomach clenches. You had your chance to speak up. But you know what you’re doing.

No one trains us to kill Jedi, though. Let alone apprehend them.

“Relax,” Nyo mutters to me. I glance down at him and take a couple of breaths.

“Think of him like a big monster, or beast,” Nyo drones on. “Aim for the head and stun.”

“You’d think they would teach us what to do when these guys go rogue,” Aftermath echoed my own sentiments. He peeks around the corner. “Coming this way,” his whisper is rushed.

I see the green double bladed lightsabers seconds later as they slice through bodies. Screaming. I can’t unclamp my hands from my blaster.

What’s worse is the Jedi is laughing. He leaps between the trees and lands with a thud several feet behind us. In that instant I realize that no matter what we might’ve dreamed about, no matter whether our goals were realistic or just some ideal, it all ends here.

There’s carnage in this Jedi’s wake. He has no remorse, no feeling for us. We are nothing to him.

And he smiles as he whirls, lightsabers twirling, and I can see that he’s relishing this. We’re his prey.

“Traitor!” Hook lunges out of hiding. He fires wild. I almost leap out after him, but Nyo grabs me. I almost stumble, eyes on Hook as the jedi whirls, zeroing in on Hook.

“We have to rescue him!” I stagger out. “Hook!” I fire two stun bolts. With a twirl of his hand, General Krell deflects both and finishes by sinking the lightsaber through Hook’s chest.

I gag.

We’re spotted.

“Insolent clones,” Krell sputters and he’s sailing toward us, running faster than I would’ve imagined an alien of his size could.

“Go!” Nyo yells.

Aftermath leaps out in front of me. I fire stun bolts over Aftermath’s shoulder. Nyo runs around and we fire at the blinding light of whirling lightsabers which barely mask the shadow barreling down on us. Aftermath lunges aside as a lightsaber sweeps his way. I back up a step. I want to run, and I want to see this guy dead.

Then the Jedi pauses, and I look up. I have a clear shot at his head. I could kill him right here, right now, but he’s gloating. He knows we’re nothing.

And I know it too.

“Useless,” Krell hisses.

I snap up my blaster already knowing I won’t make it. The green blade cuts the sky.

“Kian!” Nyo skids up in front of me and gets off a shot. It sails uselessly through the sky, though and the green lightsaber completes it’s path, carving through Nyo’s body instead of mine.

I’m screaming. I can feel the heat on my face, and there’s something burning in my own chest, burning through the armor, into the skin. I’m trying to reach Nyo, and I’m falling. I’m blacking out.

I hit the ground.

My blaster is gone. I can’t feel anything except pain and shock and I’m frozen where I lay on the ground. There’s a shudder as the Jedi leaves and only then can I lift my head, choking on air.

“Nyo…” I grab for him. My vision is blurry. I manage to work off my helmet and hook my fingers on Nyo’s shoulder pauldron. I haul myself forward. My chest burns. I think the lightsaber caught me too, but I can feel my body. I can feel it on fire with pain.

Panting, I gather my knees under me and crawl over to Nyo. I tear off his helmet and then I can see it.

The smoldering skin. The missing half of his body. I can see and smell the blood, but I can’t comprehend it all until I find myself looking at Nyo’s empty lifeless eyes and it hits me.

They’re all gone.

Nyo. Hook. Haze. Morgan. Nenti.

But not me.

The horror hits my stomach before I can scream and instead, I retch as the pain and nausea and gruesome truth blacks out all my senses.

#dar'aliit fanfic #star wars fandom #clone wars #umbara arc #cw death #cw violence #ptsd #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #part one #sneak preview #chapter 3

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Sneak Peek Dar'Aliit: Chapter 2 - The Promises We Break

“I’m going to skin that chakkar alive!” I groan and shove myself onto my elbows. The doctor—Palpatine—turns immediately from his work and hurries across the medbay floor to stop me before I can get up.

I scowl at him.

“Commander, you should not be up,” his face is tight. “You only just got out of bacta treatment and your injuries…” I can feel his eyes trailing to my scarred up arms and chest.

I ignore him and put my feet on the floor anyway. “Forget it.” I’m angry. I’ve been angry for days now, but to unconscious to do anything about it. But I’m not unconscious anymore. Days of bacta treatment and I feel fine. Fine enough to skin a man alive. Specifically Jay, that traitor.

My fist clenches at the very memory of his smirk before he lobbed the first grenade and then my vision flashes to a blank. I blink however, and scan the room, distracted by another though. Myren.

I catch sight of her buttoning up her shirt. She’s sitting over by the other medbay bed and looks, in all honesty, better than me. Even her injuries from the past week have healed.

Exhaling, I am thankful for that. I promised to keep her safe after all.

Myren turns to me and I can feel the heat in my face as I look down. I turn it into a grimace and try to shoulder off Palpatine who stubbornly remains, insisting silently that I do not try to leave.

It’s Myren, though, that rounds the corner and meets me with her calm stare. Her gaze flickers down, and up, and meets my eyes.

“You should lay down, Commander,” she says. “You’re still healing.”

I open my mouth but I know better than to argue. Myren of all the people here knows more about me than anyone. And refusing will only get me blackmailed later.

Defeated, I slink back to the bed and sit down. Palpatine smirks.

“Clones,” he mutters and moves off.

With a roll of my eyes, I lean back. I am sore. But what’s truly sore is my ego, and my pride, and my sense of safety. Jay was one of us. I allowed him into the Winterfang team and like a di’kut it nearly got us all killed.

Myren walks up and sits on the edge of the bed. She stares off into space and I can see that she’s lost faith too. She hugs her elbows tighter to her sides than she ever has before. I lean forward and put my hand on her shoulder.

Myran blinks and looks back. “No getting up,” she insits, and sighs.

“I’m not,” I argue, frowning stiffly, but I do sit cross legged behind her and let my hand rest against her shoulder. “I’ll catch him,” I whisper. “Don’t worry I won’t let Jay—”

“Jay’s dead,” Myren says blank. “Rho took him down with a rocket. The Doctor informed me.”

“What?” I echo and look around. There’s still blast scorches on the floor from the scuffle and the door to the holding cell is damaged, but closed. I lift my hand from Myren’s shoulder and rub the side of my head. How much did I forget? I was close to the blast.

“You were unconscious,” Myren says, putting my mind at ease. “You…saved my life.”

“That’s my job.”

“Thank you.” Myren catches my eye. She smiles and I can see her relax, only slightly. She pulls her knees up onto the bed and turns around so we’re cross-legged facing each other. She sits with far better posture. I smile and slouch forward.

Myren folds her arms and I can’t help but wonder if she’s mocking me slightly, but I realize quickly she’s just afraid to be left exposed. “Commander,” her voice is quiet. “Be careful…please?”

“About?” I tilt my head. Generally, I’m careful. Okay perhaps there are times, moments, and lapses in my caution, but when it comes to Myren, I have to be careful. I cannot afford to break her or harm her in the least. And I won’t let anyone else try either.

Myren unfolds her arms. She rubs at her knuckles. “I mean on missions, and…out there,” she gestures vaguely. Myren does nothing vaguely. Her face is a deep blue.

Leaning forward, I hug her. I’m stiff, and sore, and she’s a bit hesitant, but there’s a comfort in the fact we’re equally awkward, equally afraid, and equally aware of the vulnerability we have the universe, and each other.

“I promised I’d protect you,” I whisper firmly. “I won’t break my word.”

#dar'aliit fanfic #star wars fandom #clone trooper oc #kian and myren #imperial agent #fluff #angst #ao3 fanfic #sneak preview

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the-baddest-of-batches · 10 months

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Changing of the Guard

4 BBY Naboo

"The situation is handled, sir." I duck my unhelmeted head to the Moff who waits with the others behind a line of security officers and troopers who have helped to secure the premises here on Naboo. Leia is back with her parents, and safe aboard the Venator in orbit along with several other guests. The assailants who were apprehended will be questioned later and the bodies are being dealt with. I'm sure someone will have plenty of questions for the Zann Consortium. Particularly, why they got involved.

I suspect this was some sort of bounty, or a ploy to get their hands on a bargaining chip. It wouldn't be the first time they'd pulled a stunt like this. I still remember Fondor.

The Moff sighs as he approaches me. His arms are crossed over his chest, a sign he was nervous. He likely still is. An attack of this size when we were expecting mere rebels has shaken many. Those who remain here are among the highest order, though, smoothing over the details.

"Kian," he calls out, his voice stiff to keep out the fear. "You did well securing the princess."

I shrug. "I did what I had to."

One of the black armored troopers wanders toward me. Removing his helmet, I find myself face to face with Headshot again.

"Kian's good at being a leader, even if he won't say it," Headshot comments. "Permission to brag about you, sir?"

I glare at him. "Just say what you're going to say and get back to work."

Headshot puts a hand on my shoulder. "I wanted to say," he looks at the Moff, "you picked a good man."

I avoid his stare and look at the Moff. Headshot pulls back and frowns. "And an anti social one at that."

I'm glad to see you too. I've been thinking about it since we met in the ballroom, but I know if I say it to Headshot's face, though, it'll just reopen the wound. I turn to the Moff and try not to notice Headshots lingering stare before he wanders back to work.

"Sir, how's the situation here?" I keep my voice stoic.

"It's handled," the Moff says firmly. "But–" he glances to his right. I follow his gaze and notice the blue skinned Admiral from the party is watching me from amid the crowd of ranking officers. He turns his head, speaking in words I cannot hear. I recognize the sharp hawk-faced Moff however: Tarkin.

After their secret exchange, they both break from position and stride toward me and Moff Sharn. Sharn stiffens as Tarkin's eyes lock on us both and do not leave. The man is a predator. I've seen him a few times. Enough to know I'd rather not join the gladiator match that is politics with him.

It's not Tarkin that speaks, however. The admiral beside him, whose race I have to say I'm unfamiliar with, he broaches the conversation first. "Have you presented my proposition yet, Moff?"

Tarkin raises a single eyebrow, and that is all the question he needs to provide.

"No." Moff Sharn looks at me. "Kian, we must speak somewhere private."

"Sir, this building is on lockdown. We are still—"

"We can speak in the Queen's private throne room," the Admiral cuts in. "It is vacant, and well within the safe areas."

"Yessir." I keep my head up.

The Admiral nods to Moff Sharn, dismissing him. "We shall handle this."

The Admiral breaks away, followed by Tarkin, and Sharn nods for me to follow. I obey, only because I don't know what sort of trouble I've gotten myself into now.

I don't think I defied any direct orders.

The two escort me into a small ante-chamber for a smaller, more private throne room. I close the door behind myself and stick my helmet on my hip. My hand lingers by my blaster, should further threat appear.

Moff Tarkin sighs with an expression that one can only describe as disappointment. "I always expect Sharn to have spoken up, and he never does. Thrawn, please handle this."

"Sharn always preferred waiting. It's his weakness."

"Sirs?" I look between them. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Officer Kian, or shall I say, Lieutenant," the blue skinned man, Admiral Thrawn, turns with hands folded firmly behind his back. He paces quietly, yet deliberately across the room so that he is able to look down at me. "I proposed to Moff Sharn a promotion. Yours."

"Mine?"

"Yes, trooper. You see, I've had the chance to inspect your documents. The Admiral Rent you worked under in your early days highly recommends your skills, and after tonight, it's clear his recommendation was right."

"Sir, I work in training rookies. I simply—"

"Listen to him." Tarkin instructs.

I nod firmly.

"I have proposed an operation I shall for now, refrain from naming. But it stems from an agency you are familiar with, the ISB. You are up as one of the candidates."

"I don't work on teams."

"I have read your records."

I look down at my boots. "Sir, I'm quite content where I am."

"Don't lie," Moff Tarkin scoffs. "You're a clone. You and your brothers were made for one purpose, and one purpose alone."

"What did you think you would do when the war ended?" Thrawn asked. "What were your...aspirations, Lieutenant?"

Aspirations? I had some, once. I don't really remember them. They're more of a fleeting dream from a past I've left behind. I don't need aspirations.

"Sir, I live to fight and die for the peace of the universe," I mutter.

"Then why do you waste away training soldiers?"

"Because—" I have no other answer. I can only look in Thrawn's deep red eyes and know that his question is purely rhetorical.

I'm afraid to lose someone else.

Thrawn nods. "Think about it, Lieutenant. I shall have the analyst I've selected for the team reach out. I'm sure you've had an exhausting night." He breaks his gaze and exits the room.

Tarkin alone remains. The Moff's aura is like that of a nexu, ready to pounce. He'd eat me alive, and the universe too if someone bigger than him weren't holding the leash. His gaze bores into me. "Don't waste your talents. You are a good man, and a better soldier." Tarkin raises his chin and looks down on me, "And without your leadership tonight, someone well may well have died."

My jaw clenches.

Tarkin turns. "Think on that, soldier."

4 BBY Aboard the Malevolent

The door slides open. Moff Sharn instructed me to meet someone in the debriefing room, but it's been almost an hour. I look up anyway, trying to keep the boredom out of my eyes as a young woman enters. She's like a spitting female image of Thrawn, except I think her skin might be a darker blue. Her eyes have the same piercing red.

I stand up straighter.

"Forgive me," her eyes are on her datapad. "Several of the files I'm supposed to be presenting you with were not submitted in a timely manner," she looks up.

"Are you the Lieutenant?"

"Yes ma'am. I take it you're Myren? The Moff said you're here on behalf of the Admiral."

She bobs her head firmly. "Correct.."

"So you're the second round of convincing?" I cross my arms over my chest.

Myren merely casts the information on her datapad to the holo table. "I've sent you several dossiers, Lieutenant. These will be the pool of candidates for your team. They are the best of the best."

"Are they now?"

"I hand picked them myself. My dossier is among them, if you are so inclined as to doubt."

"I see."

Myren looks up. Faces clutter up the holographic display. "Many of these men and women come highly recommended already, but I sifted through their data to see who could be compatible with someone like...you."

I can't tell if she's complimenting me, or pointing out the obvious insult. I just stare at the data. "I see a few familiar faces."

"There are also bounty hunters, criminals on good behavior, I trust you'll pick the ones whom you find fit."

"Wait, I haven't agreed to anything yet."

Myren nods. "I know. I simply want you to read up on these people. This will be your team if you so choose."

"And if I don't choose?"

"Then someone else will step up." Myren sets down the datapad. "But I've read your files too, Lieutenant. If you ask me, you're more than qualified and refusing to acknowledge it will not keep you safe."

I look down at my hands. Everywhere I go, death follows. Maybe that's my fault. Maybe it's a hazard of the job.

But if I stand idly by, death will go on following. Do not make sacrifices in vain. Do not leave another generation of children to pick up our burdens.

Nyo sacrificed himself for me. Mer'en taught me what it was like to be strong in the face of death. And Aftermath told me that when all else fails, take your anger out on something and make the universe a far less dangerous place.

Among the faces before me there is not even one that looks like mine. But these people have families, and brothers, and sisters. They have hopes and dreams, and I cannot in my right mind lead them into death.

"Give me...a little more time," I say.

Myren nods and her expression softens into a look I would've hated once. But Myren doesn't pity me, she sympathizes. She understands, and I dare say, she's angry that I don't.

Myren picks up her datapad with a small pursed frown and turns. "Take as much time as you need."

4 BBY The Director's Office

"Welcome." The director, a man I've never met before, waits as I and several others are ushered into his office. It is something of a debriefing room at the moment.

Myren's face catches my eye as she stands by, waiting on us. She's in a white ISB uniform, but I know from the paperwork I had to sign, she's one of ours.

I myself offer the Director only a casual salute. Call it habit. I can't really bring myself to muster respect where none is yet owed. I look at the others, though. This is the first time they've all been in the same room together. I know who I selected at the end of the year, but the paperwork took months.

Sometimes I still can't believe this is the decision I made. We don't look like we fit together at all.

We have Zur, the Zabrak bounty hunter, a former prisoner, who was suggested for his particular skill sets in martial arts. Dross, a man I assume will become shortly insufferable, is academy trained and highly recommended. R3, that trusty old unit I haven't seen in years, he was an obvious choice. And Jay, a last minute stand in. I did not initially ask for him, but the man I requested was found dead.

Some allowances had to be made.

This is my team now. This is Winterfang.

"Captain Kian," the Director calls out. He spreads his hands across his desk. "Thank you for coming, and agreeing to our little operation. And to you all," One by one, the Director looks at each face. "From this day forward, you shall all be operatives of Winterfang. You shall not speak this name unless authorized. We are a secret arm of the Empire, and you were all made aware when you were read in."

"Yessir," the whole group choruses the firm response.

I nod.

"This is your Captain, Kian," the director gestures to me. "Myren here will serve as your main analyst. You shall be provided whatever you need, with discretion."

I glance at Myren.

She glances back. I think she smiles.

The director goes on. "You will be allowed to recruit, the details of which Myren will handle as this is an operation we plan to expand in time, but for now, we must move quickly into business. Your first mission has already been arranged, and should you survive, you shall be firmly instated as true Winterfang operatives."

I scan the room. Every face here is hardened with a past. We've all left something behind.

We were all once children. Children asked to fight a war we didn't understand. A war we couldn't comprehend. And now we stand here men and women. We've seen horrors. Faced death. We have nothing left to lose. For that, we will fight the war here and now. So that no child must ever lose what we lost.

I grip my helmet firm at my side. I am proud, and I know they would be too. This is only a step. A never-ending march. But we do it together, as a team.

We were children and they sent us to die. But we survived.

The End

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the-baddest-of-batches · 10 months

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FINAL CHAPTER Dar'Aliit (Sneak Peek)

This is all you're getting for today so enjoy!! -

(Chapter 24: Changing of the Guard)

"Give me...a little more time," I say.

Myren nods and her expression softens into a look I would've hated once. But Myren doesn't pity me, she sympathizes. She understands, and I dare say, she's angry that I don't.

Myren picks up her datapad with a small pursed frown and turns. "Take as much time as you need."

final chapter coming tomorrow!

#star wars #clone trooper oc #dar'aliit fanfic #final chapter #sneak peek #read on ao3 #wattpad #clone troopers #grand admiral thrawn #kian and myren #fanfic #reblog is appreciated

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the-baddest-of-batches · 10 months

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Chapter Twenty-Three: The Children's War (Part 2)

Clones, soldiers, we keep to ourselves. Our version of a party is probably best described as seeing who gets drunk first, and shenanigans that should never make it into anyone's report, ever. The Imperial Gala is the exact opposite.

Opulence drips from the ceiling down the walls to the very marbled floors, likely imported from off planet. Naboo is something of a humbler planet by means of wealth, but that does not imply their humble decadence cannot rival a wealthier nation.

I glance past faces I've seen before to the ones I haven't. Senators of all species mill about the domed room. Many have brought their own security. Stormtroopers in dark armor lurk behind their appointed charge and threaten violence to try and impose on the tittering conversations and fake smiles.

We're set in a ball room. Imperial flags hang on the walls. I know the people of Naboo are peace lovers. They care not for the heavy hand of the Empire, but they clearly thrive under it.

Many people do not understand the peace the Empire represents. Few understood it during the Republic's years. Seems an age-old issue. And as the years have worn on, it's only gotten worse. The Moff was right, I've seen the HNE reports. I know the rumors. People are never satisfied with their honest or peaceful lives. It's not just the Jedi, it's all of humanity that craves war.

The Moff strides across the circular floor toward a gaggle of other Moffs, Admirals, and Senators who are each decked in long brown, silver, and blue robes. Many wear the colors of their homeland. It's a display of pure power.

I follow closely. I've been given something of a cleaner kit for the occasion. It's not my white and reds, but it'll do. It's still phase II clone armor and it's familiar. I asked for something familiar. The Moff delivers on his promises. I promised to keep him safe, so I'll deliver on mine.

My initial scan of the room's layout tells me there's a balcony overlooking a garden. Two Admirals stand near it. One of them has a blue skin tone and when he turns, I note his red eyes. They remind me of something I saw in a book somewhere.

Around the room I can spot nothing particularly suspicious. I remain close to the Moff regardless.

"It's a pleasure to see you here, Senator Organa," The Moff exclaims, reaching toward an older man with black hair and sharp, yet smiling features. The senator has no Imperial bodyguards with him, only two men in traditional Alderinnian attire. They're clearly carrying weapons, though.

"Moff Sharn," Organa's voice is a cold courteous one. It does not mirror the warmth on his face.

"And how are things in the Senate?"

"Ah, you know. The usual gambit of much arguing and little policy. Half our matters have been put on hold."

"A shame, truly."

I turn and look behind me. Conversation drifts in and out in snippets.

"Yes, I heard they are moving to reform the petition. I imagine it will greatly benefit your people once it's passed."

"It will benefit all people."

"This is the third month they've placed this bill on hold! I am growing tired of the endless arguments. We must pick a side."

"They will not, and you know it. The councils are set against us."

"Then they should consider more wisely what drawing this out will do."

I glance to the right.

"Yes, Admiral. I am aware of your plans. They have been passed along. Personally, I think the Emperor will take great notice of them."

"Indeed."

The voice is from the blue skinned man on the balcony. He's migrated past me. I never noticed him move. That unnerves me, so I keep a half eye on Moff Sharn, who has taken up conversing his favorite subject: Mon Calamari Opera. We're going to be here a while.

A voice breaks through the crowd, directly addressing me. It sounds familiar, the interference from a helmet mike masking the real tone beneath.

"You look out of place."

I try not to laugh as I side-eye the trooper, likely on a similar job to me. Out of place, interesting choice of words. I outdate every soldier here, if not by age, then at least experience. I note the deep black armor the other trooper wears, though and it clicks.

My armor, with its phase II clone wars look, white plastoid, and the pale shoulder bell I've had since Umbara, must look out of place. I turn my head an inch to ensure the Moff is still immersed in his discourse with the others present. Once that's affirmed, I can spare some attention and loop my thumbs in my belt.

"It's an original design," I tell the other trooper who lingers behind their own charge. "Holds up better than the plastic they ship out nowadays."

The trooper nods. "Hard to argue with that opinion. I used to wear it."

I cock an eyebrow under my helmet. This isn't some civilian. And he has my interest piqued.

"How long ago?"

"Feels like forever ago now."

It has been fourteen years. I lean back on my heels, realizing that the time has passed me by and I haven't been paying attention. It's just one day after another. I don the armor. But even I haven't worn it in what feels like an eternity.

"It feels good to be back." I scan the room, checking the perimeters.

There's a laugh from the other trooper. "You never left, Kian."

I blink. For the first time I look at the ID tag that popped up when the other trooper initiated conversation. A long time ago I would've seen his whole HUD as soon as we were linked, me being a Lieutenant, but these new kits and mine don't play as well.

But I know that ID.

"Headshot?"

"Before you say something, I'm just here for hire. I don't do this on the daily anymore. You, though." Headshot chuckles. "I'm impressed you're still alive."

"I'm not a field operative if that's what you're getting at."

"I can't believe they let you out."

"I train cadets."

Headshot snickers. "What goes around comes around, isn't that the saying? I hope they give you a hard time."

"I'm going to clock you."

"Better not do it here."

I'll do it later. My eyes narrow. I should've recognized that sarcastic tone the moment I heard it. I am getting soft.

And now that I know who I'm talking to, I almost want to tune back into the Moff, but I think I'd rather be dragged for being tight-lipped and anti-social than listen to another critique of last month's opera.

"How have you actually been, Kian?" Headshot edges a little closer. I can see now he's attached to the Admmiral the Moff has been entertaining for the past few moments. Headshot must agree that this is going to be a quiet night, though, as he edges up to stand closer. He pulls off his helmet and I blink.

Same face, but have we really gotten that old? The kid who laughed at gallows humor is there in Headshot's eyes, but his face, it looks weathered beyond both our years.

I reach up and remove my own helmet slowly. When I look up, I too am being stared at. Headshot says nothing, though.

"I'm fine," is all I can conjure up. I turn my gaze to the room and fix it there, following an invisible threat with my eyes.

I train rookies, that's it. Nothing special about the last few years of my life.

"What about you?" I manage after several quiet moments.

Headshot shrugs, clips his helmet to his belt, and moves up into my periphery. "Retiring got me enough to buy some land. Tried to get married." He laughs. "You can see how well that went. Got two kids, a lot of bills, and she got herself a lot better man."

"Sorry about that."

"It's nothing really. The kids are great. There's um...four now."

I turn with incredulity written all across my face. "Four?" Even my voice sounds weak.

Headshot smiles. "Yep. Ones adopted. His parents um...I was hired to protect them." Headshot looks down. Somber never did look good on him. "I had to do something, so I took him in. He's a great kid." A smile returns to Headshot's face and he's himself again.

I guess us clones never lose that sentiment of ignoring the elephant in the room. Grief, it can trample you.

I rock back on my heels again. "Fours a lot, but you always did have more energy than me."

Headshot nods and his smile broadens. "Anyone special out there for you, yet?"

"Yeah, she's called Corellian Red Ale and she's the most intense gal you'll ever meet."

Headshot laughs. "You never change, Kian."

"Thanks." My voice is hollow to my own ears. I know he means it well, but it stings. Should I have changed? I don't want to think about it. The universe is always changing and I'm stuck with that, so to hell with Headshot's comments. What's so wrong with sticking to what you know?

"Hey," Headshot's voice changes tone. He's pulling his helmet back on. "Twelve o'clock."

I look up. A familiar face moves through the crowd, accompanied by another I've only seen in HNE Reports. A young girl in her teens. Bail Organna's daughter, the princess Organna. The Moff spoke with the senator earlier, and if luck would have it, it looks like they're heading back out way.

"Better get back to standing around looking scary," Headshot says.

I nod and turn my head to prompt the Moff as he's involved in conversation. He looks up, catches my eye, and looks past me.

"The Senator is back," Moff Sharn notes to the other guests standing around him. He gestures to me. I'm already on his heels as he breaks from his personal crowd and crosses the floor toward the Senator. As we pass, I catch the eyes of the blue-skinned officer lingering at the edge of the crowd growing around Bail and his daughter. The stranger also wanders toward the Senator, but his gaze and steps are calculated. Something about him unnerves me.

I throw my helmet on quickly and take up a stance behind the Moff. He's exchanging more pleasantries. It seems the Senator is here to introduce his daughter.

"I hear you will be entering the political stage like your father," the Moff bows to the Princess. Leia, I think her name is.

"Yes," she says firmly. She carries herself like a soldier, as if she were raised by a drill sergeant, not a senator. I catch her looking over the Moff's shoulder at me and as soon as her father has entered another conversation with the Moff, she breaks away from them. She's dressed up, just like everyone here, but it's plainer.

Oddly, she looks nothing like her father. Maybe she gets her looks from her mother. Leia shoulders past a few other officers crowding to meet her. She commands the room.

So why is she coming my way?

"Excuse me," Leia holds her head high. She's shorter than me, but her presence stands head and shoulders taller than anyone else here. She'd give Tarkin a run for his money on intimidation.

"Young miss, can I help you?" I'm a bodyguard here, nothing more.

"Is that armor authentic clone wars era?" she asks, her brow furrowing in curiosity.

"Yes ma'am."

"I've only read about the clone wars," she's in awe. I shift a bit uncomfortably from the attention.

"Leia," her father snaps from amidst the crowd. "Where are you? You're supposed to stay close."

I realize Senator Organa has been whisked some feet away and Leia and I have ended up on the outside. I probably am not needed in the midst of the crowd. And she has people to meet.

"I'm fine," Leia calls out. "Trooper–" she pauses. "What's your name?"

"Kian," I say.

"Trooper Kian made sure I was safe."

"Come over here," Bail summons her. "You are not here for idle talk."

Leia sighs. I hook my thumb in my belt, and wave. She waves back, then vanishes back into the crowd.

You don't meet many kids this day and age who have a vested interest in old military history. Guess that makes me history. Kriff I shouldn't have thought about that.

"Kian," the Moff appears, having disengaged. "What was that about?"

"She was asking about the armor, sir."

Moff Sharn glances at me. "I knew I should've had you wear the regulation stuff."

"Why? It's a conversation point, sir."

Sharn shakes his head. "I'm going to wander the room. If you'd like, take a break and get yourself refreshments. I think I will be capable of handling myself."

"Yessir." I nod and let him wander off on his own. I slink to the edge of the room, find some water, and keep an eye on the party from where I stand. Leia has taken charge of the room. She's hard not to watch with the way she grabs one's attention. If she does follow in her father's footsteps, I think she might really make a change in this twisted world.

I've watched a few of her speaking events on Alderran on HNE. I don't know much about politics, but I know words have power. They're weapons in the right hands, and if a word is a weapon, Leia Organna is a war general.

And we are still at war. I can't forget that, despite the glittering distraction of wealth. I skim the room, flicking through a few channels of chatter that I've turned my HUD into. Nothing out of the ordinary. The moff said he expected nothing, but a man who doesn't prepare for the worst is a dead man.

I edge away from the crowd, keeping tabs on the Moff, but taking stock of my surroundings.

Leia is still talking in the center of the room, trying to migrate away from the crowds. She has a natural charisma, though. Impressive for a fifteen year old. Taking her would certainly be a large and strategic hit.

I put my hand to my blaster and move along the edge of the party just to get a better view. I reach the doors. A light flickers. The room goes dark.

My HUD flashes into night vision without a moment to buffer. I too immediately turn toward the murmur of panic rippling through the room.

"Kian, you bump a light switch?" Headshot's familiar voice comes in.

"No," I answer. "Do you have eyes on the senator?"

"Yeah. I can see her. Fill me in, what's happening."

I move toward the crowd, breaking into a jog. "I know as much as you."

"Great." Headshot curses. I'm surprised he got to it before me.

I run for the gaggle of officers, several raising questions about the outage, others trying to calm their wives and families. I have to get my priorities straight here. I might be attending for the Moff, but Leia is priority one. As I run, I patch into the general line for all troopers as the guests in the room begin to raise the levels of panic.

"Listen up, all unitsi n this room, I need two men covering all exits!" I shove into the crowd. "And identify anyone who isn't a guest!"

"What is going on?" Someone tries to grab me. I pull away.

"Find your security detail, all of you!" I snap at the officers. The Moffs, many of whom have seen similar situations, keep a stoic nervous silence as troopers and security flood the room.

A window shatters.

I lunge for Leia, caught in the middle of the throng of bodies, and grab her wrist. Her father's security have turned to the sound of the glass.

It's a distraction, I hiss mentally. "Princess!" I tug at her and lift my head to call out. "Moff Sharn!"

His face appears amidst the crowd as it breaks up, and subsequently surges back together as shots are fired across the room. Someone screams. That's all that's needed to break the wave of tension.

"Dear goodness!" a woman's voice raises to a screech.

"They're here to kill us!"

I tug Leia to me and she stumbles. Even with night vision this crowd is making any kind of movement difficult.

"What is happening?" she demands. Moff Sharn pushes his way toward us.

I lift my blaster, waiting to hear about the situation outside. The comms are all useless chatter, though. "Sir, Ma'am, we have a situation and I need to secure you both, understood?"

"Take her, I will be fine, Kian." Moff Sharn draws his own weapon. "Secure the princess."

I know she's putting on a brave face, but Leia's wrist is trembling in my hand. I nod, quietly, and let the Moff go as he shouts and waves people toward the exits. The room begins to clear and more blaster fire echoes in the darkness.

There's a snap overhead.

"Kian!" Headshot's voice echoes in my comm. "Overhead, get down!"

I grab Leia and shove her, both of us lunging as the chandelier in the middle of the room crashes down, scattering diamond and glass in dangerous shards across the floor. I scramble to my knees.

"Headshot, what's going on out there?"

"Still not sure, but I think we've got two bogies."

I don't know which of the black armored troopers he is, mostly because it's dark and even with night vision all I can make out is armor. There's two people cornered by the balcony. That can't be all of them.

"Get with the other units and flush them out, Headshot. I'm securing the princess." I help Leia to her feet and look for the nearest exit. Blaster fire echoes outside the door, though.

"Nevermind," I clench my teeth. "Ma'am–"

"I can handle myself," Leia says, but she's breathing hard, and she looks pale. I know she's just a kid. She's a strong kid, but a kid.

"I know that, ma'am, I'm just here to watch your back."

Leia nods. She grabs her skirt up. "Which way?"

I point to the other exit. "That way. Keep close, understood?"

She nods rapidly. I hear the blaster fire and it's getting closer. Kriff, this is bad. There may be more outside. I have to get Leia out of the building. We need to get everyone out of the building. A massacre would be bad for PR. And my job.

The chatter is filling me in though. "Bogies outside the main room, at least four!"

"It's a small group, try to apprehend them."

"We've got two more inside the main hall. Flush them out, go go!"

I tune in, holding Leia at my side as I search for an exit. The throne room doors are open wide and empty. There's troopers near them ushering people through. Blasterfire echoes behind me and I whirl around. "Time to go," I mutter to Leia. I pull her toward the throne room and she follows.

I help her through the exit, pushing past the senators and officers already inside. Leia tugs away, looking for her father. I keep a close eye on her.

I can hear from the comms that the resistance outside is putting up a fight. There aren't many of them, but it looks like they've got enough troops occupied that we can't pin them all down.

I open my comm channel. "All units, focus on the bogies in the room. Keep out any others. Understood?"

"Yessir."

"Copy that."

A rally of voices answer me and I can hear them adjusting their position. I feel oddly responsible. This isn't the time to bask in glory, though.

I turn and catch up to Leia. "Princess, we're going out the back." I look back to see the troopers at the entrance are hauling the doors shut as blaster fire echoes outside the room. Best to keep it contained.

I turn around, and Leia is gone. My stomach drops. I had one job.

Someone screams as the ornate glass window shatters in. Kriff, kriff, kriff. I run for the window. Our enemy must've gotten caught in here with us. They have Leia and they're trying to get out.

Not on my watch. I haven't changed in near fifteen years for nothing. I run for the broken window, shoving senators aside and yelling for them to get out of my way. The crowds part, stumbling. I reach the window, vault over the sill and land, rolling, in the royal gardens. Dirt coats my formerly clean armor. Suits me. I always hated being a shiny.

Figures run through the dark up ahead, clinging to a girl in a white dress. She's fighting. It has to be Leia. I plunge into the dark garden after her, snapping up my blaster and setting it to stun. My HUD adjusts for the new visual setting. I can make out the armor on the guys holding Leia. They don't look like the insurrectionists I've seen.

These guys are skilled, military, and they're armed to the teeth.

Something singes the side of my helmet. I duck behind a couple of plants for cover and fire stun shots after them. "I don't think these are our typical rebels," I say. "These guys aren't insurgents. They look military."

Another hail of blaster bolts. I can hear a muffled scream. Leia. I'll never be forgiven if I let these guys get away with the Princess. I promised to protect her. This is my job.

I lunge out and fire off another hail of shots. Nothing hits, that's to be expected, but I sprint across the grounds. Chatter pours in.

"These guys are organized, who the hell are they?" A long pause. I cover the ground between me and the two kidnappers as Leia bogs them down with her struggling.

I slam my shoulder into one man. It's not enough to put him down, but it surprises him. I turn, snap my hand up, and shoot the other man in the face. He goes down and lets go of Leia, who hits her knees.

Two hands grab me by the neck. I jerk, but I can't get a lock on the man behind me. I can't throw him off either, he's heavy, and cutting off my air supply like a trained soldier. I have to commed Headshot, someone-

Blasterfire echoes. The grip on my throat releases and I gasp, staggering forward. Leia drops a small holdout to the ground and moves back. She's terrified, and still trying not to show it.

My comm is static and voices. Troopers questioning the real enemy we're fighting. I myself have questions.

I turn and check that the man behind me is dead. I also take a good look at him, removing his armored mask. That confirms some suspicions. "Zann," I breathe. I tap my comm. "I've got Leia secured."

"We've got the ground situation handled," Headshot comes in. "Three captured two dead. Two unaccounted for."

"Got them right here," I say.

"Well then, guess that wraps this up."

I let the link die amd look up as Leia stands, dusting herself off. Her dress is torn, she looks a bit roughed up, but mostly uninjured. I move over to her and put out a hand. "Are you-"

She turns and throws both arms around me without warning. I start, and finally hug her loosely. "You're safe now," I remind her. "We'll get you to your father."

It sounds like she's crying, though. I don't quite know how to handle that. Leia has a lot of responsibility, charisma, and expectations on her shoulders.She's fifteen and already part of the world stage. She's a kid, and already fighting a war. My chest knots up and I hug her tighter.

It isn't fair, but I know how she feels. And there's nothing I can do but offer a sliver of comfort for the truth we both have to face.

We were only children. Asked to bear the fate of the universe.