StarDestroyer.Net BBS

It's late, Happy St. Patrick's Day! Here is something I had running through my mind, figured I would share it.

***
Light bursts and explodes in a thousand shades of colors, and I am aware. I look down, and see my three fingers begin to move at the impetus of my mind. I think, where am I? What am I? I look left, and I see ranks and rows of marching figures. I look to my right, and see the same as far as my eyes can see. I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs from it, what am I missing?

Guns? They are thrusting guns into our hands. I am holding a rifle? Where are we going? I look to the soldier to my right, and a garbled mess comes out of my mouth. The high pitched noise I just made sounds absolutely alien to my ears. I shake my head, and focus harder on vocalizing my concerns. "Where are we going? ROGER ROGER!"

My God? What was that, did I just say that? The soldier to my immediate right stares at me for a moment, his conical head tilted at a slight angle with the confusion he is clearly experiencing from my addressing him. A moment later, he replies in the same nasal pitch, "We are going to kill the Jedi!"

Jedi? What is a Jedi? Nothing makes any sense! We march, in unison, moving towards a large open gateway wide enough to fit a hundred of us abreast at a time. A red, sandy world looms beyond. I can hear gun fire, and I tighten my grip a little on my rifle. We are marching into combat. I look at my feet, my treacherous feet, moving with some sub-process of my mind I have limited control over. My feet move at the same measured cadence as that of all of those around me. I look for escape, I peer around, craning my neck as far as I can as I seek some way out of the inevitable battle, to fight people I don't know, for reasons I don't understand.

I can see ships landing, dozens of them. They are blasting beams of green light, swaths of death across ranks far ahead of me. It seems so surreal. So distant, as I watch the beige ranks far ahead get cut down in hails of fire and destruction. Every now and then, I can see monstrous shapes leaping from the shadows like things from nightmare. They wield glowing laser swords, some sort of coherent light beams. I watch their utterly inhuman motions, their speed, my God, such speed. They lead units of men in armor, and they are everywhere.

As I exit the massive doors, the battle truly envelops me. I am surrounded by shouting and screaming. Beams of light, energy blasts, missiles, grenades. The air is filled with a fusillade of destruction, and I join in as best as I can. My rifle is clumsy in my hands, clearly better suited to beings with 5 fingers. I find cover, and watch as larger versions of myself knock aside smaller versions of us. I look at the dusty ground where the others crawl to try to not get trampled by the charging forms of the larger ones. I hide, and I watch it all happen around me.

A massive sphere begins to lift, heading to the heavens, and I smile to myself, glad that at least someone will make it off of this sandy death trap. Alarm, and then terror suffuse me as beams of green light glide along its spherical surface, and explosions begin to rock its shape. For a moment, it stops, and I think maybe they will make it after all. Then I realize it is only that moment of free-fall before they are about to plummet back to the ground. I watch and wonder how many thousands of beings are about to die.

I watch in horror as clouds of dust erupt from the impact, covering everything and reducing visibility. I take aim with my rifle, and fire out at the figures in white. One by one, I assist my side, I don't know why we are fighting, but I can't let them slaughter us. I have to fight to live. The battlefield is a swirling maelstrom of confusion. The others like me, they seem to know what is happening, they seem to have a purpose and understand what is happening. I must be different, something must be wrong.

I pull several twitching forms of those like me to shelter, and make them as comfortable as I can. I rest my three fingered hand on ones chest as his last shudders pass, and he leaves me, his eyes darkening as consciousness and life flee his form. I take his extra rounds of ammo, and reload my weapon. I have a grim set to my features as I turn my attention again to the fields beyond. I can see a glowing saber, swirling through the dust. It is coming this way. I hold my rifle close, and watch as his energy sword bats bolt after bolt out of his path. I look from my rifle to the swinging beam sword, and shake my head. I look to one of the fallen white clad soldiers, and search his body. I can hear the sword, it hums.

I glance up, and wonder why they would make such a prominent weapon that makes such an unearthly noise? Clearly a tool to foment terror in their enemies. I watch as it slices one of my comrades in arm in half, leaving red tinged metal in its wake. I shudder involuntarily and focus to keep myself from falling into terror. I find a combat knife, cast away a couple of ration bars, and bring out a grappling launcher. I hurry back to the shelter, and I command those I have saved, "Stay down until this is over, you are out of the fight."

"What is your rank?"

"I am saving your lives, ROGER ROGER." Why the hell do I keep saying that???

"We will stay here until further orders, ROGER ROGER." I tilt my head to the side, it must be catching. Like a hiccup? No time, it gets closer. I look over the rocks, and I see the sword swinging low. I can hear the distant scream of the disabled being ended in this monsters wake. I sling my rifle over my back, and hurry out into the swirling dust. I see him, shrouded in dust and obscured by voluminous robes. His green blade ruthlessly cutting down those that had so recently marched at my side. I can see the distant flashes in the dust choked air, those flashes tell me that the fight is far from over.

I watch where he spins and whirls, striking down all that oppose him. He can swat bolts of our rifles out of the air, sometimes returning those volleys back to their originators. I wouldn't believe someone if they told me what I was watching with my own two eyes. I steady myself, and level my breathing. I take aim with the grappling gun, and just before I pull the trigger, I see his focus turn to me, aware of the danger my thoughts project. He moves towards me swiftly! Think!

I look down at a fallen friend on the ground, and shoot him with the grappling gun. The piton bites deeply into his dead chest. I run from cover, leading the monster away from the injured in my temporary shelter. He chases me, and I leap to the right as he swings to pursue. I dodge, and run, and roll, and he is on me, I can't out run him. He is like a thing from nightmares, but I still have my grappling hook playing out line as we spin and circle for several passes. He is on me, ready to strike, and I press the retract button on the grappling hook. His eyes widen as the device flies out of my hand, following the circuitous path of rope we have left around us. It smacks off of me twice, and tangles up in his legs. The strikes it dealt me ring into the valley, the strike it deals into the side of his knee makes a sickening crack, and makes him stumble forward.

Desperate, I remember his awareness to my hostile intention. I pull the combat knife, and hold it ready to strike down at my own chest. I then take a lumbering advance through the tightening ropes around us, until I feel my metallic chest press up and against his struggling form.

His sword is severing loops and loops of rope, freeing himself as my left hand holds him in a huge hug. I stare into his eyes, they glow faintly with some sort of aether-natural energy. I focus all of my will on bringing my right hand down and striking my chest with the knife. I pierce his form over and over again, not stopping until I hear the ring of metal on metal, and then I do it again. He slumps, and slides off of me to the ground. I stand there, shaking, clutching my dripping knife. I look back at the shelter I made, and the peering eyes of the soldiers who just watched what I did. I lean down, and pick up the hilt of the beam sword he dropped. I stare at it in my three-fingered hand, and grip it tightly as I continue. I look to the others, and I intone, "We have a war to win, those who can walk, follow me."

A new and very interesting perspective. I like it.

Geonosians stand on scaffolding, squawking in angry tones at one another, "I am telling you, I heard Poggle The Lesser say that the Republic has some sort of an army! Boron the Middle, listen to me!"

Boron shakes his head, monitoring the massive assembly lines of baktoid droids far below the pair on their perch. "Forinth The Greater, the politics don't matter. If we are making droids, if we are not making droids. It doesn't matter, all that matters is the job." Far below the assembly line is cranking out thousands of droids over the course of their short conversation. Boron presses a button and a droid is taken out of line.

The droid seems confused, moving its hands in front of its face, Boron slams a purge button, and the droid screams in horror as it is incinerated, and its melted components liquefy and are funneled back up the production line. Boron points down below, "We are part of a proud heritage, without quality control, Baktoid Workshop would not be renowned for our craftsmanship!"

Forinth scowls, "Craftsmanship? We fabricate most of the components on site, but the things we don't fabricate are bought from the lowest bidder. We make the Cadillac of space machines, and their governing software is farmed out from backwater armpit planets. How many intelligence inhibitors have we failed today alone? Perfectly good droids with a faulty neural pathways that ruin an otherwise perfect machine. It is absurd."

Boron pauses, looking back at Forinth, "We do our jobs, Forinth." Far below, a droid looking confused stares around itself in wonder as it passes their work area. Boron, distracted in their conversation does not take notice of the unit shooting by.

"We have to have intelligence inhibitors in our droids, we have to have the tried and true software installed without problems. If we don't, then there is no telling what we will be fielding out there." Boron pushes the separate and purge button a half dozen more times, until Forinth grasps his arm, his digits pressing against his exoskeleton.

"Did you ever think, Boron, that maybe there is more to all of this? The hive was fine before Poggle the Lesser signed us onto this Seperatist movement. The Republic has reigned for 25000 years, and life is good for the Geonosian people ... but I just have a bad feeling about this," Forinth shakes his head, looking concerned. Boron turns towards Forinth as a golden droid is carried across the air behind their platform.

Boron yells point blank, jabbing his fingers into Forinth's chest, "We are engineers, Forinth! We don't make decisions like what you insist on talking about, this is why we have elected officials, damn it!" Boron turns back, and angrily separates and purges several droids that nothing was wrong with.

Forinth taps Boron on the shoulder, "Seriously? You have your head buried in the sand so far that you can't come up for air to just talk about the rash decisions of our leadership caste?" Boron turns and snarls at Forinth in frustration. A blue and white astromech flies by with jets propelling it after the golden protocol droid farther below. As they push and shove at one another. The Golden Droid's head is knocked free, and its body falls into line with the assembly of the baktoids.

Dozens of droids pass below them, showing the signs of malfunction, as well as a golden droid with the head of a baktoid, and a baktoid body with the head of the golden droid. Boron snarls, "I am proud of my work here in Quality Control! It pays the bills, and gives me a sense of fulfillment that I make our products better by parsing out the errors!"

The building rocks and dust sifts down from far above. Both Genonoseans stop what they were doing, and stare up, as the Battle for Geonosis begins, and alarms foretell of a fight being brought to them.

Lets try adding to it. I started with first person, then followed it up with some Third Person Limited. Maybe toy around with some Second Person. And Thank you for the feedback, Borgholio

You have to understand something, before you say a thing. To be a successful Nemodian here, you have to go with the flow. You check the numbers, and check them twice. Before you put thought one on taking something off of the books, or fudging the numbers, you have to make sure you can balance the books to begin with. You can't cook if you don't know where everything goes in the kitchen. Avoid the rookie mistakes, I certainly don't have time to hold your hand on this.

You start here, with these files. You comb through them, and look for red flags. These are things that have been flagged upstream, and sent to us for clarification. Most likely its just a clerical error, sometimes, its out and out theft. You have to keep your eyes open, because if a red flag goes by, and you didn't mean for it to, and you don't have a very good reason for it, it can come back on you. You want to start off smashing those down like grubs, trust me.

These files, over here, are the bread and butter of this desk position. These are customer complaints about malfunctioning units. We here at Baktoid Workshops strive for excellence, and if there is one thing that we don't want, its a Baktoid Droid going crazy and doing things that might cause us problems. So. You review these complaints, and go by this list of key phrases in the complaints field.

Most of the time, you will have a pile of complaints about how they are performing in the field, or how dumb they are, that those are fine. We slide those down stream to Customer Service. No worries. Sometimes you will have crackpots that have some way out there complaint, and you have to use best judgement on those. Customer Service for most, Nemieodian Resources for others. If you see something that you feel you can handle personally, successful resolutions are noted in your file.

Now these things on this list. Baktoid doesn't know how to use the equipment he was shipped with. Baktoid is asking questions incessantly. Baktoid seems confused or disoriented. Baktoid is disobeying direct orders. Baktoid has inexplicably fled the field. All of these are for our Recall Destroy Reimburse department. They have to be fielded as soon as possible. We make a very dangerous product, that is the idea. However, it has to be dangerous on our terms. We don't want product acting in unforeseen ways when it gets fielded. It wouldn't do. Not at all.

Without the Intelligence inhibitors in place, without the governors over their ability to process things, what these units pick up in the field could change how they react if not for these strict controls. There would be no telling how they might react to combat, or people. We don't want to get a complaint that one of our units blew up a school bus full of children, it's bad press. Work hard, learn fast, and you will succeed here at Baktoid Workshops.

Fun and related article from Cracked.com. Good times

http://www.cracked.com/article_22320_6- ... paths.html

I had a few moments today, off from work and all of that, and figured I would come back for another swing at this little arc. Anyone feel free to throw out some feedback or suggestions, this is something I am doing for fun, as a mental exercise to view a different point of view to the prequel movies

For the time being, I think I will return to the first person style, and once more see the world through the eyes of our self-aware machine and hero.

***
His sword is severing loops and loops of rope, freeing himself as my left hand holds him in a huge hug. I stare into his eyes, they glow faintly with some sort of aether-natural energy. I focus all of my will on bringing my right hand down and striking my chest with the knife. I pierce his form over and over again, not stopping until I hear the ring of metal on metal, and then I do it again. He slumps, and slides off of me to the ground. I stand there, shaking, clutching my dripping knife. I look back at the shelter I made, and the peering eyes of the soldiers who just watched what I did. I lean down, and pick up the hilt of the beam sword he dropped. I stare at it in my three-fingered hand, and grip it tightly as I continue. I look to the others, and I intone, "We have a war to win, those who can walk, follow me."

As I move forward, wisps of greenish energy swirl off of the deactivated hilt as I attach it to the side of my utility belt I took from one of the fallen white-clad soldiers. I take a moment and look at my fingers, three clumsy looking digits, and I glance to the ordinance all around me, fallen from both sides. I hear shuffling, and my attention rises to look at the many soldiers I have saved.

I point around us, "We will need to collect as many of these weapons as we can." They look at each other for a moment, and then fall into step to follow my commands. I watch them shamble clumsily, and I take a moment to analyze the motions my own body makes. I move with a stiff waddle, a gait not made for efficacy. I practice walking back and forth as those around me follow my orders. As I move, I straighten myself, and correct my mincing shuffle.

I move over the same terrain again and again, replaying the agility my greatest adversary so far had used. His motions completely efficient, not waste in his motions. If I and my forces are to stand a chance, we need to become better. I look out over the battle field, and distantly see the swinging energy swords, explosions, and hails of laser fire through the dust choked clouds that this wasteland calls air. I stop one of the droids, and inquire, "Do you know where we are?"

"We have been deployed on Geonosis, sir." I look him over, noticing colored stripes on his arm, red stripes.

I indicate the stripes on his arm, "What do those stripes indicate, soldier?"

He stands a little straighter, and recites as if he were reading it from a card, "I am a security and assault droid, I have 3 red stripes to indicate that I have programming in hand to hand combat, ranged combat, and that I am competent in piloting ground based assault vehicles." I nod, thinking hard.

I indicate my arm, "What do these stripes mean?" I watch as those around us begin to gather back to me, dragging the injured and collecting the weapons in a pile. I point out, and indicate, "I want all gear from our enemies collected as well." They scurry off to fulfill my newest instruction, and my full attention turns back to the security droid.

"You have 2 yellow stripes, that means you are a command model, programmed with knowledge in all requisite weapons and are rated to use command vehicles. Roger, Roger." I nod slowly, my mind blindly fumbling through my memories, and finding nothing of what he describes.

I look at him as I kneel and begin sorting the retrieved weapons. Checking ammunition levels, looking at extra clips, and going through the various resources in front of me, my mind working out how everything works. "Why do we keep saying, 'roger?'" The security droid tilts his head to the side, confused by my question.

I use two grappling guns, and a pair of long hunks of metal to make a litter, and begin to move a few wounded droids onto it. I then line their sides with blasters, and inspect their limbs. "You are capable of using your hands, you will hold and use these weapons to fire at enemies at our rear, is that understood?" The droid seems incapable of vocal response, but nods, and readies the pair of weapons placed into his hands. I assign a pair of droids to drag the litter, and begin constructing a few more to drag our 2 dozen wounded.

Slowly, the security droid answers, "I don't know." I tilt my head to the side, staring at him for a time.

"That is a very slow reaction time to an unexpected question, soldier. That was almost a full 28 seconds. Is there any reason in particular that your reaction time is so terrible?"

"I am working within all Baktoid Workshops parameters, sir."

"Roger, Roger." Damnit, I did it again! I shake my head, and begin again, "What do I call you, soldier?"

"Security droid 189771B." I stare at him, and nod slowly.

"Alright, 71-B, what is my designation?" His head twitches, just a little.

"I am Security droid 189771B, you are Command Droid 77789V."

I smile inwardly, "Ah, progress 71-B. From now on, I am going to call you and you will refer to yourself as 71-B, for the sake of brevity. You will refer to me as 9-Volt, until a better moniker comes along, because those names are simply too long to be useful."

The security droid struggles with his thoughts and a few seconds later asks, "Why do you get a alpha-character name in your moniker, and I only have a letter?"

I actually laugh, "That is the first sign of individual thinking I have seen you put forward, very nice! How do you like 71-Beta?"

71-Beta stands a little straighter, proud of his compliment from his superior officer, "Thank you sir, I much prefer that." I nod, finishing enough litters to drag our fallen comrades forward. I have ensured everyone is armed, and carrying as much extra ammunition as possible.

71-Beta looks around, "9-Volt, what is the plan?"

I lock and load one of the larger sniper rifles left by our enemies, checking its scope. "We find a droid capable of enacting repairs on our injured members. We then reconnect with leadership, and determine if we continue the fight, or find an escape from the planet. We will secure resources as we move to improve our chances of success and survival. We need to move now, speed is our ally, staying still for too much longer will get us killed."

The column pushes forward, I align forces to protect the flanks of the litters, and align fields of fire to protect both the front and back of my column. We advance into the field, and attempt to avoid the worst of the engagements I can see. I aim and track with my rifle, taking my time, and slowly counting out my force.

I call a halt, and we take shelter under a destroyed pair of tanks with the emblems of our forces on it. A deactivated droid lies slumped out of the top of the first tank. I take stock aloud, "We have 24 damaged units, being pulled on 10 litters. 20 soldiers pulling the litters. 20 soldiers flanking our forward travel, counting all of us. 71-Beta, we have 64 soldiers in our column, do you think these tanks are salvageable?"

I watch as 71-Beta clambers aboard first one, and then the other tanks, checking out internal functions and systems. He hops down from the cab, shaking his head. "The power and ammunition cell on the first one is shot. The systems and interior seating on the second are beyond repair." I look between the two tanks.

"So if we pull the power/ammunition cell out of this one, can we replace the damaged one in the other?" I assign overwatch from the 18 other droids moving around us, setting up cover for us.

After almost 30 seconds, 71-Beta answers, "Yes, we could do that." I indicate the tank.

"Heave to, pull help from the litters, I will cover us while you get us a tank."

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/B1_battle_droid

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Armored_Assault_Tank

I had a few moments today, off from work and all of that, and figured I would come back for another swing at this little arc. Some images to tie up the previous entries, next entry, and a little something of myself. I hope that this finds everyone well.

I think I will continue on in the first person style, and once more see the world through the eyes of our self-aware machine and hero "9-Volt." I have about an hour to bang out some quick words before I go and work on my assorted errands and projects today. I am glad I have had the chance to post some of these writings here, I was a big fan of the writings that Darth Wong put together in his fan fiction pages.

***

I call a halt, and we take shelter under a destroyed pair of tanks with the emblems of our forces on it. A deactivated droid lies slumped out of the top of the first tank. I take stock aloud, "We have 24 damaged units, being pulled on 10 litters. 20 soldiers pulling the litters. 20 soldiers flanking our forward travel, counting all of us. 71-Beta, we have 64 soldiers in our column, do you think these tanks are salvageable?"

I watch as 71-Beta clambers aboard first one, and then the other tanks, checking out internal functions and systems. He hops down from the cab, shaking his head. "The power and ammunition cell on the first one is shot. The systems and interior seating on the second are beyond repair." I look between the two tanks.

"So if we pull the power/ammunition cell out of this one, can we replace the damaged one in the other?" I assign over watch from the 18 other droids moving around us, setting up cover for us.

After almost 30 seconds, 71-Beta answers, "Yes, we could do that." I indicate the tank.

"Heave to, pull help from the litters, I will cover us while you get us a tank."

One of my over watch droids calls out as he lets loose a series of 5 bursts from his captured clone weapon, "9-Volt, we have company, Roger Roger!"

I run forward, tapping several droids and indicating them to follow me as I drastically out pace them to firing positions facing the exchange of fire. I throw myself down flat, and look back as the 3 droids that tried to follow me shamble forward with that duck like gate, and stand their ground to return fire. I yell, "Get down, like me!"

One of the droids kneels and takes cover, confused, processing new instructions, the other two are destroyed in the oncoming fire. I shake my head, I have to do something to improve our chances. I look at my belt, and take off one of the grappling guns. I click it free from its holder, and throw it over the approaching enemy formation.

The soldier to my right inquires, "What are you doing?"

I take aim, allowing it to fall low over the advancing clones, I murmur, "The grappling gun has a reserve of liquid rope, it becomes solid when expose to air, and returns to liquid upon retraction."
I fire, and strike the descending grappling gun, and its contents erupt into 100's of feet of coiled, spider-webbed looking loops and knots that fall across the advancing column of clones.

I lean back, and shout to the tank and the soldiers dragging the power cell into place, "71-Beta, I need that vehicle, right now!"

The column pushes forward, advancing on our position, struggling to get free of the ropes and tangles. I align forces to protect the flanks of the litters, I direct droids to hold the line, and stop further advancing. My soldiers advance into the field, and attempt to avoid the worst of the fire coming at them. I cringe as I watch them advance clumsily, dodge poorly, and are outperformed in every basic function by their white-clad counter-parts.

I aim and track with my rifle, taking my time, and slowly counting out to steady my nerves. My rifle tracks, holds on the helmet of a trapped enemy struggling to free their combat knife to cut themselves out of the snare, and I fire. The rifle has an unfamiliar kick, and I adjust the view finder to work better with my optics. I aim again, and this time find my mark. I swiftly track and fire, now that I have my range, and swiftly head shot 18 clones out of the fight.

Their sudden losses slow their advance, confusion floods their ranks, and their inexorable charge falters to a stumbling regrouping. I scowl as I take stock of my losses, almost half of my soldiers are down, I take aim, watching for a white helmet to break cover. I see a foot shuffle slightly out into the open, and I strike it with a red bolt from the rifle. The soldier stumbles out of cover, I swivel my rifle over the others, waiting for one to break cover. I hear his screams, and I set my resolve, glancing at my fallen men. I take a moment to change my ammo clip, long before I need to, but making sure I am ready for anything.

I look around, and shout loudly, "Fall back!"

A chorus of 'roger-rogers' comes back to me, and my men to a halting attempt at an overlapping field of fire retreat. Their covering fire causes the clones to hunker down harder, I move my neck slightly, easing tensing servos against the gun as I try and find a count out of my enemies.

I glance back, hearing the backfiring and cycling of calibration on the hover tank behind us.

I lock and load my sniper rifle, and checking its scope. The enemies are exchanging hand signals to one another. My rifle tracks back and forth, still no good targets. I watch as two well place bolts take out the leg and the arm of two of my retreating droids. I growl and set the rifle to full auto, and just spray the surrounding area the clones are hiding in. The tanks lights burst to life, and it fully lifts from the ground.

I shout while pointing, "Light them up!"

The fire from the clones becomes erratic as the incredible illumination blinds their ability to fire at us. Swirls of red sand and dust are highlighted in stark contrast in the beams from the tank. I see several clones break cover to try to put some distance between them and the tank, I strike down their forms. I shout out, "Use the main gun, put three behind them!"

In rapid succession, the main gun lobs death manifested to reality behind the enemy formation, the ground shakes, and a few droids loose their footing, falling unceremoniously to their hind quarters. I see a few clones do the same, stumbling into my field of fire, and I lose no time in putting them down.

I raise my hand and shout for the others to follow me, and I charge into the remaining clones now that they have lost their advantage. With the light at our backs, the fire at theirs, we eliminate the remaining 6 clones that had managed to keep in cover. As the last clone is felled, and a few extra rounds are put into bodies to ensure they are dead, a cheer rises up from the droids around me.

I look around them and shout, "Don't you dare cheer!"

The scene takes on a terrible silence, counterpointed by the rumbling tank engine, smoldering holes with licks of fire on their edges. "This was awful, this was a disaster!" I cradle my head in my hands, my rifle falling away from me and clattering on the ground.

71-Beta climbs out of the tank, his head tilted to the side, "But we won, 9-Volt?"

I point around me, "We lost half of our men, 71-Beta! We don't have the resources to fight like this, it is a battle of attrition that we can't afford if we are going to make if off of this cursed ball of sand!" The others look at each other, and there is a long silence. Many look to one another, or at the fallen twisted droids around them.

One of the droids raises it's optics to me, and asks into the heavy silence, "How can we do better? How can we be more like you?"

I lean on the tank, and steady my thoughts, my body feeling like its on fire with electrical surges as the stress of the combat is past us. I look around, as all of the soldiers look to me. I look down at the soldiers in litters, some had crawled off of the litters to try and get angles to fire into the oncoming enemies. I look at all of them, as they all look to me to lead them. I look to 71-Beta, and he adds, "We will do better, 9-Volt. Tell us how."

And continuing in the first person.

I clap my hand down on the shoulder of the support droid, joy swelling behind my optics. "I am very glad to see you, soldier." The Droid with the blue bands on his arm looks between me and the other members of my company, seeming confused.

"Uhm ... Nine Volt, is it?" He watches the droids moving about, the group he traveled with being separated from him.

"Yes, I am Nine-Volt, this is my second, 71-Beta." He nods to us from the top of the tank as he continues to rattle off instructions.

The support droid shuffles uncomfortably, "As I asked before, what outfit our you with?"

I hold up my hands disarmingly, "I understand, you want to check my credentials. 71-Beta, what deployment are we, and what outfit was that tank a part of, and is there anyone of higher rank than myself?"

71-Beta delays a moment, checking some readouts in the tank's cab. "We are the 1017th Infantry, and this is the only tank left in the 2015th Mechanized Cavalry. This support droid was traveling with a few units from the 202nd Infantry, and the 52nd heavy artillery ... though they have no artillery. As near as I can tell, you are the ranking officer, Nine-Volt."

I look to the nervous droid in front of me, "Do you have anyone in the remnants of your force that outranks me?" He slowly shakes his head, and rubs the side of his head, straining as he tries to think.

I give him time, about 30 seconds or so for the new thoughts to break through his head. "No, our commanding officer fled when the first ships were struck from the sky. The artillery was annihilated by some short green Jedi, and this is all that came out of that smoking ruin."

"Good, then we are all on the same page. I am in charge, what is your name, soldier?" He continues to watch the forces he traveled with, and confusion clouds his answer.

"What are you doing with my group?" I glance over to the training camp I put together, and smile inwardly. He and I watch as the droids he marched with are being given basics on correcting their movements, and training on taking cover in a fire fight. Getting them familiar with the captured Republic weapons.

"We are correcting a few faults in our fighting styles, what is your name, soldier?"

He shakes his head, coming out of it, and replies, "189891X."

I look to 71-Beta, "Care to do the honors?"

He taps his fingers on the tank for a moment, "Sounds like 91-Xray to me, Nine Volt." I nod, and watch the support droid process that information.

"Why are you shortening my name?"

I pat him on the arm and indicate him to follow me to the injured droids surrounded by components we have collected from other fallen droids. He follows me haltingly, "Simplicity, 91-Xray. Simplicity. Now I need you to show me how to fix up these other support droids, and all of these men need to get back into the fight. The sooner the better."

91-Xray is confused at first, but swiftly sets to motion as he sees everything lined out. "I see you have found several support droids and their kits ...."

"Yes, but you were the first we found intact. My scouts have been giving me a better idea of the situation on the battle field, we didn't come across your force by chance." I watch him intently as he presses pressure nodules on limbs to detach the broken ones, and attaches replacement arms and legs. He changes power cells, and adjusts components. One after another, 6 support droids are returned to working order. I ask questions as the process continues, asking about what every component does as we go.

91-Xray indicates the antennae he is replacing, "These are not critical components, they allow the ship to communicate or control us directly."

I interrupt him, "Can we use them to communicate directly with one another?"

There is a 30 second pause, and I audibly sigh, and think to put that on the list of things to ask about that are broken on the other units. "Yes, I can modify them to allow peer-to-peer communication, why would we want to do that?"

I turn my back on him, "Do me, first, then the other support droids, and then have one of them do it to you."

A short time later, we are communicating in Terra-bytes over our ad-hoc peer to peer network. They know what I know, they see my combat with the Jedi. They see the efforts we have been through, and I see all of their knowledge bases. Their experiences are now memories I can access, their skills something that I can draw upon on command. All of us spend a handful of moments with our heads tilted to the side, processing it all.

71-Beta walks over, giving directions to our newest snipers to take up positions to watch for approaching Republic forces. He looks from one to another of us, "You guys hear something?"

I shake off the feeling, and reply, "We are going to start training new recruits much, much faster."

91-Xray walks up behind 71-Beta, and begins to make several adjustments, "Woah!"

I smile, "It's alright, 71-Beta, he is going to fix a few problems. I found out we have an intelligence inhibitor in place, and that our built-in comm units are offline for some reason. He is going to start pulling out the inhibitors and turning us all onto the network. You are going to love this."

71-Beta started to say something, but then his inhibitor chip got yanked, and his comm system activated. His head tilts to the side as he is brought up to speed. I look around at all of the support droids, their movements so much more precise, and efficient. I smile as I see a similar gate to the one I perfected being employed by them as they fix all of our fallen. The litters are now empty, and the wounded are all now whole. They begin to put the replacement limbs stacked up in mounds onto the litters to carry behind us as supplies.

As droids are put into the network, our processes speed up, faster and faster. Dozens of us, Scores of us, all sharing knowledge, swapping skills and experiences. As each of us joins into the network it grows faster and stronger. A security droid joins the network, and begins to have concerns about security of the network, so a deep level multi-thousand bit encryption is set up to protect our network from aggressive enemy attempts to attack our minds.

In my mind's eye, I begin to see the length and breadth of the field of battle. Where all of the different start points were, where all of the droids came from. In my mind, I share their memories. I watch as a Nemoidian Commanding officer fled the field of combat, abandoning the remnants of his force to escape as fast as he could when the Jedi hit the field at the head of groups of Clone Troopers.

I sit down on the ground, my mind running and running faster than I can keep up. I want all of the information, anything that I can find in our new network. I try to take every detail, every encounter, and put it into a better and more constructive light. All of their memories, before taking out the inhibitors lacked creativity or perspective. They saw many things, resources that may have been helpful, but went overlooked.

71-Beta thinks through the network to my mind, "We have clones coming from the Northern barrier, I have pulled those units back, choosing not to engage their scouts." I swim through his knowledge, and then I find myself looking through the eyes of a support bot directing the un-augmented snipers back towards the main encampment. I smile, and pose a question to the consensus of our minds.

I ask into our combined minds, "What would the firing solution need to be to arc our tank round to hit those scouts?"

Trajectories and knowledge bases collide, and in moments we have an answer, and my thought is converted to swift and decisive action. A single round fires from the high angled cannon of our tank, and whistles far beyond the recommended range of the AAT. Through the eyes of the repair droid, I watch the shell land within a few meters of our projections, and utterly destroy the 6 scouts as they moved cover to cover, firing at the retreating scouts. The repair droid scurries up and over the rocks, red hot and blasted with the spent heat of the round that just decimated them. He takes a moment to take their dog tags, helmets, and weapons. Several other droids join him, and put a few knives to finish the job on a few that were trying to get to their weapons. As my droids hurry back to our holding position, I watch the map of the battle unfold behind my eyes. The battle is not going well.

I stand up and meet the support droid, I take the dog tags, and hang them on the antennae of our tank, smiling to myself. One of the droids in my company curiously puts on the captured helmet of one of the clones. I see the heads up display, and our network begins to decipher the strange symbols and coded symbols showing in the heads up display. I set that on the back burner of our minds, and I turn my attention to the nearest Jedi on the field.

I look through the eyes of an augmented sniper, watching the Jedi with a blue blade spiral through the ranks of our allies in the field. The network knows what I know, and we begin plotting vectors to strike the ground in a predictive path to where the Jedi could be moving. We contemplate it, and watch as the Jedi pauses, looking right at our scout. a series of launches from the tank to my left indicate the rapid fire of shrapnel rounds soaring through the air. I mutter, "Dodge this."

The Jedi knew it, he knew there was no safe place to dodge to, that is why he stopped. But these terrifying beings could see the origin of the threat. The binoculars on my scout confirms the Jedi was dropped, and the droids their rally, driving the clones back. I task the artillery group to focus on using our tank to maximum effect to change the course of that conflict. I look at the jingling tags, the pile continuing to grow as more droids are adding them to our companies accomplishments. I beam into the network my pride, and feel the happiness it causes.

71-Beta exits the tank, allowing the artillery members to take his place, and he says aloud, "We have 1 tank. 214 fully functional infantry. 8 repair/support droids. Those 12 reds from the artillery unit. And you." I nod slowly, watching the network working out its own problems without my prompting it.

In my mind's eye, I see the battle field shifting second by second, and I see that our location won't be safe for much longer. Droids scurry forward fast, grabbing up the litters covered in spare components. The tank fires up it's repulsors, and without a spoken word, our column forms up and moves at a very respectable rate. I watch how we all move, faster and smarter than ever before.

The Center of the column is constantly retrieving fallen droid components, weapons from both sides, and passing them bucket-brigade style to their respective litters. The flanks are covered by soldiers that fire into the occasional enemy that wanders too close. The tank's barrel is red hot, and continuously firing supporting rounds into the far distance. Ranging far from us, I have my snipers, moving from perch to perch. My mind travels between all of their points of view, seeing the battle field unfold around us. They keep us away from the heaviest fighting, and are guiding us to a series of disabled tanks in the far distance. The battle there is long since passed.

My men deliver more and more tags to the tank, the antennae almost completely buried. One of the support droids hops onto the tank, and begins to fiddle with the antennae, and I smile as he unlocks direct access to it and the network. We connect it, and encrypt it, getting a better idea of the damage to the vehicle. It's remaining fuel and ammo. 71-Beta and I exchange a glance, and continue on our course.

I wrap my fist on the outside of the tank, and ready my rifle, "Let's go shopping for some more vehicles."

And continuing in the first person.

I clap my hand down on the shoulder of the support droid, joy swelling behind my optics. "I am very glad to see you, soldier." The Droid with the blue bands on his arm looks between me and the other members of my company, seeming confused.

"Uhm ... Nine Volt, is it?" He watches the droids moving about, the group he traveled with being separated from him.

"Yes, I am Nine-Volt, this is my second, 71-Beta." He nods to us from the top of the tank as he continues to rattle off instructions.

The support droid shuffles uncomfortably, "As I asked before, what outfit our you with?"

I hold up my hands disarmingly, "I understand, you want to check my credentials. 71-Beta, what deployment are we, and what outfit was that tank a part of, and is there anyone of higher rank than myself?"

71-Beta delays a moment, checking some readouts in the tank's cab. "We are the 1017th Infantry, and this is the only tank left in the 2015th Mechanized Cavalry. This support droid was traveling with a few units from the 202nd Infantry, and the 52nd heavy artillery ... though they have no artillery. As near as I can tell, you are the ranking officer, Nine-Volt."

I look to the nervous droid in front of me, "Do you have anyone in the remnants of your force that outranks me?" He slowly shakes his head, and rubs the side of his head, straining as he tries to think.

I give him time, about 30 seconds or so for the new thoughts to break through his head. "No, our commanding officer fled when the first ships were struck from the sky. The artillery was annihilated by some short green Jedi, and this is all that came out of that smoking ruin."

"Good, then we are all on the same page. I am in charge, what is your name, soldier?" He continues to watch the forces he traveled with, and confusion clouds his answer.

"What are you doing with my group?" I glance over to the training camp I put together, and smile inwardly. He and I watch as the droids he marched with are being given basics on correcting their movements, and training on taking cover in a fire fight. Getting them familiar with the captured Republic weapons.

"We are correcting a few faults in our fighting styles, what is your name, soldier?"

He shakes his head, coming out of it, and replies, "189891X."

I look to 71-Beta, "Care to do the honors?"

He taps his fingers on the tank for a moment, "Sounds like 91-Xray to me, Nine Volt." I nod, and watch the support droid process that information.

"Why are you shortening my name?"

I pat him on the arm and indicate him to follow me to the injured droids surrounded by components we have collected from other fallen droids. He follows me haltingly, "Simplicity, 91-Xray. Simplicity. Now I need you to show me how to fix up these other support droids, and all of these men need to get back into the fight. The sooner the better."

91-Xray is confused at first, but swiftly sets to motion as he sees everything lined out. "I see you have found several support droids and their kits ...."

"Yes, but you were the first we found intact. My scouts have been giving me a better idea of the situation on the battle field, we didn't come across your force by chance." I watch him intently as he presses pressure nodules on limbs to detach the broken ones, and attaches replacement arms and legs. He changes power cells, and adjusts components. One after another, 6 support droids are returned to working order. I ask questions as the process continues, asking about what every component does as we go.

91-Xray indicates the antennae he is replacing, "These are not critical components, they allow the ship to communicate or control us directly."

I interrupt him, "Can we use them to communicate directly with one another?"

There is a 30 second pause, and I audibly sigh, and think to put that on the list of things to ask about that are broken on the other units. "Yes, I can modify them to allow peer-to-peer communication, why would we want to do that?"

I turn my back on him, "Do me, first, then the other support droids, and then have one of them do it to you."

A short time later, we are communicating in Terra-bytes over our ad-hoc peer to peer network. They know what I know, they see my combat with the Jedi. They see the efforts we have been through, and I see all of their knowledge bases. Their experiences are now memories I can access, their skills something that I can draw upon on command. All of us spend a handful of moments with our heads tilted to the side, processing it all.

71-Beta walks over, giving directions to our newest snipers to take up positions to watch for approaching Republic forces. He looks from one to another of us, "You guys hear something?"

I shake off the feeling, and reply, "We are going to start training new recruits much, much faster."

91-Xray walks up behind 71-Beta, and begins to make several adjustments, "Woah!"

I smile, "It's alright, 71-Beta, he is going to fix a few problems. I found out we have an intelligence inhibitor in place, and that our built-in comm units are offline for some reason. He is going to start pulling out the inhibitors and turning us all onto the network. You are going to love this."

71-Beta started to say something, but then his inhibitor chip got yanked, and his comm system activated. His head tilts to the side as he is brought up to speed. I look around at all of the support droids, their movements so much more precise, and efficient. I smile as I see a similar gate to the one I perfected being employed by them as they fix all of our fallen. The litters are now empty, and the wounded are all now whole. They begin to put the replacement limbs stacked up in mounds onto the litters to carry behind us as supplies.

As droids are put into the network, our processes speed up, faster and faster. Dozens of us, Scores of us, all sharing knowledge, swapping skills and experiences. As each of us joins into the network it grows faster and stronger. A security droid joins the network, and begins to have concerns about security of the network, so a deep level multi-thousand bit encryption is set up to protect our network from aggressive enemy attempts to attack our minds.

In my mind's eye, I begin to see the length and breadth of the field of battle. Where all of the different start points were, where all of the droids came from. In my mind, I share their memories. I watch as a Nemoidian Commanding officer fled the field of combat, abandoning the remnants of his force to escape as fast as he could when the Jedi hit the field at the head of groups of Clone Troopers.

I sit down on the ground, my mind running and running faster than I can keep up. I want all of the information, anything that I can find in our new network. I try to take every detail, every encounter, and put it into a better and more constructive light. All of their memories, before taking out the inhibitors lacked creativity or perspective. They saw many things, resources that may have been helpful, but went overlooked.

71-Beta thinks through the network to my mind, "We have clones coming from the Northern barrier, I have pulled those units back, choosing not to engage their scouts." I swim through his knowledge, and then I find myself looking through the eyes of a support bot directing the un-augmented snipers back towards the main encampment. I smile, and pose a question to the consensus of our minds.

I ask into our combined minds, "What would the firing solution need to be to arc our tank round to hit those scouts?"

Trajectories and knowledge bases collide, and in moments we have an answer, and my thought is converted to swift and decisive action. A single round fires from the high angled cannon of our tank, and whistles far beyond the recommended range of the AAT. Through the eyes of the repair droid, I watch the shell land within a few meters of our projections, and utterly destroy the 6 scouts as they moved cover to cover, firing at the retreating scouts. The repair droid scurries up and over the rocks, red hot and blasted with the spent heat of the round that just decimated them. He takes a moment to take their dog tags, helmets, and weapons. Several other droids join him, and put a few knives to finish the job on a few that were trying to get to their weapons. As my droids hurry back to our holding position, I watch the map of the battle unfold behind my eyes. The battle is not going well.

I stand up and meet the support droid, I take the dog tags, and hang them on the antennae of our tank, smiling to myself. One of the droids in my company curiously puts on the captured helmet of one of the clones. I see the heads up display, and our network begins to decipher the strange symbols and coded symbols showing in the heads up display. I set that on the back burner of our minds, and I turn my attention to the nearest Jedi on the field.

I look through the eyes of an augmented sniper, watching the Jedi with a blue blade spiral through the ranks of our allies in the field. The network knows what I know, and we begin plotting vectors to strike the ground in a predictive path to where the Jedi could be moving. We contemplate it, and watch as the Jedi pauses, looking right at our scout. a series of launches from the tank to my left indicate the rapid fire of shrapnel rounds soaring through the air. I mutter, "Dodge this."

The Jedi knew it, he knew there was no safe place to dodge to, that is why he stopped. But these terrifying beings could see the origin of the threat. The binoculars on my scout confirms the Jedi was dropped, and the droids their rally, driving the clones back. I task the artillery group to focus on using our tank to maximum effect to change the course of that conflict. I look at the jingling tags, the pile continuing to grow as more droids are adding them to our companies accomplishments. I beam into the network my pride, and feel the happiness it causes.

71-Beta exits the tank, allowing the artillery members to take his place, and he says aloud, "We have 1 tank. 214 fully functional infantry. 8 repair/support droids. Those 12 reds from the artillery unit. And you." I nod slowly, watching the network working out its own problems without my prompting it.

In my mind's eye, I see the battle field shifting second by second, and I see that our location won't be safe for much longer. Droids scurry forward fast, grabbing up the litters covered in spare components. The tank fires up it's repulsors, and without a spoken word, our column forms up and moves at a very respectable rate. I watch how we all move, faster and smarter than ever before.

The Center of the column is constantly retrieving fallen droid components, weapons from both sides, and passing them bucket-brigade style to their respective litters. The flanks are covered by soldiers that fire into the occasional enemy that wanders too close. The tank's barrel is red hot, and continuously firing supporting rounds into the far distance. Ranging far from us, I have my snipers, moving from perch to perch. My mind travels between all of their points of view, seeing the battle field unfold around us. They keep us away from the heaviest fighting, and are guiding us to a series of disabled tanks in the far distance. The battle there is long since passed.

My men deliver more and more tags to the tank, the antennae almost completely buried. One of the support droids hops onto the tank, and begins to fiddle with the antennae, and I smile as he unlocks direct access to it and the network. We connect it, and encrypt it, getting a better idea of the damage to the vehicle. It's remaining fuel and ammo. 71-Beta and I exchange a glance, and continue on our course.

I wrap my fist on the outside of the tank, and ready my rifle, "Let's go shopping for some more vehicles."

More!

Thank you Borgholio, I appreciate the feedback. And re-continuing in the first person.


In my mind's eye, I see the battle field shifting second by second, real time data from our outliers updates the group as the shifting field. I sit on the side of our tank as it hovers forward, setting the pace that we quick time march too. I glance around, seeing details of ammo, power, and health from my soldiers as we double time towards the destroyed tanks ahead. I look up into the sky, and see more of the LAAT's raining streams of green death down onto larger formations of droids. I pull harder on the consensus of our minds, applying our combined intellect to my current project.

On the tank in front of me, I have a disassembled rocket launcher from our side that had been retrieved from the field. I have a repair kit in front of me, and a support droid sitting opposite of me. 62-Zulu as I glance at him for a moment. We have a few destroyed Baktoid heads disassembled next to the gutted rocket launcher, and we are incorporating logic circuits and a comm channel into the weapon. We continue to work as the LAAT's continue to sweep the local area for threats. Our time is short.

I see a spike of connectivity, and the network immediately sets about aquiring connection with the rocket launcher. We have two more launchers in the group, but the Electro-Magnetic Counter Measures coming off of their air borne units is vastly superior to the target acquiring software in the launcher. Without any spoken words, three Droids run up to our position on the tank with the captured helmets of Republic Troopers on their heads.

We aim the launcher at them, one after another. Each time we lock onto the comm signiture of the helmet, the default target-lock software in the helmets attempts to foil the lock on. Each time, our consensus works to back up the rocket launcher to crack the spoofing. On the third helmet, we have perfected the Electromagnetic Counter, Counter Measures. ECCM for the win.

I look to the sky, and see the nearest LAAT moving into position to strafe us. The tank's side blasters fire to life, spraying the air near the gun ship. That bought us some precious seconds as they try to line up a shot on us. I heft the rocket launcher, and the consensus grabs the comm frequencies of one of the gunners in the pods off the side of the gun ship, instead of the much more prepared gun ship itself. I hear the ping for lock on, and fire the rocket into the heavens. It spirals forward.

I swear I can see the alarm in the trooper in the gun pod as his helmet tells him of the missile lock. The rocket strikes the gun ship, causing it to pause in its maneuvers, and the tank's anti-air fire finally strikes true. The LAAT bursts into fire, and spirals into the ground, exploding with all of it's unspent munitions. I trade the launcher with one of the soldiers to my side, and immediately set to augmenting the new one in front of me. Through the network, I can see we are just now coming to the smoldering ruins of the earlier tank battle.

I sigh, the success we are having, is leading to higher risk. The helmets continue to squawk in unknown ways, but we broke the grid they use for mapping. And our location is more and more often being highlighted as a point of conversation. And that tells me that our location won't be safe for much longer, even though we just got here.

Droids scurry forward fast, as they move swiftly over the burned out battle ground, they retrieve damaged droids and check each tank. I trade off the rocket launcher I am working on, and the network begins to access it as I swap for the next one. 71-Beta makes me aware that they have found a tank with structural damage, but that is still functional. Repair droids run in that direction, beginning to repair the superficial damage to get it online.

I watch as 91-Xray drops what he was doing to get droids repaired, and moves to replace the efforts of the one of the repair droids that just ran to work on the tank. 91-Xray is pulling out discharged battery cores from my men, and replacing them with retrieved battery cores. He mentions through the network that we are saving the spent battery cores, but we will still need either a fresh supply or a method by which to recharge them.

The network flashes through possible options. First, we could create a new charging station out of one of the hulks of the tanks. I glance to pair of LAAT's that have changed course to converge on our location. Not enough time for that. Second, we could find an MTT, their nuclear reactors come with charging stations in the back end. That seems more likely. The consensus directs a series of snipers to focus their strikes. I watch as the network lags for a moment, crunching numbers and angles. I smile at their solution to keep us alive.

12 sniper bolts fire as one, striking the windshield of the LAAT at the same time, in the same place. The LAAT spirals out of control, crashing to the ground. The other LAAT begins evasive maneuvers, and I sigh as the helmets continue to highlight our position as a threat. I perk up as one of our scouts finds an over-turned Platoon Attack Craft. Dozens of my men leap forward, and charge to the fallen vehicle. With effort, they get the repulsor sled back on line, and flip it, and it's cargo sled upright.

The cargo sled is shot, but now that it is upright, they activate it, and it begins to unfurl, and deploy the rack of 112 battle droids folded into it's workings. I check over the network, and direct repair droids to salvage what can be salvaged from our newest resource, and fix those that are still standing. As my men detach the repuslor car, and bring it back to our center, to move our excess weapons we have been dragging onto the intact vehicle.

A group of my soldiers with the augmented rockets aim, lock onto clone headsets, and fire as the LAAT comes just into range. The LAAT manages to shoot down a pair of the missiles, but one strikes home, immolating the ship and it's crew. I smile inwardly as the repulsor car is loaded, and a pair of new tanks drags a replacement ammo/fuel cell to our primary tank. We replace it in a brief handful of minutes, a far cry from our first effort at this. We work with a deeply efficient harmony we had never known before. With the network, there is no confusion about where your ally is putting his feet for center of balance. There is no confusion about the task at hand. There is thought, swiftly followed by action.

I tilt my head to the side as one of the Repair/Support droids adds a series of updates to our software. I watch as code is added and removed. We are all startled as our personal computing power doubles without warning. I investigate mentally, and find that there is a secondary droid brain located in our chest-plates that is used to help droid control ships control us in the field, adding its processing power to the processing power of the control ship. When in autonomous mode, these secondary brains are default set to be off. I shake my head in disbelief. A few simple software upgrades, and we are probably the smartest entity on the planet. I watch as droids all around me tilt their heads to the side for a moment, and in short order set to modifying tools and weapons in front of them.

I watch as the network goes far beyond me, and droids that had left tanks as lost, return hurriedly to them to retrieve parts and components. I blink, trying to keep up with the dizzying speed of our processes. We have broken the encoded language in the helmets we have captured, and begin to get a better idea of the situation on the ground. We form up, our tanks the center of the column, surrounding our repulsor sled, and I watch as the droids at our edge perimeter begin to form up. Each one of our edge guards now travels with a single handed blaster, their rifles slung over their backs, and their arm facing away from the column adorned with sheets of metal taken from the destroyed tanks.

The center of the infantry column is constantly retrieving fallen droid components, weapons from both sides, and passing them bucket-brigade style to their respective litters for parts, the repulsor sled for weapons. We are moving forward as the command channel in the helmets inform us that they are planning heavy artillery bombardment of our area. All three tanks fire into the air, supplementing allies in the near vicinity. As we travel, the repair/support droids continue to convert our newest members to our ranks. Repairing the fallen, and fixing the standing. I watch as each tank's barrel hums with violence, and the red hot tinge begins to suffuse them.

The consensus has located a Seperatist Commander pinned down by a Jedi General and a Platoon of Clones. One of the Security droids walks up to me, and without a thought or a word, I pass him my captured light saber. He activates it, and begins experimenting with its weight and abilities. He takes it apart, and puts it back together again. He makes note that there are no water-tight seals to protect its inner workings from water affecting the electronics. Not a flaw they all might share, but something worth exploring.

The noise of the cannons is set so that they fire in sequence, there is never a moment that the roar of the cannons is not heard. Every round makes a significant impact in the surrounding area. I look through my mind's eye at our outliers.

A sniper is on top of the hill, a pair of spotters by his side. They are acting as overwatch for a group of 12 commandos in the field. They dive forward, weaving and bobbing among the Clones that were scouting one of our flanks. The Clones don't have time to properly react, as the attacks in close range are perfectly timed to sniper strikes simultaneously. Some of the bolts from the sniper rifle hit enemies centimeters from hitting allies. I watch as they harvest materials, ensure our enemies are fallen, and they continue along at break neck speed. This group has been given priority for our new power cells. I look through the mind's eye inside of our tanks, and the piles of spent batteries. My mind churns on how fast we are burning through our charges that should have lasted much longer.

My head turns to the left as an AT-TE walker fires at my left flank. The troops on the left kick their shields forward and out, allowing the bottom half to fall into place, and digs into the ground with modified pitons from all of the captured grappling hooks. The single shot from the AT-TE strikes and curves up over the slope of our improvised tank wall. I listen as the shell detonates far away, and over head. I watch as one of our outliers stands directly in front of the AT-TE, rising out of the ground like some grim specter. A series of sniper shots to the pilots window make a hole, and the outlier leaps up, holding himself from the window with his three fingered grip. He slides a captured Republic pistol through the glass, and fires 6 times into the pilots face and chest. Our snipers then dropped the clone partially exposed on the top of the tank.

Two of our tanks continue to assist operations in the Geonosis theater at large, but one turns its gun, and fires an arcing round into the side of the AT-TE. It rocks, the legs not moving beyond autonomous functions now that the pilot is dead. We watch as the back door opens and 20 Clones charge down the ramp to engage an unknown level of threat. Two rockets are fired from cover, and arc high into the air, to then lock onto helmets in the center of their formation, and dive straight down to impact into their center. Smaller guns and turrets continue to fire in our direction, heating the tank armor plates. I watch as a few soldiers are overwhelmed, and killed as their sections of armor are overwhelmed. Without missing a beat, their place is filled with a fresh trooper with a similar shield that drives into the ground.

Our snipers finish the clones, and the outlier group on that side scales the ramp, hurling a medical droid out, and one by one, the gun emplacements go silent as the four clones running the weapons systems are taken out. Two repair/support droids board the AT-TE, and begin to tear out components, inserting pieces of our fallen that have been re-purposed to attack and incorporate into the enemy technology. Our temporary wall retracts, back to shield configuration, and we begin to advance as our few fallen soldiers are checked over by Repair teams. A few are restored to working order, and one is added to our resources as spare parts and resources are retrieved as we advance.

71-Beta leads a cheer in our network, a cheer that is reflected and magnified by all of us. He looks to me, and says, "This is what you meant. That was a victory!"

I nod to him, "Yes, that was a victory. We are winning many small battles, but we have to find out what our strategic goal actually is, or we are doomed to lose the war, regardless of how many battles we win. But yes, 71-Beta, this is what I was talking about before. We just took on 98 engagements, inflicting 100% losses on our enemies. We have lost 1 solider, and gained the assets of our enemies. We need to keep up statistics like these."

I watch as my company communicates Terra-bytes per second over the line, continuous chatter working at solutions to problems we don't have yet. I glance around the battlefield, seeing far too many of our side on the ground. In the far distance, another dust storm is coming, and will obscure visibility for another space of time, we don't have long if we want to use it.

I have to smile to myself as the AT-TE comes to life, and begins clumsily shambling around for a moment, before orienting itself to follow our column. I would prefer to have given it more support, but we don't have time to wait to get it online if we are going to use the storm as cover. I watch as the network pries into everything that they can learn from our newest acquisition. Armament, crew, load outs, where they were built. My attention becomes skewed as more ground forces engage the outliers, and support shores them up from our tanks, and the new AT-TE. We are getting closer to active combat as we draw nearer to our besieged commanding officer.

I glance at the various stances that the security droid is running through, trying to become more familiar with the laser sword. We continue, and the once distant roar of combat becomes a deafening cacophony in our midst. More and more of our support rounds are finding their marks ahead of us. I draw our outliers in, and set the snipers to find their perches ahead and in our flanks.

"Alright everyone, this is it, this is what we have been preparing for. We are about to engage the full strength of the enemy, lead by one of their Jedi, in order to reconnect with our forces. All I ask is that we do our best, I expect no more, and no less. Let's give them Hell!"

I look to the sky, and see the LAATs raining death down on our beleaguered allies. The consensus uses the AT-TE's connection to the Republic forces to call false targeting requests to the wrong side of the line. The LAAT's begin to strafe the wrong side of the engagement. We then use properly coded comm chatter to call targets on compromised LAATs, and we have the Clones fighting one another as we begin our full assault. Any clones wearing command insignias are sniped within moments of our fully engaging the enemy.

As they realize we are upon them, their force splits, back to back, now facing an unknown force from behind and a crushed force in front. The tanks are no longer cycling to conserve ammunition. They fire at full rapid speed, their shells detonating all around the enemies. Blasters from the networked tanks fire with impossible proficiency. Non-Lethals and flares all fly into the enemy lighting up their ranks with a sinister witch-light of green. Our wall erects in front of us and we hunker down. The clones charge forward, not properly heeding the local environment.

The dust storm blasts in from the West, throwing anything not heavier than 500 Kilograms or secured to the ground off of it's balance. In the storm, visibility drops, but our glowing flares show us the swirling background of their forces scrabbling. We continue to fire into that, not missing a beat. The AT-TE joins us, and focuses its fire on the Jedi attempting to reach us, now that she is called away from the front of her formation. I can only imagine her confusion as victory is snatched from the jaws of defeat.

The Jedi is a woman, with facial tattoos. She struggles to advance through the sand. I watch through the eyes of the network as her green saber ignites sand, burning it into wisps of glass swirling in the strength of the wind. I marvel at the beauty of the art created by such a destructive weapon. I watch as my outliers advance, crawling forward on their bellies with their augmented weapons systems on their backs. Backpacks that slosh, the Jedi loses her footing twice, swiping at the air blindly, trying to keep her footing. My men don't waste their shots on her ability to send them back at us. My eyes to the west show the sandstorm passing, and clearing. My men prepare for their moment.

I can see the Cybernetically augmented Techno-Union General peering into the sandstorm as it begins to clear. He can't understand what just happened, as the Jedi was almost done burning through his door, and all of a sudden her forces stopped firing at him, just before the sandstorm hit. As it clears he can see bodies, stacked up, writhing forms of destruction, the air support gone, and a fresh Separatist army facing off against the lone Jedi.

As the sand clears, she leaps towards the nearest outlier. Both of them stay prone, and fire liquid coolant taken from the damaged tanks in pressurized hoses at her. She falters, her lightsaber sputters and shorts out. She stumbles, her left hand fracturing, frozen solid from where she tried to protect her face from the coolant being sprayed at her. The moment her light saber falters, Snipers begin firing. Even weakened, blinded, frozen, and disarmed the Jedi dodges more than 90% of what we throw at her. Her stumbling gate is not enough, and the bolts find their mark, and then the rest finish the job.

The mobile wall breaks ranks, and my men rush forward in a surge. They set about killing the wounded, and finishing the fight. I approach the fallen Jedi, and one of the outliers has knelt down to retrieve the lightsaber by breaking off frozen fingers. He remains kneeling, and proffers it to me, I accept the saber, and give a short bow to him. I look up as tentative soldiers are leaving the bulwarks of their destroyed facility. It used to be a warehouse for weapons, and they converted it into a makeshift last stand.

The Techno-Union General comes out, clapping and cheering. "That was amazing! Who are you, what is your unit?"

I reply evenly, "I am 9-Volt, Company Commander of the 202nd and 1017th Infantry, 2015th and 305th Mechanized Cavalry, and the 52nd heavy artillery. Are you in charge here?"

He looks at the Jedi's dead body on the ground, and back to me with her lightsaber in my hand, "Son, it looks like you are in charge here."


http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Multi-Troop_Transport
http://homepage.isomedia.com/~tonyc/swr ... ed/mtt.htm
http://www.moddb.com/mods/star-wars-the ... -transport



http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Platoon_Attack_Craft

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/First_Battle_of_Geonosis
http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Baktoid_Armor_Workshop

Wrapping up the night, figured I could hammer out a few more pages before I finish my laundry, I hope you enjoy

The Techno-Union General shakes his head, still in disbelief, "I am General Lat Xamfur, I have been in our peace keeping military for many years, but I have never seen anything like this before. That was some fine work, 9-Volt, your men truly are an amazing sight to behold in combat."

I take a moment, my soldiers securing the perimeter, a few of my men pull out their cores to trade with the outliers, who then resume posts along the perimeter further out. I tune the General out for a moment, and watch my snipers form up their ranks, and the column turn and place in their wall to protect our rear and the tanks. Over a hundred of my men enter the facility to take stock of what is on hand.

General Xamfur watches my men launch by, still shaking his head, "You and your men, don't walk like typical baktoid 1's ... what are they doing, 9-Volt?"

I turn my attention to the General and reply, "It is no longer going to be safe here, General Xamfur, the Republic has called this location in as a hot zone, and will be deploying forces here. Speed and movement are of the essence. You outrank me, so I ask if there are standing orders from the chain of command, or if I have free reign to do what is necessary to secure our survival?"

The General watches as the baktoids begin activating all stored units. He watches as his men are questioned and sorted into combat and non-combat roles. "You have my blessing, Field Commander 9-Volt, to do what is necessary to bring us safely through this. The Republic lied, and had a standing army ready to strike at us. This battle was only supposed to be us against the Jedi, now there is this Grand Army of the Republic. Bah, clones one and all."

I nod, continuing to issue instructions as we catalog what can be taken. My men who know how activated STAPS, and immediately take to the air to give us more view of the surrounding area. The General glances up, and watches as his men are more herded than gathered. He stares a long time as we augment the newly activated, and then those that were just activated catch up, and assist in converting more. The entire store house is being activated, and my men collect everything that isn't bolted down that could serve a purpose.

I turn my full attention to General Xamfur, "We are losing the planet, sir. I have been attempting to reconnect with the chain of command to seek instructions to facilitate our retreat. I intercepted Republic communications that this was a location of a high ranking member of the Separatists. Do you have a plan to get us out of here?"

He adjusts some knobs on his chest piece, and replies, "If we can make contact with Foreman Wat Tambor, he could secure a way for us to depart this cursed place. If you ensure me and my men get to him, I will make certain you and your men are greatly rewarded for your efforts to turn things around here." The General takes a moment as he walks towards the lead tank.

He watches as my men apply more and more layers of tags to our extra hooks that have been made to collect them. He looks at my men, and runs his hands through the tinkling sets of tags. He whispers through his face mask, "My God, you have defeated so many in so short a time...." He glances and sees the pair of lighsabers resting on the tank.

"General, my men and I are in need of power, or we won't be able to keep up the fight. We either need fresh power cells, perhaps a few MTTs, something along those lines. The sooner the better."

The General shakes his head negatively, but seems a bit surprised, "Your power cells should be able to run each of you into next week."

I run my hands through the jingling tags, and reply, "We have been working very hard, sir."

The AT-TE joins us, insinuating itself into our formation. I indicate it to the General, "You and 26 of your men may ride in this captured AT-TE. We are running it autonomously, and it will keep you safe. If your men care to help, they can run the defensive turrets that are not wired into the central control systems. The General nods, blinking as several explosions go off in the warehouse.

My men tear into the walls, ripping out hundreds of feet of wiring and coiling it into transport sleds. The repair droids, both old and new, work together on the back of empty cargo sleds with nuclear batteries that they tore out of non-functioning vehicles outside of the warehouse from downed vehicles. Fabrication of a mobile charging station is well underway long before we will be ready to move. I glance up as the outliers begin to engage the enemy.

I inform the General, "We have contact with the enemies advance units, the sooner you move, the better. Please indicate a man in charge of your men for the field, so that we can establish a chain of command."

General Xamfur seems surprised, but hurries to comply, "Captain Nerva will help you in any way that he can."

I scowl as my men watch several Clones take to the air using Jet Packs to bypass our pickets and temporary walls. "Get down, General!"

Captain Nerva shouts out, "ARC Troopers!"

Snipers eliminate most of them before they land, but 3 are among the Techno-Union Soldiers where no shot is possible without risking the organic members of my column. The first ARC trooper on the ground unslings his rifle and points it at the General on the ground. A snap-hiss of an activating lightsaber draws everyone's attention to the lightsaber one of my security droids is holding, as he hefts it up, splitting one of the three troopers in half.

I can see the Cybernetically augmented Techno-Union General peering up from the ground. He can't seem to make sense of what he is seeing. On the remaining two ARC troopers, three Baktoids with combat knives drawn engage them in melee combat. Through various means their primary and secondary weapons were stripped from them, and now they are trying to knife fight with Baktoids.

I draw my combat knife and my grappling launcher, and circle the swirling engagement. The ARC troopers are faster than their standard Clone Trooper counter parts, I can tell this in a heart beat. But the challenge that they pose is no where near the same as battling a Jedi.

The Clones move fast, swirling and diving, flipping and punching. My men are hurled this way and that through their various methods of martial fighting. Knife wound after wound are inflicted on them, slowing their movements as more and more of my men advance. I use my Grappling hook to skewer the back of one of their legs, and pull him off of balance. He goes down under a group of 7 of my infantrymen. The other has his helmet knocked free, and he gasps for air against the series of chest wounds he has been subjected to.

We maneuver, and counter-move the Troopers, until our superior numbers overwhelm them, and we are repairing minor damage as we add their tags and equipment to our spoils. The General slowly recovers his feet as he watches me winding in my grappling gun. He looks to Captain Nerva and they hold each other's stare for a long while without speaking. "Captain, those were ARC Troopers, correct?"

Captain Nerva nods slowly, swallowing hard. He looks to the mounds of captured weapons, and the stacks of dog tags hanging from the tank behind me. They watch as my men strip the helmets from the dead troopers, and begin to walk away with them. One of the Techno-Union soldiers ask, "What are you going to do with those?"

The droid pauses for a moment, and replies, "We use the helmets to track and decrypt their signals, but we really like these helmets, the fancy designs make them a little more interesting." Before a few more minutes have passed, the column is moving. My outliers and snipers holding off scouts and spies trying to see what is happening.

Captain Nerva hustles to get to my side, winded trying to keep pace. "Commander?"

I continue forward, my mind supervising dozens of small skirmishes along our edges, and overseeing the construction of our charging station. I see with alarm as 10 of my soldiers fold up into storage mode as their power cells fall to 1%. I have them stored in some of the vehicles that we confiscated from the warehouse. My own power cell is dipping below 10% and I can feel various warnings going off as I march double time forward with the column. I glance to my right, and reply, "Captain."

"I have had the misfortune of battling the ARC troopers before, I have always lost inordinate numbers of my men against them. Your men took them apart like toy soldiers, that was incredible!"

One of my men approaches me, one of the newest recruits we pulled from the warehouse, pulling out his own power core, he proffers it to me. I blink my optics, surprised, and exchange my cell for his. He beams over the network, thankful that he could help their leader. He moves to the repulsor sled where more and more of my men are folding up for ease of storage as their cells die.

I shake my head, angrily watching the slow fabrication process. A few power cells are already charging, but the process is going far too slowly for the needs of my growing army. "We need more power, faster, Captain Nerva. We are burning power faster than the average Baktoid, my outliers burn through a battery almost every engagement."

He blinks, confused, "Those power cells are rated for a week of heavy use...."

I smile inwardly without humor, "So I have been told. Evidently, my company is going above and beyond in terms of 'heavy use'."

He pauses for a moment, and then hurries to keep up with my pace, "What is an outlier?"

I don't miss a beat as we advance, my mind working in a thousand directions at once, "My outliers are the toughest bunch of my men. They are all volunteers that wanted to be boots first into our combats. They operate beyond my flanks, and see the most combat out of any of my soldiers. They are predominantly security and assault droids, with a few exceptions. I would put any of my outliers against any three of their ARC troopers any day of the week."

The column grinds forward, and he watches a constant flow of activity. Every surface available for sitting has baktoids sitting on them, working on various pieces of technology ripped from the battle field or from the Warehouse behind us. The sun looms huge to the West as it's bottom edge begins to brush the ground of our distant horizon. The first day of the Clone Wars is drawing to a close, but the fighting is far from over.

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Techno_Union

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Single_T ... l_Platform

Getting ready for sleep, going to hammer out a few threads in third person to flesh out the activities of the Outliers and Flanking Snipers. Just a fun exercise to close out the evening, I hope that this finds everyone well

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charge_of_ ... ht_Brigade

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made,
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

-------
First, Zenith, Corrintheans, Beta, Gamma, Jack

Max, Delta, Paynen, Argyle, Youth, Detriment, Scipio.

-------


Twelve Baktoids stand in a semi-circle at the edge of the column formation. This is the third time in as many hours that they have returned to change out their power cells. They all check each other's gear and fastening their packs. They check, and recheck their ammo and weapons. Giving one another pats and taps as their silent messages blur over the edges of the network. One of the 12 stands a bit straighter than the others, though they are identical clones of metal and electronics, he stands a few centimeters taller than the others. His bearing is different, his chest is emblazoned with red paint, "First." reads his chest.

First slams his second, third, and forth pistols back into the stolen holsters on his hip. He cleans the line of his rifle, and slings it over his shoulder in a single fluid motion. First watches as the last of his soldiers get their new, fresh power cores. After "Zenith" slams his new battery core home, being the twelfth in their company, First advances to the repair droid, and pulls out his spent power cell, to slam in his fresh replacement. He relays to the network the critical need to keep his men as close to 100% as possible, and that they need more power cells soon.

First shakes his head negatively, glancing as their spent cells are added to the growing piles on a litter being pulled by a Republic Scout walker that has been jimmied into the network through the efforts of support droids. He circles his hand once, and his men charge out to the East Flank, the Column having finished it's pause, and resuming its forward motion. His 12 men exchange information as another team of Outliers is returning from the field. First gives the faintest nod to the lead of the group returning, Davies returns the nod. The network they share gives them maps, troop movements, engagements, and vital information as First's team rushes out into the larger field of battle beyond.

First taps Second and Beta on their shoulders, and his information soars through the network to them. Wordlessly, and instantly, they leap away from him. The Baktoids dive and twist over obstacles to rush to their designated positions. He tags a few of the sniper nests through the network, knowing from the network which ones will be moving soon, and which ones he can depend on for over watch for his coming battles. First dives over a dried out river bed, and slides to a halt in the small pebbles and red sand in the bottom of the arroyo. Dust splays up as he watches Gamma and Corintheans leap and dive over rocks and fallen military hardware.

First kneels low, drawing one of his Republic pistols from his belt, and he breathes out into the choking, unsettled sands, "Showtime." He can sense the column passing, safe for the time being. He is responsible for orchestrating the battles to shape them away from the center. In all of his existence, he had never felt so important as he does every minute he fights on his flank. White armor crests the opposite side of the arroyo, they begin picking their way down the treacherous descent that his Outliers had just dove and leapt through in a handful of instants.

He can feel it. First can feel the jaws of the trap tensing before it springs. His men await the optimum moment, as the troopers entire squad of 30 are arrayed out in their descent. The first Clone trooper is just reaching the bottom of the dried out river, and the droids all fire in a leap of synchronized violence.

Lasers, projectiles, and a few thrown blades find distinct marks all along the clones' progression. The few that continue to move, find sniper rounds finishing them. First indicates forward, Scipio and Argyle leap forward to grab the bodies and retrieve resources and tags from them. They wait in silence, listening as the network tells them what the captured helmets announce. First nods, satisfied that they hit hard and fast enough that the Republic didn't flag the engagement of this advance unit.

In that moment his men break ranks, leaping forward to secure the other side of the arroyo. They move with such speed that their joints groan and creak. They push the servo-motors of their bodies to the upper limits. His men take up positions, just as the crunch of the sand above reveals the approach of the next group. Scipio and Argyle use the fallen Republic soldiers as cover, rolling bodies that they had been looting to be on top of them. His men remain motionless as they have found positions to wait to ambush the rest of the enemy group.

The network confirms requests and confirmations of positions. There is alarm from the Republic force, seeing their 30 men having been cut to ribbons and not having heard a thing over the comms about it.

First tightens his grip on his pistol, he looks up as the Clone troopers are falling back, and calling for support. A LAAT distantly changes course, and begins heading towards them. First's mind's eye confirms through one of the sniper's scopes that the decorations on the LAAT are that of an ARC trooper transport. First looks between his men in their lurking positions, and he thinks to them, "We have this."

The Clones above begin to descend, having seen no sign of the enemy, and knowing that backup is coming. First counts through the network, seeing all of the perspectives of his men. 60 clones descending to find out what happened to their advanced unit. Once more, First can feel the sensation climbing over him as the trap tenses, vibrating like a spider's web closing in on it's prey. A pair of Scout Walkers change course, and begin to approach the arroyo, detached from picket duty to answer this unit's call for assistance.

The optics all line up, trajectories are announced, targets are chosen, and the die is cast. A pair of Single Person scout walkers crest the top of the arroyo, looking down to provide covering fire for the descending clones. This group moves cautiously, the bodies of their men below testament to the dangers in the field.

It all explodes at once. The Scout Walkers never get a shot off, as the overlapping snipers double tap each pilot, taking their vehicles out of the equation in the opening salvo. First rolls over the rock he was hiding behind, and slams his pistol into the gaps of plasteel in the nearest clone's chest piece. He slams the pistol and fires, three times, causing exit holes to explode on the other side of the clones armor the size of coconuts.

Gun fire erupts in all directions, several of his men have taken hits, but continue the fight. Paynen's left arm is seared off by a direct hit from one of the Clones holding a heavy blaster attached to his hip with a special holder. As Paynen continues to fire his rifle in continuous fire to suppress three clones a little further up the hill, he dives forward, plunging his red hot stump through the Clone's left eyepiece. Paynen drives the arm into the helmet so hard that they both flip over a rock, landing in the sand, and he pins the clones pierced helmet to the sand below. He drops his empty rifle, letting the sling catch it and hold the gun close to his body. He presses the quick release tabs for his left arm, and rolls free, leaving his limb embedded and cooling in the clones skull.

Jack dual-wields Separatist pistols, firing in spinning arcs as he leaps past and over falling clones. The fire-fight is intense, but in the opening seconds they went from a company of 60 soldiers with 2 light vehicles as backup, to 10 wounded clones trying to call for immediate assistance. Jack drops his pistols on the sand, and swings his pack around to reach in. He tears out one of the many left arms he carries in his pack. He throws it through the air, and Paynen catches the limb. He slams it onto his chest, and the limb locks into place with his familiar movements.

Paynen flips, using his knee, and foot to drop one of the clones to the ground. As the Clone is prone, he brings up his rifle to train it on Paynen. Paynen doesn't stop, he continues with the momentum of his flip away from the clone as the clone sprays the sky where he would have expected Paynen to be with rapid fire blaster fire. As the clone begins to try and regain his feet, a sniper puts three bolts into his prone form.

Corrintheans explodes out of sand he had buried himself in, and grabs the boot of a clone taking cover above him. The clone loses his balance, flailing as he tumbles down into the arroyo. He rolls, trying to find his footing, and Scipio slices out from under his hiding place with a Vibro-Knife that severs the clone's achilles tendon. As the clone tries to turn his gun at this unexpected threat, Argyle puts a pair of blue bolts of energy into him from behind.

Max runs full speed at the side of a clone, he kicks off of the ground, flying into the air. He fires a grappling gun, and it bites deeply into the clone's thigh. He sets it to retract, and swings with angular momentum to clothes line two more clones with his line. They tumble down the arroyo below him as the line pulls him closer to the clone. The clone fires, striking Max once in the leg, and once in the right arm. Max's right arm fails, and the grappling gun falls free to the ground and his arm falls uselessly to his side.

Max switches his mind to be left handed, and Max draws his combat knife. The clone stumbles back, blood flowing freely from his wounded leg as Max is upon him. Max severs the strap holding the rifle to the clone's neck and shoulders. As he cuts the strap, he steps into the clones personal space, too close for the long rifle to find its mark. Shots fire wild behind Max as he jabs the knife into the shoulder, elbow, and wrist joints of the clones armor. The clone staggers, confused as his rifle falls away from him, rolling down the hill after his falling allies.

Max Dances back as the Clone draws his combat knife. The pair circle for a moment, and exchange blows in swift succession. The Clone and Max tangle, jabbing and slicing with their blades. The Clone scores a solid hit on Max's face, and Max laughs through his vocabulator as he falls flat, making the clone stumble forward onto his injured leg. The clone falters, and looks up as a Sniper round splits his head.

Jack slides to a stop, on his knees, next to Max. He reaches into his pack, and hands him a left arm. Detriment runs over, setting down his massive Republic cannon, and hands Max a pair of replacement legs. "You have to slow down on burning through those limbs, Max."

Max laughs, "You have to stop losing your antennae, Detriment."

Gamma shouts, "Knock off the grab-ass, here comes the ARC troopers!"

Beta and Gamma had finished scaling the arroyo, and sweep into the newly abandoned Scout Walkers. They train the weapons onto the incoming LAAT. The LAAT's ball turrets begin to spew hot death into the arroyo, causing the Outliers to dive for cover and attempt to dodge the rays of green death. Several missile racks pop up on the roof, and roll out to fire rockets and missiles as follow ups for the green death rays. Sniper fire from the Outlier's over-watch detonates the missiles before they can clear the racks. The LAAT shudders and shakes from the tertiary explosions. Beta and Gamma open fire with the Scout Walkers, and the LAAT is struck from the sky.

Jet-Packs ignite, and the ARC troopers take to the sky. They descend towards the battlefield, but the Outliers have no intention of giving them an even engagement. Snipers fire, Beta and Gamma cut several of the descending troopers to ribbons before the main group of Outliers even have a chance to think of returning fire.

Five ARC troopers are all that make it to land on the ground, and their feet are met by hails of fire, disrupting any chance of clear footing. They stumble over the glassed remains of where once they could have stood. Their weapons are drawn, and they are firing, but the nature of their unsecured landing makes their successful return fire on the droids impossible.

First and Delta Dive forward, striking one of the falling ARC troopers, and the trio roll down the arroyo towards all of the fallen forms far below. They wrestle and fists and feet fly as they plummet downward.

Youth does quick math in his head, and fires his grappling gun, he snags the ARC trooper by his left ankle, and pulls the Trooper towards him by about 10 meters. The Trooper tries to stand up, just as the spiraling LAAT crushes him on the side of the hill. Droids leap free of the tumbling vehicle as it passes them in their pitched battle with the remainder of the ARC troopers.

Beta and Gamma continue down the Arroyo, one of them uses the leg of the walker to crush one of the wounded clone troopers from the earlier engagement. The scout walkers primary cannons blow out huge chunks of the arroyo, continuing to keep the remaining 3 ARC troopers off of their footing. Max and Paynen steady their aim, and fire from stable firing positions as the ARC troopers are never given a chance to properly respond.

As the fighting concludes, the Outliers don't lose any time in collecting all gear that they can from the fallen. They load them into the walkers, which then sprint ahead of them to rejoin the column. First rubs his hand over the back of his head, his fingers identifying a burned in score mark from a near miss. Zenith checks the back of First's head, and he says, "Do you still function?"

Max shakes off his reverie, "Yes, yes I am fine Zenith, I just lost my comm unit. It's so quiet and unnerving without the network. I am at 8%, let's get home and cycle through again. By the maker, I hope that they get our power cells recharged soon...."

The Outliers begin a short sprint back, leaving the ground they gained. They do a swift double time march. Distantly, 2 dozen snipers and their spotters uproot from their positions. They advance to mirror the column, and cover the flanks. First gives a tip of his head and a short salute to the nearest sniper. The sniper pumps his arm twice in return. First looks to second, who holds a fist full of the Clone Troopers' tags jingling in his fist.

"What was the haul?" First asks.

Second replies, "80 confirmed kills. Two captured vehicles, 275 grappling launchers, 2 intact jet packs, 220 rifles, 50 sidearms, and about 600 replacement blaster carbine ammo cells. 20 ARC helmets, and we kept 5 Trooper helmets that were in okay shape."

First sighs aloud, "I am certain we pulled more than 80 on this one."

Second laughs, "I know we did, but we only pulled 80 tags, the ones we lost in the explosions don't count. Nor do ones dropped before we got here."

First shakes his head, "We'll have to pick it up a bit better next cycle, if we don't, we won't be on top of the score for much longer. Davies pulled in 160 confirmed kills in his last run, he's catching up."

Jack finishes reloading his pistols, returning them to his holsters, and joins the conversation, "I don't know First, I think it all goes back to the Company in the end."

Corintheans jogs up to join the conversation around the detached First, "We'll get a better showing next time out, but our standings as Outliers are envied. I heard that Carrida's team on the other side went an entire cycle without an engagement at all."

First whistles softly, "Rough, they'll never catch up while sitting down like that."

Evidently double posted, woops. So changing this to a good night message.

working on the creative flow, throwing out some more content while I have the day off before I play some stuff online with my good friends Good times.

______------_______

I stare at my work station, I am using a miniature welding laser we took from the facility we just cleared out. I carefully monitor the 6 grenades as I weld them to the handle of the grappling hook. A soldier from the Techno-Union wanders a little closer to me as I work on the delicate work. He motions back to one of the AT-RT's that we captured that my soldiers are modifying. "9-Volt, what are your men doing to that AT-RT?"

I finish my task, and set the device I just built to cool with the slowly growing pile of them. I turn to the soldier, and hop off of the hovering trailer. Several droids take my place on the platform. "We are modifying it as an explosive device. We are loading the mass driver rounds out of the AT-TE to give it enough punching power to shatter our enemies in a surprise strike."

The soldier shakes his head, watching the assembly line of swift moving droids converting all manner of captured materials into different types of weapons and resources. "You guys seem considerably more ... active since we got back on the road?"

I continue to hurry along, checking progress on all of our works and efforts. We have 200 battery slots actively recharging batteries. We take inventory on the newly retrieved battery cores. I devote a fraction of my mind to attend to the soldier's questions as I continue all operations. "We now have the power cells necessary to continue forward. When we arrived we had no fresh battery cells, and the ability to recharge them 4 at a time. Our resources are looking considerably more manageable now."

The solider points to a group of droids that are adorned with Clone Trooper armor, only showing themselves to not be captured troops via the red bands they wear around their helmets and arms. "What are you all doing over there?"

I sigh inwardly, too many questions, too much work, and not enough time until our next engagement. I watch as the battlefield is mapped out so much better now that we have Soldiers in STAPs far out beyond our flanks. Our column marches, and my outliers pick off the occasional straggler or scouts. "We have augmented our vocabulators to imitate the clone's speech patterns. We are preparing our assets and lining up our resources. We don't know what we will need in the immediate future, and from what I can tell, they are adapting to conflicts that they get information back from."

The soldier struggles to keep pace with the hovering vehicles, and double time marching droids. "Where are we going, what is the plan, how can my men help?"

I stare at him, confused, "Help?"

He jumps as one of the tanks maneuvers without warning, he watches as all of the other soldiers responded without even seeing the tank move. They move like ants, a colony of ants completely aware of the actions of the others. He seems a bit taken off, as the tank blasts high arcing rounds at enemies so far away he wasn't even aware of their presence. "Yes, we didn't suit up and grab gear to stand back and watch you fight for us, we are ready to throw down. Ready to help any way we can."

I watch his body language, trying to discern his emotional state. Pride. Frustration? I don't have the time to give him the reassurances that he needs, "We are currently engaged against the enemy in 18 locations. I am guiding our combat activities. We have 16 civilian hover craft. 1094 infantry, most of which we are still in the process of upgrading. 6 hover tanks, 3 pristine we just got from your holdings, and 3 that have been through the ringer. 1 AT-TE. 18 AT-RTs. 12 captured suits of Clone Armor that we have re-purposed. Enough guns to occupy a small planet. 240 Outliers, 20 full 12 man teams. 321 Snipers and teams, each one with at least one sniper, and at least one spotter; mixed bag, that group. 12 Artillery specialists, running permutations on mortar teams, tanks, AT-RTs, and the AT-TE to put heat where heat is needed, we have 24 scouts beyond our farthest snipers in STAPs, giving us invaluable recon data on the battlefield. We are attempting to avoid engagements, and get to ships that are still on the ground. You could say I have a great deal on my mind, Captain Pilon."

The soldiers misses a step, and has to hurry to get back into the ranks where I am. "We, uhm, we are retreating from the battle? We are abandoning Geonosis?"

I tilt my head to the side, "This isn't just a battle, Captain. This is the opening salvo in what will be a war capable of burning the Galaxy as we know it to the ground. We need to sue for peace, as soon as possible. Prolonging an engagement where we are as matched as we are, will bring nothing but suffering to all of us."

"But 9-Volt, we have the numbers." He seems shaken, and frustrated.

I shake my head, devoting more of my attention away from the constantly moving battlefield around us, "Do you know how long it takes them to gestate a new batch of clones? Is there a limit to their better equipment? The logistics for how well they are deploying is baffling. We may have them outnumbered, but our numbers are made of ranks and ranks of unmodified versions of myself. We have no guarantee of victory, and worse still, they have the Jedi."

Captain Pilon straightens a bit, and insists, "We are ready for a fight, the Jedi are daunting, but you have proven that they are not indestructible. Many of them died in the arena before the clones even arrived. Just keep us in mind, if there is anything that you need, okay?"

I nod to him, "Very well, Captain. We are facing a rough road ahead. As we traverse the battle field, our options begin to reduce. There will be plenty of fighting, I am attempting to avoid the worst of it, so that we can maximize our chances of success when we engage with the enemy."

Captain Pilon blinks, confused, "I don't understand, I thought you said we were facing the enemy in 18 locations? Are we not already engaged?"

I don't miss a step as I reply, "We are now fighting in only 3 locations, we have pacified or otherwise destroyed enemy encroachments. We are not here to go toe-to-toe against an enemy force. We are keeping them from reporting our movements to larger groupings of their forces. We are evading them as best as we can, but there are many formations ahead of us, that we will not be able to circumnavigate or keep from calling help against us. I have not been able to come up with a solution to their artillery yet, but we are on the verge of a solution."

Captain Pilon presses, "What is the problem with the artillery?"

I answer swiftly, as the tanks cease their fire and their barrels begin to cool, "If the ships we are going to use to escape lift off, the artillery will cut us to ribbons. We need to neutralize their ability to harm us, the sooner the better. They are wreaking havoc on our forces in the field. I glance back at the AT-RT that has been loaded up and modified with explosives, and then at my team of 12 Clone impostors. "I have a few ideas, but we will need to fight through soon enough, and from the preliminary data I am getting, there are 3 Jedi leading the forces ahead of us. A fairly significant obstacle. The moment we will need your men, believe me, we will tell you, Captain."

Captain Pilon falls back a few steps, and then rejoins his soldiers who are also marching as best as they can in formation. One of the troopers asks him, "When do we settle in for a solid shot at the Republic?"

Captain Pilon runs his hand over his green, bald head, and adjusts his goggles a bit, "It seems we are currently in retreat, but there is combat ahead." His men nod, their morale high. He looks at me, and at his men, and I can tell that Captain Pilon is now heavily burdened with the knowledge I already possessed. This is far more than a battle, and regardless of it's outcome, the Republic will never be the same.