In Your Service: A Creative Blog: 2019

    So. . .
    This is my first post and obviously I'm nervous, but here we go:}.
    This was a short story I came up with like. . . three or four years ago and have been working on and neglecting since. I thought it would be good to kick off the blog (and name the blog) with the project I was finishing. Of course, I got carried away and designed the blog before I'd finished the story. . . :}
    (Due to copying and pasting, some things might be out of alignment and some might not be italicized that were supposed to be. I tried to catch them all (Pokémon! Haha sorry, that was a bad joke), but I could have easily missed some:} Also, the section separators looked better on a white background instead of the light blue, lol)
    Feel free to comment about the stuff you like in the story like your favorite character(s), armor design, squad names, why you like them, etc. Get creative! Or if you somehow find a typo. I won't normally allow comments, but for this one I will:)
    It is 5,600 words and 18 pgs. Because I'm a perfectionist:}
    All Star Wars related stuff is copyright of Lucasfilm, etc. etc.
    Alright I'm just going to publish this before I say anything else
So without further ado, I present:

In Your Service        By Homeschooled Mando

                            ANTAR, Inner Rim, Capital City Of DANASH
                                             0600 hours, 20 B.B.Y.

    “Blur!” CT-2001/4917 shouted. But it was too late. Blur’s helmet was shattered upon impact of a laser. CT-2001/4917−Daze, he’d named himself−ran forward and provided covering fire for Fax to drag Blur’s body behind cover. Daze retreated and knelt beside Fax.
    Daze swallowed. There was nothing left of Blur’s face. Another friend lost to him forever.
    Daze saw a column of battle droids advancing on the Republic’s line of defense and decided to give them a piece of his grief. He dashed through the debris of an anti-aircraft gun and brought his Z-6 Rotary blaster to bear on the droids. He knocked down droid after droid in what was either several minutes or several hours–he wasn’t sure. Around him fires raged, commands were yelled, and soldiers fell.
    Daze was jerked out of his frenzy by the 719th Legion’s Commander, Shift, grabbing the collar of his armor and dragging him into an LAAT/i gunship.

                              FOLESS Colonies, Uncharted Region
                             Awaiting Pick-up; 0700 hours

    RC-1254−Dinii−threw his last flash-bang at the advancing line of Battle Droids.
    BOOM-CRACKLE!
    “Fall back, Foxtrot!” came the command of Foxtrot Squad’s leader, Gregor.
    The line of four Republic Commandos begin to move back in the forest. A continuous stream of fire poured from each Commando’s DC-17 toward the enemy.
    “This didn’t go to plan,” observed Cin’ciri, the tech expert. Though Cin’ciri didn’t have an upbeat personality, he usually felt compelled to lighten the mood via sarcasm.
    “Ya think?” asked Aaray, the fourth member of the squad and demolitions expert.
    “Cut the chatter, Cin–Aaray, too,” Gregor said, but not too harshly.
    Dinii continued firing. He himself was the medic–and reckless kamikaze. He had an upbeat personality, but oddly did not feel inclined to lighten the mood during times of high stress.
    But in times without high stress. . .
    Dinii took quick note of his inventory and pulled out one of his five thermal dets. But before he could set the charge, Gregor’s voice crackled in his helmet again.
    “Wait Dinii, I’ve got an idea. Save your dets till I give the signal,” Gregor said distractedly. Which was understandable due to the SBD–super battle droid–he was all but wrestling.
    “Whatever you say, Cap’m,” Dinii replied, and nailed the SBD straight in the heart with one shot.
    It fell and Gregor turned to run the other way.
    “Follow me, Cin,” he said. “Keep ’em back while we’re gone.”
    “Okay,” Dinii said while Cin’ciri fell back with Gregor.
    To be fair, he and Aaray put up a spectacular fight, but without Gregor and Cin, they weren’t going to hold on that long.
    That’s when Dinii realized Gregor and Cin were behind the droids.
    “Now!” Gregor yelled−which was completely unnecessary due to their helmets’ comm system.
    As one they threw their thermal detonators at the line of SBDs.
    As one the SBDs exploded.
    “YEAH!” Cin’ciri yelled.

                  Above ANTAR, Aboard Republic Cruiser Extinguisher
                              Preparing for Hyperspace, 0800 hours

    Daze sat with his squad in the mess, but couldn’t find an appetite. His squad−Acrylic−consisted of himself, Scope, Briikase, Fame, and Kickback. Despite protest, Scope had brought him a full tray of food. Daze ate to make his squad happy, but the meal had no flavor.
    The mess was a sea of white and sparkly purple armor. They were originally deployed with plain white armor, but after a paint storehouse raid their armor had come out covered in wild designs done in a sparkly, purple paint. Daze had painted flames on his armor.
    Something funny was said over dinner and sent the squad into hysterical laughter. Briikase−Brii, for short−almost fell off the bench, but Fame managed to catch him and pull him back up. Brii had purple circles and rings of various sizes decorating his armor.
    As he ate, Daze noticed Blur’s squad−Auburn−several tables over. Auburn Squad consisted of Fax, Scourge, Jare, Blade, and−until today−Blur.
    None of them were eating.
    A gentle tap on his shoulder plate roused Daze from his thoughts.
    “Doing okay, Daze?” The nineteen year-old Jedi Knight named Raylie Saevia was something special. She wore chocolate brown robes that matched her eyes and wavy hair. Raylie opted for a sky blue cloak unlike most Jedi. She had chosen the same blue for her knee-high boots and belt.
    Daze swallowed, “Yes, ma’am.”
    She nodded as she sat down and tucked into a plate of chakka noodles. There wasn’t really anything for her to say. They all knew the comforting cliches. Many more soldiers were going to die without seeing the end of the Separatists.
    Fame−his armor decorated with stripes−leaned forward and spoke around a mouthful of something brown, “Heysh, Generel, I ghard dat owur nexd misson hass toe doe wish shome Rebublix Commongers.”
    Raylie cocked her head in confusion.
    Scope–stars had been his design choice–cleared his throat, “He said: ‘Hey, General, I heard that our next mission has to do with some Republic Commandos.”
    Fame swallowed, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
    “Ah,” Raylie said. “Yes, we are–though I don’t know how you heard about that. . .”
    “What are they like?” Kickback asked. His armor’s designs were in reverse with the white as the highlights and the rest of the armor sparkling purple.
    Raylie could only shrug, “I’m sorry, Kickback, I have no idea. I’ve never met one. If I see them before you, I’ll make sure to get to know them.”
    Daze wanted to snort at the last part. Republic Commandos stuck to themselves. They didn’t mix with the ordinary troopers. Daze was somehow convinced that if one were to take off his helmet, he wouldn’t look like other clone troopers.
    “When are we getting them?” Briikase asked.
    Before Raylie could respond, the loudspeakers came on.
    “Attention. We will be entering hyperspace in one standard minute. This is not a drill. Repeat: this is not a drilll.”
    “When we get out of hyperspace,” Raylie answered with a smile.

                                Aboard Republic Cruiser Extinguisher,
                                         In Orbit Of FOLESS; 1000

    “What do they smell like?” Asked Scope, his star-covered armor glittering in the light.
    “Like you, Scope,” Raylie said patiently.
    Scope was silent for a moment.
    They−Acrylic squad, Shift, and Raylie−were waiting in the hangar bay for the arrival of Foxtrot Group. Scope had been asking questions non-stop for the past half hour. . . much to Daze’s annoyance.
    “Are they taller than us?”
    “I don’t thing so, Scope,” Raylie replied.
    Apparently not to the General’s annoyance though.
    “Why don’t they work with us more often, General?” Scope asked, quieter this time.
    Raylie sighed gently. “Because they were trained to do different things than you, Scope. They’re supposed to do things that don’t require an army to do. We’re trained to do the things an army is needed for.”
    “Oh,” Scope said.
    A blessed silence descended in the hangar, lifting a heavy weight from Daze’s shoulders. He already felt awkward−Raylie had come and stood next to him upon her arrival in the hangar. Shift stood in his usual place to Raylie’s right.
    Daze wondered if it was hard for her to be the only female on the ship. She was a fascination to her men. For most of them, she was the only female any of them had ever encountered−excluding Kaminoans.
    Daze, of course, would never ask her. For one, he would never say it in front of anyone−especially not Shift, who was always glued to Raylie’s side. And he was never alone with her anyway.
    “Attention Hangar Bay 17. Friendly craft approaching. Prepare for landing. This is not a drill. Repeat: this is not a drill,” came the voice over the speakers.
    “You heard Bossy, boys, move it!” Raylie called.
    Briikase couldn’t help but giggle. Acrylic squad had quickly agreed that the mysterious voice on the speakers needed a name.
    Bossy, was what they’d chosen. And it had quickly spread throughout the rest of the Legion. Brii had a trophy that credited the idea to him.
    They moved back and formed a line as the shuttle made its approach. It made a smooth landing and powered down. The ramp descended and four Republic Commandos debarked.
    Scope took a sharp, shrieking inhale. Fame hit the back of his head.
    The foremost commando−one with yellow markings−removed his helmet and strode right up to Raylie. The other three−one in red, one in sky blue, and the last completely white−formed a smaller line in front of the ramp.
    “Foxtrot Group of the 212th Attack Battalion, reporting for duty, General,” he said.
    Raylie nodded politely, “General Raylie Saevia of the 719th Legion and Republic cruiser Extinguisher. Welcome, you’ve been long expected.” Raylie paused and gave a bemused smile. “My crew is quite excited to meet you,”
    Scope swallowed audibly.
    “Captain Gregor,” the commando replied. “In red is Aaray, blue is Dinii, and the white is Cin’ciri.”
    Raylie grinned and nodded to each of them. “A pleasure meeting all of you.” She turned and beckoned to Scope and Fame. “This is Scope and that’s Fame. They’ve been particularly interested in meeting you.”
    Scope and Fame approached cautiously−though not slowly. They extended their hands to be shook−Raylie had given everyone an etiquette lesson after an embarrassing incident with an ambassador.
    Gregor seemed surprised by the gesture, but shook their hands in turn.
    Raylie smile grew as they stepped back. She then did the rest of the introductions, leaving Daze and Shift for last.
    “This is Daze. And this,” she gestured to Shift, “is my right-hand man, Shift. He will show you to your bunks, and we will have a briefing tomorrow at 0900 during breakfast.”
    Now that seemed to upset the commando in red−Aaray. But briefings during breakfast was the way Raylie ran things. The way she wanted to. . . though mostly because nobody would pay attention to her unless they were eating.

                             Aboard Republic Cruiser Extinguisher,
                                      En Route to SARRISH; 0900

    As usual, breakfast was loud and delicious. On most Republic Cruisers, the crew ate in several different messes.
    But not on Raylie Saevia’s Cruiser. No, everyone packed into one mess. The light gray room was packed with as many benches as they could shove in there. They’d even knocked out a wall to double the size of the mess. Where normally six people would sit at one bench, the clones had managed to squeeze nine or ten on. Which was quite a feat for grown men in armor. So adding four commandos was no small task.
    Raylie almost felt bad for Foxtrot. She had rearranged the normal seating order so that they’d be seated with Shift and half of Acrylic Squad. Their behavior betrayed extreme discomfort in the teeming mess.
    Raylie sighed. There wasn’t much she could do in the short time they’d be in her charge. She would just have to throw them into the thick of the large-family life-style she’d implemented into her crew. It was probably a nightmare for them after being in Kenobi’s neat and organized group.
    Raylie left her observation point in the back corner of the mess hall and moved to the front. Upon the the adding of more benches, Raylie had asked maintenance to install a shelf in the corner of the mess next to the food line. They’d put in a thrown-together ladder to the small outcropping.
    Raylie swung up the shaky, durasteel ladder and whistled a sharp note. The sound pierced through the deepest conversation and an instant silence descended as Raylie perched herself on the shelf.
    “Good morning,” she said lovingly.
    The reply of the troopers was almost deafening. Some greeted her with loud shouts and others with gentle whispers, but the noise was still enough to make her worry for her hearing.
    When they finished, she smiled and continued, “I would like you all to meet our visitors, Foxtrot Group. They are attached to General Kenobi’s 212th Attack Battalion.” She gestured to the table where they were seated. “Please welcome Gregor, Dinii, Aaray, and Cin’ciri.”
    Applause and welcomes echoed through the extended room−though much quieter than last time.
    Raylie’s smile faded with the noise, “We have been dispatched to chase down the Separatist cruiser Malice. We are following them right now. When we exit hyperspace we most likely be thrown into a large-scale space battle.
    “We'll be exiting hyperspace in approximately three standard hours above a world called Sarrish. There is a Separatist base there and we will be deploying ground forces after Malice is destroyed. Foxtrot will be inserted to take out the base’s defenses from the inside whilst we attack from all sides. We will be joined by Master Kenobi’s 212th Attach Battalion and Negotiator. He should be on the ground when we get there.”
    Raylie looked out across the sea of identical faces. This would be the last briefing she gave some of them.
    “May the Force be with you.”
    “And with you!” They said as one.

                         Sarrish, Expansion Region; 1300 hours

    Extinguisher–joined by Negotiator–hammered steadily away at Malice and her meager reinforcements above the world of Sarrish. Lights danced across space as the cruisers traded fire, and small explosions marked the deaths of starfighter pilots–clone or droid.
    Gregor inhaled deeply and pulled on his helmet. When the rest of his squad did the same, he was greeted by their blue T-visors.
    “Ready?” He asked.
    “Affirmative,” Aaray replied.
    “Yup,” Dinii said simply.
    “I guess,” Cin’ciri remarked and strapped on his pack.
    “Then let’s go,” Gregor said.

    Aaray jumped out of the gunship before it had landed. He knew it would make Gregor angry, but he didn’t quite care. He wanted to bust some droids.
    Sarrish wasn’t the prettiest planet Aaray had visited. It consisted of blue-gray cliffs and valleys. Not a plant or animal was visible under Sarrish's green and yellow sky.
    There was, however, a fortress on top of the mountain in front of him.
    A clone’s voice come over their helmet’s comlinks. “Hello, Foxtrot. I call myself Fury. You call me Sergeant. Please take a look at your maps as I describe your mission.”
    “Sure thing, Sarge,” Dinii said.
    A sigh came over the comm. “Alright, you’ll see on your maps that the Separatists have a small stronghold with a powerful shield in the side of the east mountain. You’ve been dropped in-between it and the west mountain. Your job is to get in from the back and take out the shields. After that, we’ll send you after their leader. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll guide you along the way.”
    “Sarge, yes, Sarge,” Dinii said and came to attention.
    Fury growled and muttered something about “stupid RCs.”
    “What’s that, Sarge?” Aaray asked with a smile.
    “Nothing,” Fury replied sharply. “Now get moving.”
    “Sarge, yes, Sarge,” they said in unison.
    A long, frustrated sigh crackled in their helmets.

    Daze didn’t like Sarrish much. His sentiment was shared by many in the 719th Legion.
    This wasn’t where they wanted to meet their untimely end.
    The gunships had dropped them north of the east mountain. On a cliff about ten thousand meters up sat the Separatist fortress. Heavily fortified, it was defended by various droids and an anti-aircraft gun from the south.
    If Daze understood correctly, his Legion was coming in from the north, Kenobi’s forces was coming from the south and east, and the commandos were coming in from the west. That left only up, which was being covered by Extinguisher and Negotiator.
    If they could get past the defenses and take the fortress, it would pretty much be over.
    Daze didn’t dare think of what could go wrong.

    They were silent as they ran down halls. The only noise on the helmet’s comlink was everybody’s breathing. Foxtrot didn’t have to maintain silence−their comms were secure. But Gregor preferred for there to be as little distractions as possible.
    It hadn’t been hard to get into the fortress, and scaling the mountain had been just as easy. The fortress was not very big, but it did contain plenty of winding halls and seven floors.
    As they passed a viewport, Cin’ciri got a brief view of Sarrish’s orange sky was filled with explosions, but that was all he got.
    “Wow!” Dinii suddenly exclaimed.
    Cin’ciri skidded to a halt and almost pitched forward. He jogged back to where Dinii had stopped on a dime to look out the viewport.
    It was chaos. AT-TEs and hailfire tanks were everywhere. Vulture droids preyed on gunships and bombers, mines took out vehicles, and clones traded blaster fire with droids. Cin'ciri could barely see Extinguisher peaking out of the yellow-orange clouds.
    “Move it!” Gregor barked over the comm.
    Cin’ciri grabbed Dinii by his collar and shoved him down the corridor. As they bolted around a corner, Cin’ciri barely had time to flatten himself and Dinii against the wall as Aaray yelled, “Clear!” The hallway was illuminated by orange as the charges breached the bulkhead blocking their path.
    “Go, go, go!”

    “Grenade!”
    Daze dove for cover behind a boulder for the hundredth time. Though everyone ducked, General Saevia continued to stand. Daze grabbed her wrist and jerked her down next to him. A split-second later, the world around them erupted into flame.
    Saevia stood, “Press forward!” She yelled.
    Daze tried to clear his mind. Where had all these droids come from? The landing had gone flawlessly, but the battle was out of control.
    Commander Shift banged his gun against Daze’s shoulder plate. “You heard the General! Move!” Shift didn’t wait for Daze to get up. He jogged forward with two other soldiers.
    Daze shook his head. Something had to have gone wrong. There were hordes of droids here. Much more than they could’ve crammed in Malice. If they didn’t start evening the odds, Daze didn’t think they’d win this fight.
    Daze got up to follow and rounded the boulder that had sheltered him, but found Shift standing frozen a few feet ahead of him.
    “What’s wrong, Commander?” Daze yelled as he came alongside Shift.
    Shift’s helmet slowly turned to face his. And it was then that Daze saw the blaster mark right where Shift’s heart was.
    Shift collapsed.

    Things were not going well, in Raylie’s opinion. Separatist forces had descended from the sky and the slaughter had started shortly after. Her men were now spread thinly. Everywhere she looked soldiers were falling to the oncoming blaster fire.
    But how could she fix it? She didn’t even know what’d happened. They couldn’t push out from the mountain–the droids had surrounded them. Nor could they go up the mountain, not until Foxtrot got that shield down. But that wouldn’t help them that much anyway. They’d still be overrun. Contact had been lost with Extinguisher and Negotiator. They were nothing but space debris for all she knew, but she hadn’t felt anything that drastic in the Force.
    And now Shift was gone.
    She felt a presence approach her from behind and turned to see Daze jog up beside her. She felt a stab of guilt at seeing him. He was probably going to die any minute now. She was alarmed that she couldn’t see any sign of the rest of his squad.
    “General?” He asked. What could she tell him?
    Raylie was almost overcome by a sensation of danger. She grabbed Daze’s wrist and pulled him under an outcropping. The explosion came only a few seconds later, and Raylie felt hot rocks slash across her body. Jedi rarely wore armor–though some like Master Kenobi wore the arm sections. Raylie wore a lightweight torso piece under her robes, but it did nothing for her arms and head. If she made it through this, she was getting armor for her legs and arms too. Then she was going to paint them with every design that her men had used on theirs.
    Daze hauled her up, “Are you okay, General?” He asked. Though his helmet covered his expression, Raylie could feel his concern through the Force.
    She gave Daze her best smile, but almost collapsed. Daze helped her into a sitting position and pulled her flask off her belt. Raylie took it and drank. Her fatigue was threatening to take her over. She knew the same had to be for her troops.
    Raylie took her comlink off her belt and punched in Kenobi’s code. “General Kenobi?”
    She was greeted by static, but eventually it turned into Obi-wan’s voice. “General Saevia? Can you hear me, over?”
    “Yes, I can. Where are you?”
    A pause, “I’m breaking through the droid line at my back–south of the mountain. We’ve got gunships on the ground, so we’re heading out.”
    “Do you have contact with Negotiator or Extinguisher?”
    “I haven’t heard from Extinguisher, but I’ve got a good connection with Negotiator. I’ll patch you in.”
    “Thanks.”
    A second later the slightly stressed voice of Negotiator’s Admiral Block came over the comm. “What can I do for you, General Saevia?”
    “You can send me a lift, for starts,” she told him. “Then you can tell me about what in the eternal blue blazes is happening here!” Raylie meant to keep her cool when she said this last part, but only managed to lose it in the process.
    There was a spike of static before Admiral Block’s voice came back. “I’ve got gunships coming for you. As for what happened, I think we just got lured into the biggest ambush in history.” He barked a command to an unseen officer before continuing. “Once our troops got down, more Separatist ships than we can count came out of hyperspace. We’re surrounded, General. I can still see Extinguisher, but it doesn’t look good. She’s going down soon. I’m expecting the Separatists to go for an orbital bombardment.”
    Raylie let her face fall into her hands. How could it have gone this badly? She asked herself. “Thank you, Admiral,” she said instead and signed off.
    Daze, bless his heart, broke through his obvious discomfort and put a hand on her shoulder. Raylie reached up and grabbed his gloved hand.
    “Thanks you, Daze,” she whispered.
    “Anytime, General,” he said without hesitating. “Now let’s go get off this miserable rock before the Seps pound it.”
    She could see his smile through the Force, and found the strength to stand. “Sure thing. . . Commander. Give the call to retreat.”
    Daze tilted his helmet in a nod.

    The signal for a retreat had come during the worst time. Foxtrot was in the middle of placing charges on the shield generator. Gregor was particularly annoyed. But he did want to get out before the Seps started hammering the place.
    “Aaray, call us a Larty. We’re out of here.” Larty was slang for an LAAT/i gunship.
    “Sir, yes sir.”
    He called to Cin’ciri next, “Cin, give me a way out of here as soon as you can. You got the last charge, Dinii?”
    “Sir, ya sir!”     “Captain, couldn’t raise Extinguisher, but managed to get Negotiator. They’ve got a Larty coming for us, but they need us to be quick.”
    “Yikes,” Dinii chimed in.
    “Can it, Dinii,” Aaray snapped.
    “Cin, can you get us to a landing pad?” Gregor asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Good, let’s go,” he said.

    Daze hung on to the Larty’s handhold numbly. He could look out and see the destruction left behind by the Battle of Sarrish. But the doors of the gunship soon closed and sealed against the vacuum space.
    He removed his helmet and breathed in deeply. What now? Dominated his thoughts. Their Legion had just been sliced in half–perhaps more. Would they be reassigned to different Legion? Retired?
    Raylie squeezed through the press of clones crammed in the gunship. She patted each soldier on their arm and whispered a few words. She soon came to Daze and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Good job, Daze. I’m proud of you.” Daze nodded and returned his gaze to the ground. She said this to each of them after every mission.
    Together they stood, eyes on the ground, for a long time. Raylie twitched once, and almost fell before Daze could catch her. He caught her eye and she said, “Extinguisher.”
    He nodded and the silence resumed. Eventually the pilot announced arrival at Negotiator, and Raylie straightened.
    “You heard ’em,” she called, more subdued than Daze had ever seen her. “Get ready to disembark and get out of the way as fast as we can. Get to your bunks, the showers, or mess–whatever you feel you need most.”
    Daze didn’t know what he needed most, but he would go to his squad’s meeting point in the mess and wait to see who’d made it.
    He just hoped someone else had.

    The Commandos made it to the landing pad with relative ease, but the Larty wasn’t there to greet them.
    “Well that’s not good,” Cin’ciri stated.
    “Obviously,” Dinii retorted. He began reloading his DC while observing the landing pad. It was dark gray, round, and had no walls or ceiling. A couple crates were strewn about, but was otherwise vacant.
    “Aaray,” Gregor cut in, “find me a transport.”
    Aaray nodded and started scanning with his helmet. “Lucky for us, Captain, there appears to be one on the landing pad above and little to the left of us.” 
    “Really?” Dinii and Cin’ciri asked in unison.
    “Well then, let’s move it,” Gregor said and shoved Dinii’s shoulder in the direction of the doorway.
    It didn’t take them long to get to the next pad. This one was almost identical to the first, but had more crates. Sure enough, there was a small shuttle resting there.
    Dinii and Cin’ciri held up their DCs and began to make their way to the shuttle while Aaray and Gregor covered them. They all dove for cover, though, at the sound of a voice.
    “Come on, let’s get these crates loaded already!”
    Dinii held his breath and tried to peek around, but he couldn’t see anything from his angle.
    “Lepi male,” whispered Aaray’s voice suddenly in his helmet and nearly scared Dinii out of his hiding place. “Alone with at least five astromechs and two pit droids. He just went in the ship.”
    “This guy must not like people that much,” commented Cin’ciri.
    “Lepi. . . those giant-walking-sentient-green-rabbit things?” Dinii asked.
    “Yes,” Aaray replied.
    “I’m going to leave you all here if you don’t quiet down,” Gregor growled. The shuttle rose on its repulsers and the ramp began to retract. “Now let’s get ourselves on that shuttle.”
    Gregor was the first one up and running. By the time everyone else was halfway to the shuttle, Gregor was already in it.
    That was when the Separatist’s in space decided to start the orbital bombardment. Dinii barely had time to look up before the first shot hit the fortress. . . right on their side of it.

                              Aboard Republic Cruiser, Negotiator
                                         Hangar Bay 5; 2400 Hours

    The gunship landed and the clones filed out with practiced expertise. They split into groups and began heading for their chosen recovery place. Daze began to follow a group headed to the mess.
    “Daze!” He turned to see Raylie running toward him. He stopped and waited for her, and resumed his steady pace when she caught up.
    “I’m serious about you being my Commander, you know,” she said softly.
    He nodded. He didn’t have a better response.
    Raylie walked in silence for a bit. Then she said, “I appreciate you, Daze. You and your squad have been good friends to me.”
    Daze felt a grin creep onto his face. “The feeling is mutual. I am grateful to be in your service.”
    Raylie grinned and linked her arm in his. “And I in yours.”

    Gregor felt the earthquake and heard the explosion, but didn’t let it deter him from reaching the cockpit. The Lepi was in the pilot’s seat desperately preparing the shuttle for lift off. Perhaps he’d heard the commandos enter.
    Gregor moved up behind him silently and tackled him loudly. Gregor bound the now unconscious Lepi and slid easily into the pilot’s seat.
    It was then he realized the ship had already taken off. Gregor frantically searched the dashboard for the autopilot. When he finally spotted it, he tried to press it; but a sweet voice told him, “Autopilot locked. Password required.”
    Gregor banged a fist on the controls, but stood up.
    “Aaray, did everyone get onboard?” He asked over his helmet comm.
    Not even static greeted him.
    “Aaray?”
    Nothing.
    “Cin? Dinii?”
    Still nothing.
    Gregor dashed to the back of the shuttle. They’re just playing jokes on me for saying I’d leave ’em behind.
    But search though he might, he found only droids aboard the shuttle.
    A horrible feeling in his stomach, Gregor raced back to the cockpit. He enabled the rear sensors to show him the fortress behind them.
    He sank into the chair and pulled off his helmet.
    It was gone, landing pad and all.
    The shuttle broke through the atmosphere and Gregor was given a spectacular view of the battle. Negotiator was about to flee into hyperspace, Extinguisher was nowhere to be seen, and where there wasn’t a Separatist ship; there was debris from the battle.
    As Gregor surveyed the destruction, a few Separatist fighters took interest in his shuttle. The autopilot was about to take him into hyperspace, and there was nothing he could do to stop the fighters from taking pot shots at him.
    The droid fighters reached him right as the hyperdrive was warming up. One shot landed before he was launched into hyperspace.
    “I’ll make my way home,” he whispered to the stars as they stretched into thin lines.
    His attention was then drawn by a small, red light that symbolized damage to the engines.

                               Aboard Republic Cruiser, Negotiator
                                         Mess Hall 12; 2400 Hours

    Daze waited in the mess for what felt like eternity. When he checked the chrono on the wall, though, it informed him it had only been an hour. He didn’t feel like eating–or doing anything else, for that matter. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if none of his squad ever came. Raylie would probably have to drag him to his feet again.
    Then he was approached by a clone trooper with dirty armor. But Daze could still see the star patterns sparkling beneath the grime.
    He’d never been so happy to see Scope.
    They practically tackled each other in a hug.

                                CORUSCANT, Core Worlds, Jedi Temple
                                            1400 hours; 19 B.B.Y.

    “. . . Then he said, ‘Don’t worry about me. You made me remember who I am. I’ll make my way home, I promise.’” Only a foot or so tall, Colonel Meebur Gascon let a silence fall in the briefing room.
    “He blew up the loading area by blasting the rhydonium canisters, saving our lives.” He paused. “Thank you for your time,” he said.
    A ripple of applause ran through the room, and the astromechs of D-squad whistled softly.
    As the Jedi and Clone officers filed out of the room, Meebur felt much better. He had done what he’d promised and brought Gregor’s story back to the Republic.
    He spoke with some of the Jedi and answered questions. When the rest began to leave, he turned off the holoprojector and began gathering his notes.
    “A word, Colonel?” A young woman’s voice asked.
    The voice belonged to a Jedi with brown hair and eyes. She was probably twenty years old and she’d been seated in the back. Like many Jedi on the front lines, she wore clone armor on her arms and legs. The various designs on them in sparkly purple clashed quite badly with her brown and sky blue robes. She was followed by two clones–one a clone commander with sparkly purple flame designs and the other an ARC with stars instead of flames. They both came with their helmets tucked under one arm.
    “Of course. . . General?”
    She smiled, “Yes. Raylie Saevia. And this is Commander Daze and ARC Trooper Scope. I’m General of what’s left of the 719th Legion.”
    “Oh!” He said with genuine surprise. Few had heard the story of Sarrish, but the names of the Legions involved was no secret–they were survivors of Sarrish. They may have even known Gregor. Or perhaps of him. He shook her hand enthusiastically, “A pleasure General Saevia. May I ask if you knew Gregor?”
    Raylie’s smile turned sad. “Yes I did. Not very well, but we picked up his squad for Kenobi on our way to Sarrish.” She swallowed, “I sent them into the fortress. We didn’t hear from them after we dispatched a gunship to get them. We didn’t know if they even got out of the fortress.” She paused. “I’m glad to hear that he made it, and that he was able to find some redemption.”
    She smiled wide again. “I can’t thank you enough for sharing his story with us. I will pass it on to our brothers.” Her Commander and the ARC nodded in agreement. “It will be uplifting and. . . perhaps even redeeming for us as well.”
    “I’m glad you could be here, and I think that’s a great idea. I’ll let you get to that,” he replied.
    She nodded and turned to leave, but she stopped and turned back around. “And I know he’ll find his way home.”
    Meebur nodded, “That he will.”

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