The Star Dragons

[kongurous]

DISCLAIMER: this has nothing to do with actual dragons

Prologue: Clone Wars, Day 1

The gunship's doors slammed to a close and lifted out of the hanger bay of the Acclamator-I assault ship and accelerated at an amazing rate towards it's target. The date was 22 BBY... the Battle of Geonosis. One occupant of this dropship was a clone, by the designation of CC-3297. He was the platoon leader of the Star Dragons, a shock trooper platoon in the would-be legendary 501st Legion that was designated for heavy combat. By heavy combat, they meant up close and personal fighting, taking out the armored droids; stuff the normal clones weren't trained to do. They had all been through the simulations, all been trained by the Cuy'val Dar, now all they needed was to be tested. Geonosis, for all it's sandy glory, was the perfect test.

As the gunship cleared the atmosphere and streaked through the hot, musky air towards the gladiatorial arena, the doors opened outwards, and flew back at alarming speed. That meant they were going incredibly fast in this gunship, a point made clearer by the nearly endless sand dunes as they passed by. Had CC-3297's eyes not been up to par with the Kaminoan's expectations, he just might have lost count, but his 20/20 vision didn't fail. Still, he was bored easily, and frowned as the heavy Phase-I armor pressed onto his body and shoulders.

'97 leaned his head out of the open doors and looked ahead. In the distance, he could see the arena, but heard nothing. He sighed, tightened his grasp on his DC-15 rifle, and simply leaned against the durasteel armor and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

He opened his eyes again as he experienced weightlessness and looked out. He counted fourteen surviving Jedi, and a girl he didn't recognize. '97 hefted his rifle again, leaned out of the side, and quickly blasted two battle droids as the gunship dropped down for the troopers to get off.

"Alright boys. Keep your rifles close, your eyes steady, and your beads drawn, and we'll make it out alive." CC-3297 said over the squad's secure comm. channel. The troops nodded and they all hopped out of the gunship down into the growing bloodbath on the arena floor, and dropped to one knee as they pumped out round after round into the droids. There were just too many clones, and soon enough, the droids were in full retreat. A gunship once again landed near the Star Dragons, who loaded themselves onto the gunship and signaled the pilot to rise. The pilot did so, and the gunship was airborne and accelerated off towards the main battle.

'97 looked around at the crowd in the gunship. He saw what he had been trained to identify as Jedi, the ones who had all the power in the galaxy, it seemed. To CC-3297, it meant he needed to get to them to gain their secrets, for he was quite interested in infinite power. You see, he inherited a few recessive genes that weren't very prevalent in the other clones. The Kaminoans noted this, but thought nothing of it. In fact, they enjoyed it, thinking it gave '97 a little quirk to identify him from other clones. Another way to distinguish him was his accent, which was neutral instead of a Concord Dawn accent, like Jango Fett and many other clones had.

Anyway, back to the story. The gunship lurched as an AA round banged into it's left wing, making the gunship list to port slightly. The pilots compensated for this imbalance, and while they attempted to get the ship under control, '97 took the opportunity to pop a few droids. The 20/20 vision paid off in this respect, and despite the relative difficulty in firing a DC-15 rifle, he was certain he added a few more bolt-brains to his tally.

As the pilots got the ship to level out again, they again slowed the speed, and lowered the altitude gradually while still advancing forward. Geonosian fighters were becoming a nuisance, a point made increasingly clear as a gunship directed port to '97's was engulfed in flames, courtesy of those flying, insectoid bastards. '97 cursed their existence for killing his kin, his own flesh and blood, for he loved each clone as a brother. He would get revenge, or die trying. As he thought more into this, the ship came to a complete stop, and the uncomfortable feeling of weightlessness overtook '97 once again. He jumped out of the gunship with much gusto, and rolled forward first, before rising on his left knee.

The other clones did as '97 and formed a perimeter covering each flank of them. The rest of his platoon was nowhere to be seen, but a position was being set up a few hundred meters away, and that seemed a logical place to go.

"Head towards the forward position, and eliminate any droids in your way. Do not, I repeat, do NOT engage any enemies not in your path without permission from me or a Jedi." '97 commanded. The acknowledgement lights of each member in his platoon flashed on his HUD, signifying they were all alive. '97 stood and advanced full steam towards the forward position, where 14 blades of various colors were being ignited, signifying the Jedi were on the move.

Soon enough, all 36 members, including CC-3297, were formed up at the position.

"Everyone present?" '97 asked over the comm.

"Yes sir!" came 35 replies.

"Good. Today, we will exercise a radical overthrow of the Geonosian government by eliminating their main foundries, therefore crippling the economy, and furthering the Republic war effort. I want good performance out of all of you, and you must come back alive. That's an order."

"Sir!" they replied, and 35 salutes were given, rewarded quickly with an "at ease" salute as to not present a target for snipers.

"Each of you, break into 4-man squads. I want a heavy trooper and a sniper to each squad, the last position can be filled by anyone. Then you will all find a Jedi or form in escort formation around an AT-TE. I hope I make myself clear, because this IS the real deal. These are not simulations, and friendly soldiers are dying as we speak. TC-2965, TC-3249, and TC-1227, form up on me. Everyone else, MOVE OUT!" '97 shouted, and everyone went to their appointed tasks.

The appointed clones formed up and waited orders. '65 was a sniper, '27 was the anti-armor, and '49 was the second-in-command for this particular sortie. Words scrolled along the top left hand side of '97's HUD. They were the mission objectives, saying "secure a LZ on the low hill next to the main spire. From there, more clones can be brought in". '97 transmitted these orders to the clones in his particular squad, who nodded and started off towards their objective.

As they progressed, they came under fire by Super Battle Droids. The squad stooped low and took cover behind a small dune in the sand.

"Rocket going out!" '27 proclaimed in his Concord Dawn accent as he propped himself up on one knee and leveled his rocket launcher on his shoulder. "Eat this, you damn bucket of bolts!" he shouted as he flicked off the comm. link and pushed down the hair trigger and brought a lock onto the Super Battle Droid and let forth a massive rocket that sailed through the air as a blue blur and collided with the thick armor of thr Super Battle Droid, blowing it apart and showering the area with droid parts. As '27 dropped again to reload, the rest of the squad propped up and make short work of the smaller battle droids with the super.

"I'm set, let's roll!" '27 said, and the team once again brought themselves up, scanned the area for droids, and proceeded towards the hill.

As they crossed the distance, more droids appeared, as if to challenge them. No supers, though, oddly enough. Just battle droids and Geonosians, which fell quick prey to the powerful plasma bursts of the clones' arsenal. As the sounds of battle neared, '97 sensed that if they continued on to the hill at this rate, it'd be taken already and the entire point of moving would have been lost. Despite the weight of their armor, he trudged on through the sand, trying to go as fast as he could, as did his squad. As they neared the base of the hill, '97 stopped. Something didn't feel right... and soon enough, his feelings would be justified.

A gaping maw opened up in the sand before the squad of clone troopers, revealing a platoon of battle droids, all activated. As a whole, they each turned to the unlucky clones, and opened fire en masse. As a stroke of pure luck, as the clone troopers dropped to the sand, expecting death, they only felt sharp pain in their forearms and shoulders as each of the shots hit non-vital places. As the droids advanced to see if their targets were indeed dead, a gunship flew overhead and, with the composite-beam laser turrets blazing, melted the droids into nothing but slag. The gunship landed right next to the downed clone troopers, who, upon inspection, found they were still alive! They sat up and beheld an almost angellic sight: a humanoid figure standing in the way of the sun. As their vision adjusted, the figure changed from a black void into a very attractive Twi'lek Jedi.

"No time for sun-bathing, soldiers. Get up and join the fight!" she said in a light-hearted, yet serious, tone.

"Who... who are you?" '49 asked in a neutral accent. He and '97 were batch-brothers, and shared an accent, but slightly different voices.

"Aayla Secura. Now, get up and fight! We need every man able to fight to lend a blaster, and while you are wounded, you should be fine." the Twi'lek said re-assuringly. Her voice was very soft, and she was like a vision induced by the Force to get the clones up and fighting again. Whether or not she was real was irrelevant, her point struck home regardless. The clone troopers clamoured to a standing position in their heavy and uncomfortable armor and dusted themselves off, despite the pain of the cracked and burnt flesh under their pauldrons and forearm plates.

Aayla smiled, activated her lightsabers, and jumped off into the thicket of battle, adding at least 3 droids to her tally on impact. '97 was smitten, at least, he was smitten with the power the Jedi wielded. Still, he had a battle to fight, and he and his squad piled onto the gunship as new objectives scrolled across the screen. They ordered '97 to lead a charge to take a CIS bunker that was giving a platoon of the 132nd Legion some trouble. '97 transmitted it to his squadmates, and the gunship lifted off and soared towards it's destination.

About 10 minutes later, the gunship set down near a bunker that was high up on a large hill with droids manning turrets and pinning down the entrenched platoon of 40 men. '97 and his squadmates made a mad dash across the no-man's land between the bunker, jumping and rolling on the sand and coming to a stop with their backs against the improvised defenses.

"Whose in charge here?" '97 asked to a clone trooper next to him.

"Lieutenant Gree. He's at the end of the line, left side." the trooper replied in a Concord Dawn accent, akin to Jango Fett's. '97 patted him on the shoulder in thanks and proceeded towards Gree.

"What's the situation, lieutenant?" CC-3297 asked.

"Not too good, sir. We're pinned down, and when we asked for assistance, I didn't think they'd send the 501st!" Gree replied.

"Haha. Well, we're here to help. In fact, I think I can see a weakness now." '97 said, chuckling.

"You can, sir?" the clone asked, cocking his head.

"I sure do, lieutenant. Look at the center portion of the bunker. You'd think it'd be most difficult to attack, but it isn't. A good bunch of thermal dets should confuse them enough to get us through."

"You really think that'll work?" Gree asked, backing up slightly as an assassin droid picked off a trooper next to him.

"It's worth a shot, lieutenant."

"Alright, sir", Gree said to '97 and turned to his platoon. "Men! Prime your dets, and on my mark, throw them into the middle part of the bunker!" Gree commanded, pulled a detonator off his belt, and cocked his arm back. "Mark!" he shouted, and in almost perfect synchrony, 43 thermal detonators flew forth and hit home, causing a huge chain-explosion that ripped the bunker apart inside-out.

"Commander?" Gree asked, turning to '97.

"Yes, 1004?"

"I'm gonna call you Shatter from now on. You knew exactly how to shatter that bunker, I think you deserve the title."

"Well, thank you, Gree. I'll take the name with honor!" CC-3297, now dubbed "Shatter" said, did a quick salute, and hailed two gunships. CC-3297's battle on Geonosis was over... but the war was just beginning.

C/C is welcome. In fact, it's encouraged. BRING ON THE PAIN!!!!!!

[Darkslayer633]

well, you already know what I think of it, via IRC, and I gotta say I like it.

[kongurous]

well, you already know what I think of it, via IRC, and I gotta say I like it.

Thank you.

EVERYONE ELSE, READ IT OR I WILL HIT YOU ACROSS THE FACE WITH A CRANKY OLD MAN WITH A STINKY DIAPER!

[kongurous]

Chapter One: First Doubts

Clone Wars, day 96, Rhen Var

"It's been said we got the best of the war. We also got the worst..."-clone trooper, 501st Legion

CC-3297 leapt to his left as a hail of crimson red blaster bolts flew at him from the heavy blasters in the wrist of the super battle droid in front of him. '97 beheld the sight of the melted and refrozen snow that covered where he once stood. Rhen Var was indeed a cold place, it chilled to the bone and deeper, but it didn't seem to hamper the droids, and it created a unique fighting environment. Then again, CC-3297 was a unique clone. He stood, and taking advantage of the relative lack of agility this super demonstrated, '97 ran up close, planted a thermal detonator in it's chasis, and jumped behind a destroyed pillar as the detonater went off, blowing the droid from inside out and the smoldering hulk dropped to it's knees and landed face-first in the snow, melting it from the heat created from the explosion.

"Serves you right, bolt-bucket." '97 said to himself as he kicked the droid "carcass" in the side, and looked around at the battle field. He was on top of a bluff, over-looking the main battle going on down in the ancient, frozen harbor. The battle was also stalemated, and since '97 was standing commander of these forces, he had a job to do! He picked up the Z-6 Rotary Cannon issued to each clone commander and hefted it on his right shoulder, adding more weight to the already heavy Phase-I armor he was still shoe-horned in. He heard the Kaminoans were developing new armor, but he had yet to see it.

'97 turned his gaze from the battle and studied the battle again. The droids were trying to flank them, but were finding a difficult time around a AT-TE protecting the left flank and a fair supply of Jet Troopers and Clone Commandos around the right. The front was taking punishment, and giving it out. It was a classic stalemate... this presented an interesting dilemma. He could let the droids exhaust themselves against his battle line, or he could attempt to push through the center and let the enemy file into the harbor, and then turn around and flank them. Either way, it was a risky move, in his mind. What he wouldn't give for a few Jedi. As he studied the lines... he heard a sound that made his blood run colder than ice.

The distinct sounds of repulsor lifts filled his ears. He looked to the sky... and found it completely blocked out by CIS transports, destroyers, fighters, and many other ships. It looked as if they brought the entire army here... and his force was the only thing standing between them and the Republic losing a planet.

"Oh... holy... shit." Shatter said to himself, his mouth hanging open as he gazed in awe at the massive fleet. Then he remembered a battle was going on, and switched to the universal channel for all Republic forces on Rhen Var. "To all standing Republic forces on the planet of Rhen Var, this is Commander Shatter, designation CC-3297. We are to execute a tactical retreat to the listening posts and form a defensive perimeter and wait for Republic gunships to arrive. All platoons are to report there immediatly, failure to do so will result in a court marshall, should the platoon survive."

As he said this, three Acclamator-I Republic Assault Ships had already arrived and were sending down gunships to pick up the besieged clones. Of course, all the gunships wouldn't amount to anything if the clones weren't alive. However, they did pick up CC-3297's order, and intended to provide the means necessary to bring the nearly 2500 troopers on the surface to safety.

"CC-3297, do you read?" a Coruscanti(British, like that of Imperial officers)said over the comm. link.

"I read loud and clear. Who is this?" Shatter replied.

"This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. What's your situation?" the voice, now identified as Kenobi, asked.

"We have been assaulted by a massive invasion fleet. We need immediate evac." the clone said as he charged his Z-6 and jumped from bluff down onto the ice, cracking it slightly.

"We've sent down gunships to the listening posts. My apprentice and I will be coming down personally. See you there, commander." Kenobi said, and the comm. link went dead.

Shatter nodded, played the message for all clone ground forces on Rhen Var, and opened up a full barrage of plasma-charged hyper sonic shells into the chassis of a super battle droid. The droid stopped for a bit, stood there... and exploded. Shatter chuckled, threw a thermal detonator into a group of droids, and ordered a 12-man squad of elite shock troopers to him and assembled around the AT-TE. Even if he had to die, he went buy the retreating forces some time.

The droids were all around. The heavy troopers shot off rockets into clustered droids, snipers picked off the others, and the commandos and Shatter picked off the survivors. The AT-TE provided excellent long-ranged support with it's 360 degree swivel turret, and the droids had in fact gained no ground since the retreat began. Shatter looked up again, and saw the faint outlines of Republic assault ships and hordes of specks coming from them, meaning the calvary had arrived. Shatter thanked Kenobi for arriving so soon... the Jedi certainly were powerful. Now if only they could win this battle, however unlikely.

In the midst Shatter's daydreams, a droid assassin in the real world turned off his personal cloaking device, drew a vibro-knife, and attempted to stab Shatter with it. Shattered jumped up and shot a barrage of shots into a super battle droid, and as he came down, the droid stabbed, it's knife caught in Shatter's cape, ripping a gash in the weather-stained scarlet fabric, and alerting '97 to the assassin's presence. In one swift move, CC-3297 spun around, a vibro-knife of his own emerging from it's wrist-sheath, and caught the droid in the thin mid-section, bisecting it and splattering the ground with blue oil. Shatter chuckled. He hadn't had this much fun since training with Commander Appo, the leader of the 501st Legion. Still, Appo was nowhere to be seen. Hell, this wasn't even a battle for the 501st, this was the Nova Corps, and the 501st was just lending support.

"You, CC-3297." a Concord Dawn accent called from behind. Shatter turned and saw a gunship with Commander Bacara, CC-1138, in it.

"Yes, Bacara?" Shatter asked.

"You're coming with me. You've done all you can, these clones will continue holding the enemy." Bacara ordered.

"Sorry, but no. These are troops from the 501st Legion. It's my duty to fight and die with them, or flee with them. There is no I in team." Shatter said defiantly as he blasted a small squad of battle droids into oblivion.

Bacara sighed, picked up a piece of ice, and threw it at Shatter's head. It hit home, knocking the commander out cold. Bacara hopped out of the gunship, pulled Shatter onto the ship, and it lifted off into the sky as the droids focused their attacks on the clones left to fight. The clones Bacara left behind were never seen again, and counted as KIA. The gunship's doors closed to provide better protection for the two commanders, and it accelerated due southwards.

The ship pitched left and right as AA shells detonated all round. Shrapnel pierced the durasteel doors and Shatter stirred from his unconscious state. He slowly and clumsily stood up, and thinking his balance was good enough in the shaking craft, he primed his Z-6.

"Open the port door!" Shatter commanded, and it happened so. Lifting his cannon, he blew away a huge amount of a Vulture Droid and grinned as it fluttered about, leaving smoke to dance in it's wake. A satisfying explosion ripped open a block of ice and the door shut again, free of nuisance. The starboard door opened, but it was Bacara's turn to show the droids how it's done. He aimed his blaster rifle with precise movements, taking careful aim and pulled the trigger only three times... and a Vulture droid joined it's companion on the ice below. The ship suddenly stopped, starboard door still open, and descended down, giving Shatter the dreaded sense of weightlessness, to a landing pad where a 12-man squad of clones from Nova Corps. Bacara gave the lift signal, and the ship closed its doors and lifted into the air. It then sped off into the atmosphere to join with the small fleet of Republic warships in the high atmosphere.

Shatter thought that if retreat was inevitable, then so be it, but he also knew Bacara took orders only from the Jedi and Palpatine. He knew the Jedi wouldn't order that Shatter leave his men behind, it was against their code of honor, so either Bacara was sadistic, or Palpatine gave the order. He deduced Palpatine did it, as he thought that CC-1138, one of the first 1500 clone commanders, was competent enough to know that EVERY soldier able to fight was one worth keeping alive. It was at this moment, 3 months into the war, that he had his first doubts of Palpatine's rule.

[psycho42b]

Erm, skippy, I thought Shatter was still unconcious (spelling) when he was hauled onboard the transport. If he was, then why is he ordering for the door to be opend?

[kongurous]

Erm, skippy, I thought Shatter was still unconcious (spelling) when he was hauled onboard the transport. If he was, then why is he ordering for the door to be opend?

He woke up. He's a clone trooper, wearing a helmet. It didn't hit him that hard. I'm gonna edit in something to make sense, though. Thanks for pointing that out.

[psycho42b]

No problem. nice story, by the way. :)

[kongurous]

No problem. nice story, by the way. :)

Thank you, psycho42b! I <3 good comments.

[EvilEggCracker]

Tis nice:)

[kongurous]

Chapter Two: Quick intermission

Clone Wars, Day 157, Battle of Muunilinst...

"Muunilinst was hell. The guns pounded, troops died, and generally, a big mess was made. Of course, it was also where my life, and the life of the Star Dragons would change."-journal of CC-3297

Clone Commander 3297 of the 501st Legion played the last 5 months through his head. From age 10, he was taken from Kamino to fight the Battle of Geonosis. After that, he was sent back to Kamino for necessary refits, a new suit of armor, which was more for decoration, and training to use the Z-6 Rotary Cannon. Then, he was stationed on Rhen Var to keep the peace, and was pulled into space action, participating in many boarding actions in the numerous space battles in the Mid Rim. After that, he was put back into the main body of the 501st Legion, and the Star Dragons were whole again. Out of the 5 months of war, despite the thousands of clone casualties, only three Star Dragons had died. The deaths on Rhen Var were changed by Shatter to be listed as MIA, not KIA, since technically, they were missing. The confirmed dead were TC-8004, a sniper nicknamed Sharp-eye, TC-204, one of the first clones, and the newest casualty, TC-3297, which was kinda odd to Shatter because he was also a 3297. And throughout all this battle, he had racked up an amazing 2,765 droids and an impressive amount of battle scars. Still... he was also quickly becoming aware of his position.

If you've been paying attention to the story, you'd know that Shatter had some recessive genes, but the Kaminoans kept him alive because they liked his quirks. Well, the fact is, he is mostly recessive genes. He still bears a resemblance to his original host, but his skin tone and hair are different from Jango's, as is his voice. His mind, while loyal to Palpatine and the Republic, was inquisitive about the rest of the galaxy, and life outside of the wars. He quickly found out that he could easily be replaced... a clone with his command ability could take his place if he died. That made CC-3297 essentially cannon fodder, of no use but to shoot a gun. He also found out that he was also meant to look pretty for the cameras. He was a symbol of Republic might, a poster-boy for the propoganda machine. The Star Dragons had an impressive record, but Shatter thought the military was the only ones who knew. The truth was, the entire Republic knew of the 501st's record, explaining why the CIS made such a big deal out of Rhen Var, at least, it did to Shatter, who was left in the dark in regards to the Dark Reaper.

The CIS, it seemed to Shatter, wanted the 501st dead. Not just dead, but dead as possible. No clones moved in to replace it, just dead. Shatter, however, would not let this happen. He would gladly die for them, but with the suicidal tactics of Palpatine, it would seem like his wish would be granted.

A jerk jostled '97 back into reality. He was deep in a trench and the CIS had started shelling again. Muunilinst was being turned into hell, courtesy of those droid bastards. They seemed more than willing to blow the clones to pieces no matter the planet. '97 had also started writing a journal, keeping track of all his personal victories and his inner thoughts. He had also taken an interest in two Jedi... Anakin Skywalker, and Aayla Secura. If you've paid attention, Aayla was the jedi who gave him the inspiration to fight on Geonosis, and Skywalker was interesting in general. There were whispers among the ranks that he was the Chosen One of the Jedi, but Shatter knew he was close to Palpatine. Being close to Palpatine meant Anakin had power... and power was what Shatter desired. But such thoughts were meant to be kept in his journal, not coming out of his mouth, and he kept his thoughts secret and followed his orders.

'97 stood up from the trench and looked out upon the field. It pock-marked, scarred, and well... ugly. Nearly two weeks of hard fighting had happened on this field, and with the Republic taking control of it, a siege had been placed on the capitol city, Harnaiden. It looked like a giant bank... which, is essentially what it was... just a bank posing as a city. Of course, one thing made it different from a city, since how many cities have a giant cannon on it's skyline?

A huge artillery piece, courtesy of the Confederacy of Independent Systems' lovely designers, was placed on top of 3 of the larger buildings in the city. It fired a huge shell that broke into smaller shells and landed in various places. Not exactly good for breaking a siege, but good for harassing your enemy, which is pretty much what it did. The casualties were low... but it was annoying, not being able to sleep and all. Shatter wanted the green light to give that gun a good taste of Zappy, Shatter's Z-6 cannon, but that probably wouldn't be the best idea. He turned his attention back to Aayla Secura... the one girl he secretly loved. The only one he ever could love. She was fearless, powerful, and beautiful. '97 would have given anything to talk to her... see her again... feel her smooth skin and delve into the secrets of the Jedi.

Another jostle and he was back to Reality-land. He shook his fist at that god-forsaken cannon and slumped back into the mud, ruining his once-lovely red cloak. It descended from his shoulders, but was bound by his belt and it only really flowed when he walked. Well, it was ripped on Rhen Var and now... it's muddy. Perfect for the posters, eh? He looked up at the sky... the sun was setting. Shatter sighed and closed his eyes, his helmet leaning back into the mud and he closed his eyes, sweet images of Aayla Secura filling his mind.

He awoke in a daze, his vizor covered in black clay. He wiped it away and sat up, shaking dirt off him. Troops moved up and down the lines, setting up turrets and machine gun positions.

"What's going on here?" Shatter asked as he stopped a soldier.

"General Kenobi and General Monn are leading an assault into the city. An ARC squad was sent in already to take out the gun." the trooper replied.

"You mean the big one? Ah-ha! Good for them, I say. So we set off in a few hours?" Shatter asked.

"We start now, sir." the trooper replied and charged up the hill and joined a charge towards the city, his stark white armor lost in a sea of other clones. Shatter shrugged, grabbed Zappy, and checked the status of his platoon.

All units read perfect. All 33 troops met up on Shatter's position. The vast majority, about 21 of them, were Heavy Troopers, dressed similarly to Shatter just with a blue cape instead of red. They carried heavy rocket launchers, as well as Commando pistols with them for close-combat. This was certainly an anti-heavy platoon, which is nice to have in an urban setting.

"Alright boys. We're to move in and set up a perimeter around the SPHA-T heavy artillery pieces. General Kenobi and his detachment are to meet up with us later in the battle, but for now, we're all we have. Do not use more ammo than necessary, and if in doubt, do not shoot. Is that clear?" Shatter said, laying out the battle plan.

"Yes sir!" the troopers called back with zeal.

"Good. The Star Dragons have never let the Republic down. Why let our record slip? We've destroyed a good sized droid army in permanent records alone! Now let's move out and keep the powers-that-be happy." Shatter commanded, climbed up over the trench walls, and stormed towards the SPHA-T's huge bodies. The rest of his clones followed, matching his speed.

They stopped at the designated point and began digging up earthworks. They set up turrets, the Heavy Troopers loaded their rocket launchers and properly braced themselves, and Shatter stood tall above his troops, surveying the battlefield. He had heard Durge, a powerful mercenary, was in the employ of the CIS but he'd wait to see him for his own eyes. It still amazed Shatter how Mandalorians could fight each other, and due to a technicality, Shatter was Mandalorian by blood. That made him feel a bit connected to all Mandalorians, hostile or no, but it didn't effect his opinion or his position in battle.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The guns of the massive walkers pounded away. SPHA-T stood for Self-Propelled Heavy Artillery Self-Propelled Heavy Artillery in the Turbolaser configuration. It was ideally made for sieges such as this, and while lightly armored and rather slow, they did their job perfectly. General Voolvif Monn sat comfortably in one of the walkers, his lupine eyes carefully watching over the siege. He typed in a command on the console, and sent it down to Shatter.

"CC-3297, advance into the city with two of your platoonmates. Do some scouting, and then return." the message read.

Shatter nodded, selected two Heavy Troopers, and ordered everyone else to hold their position. He then set off into the vast jungle of banks that made up Harnaiden. As he rounded a corner, he heard a figure drop to the ground behind him. A swoosh and in a blaze of violet glory, and the Heavy Troopers dropped dead, blood pooling under the bodies. The assassin droids were met with a swift decapitation from Zappy, which was turned into a makeshift club, but his efforts were in vain as a blunt object whacked him in the back of the head. He stumbled forward into a building, dropping his gun, his vision blurring and little black stars danced in his vision.

He gripped onto the building and regained his composure and drew his Commando pistol. Whatever hit him was gonna pay. He turned, his cloak flowing, and aimed his pistol straight ahead, but saw nothing. He scowled and picked up his Z-6, slinging it on his back while on the look out for any other threats. Deciding there were none, he turned around and intended to go back to the rest of his platoon but instead, he rammed straight into the hulking figure in blue armor, Durge.

"Now you die." Durge said menacingly.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to be afraid?" Shatter replied sarcastically. He wondered why his comrades hadn't sniped this guy already.

"No", Durge said, picking Shatter up by the helmet. "This is!" he shouted, and threw '97 like a ragdoll into a wall.

Anticipating this, however, Shatter cocked back both arms and pushed against the wall just as he was about to slam into it. His arms shook from the force, but otherwise he was fine. In one swift motion, '97 drew his Z-6 and aimed at where Durge was and fired at the pavement... but hit nothing. Barrels still spinning, Shatter caught a glimpse of the SPHA-Ts. The Star Dragons had fallen back to the trenches and made use of the turrets as the Third Army's lancer corps moved in to relieve them, and Durge's riders were ripping them to pieces, Durge taking part personally in the carnage. One of the lancers, though... he had skills. M4d ski11z. He was going toe-to-toe with Durge and winning, and it was revealed this lancer was the one and only... Obi-Wan Kenobi!

Shatter kept his mind on the current situation, however. He needed to find General Voolvif and fast. '97 found a downed speeder bike, silently gave thanks to the brave trooper who gave his life, hopped on, and sped towards the trenches. As the bike approached the trench, he quickly killed the engine, jumped off the side and rolled harmlessly to a stop in the mud as the bike skidded to a halt on the field.

"Casualty report. Now." Shatter commanded, and took off his helmet to investigate the bash Durge had given him.

"We lost the two Heavy Troopers with you and 19 of our number to Durge." TC-3249 reported, and added, "General Voolvif took command in the confusion and lead us here. I think he went back to fight Durge, but I don't know for sure."

"Alright... we'll just have to improvise. Anyone who can hold a rocket launcher, grab one and come with me. I've got a message to give to Durge." CC-3297 commanded, his tone turning serious and sounding more like Jango Fett. He himself picked up a rocket launcher and targetted a lancer droid. Counting down from 5 to let the target take effect, he let loose a huge burst of blue energy from his weapon that homed in on it's target and impacted on the pavement beneath it, making it make a satisfying boom and sending droid parts everywhere.

"Direct hit!" the troopers cheered and launched their own rockets, taking more of the dreaded lancers down. Shatter dropped the launcher, drew his Z-6, and ordered a charge. The troops climbed over the trench and advanced with an increased ferver and as soon as they came within range, opened up on the lancers and the new droid reinforcements that had just arrived.

Shatter cheered and happily blew droids apart until... an odd thing happened. He felt a sharp pain in his head, as if it were being ripped apart. He dropped to his knees, writhing in unadulterated agony, wishing for death it was so great. He passed out before long, and had troubled dreams.

A/N:

To be continued? Probably. Just needed to wrap this chapter up so it wouldn't be too long. Anyways, thanks for reading guys!

[Protoss_Honor]

Very interesting. Neat storyline so far. Good characters. Great job. Keep up the good work boyo.

[psycho42b]

Nice story so far. I'm just curious, why did Durge suddenly desengage Shatter and join the rest of the battle?

[Protoss_Honor]

Nice story so far. I'm just curious, why did Durge suddenly desengage Shatter and join the rest of the battle?You will find out when he writes more later. He won't spoil the suprise for us just because we ask. What am I saying!?!?!?!?! I hate supspense! STELL ME SKIPPY! TELL ME! :D

[The_Maker]

Gah!

Darn you skippy!

You just stole my browser screen with that GIANORMOUS story!
Agck! >_<

I'll review it later so I don't get whacked with an old stinky grandpa :P

[kongurous]

Chapter 3: Armageddon(unless it gets annoying, I'm gonna start naming chapters after Gamma Ray songs)

"Muunilinst was a death trap for the Star Dragons. We lost more than half our number in one day... we were barely a platoon. The good news wass, we never had to sit in our old armor ever again."-journal of TC-3249

Clone Wars, day 165, orbit of Coruscant

All was quiet in the cold sleep room. The remaining members of the Star Dragons were asleep, and the assault ship they were on was about to land on Coruscant. The Star Dragons were being refit with new troops, and new armor had arrived for the heavy squads. The Star Dragons were also being moved from the 501st Legion to Mace Windu's army, but that was later. What was important now remained to be seen, however.

Shatter stirred in his hospital bed. His last memories were writhing in pain on Muunilinst. As he replayed the events in his mind, a medical droid entered his room.

"Hello, CC-3297. How are you feeling?" the droid asked in a monotone, slightly buzzing voice.

"I feel a bit of pain at my left shoulder, but nothing else. In fact, I don't even feel my left arm." '97 replied.

"Because it's no longer there." the droid said solemnly.

"What?"

"When you arrived on the assault ship, you were brought here. As an analysis was done, it appeared you had been poisoned", the droid began. '97 cocked an eyebrow and listened intently. "The poison should have taken a few hours to take effect, but your increased heart rate from all the physical activity moved the poison around, so it did more damage faster than it should have. Still, we managed to draw the poison out through your left arm, but it was too damaged from the poison to keep part of you, so we amputated." the droid finished, it's tone never changing. Shatter's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"You mean... my left arm is gone?" Shatter said shakily. If his arm was gone, his life as he knew it was over. He couldn't be on the front lines... he could no longer be the commander he was before.

"Well, your flesh one. In a few moments, you will be sedated and we will attach a prostetic limb." the droid announced, and disappeared through the door.

Shatter lifted the sheets over his arm. What he saw was... interesting, to say the least. The nerve endings were already set to accept a mechanical arm, and it seemed like an arm mount was in place. Would it take so long to get used to his arm, they had to find a new commander for the Star Dragons? Would he never get used to it, and die in the next battle? Many more thoughts, mostly unreasonable ones, flowed through his mind until the medical droid returned with a group of doctors, all clones except one, and the non-clone was holding the prostetic limb that would be Shatter's. The non-clone doctor looked to be a Zabrak, and he also looked quite experienced. Shatter sighed, and said, "Sedate me."

The operation took about an hour, and Shatter's sedation was wearing off soon after the operation had ended. At first, he felt sharp pain in his arm and yelped so loudly, he suspected the entire assault ship had heard him, but as his body adapted over the next few hours, his new arm began to feel natural. One thing he had just noticed after the pain ended, was that the medical droid had not left the room.

"Would you like to test out your arm?" the repetitive, monotone voice asked.

"Why yes... yes I would." '97 replied, and sat up and attempted to move his arm. It was sluggish at best. It moved only slightly, but the medical droid hovered over to the arm, flicked a switch, and said, "Try it now."

Shatter moved his arm to his chest... in such a fast manner, it was nearly a blur.

"Don't be hasty now. You'll need to get used to the new power. This arm is vastly superior to your old one, and it was even coated with a cortosis weave, at the personal expense of Chancellor Palpatine."

That meant his arm was practically invincible. It was lightsaber-proof and nearly blaster-proof from the cortosis weave, and it was obviously able to punch a hole through a low-grade steel. Shatter gingerly touched his arm. It was cold and had a slight electric charge to it, and to his surprise, he could feel the touch with the mechanical arm. He held out his hand and moved each of his fingers individually. Everything seemed to be in working order, now he needed to see if he could still shoot.

"Where are the firing ranges?" Shatter asked, turning his attention to the medical droid.

"First, you'll need your armor. You will find it, obviously, in the armory. It was fitted with a belt placement to hold a recon droid. You're practically an ARC trooper, CC-3297. In the armory, you will also find an upgraded pistol and your Z-6 Rotary Cannon, repaired of course. It took a beating on Muunilinst!" the droid exclaimed, his monotone voice changing slightly, and making a chuckling noise at the end. Shatter shrugged, stood, and walked to the elevator.

As he stepped into the elevator, a few other formerly-injured troopers joined him. They all had stark-white paper gowns. It seemed the Republic liked the color white. With his new arm, Shatter pushed the button for the armory, and the elevator sped off towards its destination. First, it went down, then forward, and rotated the doors to the armory opening. The doors opened with a soft pop, and the armory was full of clones.

Some of them were normal troopers, others were pilots, some were ARCs, and there was even a Jedi. Mace Windu, Shatter's new commander. Windu nodded at the new arrivals, who went immediatly to find their lockers and their armor. After nearly 30 minutes of searching, Shatter found his locker... located near the back of the room. It had "CC-3297" engraved on a gold-plated piece of iron on the green locker, possibly the only thing not white in this entire ship. '97 submitted his finger print to the lock, and opened up the locker to his good ol' red-and-white armor. He painstakingly put each piece of it on, his new arm taking the weight well. This new armor was slightly lighter, and felt tougher, but it wasn't exactly the big thing he wanted. His pistol was also in his locker, which found it's place in a laigrek-leather holster on Shatter's hip.

Shatter then set off to find his Z-6. He found his way to the heavy-weapons area, and in a cubby labeled CC-3297, was Zappy. Shatter nearly glomped his weapon, he was so overjoyed to see it, and held it in his hands, marveling at it's new shine. It also felt slightly lighter, but it was unloaded, as Shatter found out. Disappointed, he set off to find some ammo and find out about the next fight.

A/N

Yeah, I could it off. I'm focusing the next chapter on a new character, possibly based on what you come up with. So send me ideas! P_H, this isn't the character I promised you. And I want ideas for some sort of evil or neutral character.

[iHawk]

Very good skip, I like them, I'm usually good with characters (especially with evil ones) but my brain has been slacking off (damn cranial Union) but please keep these going :D

~iHawk

[kongurous]

Chapter 4: Dethrone Tyranny(good song)

"Valsta was an interesting person. Had a lot of talent, but put that talent in the wrong place. The day we first met... I'll never forget. That day was the day a great ally was found... but neither the Star Dragons, or even Valsta, knew it."-Journal of CC-3297

Clone Wars, Kashyyyk, day 172...

A stick crunched underfoot sent an echoing snap throughout the Kashyyyk jungle. Thick undergrowth littered what could be seen, and the kilometre-tall Wroshyrr provided great cover. The Shadowlands on the surface of Kashyyyk provided sanctuary to even the most wanted of men... but it also made sneaking up on those wanted men easy. And easy is what this mission was, for Valsta T'nere. Valsta was a bounty hunter. Not the most experienced, but not a rookie either. Valsta was also good at keeping it's identity secret. I say "it" because the only ones to see Valsta without a helmet was either killed on the spot, or died of mysterious circumstances. For the sake of the story, until I choose to reveal the true gender of Valsta, he will be referred to as male. Anyway, back to the story.

Valsta reached into his backpack and took out a box of explosives and set them on the ground. He primed them, and then backflipped into a thicket, waiting for his target. A heavily bearded man, being chased by a pack of Katarn, passed right by the explosives. Just as the Katarn were passing it, they went off, sending a massive shockwave through the area, killing the Katarn, and putting the bearded man out of commission. Valsta chuckled, strode over to the man, and looked into his face.

"Bah! Even if I die here, I swear I will haunt your dreams!" the man shouted. Even though he was dying, it still had plenty of kick left in him.

"Bounty hunters don't dream." Valsta replied in an obviously modified voice, drew a blaster pistol, and sent the man into the afterlife. To prove this bounty was dead, Valsta also decapitated the corpse, and went on his way. Today was pay-day, and it would be celebrated with a night in the Outlander Club on Coruscant. All he had to do was get back to Jabba, collect his money, and... what?

Valsta's thoughts of rest and relaxation were interrupted by his communicator vibrating. Sighing, he drew the communicator from his pouch and pressed the talk button with the nose of the dead man.

"Yes?" Valsta greeted impatiently.

"You'd do well to watch your tone, Valsta." a somewhat deep, calm voice returned. A blue, transparent 12-inch high figure appeared. It appeared to have a flowing cape, and white or graying hair, and the man, on first glace, looked to be retired. But looks can be deceiving, for this man was Count Dooku, one of the heads of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

"What is it, Dookie?" Valsta said, and chuckled to himself. Dooku audibly sighed in aggravation.

"I don't know why I deal with you...", the Sith said under his breath. He turned his attention back to Valsta, and said, "I have a job for you. I want you to find the Star Dragons."

"The Star Dragons are extinct, Dooku."

"No they aren't, and I'm not talking about Duinuogwuin. I mean the platoon of clone troopers, in the Grand Army of the Republic."

"Oh, them? Sorry, can't do it."

"Why not, dear Valsta? I can pay you handsomely."

"Handsomely? I'll be the judge of that. How much?" Valsta said, running numbers through his head.

"250,000 credits for equipment and 150,000 for the reward. All of the money you don't spend is yours to keep." Dooku said, smiling.

"400,000! I could finance my own droid army with that much! Fine... I'll do it. Transfer the money to my account, I've got a bounty to turn in." Valsta said happily, and turned off the communicator. He looked to his left and right, and behind him, and then skipped all the way back to the elevator to be taken up to the upper part of Kashyyyk.


A ship of unknown design and manufacturer exited hyperspace at the coordinates 0-00-00... the Galactic Center... Coruscant. The ship received landing permission, found its way to a landing station near where the Star Dragons were, and Valsta exitted the ship. He took out his datapd, and checked his information once again. The Star Dragons had rented out four rooms in a hotel. This hotel was near 500 Republica, the capitol of the capitol, so to speak. CC-3297, nicknamed Shatter, was supposed to be the platoon leader, and therefore, was priority target number one. The rest of the rooms could be laced with explosives, but Dooku wanted Shatter's head.

"What is with these people wanting heads? Starting a cranium collection?" Valsta said to himself, looking around for any suspicious looking people. Seeing none, he went back to the datapad.

It said the Star Dragons were heavily armed, armored, and obviously highly dangerous. There were also 19 of them, going to receive a full reinforcement of their ranks within the hour, so Valsta had to work fast. He looked around again, stole a speeder, and flew off towards the hotel. Valsta had the perfect weapon... 40 small droids, affectionately named Goblins. They were about the size as a pit droid, but nearly 10 times as dangerous.

~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~Switching characters~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~

A bell rang at the door of Shatter's room. He looked to the other clones in the room, who shrugged.

"Anyone order anything?" '97 asked.

"Nope." the reply came. The clones grabbed a weapon, and waited. Shatter nodded, opened the door... and looked out. A beige box flew over Shatter's head, slammed against the wall, and dropped to the floor with a resounding clang!

A door on the box flew open. Instantly, what appeared to be endless amounts of 2-foot high droids emerged and mercilessly attacked. One of them ran behind Shatter, and banged him in the head with it's steel fist. A heavy force battered him to his knees. A droid landed on his back, clutching his throat. Again, Shatter was struck hard on the back of the head.

"Intruder! Help! Intruder!"

A clone's voice cut through the fog of his pain. Another droid came up from behind. The commander attempted to rise, but the droid continued to pound him. Blood trickled down Shatter's head to his mouth. The taste of his own life fluids stirred the warrior to urgency. Still kneeling, he rolled over.

There was a squawk and then the heavy clone landed on something that stirred. The beating finally halted. Shatter continued rolling and felt the droid lose the last of his grip. As he pushed himself up, the warrior heard other "goblin" chattering near him. What he assumed was the leg of a table hit his shoulder. Shatter heard metal drawn and knew the goblins had knives.

He blindly reached for his blaster, but could not find it. Before the clone could clear his sight, a shrieking figure leapt on his chest, almost throwing him back. With arm and legs, the goblin clutched him tight while trying to bury a blade in his eye. As Shatter battled to keep the knife from him, a second attacker landed on his shoulder. The clone grunted as a blade edged his ear. He had body armor, but no helmet, and a close shave like that was not a good thing. Managing to reach up, '97 tore the droid from his shoulder and threw him through the glass of a window and into the long drop to the surface of the planet. As the goblin's shriek trailed off, the fighter sought again to pull the one away from his chest.

He had almost had it done when both his legs were seized. '97 raised one foot, bringing it down hard. With immense satisfaction, the clone heard a crunch. The grip on that leg ceased. Unfortunately, when he repeated the maneuver with the other, the goblin there shifted position while still holding tight.

The one on his chest managed to sink his knife into Shatter's shoulder. The fiendish droid seemed to giggle as it raised its weapon. Enraged, the clone swung a durasteel fist, hitting the droid square in the side of the head. The "giggle" cut off, replaced by a short spatter before the droid went tumbling done to the carpetted floor.

But, again, Shatter received no reprieve. A new attacker crashed into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs. '97 fell back. The only benefit to his disaster was marked by a squeal from the droid on his leg. Half-crushed by the weight of the clone on it, the droid lost its hold.

A second goblin leapt atop the fallen warrior, beating at him with its fist. This was hardly the noble death in battle Shatter had imagined for himself. He did not recall any Jedi in any of the great epics being brought down by tiny droids. Then the pair on his chest shrieked as blue light threw them across the area. One collided with another droid, ending in a tangle of limbs, while the second smashed against the wall with more incentive given by Shatter's left arm.

"Make sure they're all dead!" the commander heard '49 demand.

Shaking his head, Shatter managed to focus in time to see the two tangled droids explode in a magnificent crimson blaze. Shatter checked the room, ignoring the slight pain and blood bubbling out of the wound in his armor. It wasn't deep, or even lethal, but lord... was it painful! The smell of burnt carpet filled his nostrils, and Shatter nearly gagged. He looked around the room and found four of his clones, five including himself, still alive and relatively unharmed. Whoever did this was sadistic... and under-estimated the power of five fully trained clone troopers.

The door sprang open again. This time, a humanoid lunged through the door, with two blaster pistols in its hands. But this time, Shatter was ready. He extended his arm, clothes-lining the figure and slamming it into a wall. Then, he drew his pistol, put it to the mask of the person, and took off it's helmet....

Shoulder-length, auburn hair gracefully fell and draped the shoulders of the figure. A petite nose, blue eyes, and artificially-colored black lips filled Shatter's vision, as well as an unfamiliar, but arousing, aroma that filled the room. Valsta... the bounty hunter tasked to kill the Star Dragons, was not a he but a she!

At this new development... the only thing Shatter could do was laugh, and laugh he did. He laughed and laughed, until his cheeks hurt and his sides caved. Such unadulterated joy filled the commander's laughter that his men thought he had gone insane!

"What are you laughing at?" Valsta demanded. Her voice, not modified by her helmet, was actually quite seductive. This, however, did not phase the clones as their libido had been repressed during the cloning process. Even Shatter, with his happy mix of recessive genes, had that in common with his brothers-in-arms.

"I didn't expect a girl to be trying to kill me!" Shatter said, barely breathing from his giant laugh.

"And why does my gender play a part in this? I'm still tasked to kill you."

"That won't happen, my dear." Shatter said tauntingly, pinning Valsta against the wall and putting the knife concealed in his gauntlet to her throat. "By order given to me by the Grand Army of the Republic, the Galactic Republic, and the Galactic Senate, you are under arrest."


A/N:

Yeah, its a little cliche. Sue me, I like the idea of having a female character to off-set the male clones. So... yeah. Feel free to send me ANY ideas at all that you get. Chances are, I'll consider it or even include it. Oh, and you better read this cus it took me 2 freakin hours to COME UP WITH, ORGANIZE, AND TYPE.

[The_Maker]

Looking good, gave you most of my opinion via IRC...

Looking forward to the next chapter! :D

[kongurous]

Chapter Five: Heaven or Hell(I can keep going!)

Clone Wars, day 173

Shatter shrugged slightly from exhaustion as the gunship sped through the Coruscant air-lanes. Valsta lay on the bottom of the durasteel bay, handcuffed and forced to the ground. Things were not going as planned. Shatter sighed, took off his helmet, and scratched his forehead in thought.

"Hey, you... the guy in red." Valsta said. Shatter turned to her.

"Yes?" Shatter said.

"Why do you look different from all the other clones?" the bounty hunter asked.

"Because I'm pretty much recessive genes. I look different and sound different from your average clone."

"Why weren't you thrown out by the Kaminoans?" Valsta asked inquisitively as Shatter looked over at her. Those eyes of hers pierced his soul, it seemed. He felt almost compelled to spill his entire life story.

"I don't really know. I guess they liked the quirks. But I assure you, I am the only clone of my kind." Shatter replied, turning his gaze away from hers and putting his helmet back on. He turned his gaze back out of the gunship.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. It was a beautiful evening on Coruscant as the sun set, and the trial only took 30 minutes. Palpatine himself was there and personally sentenced Valsta to life on Kessel, mining spice. Shatter chuckled at her sentence, and he and his men joked about it on the way back to the assault ship.

As the ship landed in the bay, the order was given to lift off. The ship was being commissioned to a tour with the 9th Coruscanti Fleet to reinforce ships in the Outer Rim. The war was about to take on an aerial aspect, one that Shatter was not particularly thrilled about.

The assault ship lifted into the atmosphere with the rest of the 44-ship fleet. They accelerated out of the main pull of the planet, and entered hyperspace. The ships cruised for nearly four hours, and a strange lurch rippled through the main ship. It slowed... as did the rest of the fleet as they re-entered normal space above the world of Kamino... which was under attack by the CIS. 3 frigates and a cruiser were engaging a flight of Jedi Starfighters... this fight would be short, Shatter decided.

"All hands man your stations, I repeat, all hands man your stations. This is not a drill." Mace Windu's voice announced over the intercom, and the troopers went to their charges. Shatter was a qualified pilot... so his place was in the sky.

He practically jumped out of the elevator as it stopped and brought him down to the hangar level. It was lined with ARC-170 starfighters and V-19 Torrent starfighters. Shatter sat himself in the cockpit of a ARC-170 and shot out of the hangar, looking for a target.

He pulled up on the stick and leveled out. Blue and red turbo-laser and autocannon bolts flew through the void, some exploding harmlessly into space, some landing on fighter craft, and others hitting the tough shielding of the capitol ships. Vulture droids and clone fighters exploded all around him, and Shatter formed up on a wing commander.

"Lock S-foils in attack position. Prep torpedo tubes, prepare for strafing run." a Concord Dawn accent said over the comm.

Shatter did as commanded and the wing stubs extended and created the illusion of a 6-winged behemoth flying through space. They were approaching a CIS battlecruiser, the point front and aero-dynamic body creating the illusion of a thin point sailing through the stars. The group, 8 fighters strong, formed up on the bow and accelerated over the topside of the cruiser.

"Fire torps at will!" the commander shouted.

Shatter pressed the firing stub. The ARC-170 rumbled slightly as the tropedos flew from their ports, the blue wake of their flight leaving an eerie trail. The shielding of the ship faltered... and was gone. The torpedos detonated on the spire, severing it and sending it sailing off into the void as the cruiser accelerated and moved to attack position. As they came around for another pass, a squad of vulture droids accelerated and flew through Shatter's squad, taking 2 V-19 Torrents down spiralling into Kamino's atmosphere.

"Break and attack!" the commander said as his voice crackled and exploded. The wreckage of his fighter flew forward and landed harmlessly against the shielding of an assault ship.

'97 decelerated, spun around in a quick arc, and brought his blaster cannons to bear. He pressed down the firing stub again and let loose a vicious blast of azure that pierced the durasteel hide of a vulture droid seemed to slow... and be eviscerated. Bolts continued to shear through it's armor until it was no more, exploding in a flush of silent glory.

The clone put his fighter into a barrel roll and then piloted it into the droid hangar. He opened the canopy, drew out his commando pistol, and set the fighter to self-destruct. If he failed, then at least he'd leave a mark. He blasted the head off a pilot droid and hoped in a strike bomber. It lifted up, and accelerated out of the hangar. It sped for a distance, and was not fired upon the the assault ships, apparently because they recognized the beacon emitted by Shatter's armor. Behind him, the hangar, and subsequently, the rest of the cruiser erupted in a blue fireball, engulfing the ship entirely. The battle was won... as the clones were safe. Only 8 ships were left for protection as Shatter landed his craft in the hangar of Mace Windu's ship as it once again set off.

A/N:

Yeah, I know, its short. I wanted to update Shatter's situation and just write a new chapter.

[The_Maker]

Mmmmm typos galore....
But I already pointed them out to you over IRC so... bleh.

[Protoss_Honor]

YEah umm, I glanced over them, seems good, and I plan on reading them fully when I have time later today, but it seems good. Keep up the good authoring skippy. WHOO!!!!!!!!


P dot S dot: any idea when that char we was talking about will pop up? not to rush or anything, just curious to see when one of my ideas become famous.

[kongurous]

Soon enough, P_H. I still need to figure out where I'm going in the next chapter.

[kongurous]

Mmmmm typos galore....
But I already pointed them out to you over IRC so... bleh.

I wrote it at 3 in the morning. Cut me some slack. The next chapter will be up sometime in the next 24 hours.

[Protoss_Honor]

ya, finished reading the chapters 3, 4, and 5. Very very good. Quite interesting. Keep up the good authoring.

[kongurous]

Chapter Six: Kote be te Jetiise!

Clone Wars, day 175...

"As we sped from Kamino, I became increasingly aware of the fact this Republic was not built to fight a war. As I looked deeper into Republic history, I quickly found the Republic nearly lost every war it was in, but the Jedi intervened. This replaced my conviction to learn their secrets, but kept my mind off the battles. As a result, the events of the confrontation on Tatooine are hazy. I guess we won."-journal of CC-3297



The Acclamator-I class assault ship and it's fleet slowed from hyperspace and moved into an orbit around their target... the driest planet in the galaxy, monetarily and moisturewise. Tatooine... the crown of the Outer Rim crime lords. Jabba the Hutt, among other Republic fugitives, made their residence on this god-forsaken planet... and Shatter was content to let the CIS have this damn near worthless planet.

But his thoughts were irrelevant, as far as Mace Windu was concerned. Windu had his orders, and they were to thwart the CIS at any cost. That meant, he had to send his forces into the desert, in their heavy and uncomfortable armor. '97 wanted to give the Jedi, Palpatine, hell even the Kaminoans a piece of his mind. He would demand new armor, or fight naked if necessary... but it was better to suffer a little for a battle than suffer the embarassing memory of taking on droids in nothing but your birthday suit.

The Star Dragons, recently refreshed with troops and some new helmets that had been fitted with durasteel lining and had new electronics put in them, specially designed for desert combat. From the testing, they could take rocks and glancing blaster blows... but would fail if hit dead on. Figures, thought Shatter. The Republic always did things half way. They half way fought wars, half way did politics. '97 was surprised he wasn't just issued a breastplate, half a rifle, neck protection, and regular name-brand shoes.

The politicians never seemed to care about anything except looking good for the cameras and gaining publicity by taking false credit for things the real soldiers did. If the Outer Rim was under attack, they'd continue getting fat and rich off the troubles of the common folk, but oh no! If Coruscant was threatened... they'd all send innocent lives to their deaths and say they fought the war. It made Shatter sick just thinking about it... the Republic was in dire need of an overhaul. Maybe the CIS would make them see that.

As the troops proceeded towards the hangar bays, checking and loading their weapons as they went, the ships rumbled as the orbital bombardment began. It was a standard assault, done by the book down to the letter. Orbital bombardment, capture of strategic positions, move to another part of the planet, rinse and repeat. Ever so efficient, and ever so boring. Less than a year into the war and Shatter was already tired of it. Bah... what a commander, already just wanting to go back home. Or find out what home would be.

As he boarded the gunship, his mind drifted to other things. Namely, what would happen after the war? What would happen, if the Republic won, as they always seemed to do? What would '97 do with his life... he'd be nothing but a number again. Serve the Republic military? Seemed most likely. Be a janiter? Kill himself? Space exploration? None of these things he was adept at, and serving this messed up organization did not fit him well at all. Maybe he would just defect to the CIS....

No! If he did that, he'd be fighting the very thing he was cloned to fight for, not to mention his millions of brothers. Blood is blood, regardless of it's body, and the mass majority of Mandalorian blood was with the grey-and-red colors of the Republic. He'd also be fighting the Jedi, unable to learn their coveted secrets... and his beloved Aayla Secura.

The world exploded... at least, that's what it seemed like. In his daydreams, the doors of the gunship had opened and an assault droid had shot off a rocket... nailing the gunship on the rocket launchers and sending it screaching into the sand.

"Prepare to hot-foot on my mark!" '97 said over the comm. link, looking precariously down into the sand below. If things worked out correctly, they'd jump and land relatively unharmed into the dunes and the ship would spin off into a nearby rock formation and explode. If the pilots didn't eject, it was their own fault. It was a sad reality, but Shatter couldn't save everyone.

"Jump!" the order went. A red figure streaked from the dying ship, followed by a few yellow and then 30 or so white ones. They all hit the sand in perfect synchronization as the fuselage of the gunship tipped over, placing the wing into the sand and causing the ship to spin in about four circles before coming to an explosive stop. '97 cringed as he heard what sounded like the death knells of the pilots.

"Star Dragons report in. '97 standing by." Shatter said, unslinging his Z-6 rotary cannon and looked around for any droids. 35 voices reported in with their respective numbers as blaster rifles, and mostly rocket launchers, joined the cannon in sniper watching. Deciding there was none, the platoon advanced to the rock formation Shatter had thought to be the final resting place of the gunship and they all took up positions among the outcroppings.

'97 checked his bearings. The objective marker was 2 kilometers east... Mos Eisley. They were to take the spaceport and secure it for further reinforcement. The commander cursed his luck, and started off in a brisk jog towards the city as the rest of the clones followed. Within 15 minutes, they were in the city as gunships set down and troopers piled out. Blaster fire erupted and the 36-man platoon broke into squads of 9 and went to their duties. Shatter's particular task was to watch for heavy armor. As always, the universe went back to the task of screwing '97 over, and three AATs rounded a corner.

"Heavy troops, load your weapons. Hit the tanks right below the turret, that oughta lay down some pain." Shatter whispered, and motioned four heavy troopers across from Shatter to set up a firing zone. The tanks had either not noticed the movement, or didn't mind it. They continued until they got within reasonable range, and then the four clones that Shatter had sent over opened up their payload. Four blue rockets sailed forth and impacted on the front armor of the lead AAT. The ship faltered, crumbled into the sand and spun into a building before exploding and sending wreckage everywhere.

As the detachment reloaded their launchers, '97 ran out from his position, pulled the hatch off the second AAT with his left hand, and dropped into the hole. Moments later, smoke began to rise from the porthole and Shatter jumped out of the tank and beat a path to behind the wrecked AAT. Seconds rolled by as Shatter came to a stop, and the thermal detonator that had been planted exploded. The body of the tank rose slightly and crashed down into the sand. The third tank tried to back up, but was pounded into slag by a new volley of rockets.

"Good job, boys. Those droids'll think twice before they mess with us again!" '97 said over the comm. His men gave victory cries, reloaded their weapons, and the platoon moved on.

The next location on their list of places to take was the cantina. As they neared the building, Shatter signaled they stop. Droids of all types were in there... dwarf spider droids, battle droids, super battle droids... looked like a pretty fortified position. Heh, thought Shatter, this was what he was built to do.

"Prime your thermal dets. Throw on my mark, and then rotate to a different position. When I give the mark, rush in and the Heavy Troopers will shoot the ceiling. Support troops will take the droids. You'll know when to retreat." the commander said, and killed the comm. As he pulled a thermal detonator, he flashed the "mark" light on his platoon's HUD and they all threw in their thermal detonators. As the dets exploded, they all rotated to the other entrance and waited.

Shatter peeked into the cantina. The droids inside the cantina were obviously confused. Half of them were gone, too. Perfect. Chaingun barrels spinning, he lunged into the cantina, rolled forward, and stopped in a crouching position as he unloaded on the droids. Parts flew everywhere and Shatter's right shoulder was being pounded, but none of that mattered anymore. He was still destroying these bucket brains and that is what mattered... to give them the mercy they showed thousands of his brothers and millions of innocents across the galaxy. This continued until a super battle droid smacked him in the back of the head.

Shatter fell forward and stumbled to his feet, knife drawn. The droid seemed to chuckle as it raised its wrist and prepared to shoot. Just as the blasters warmed and were mere milliseconds from killing '97, the support troops unloaded on the super battle droid and the heavy troopers shot at the ceiling.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Shatter shouted and jumped out of the cantina just as the roof collapsed on it, crushed the remaining droids. Shatter checked his objective roster. No more objectives, mission complete, it said. Regardless of this fact, an AAT hovered around the corner, and lowered its cannon. The troops couldn't reload fast enough... they were going to die. At least, Shatter thought so until he saw the tell-tale violet blade of Mace Windu's lightsaber punctured the tank's armor as if it were paper and shear it to ribbons.

"Good job, Star Dragons. You saved countless lives today, and brought the Republic closer to victory." the tall, ebony-skinned Jedi said in his deep voice.

And for the first time since the war started, Shatter believed him.

A/N:

Yeah, I'm done. Tell me how you liked it, and please point out all typos you see, there shouldn't be many since this wasn't written at 3 in the morning.

[The_Maker]

Eh, one of your shorter ones.. and you used the same adjective twice in the same sentence but I told you that over IRC, and "Shatter jumped out of the tank and beat a path to behind the wrecked AAT." sounds... meh you could drop the "to" and it would make more sense I would think.

[kongurous]

Chapter Seven: Inner Thoughts of a Trooper



"I always had a strange quirk about me, the generals said. Even Skywalker mentioned my personality, even if he didn't tell me personally. People considered me strange for my eccentricities, though I am what I am, no changing it. I guess this all began back on Kamino. My first memories were looking at the other clones and then looking at myself. I wondered why I was different. I was the only clone of my kind. I was the only one without an accent, nor did I have the same skin tone. I was different in almost every fashion. When I asked Taun We about my differences, she gave me an answer I'd never forget.

She told me that I was one of a kind, the only clone capable of actual free thought. I could disobey orders, obey them, or do whatever I willed. I was truly an individual, destined to fight for the Republic. She also told me not to take advantage of this gift to help the enemy, but to use it for the good of all things. Good, of course, meaning the Jedi and Republic. I think I loved Taun We in my early childhood. Not as a girlfriend, but as a mother or perhaps a sister. She was the closest thing I ever had to a mother, just as Jango Fett was the closest thing to a father.

Ah... Jango Fett. Such a powerful man. I look up to him, as any Mandalorian looks up to his Mandalore. He taught me everything I know about fighting... hell, he personally designed the armor I wear! It's because of him I'm alive. It's because of him I have the record I do. It's because of him I'm... destined to fight this war til death do it's job. It already nabbed him... I could die tomorrow. Still, oddly enough, I feel no fear of death. I am not afraid to have a blaster bolt pierce my armor and kill me. If anything, I encourage these droids to try.

It's odd, I think. I've fought for nearly six months now, seen the worst the war could throw at me... and I'm not dead. Thousands, possibly millions, of my brothers have been taken, many of them before my very eyes. And yet, I've been spared. Why? I ask the Jedi, and I get something along the lines of "the Force wills it". When I ask the ARCs, they tell me I'm lucky. Well, I don't believe in luck. Ever since Geonosis, I've been nearly impervious to blasters. It makes me want to put a blaster to my head and pull the trigger! But if I did that, the Star Dragons would be without a commander.

Speaking of which, why were there two commanders in the 501st Legion? There's me, and commander Appo. It's as if I were intended my own Legion, but the Kaminoans never got around to cloning me multi-thousands of troopers to command. Instead, I have 35 troops. 36 in all, counting myself. Hell, even Gree got a division to command, and he was a lieutenant at Geonosis! This Republic needs an overhaul, I swear.

On that note, why does the Republic even exist? I've checked the chronicles time and time again... 4000 years ago, the Republic was in trouble with Exar Kun. Guess what? The Jedi come out of nowhere and kill him. 40 years later, the Mandalorians attack and nearly win, but once again, the Jedi save the Republic. I think the commander of the Republic forces against the Mandalorians was a Jedi named Ravin or Rivin. Something starting with R. Anyway, he betrayed the Republic in the end and then left the galaxy.... No reason exists why this organization is still standing.

But these are treasonous thoughts, and I don't think the Jedi would be too happy if I died and they found this journal. Perhaps I should write it in Mando'a? I certainly can. Jango Fett was such a good teacher. He made each lesson personal for us. We were like his children, though that honor was reserved for Boba, I think. But it's a moot point, I think I'm droning on about nothing.

Oh, I might as well introduce myself to the CIS, should they be reading this. I am CC-3297, codename Shatter, commander of the Star Dragons platoon of the 501st Legion. I was trained by the Cuy'val Dar, Jango Fett, and by the Kaminoans. I am armed with a Z-6 Rotary Cannon, and I am the only clone in the mainstream army to have my certain traits.

One of these traits is free will. I can think and act on my own accord, able to disobey orders if I so desire. This allows for a better command position, Taun We told me. Another special thing about me is my ability to fall in love. My libido is, obviously, repressed but my emotions are not. And I think there are two I love. A jedi by the name of Aayla Secura, and a bounty hunter named Valsta T'nere.

Where do I begin? Oh yes. Aayla Secura. She's absolutely beautiful. Something about the Twi'lek race has also intrigued me, but I suspect she is a terrible foe to fight. She attacks with speed and ferocity matched only by the Mandalorians of old and her courage and strength are nearly second to none. She's the first Twi'leki Mandalorian, I say. Her voice is like that of an angel, that caresses your ears as a lover would caress your cheek. She's also quite friendly. Last time I talked to her, she seemed to be in high spirits or maybe she's always like that, but nonetheless, if she weren't a Jedi, and if it weren't for that cur Kit Fisto, she'd be mine.

But on to Valsta. She tried to kill me, true, but at least she's human. Her eyes also seem to pierce your soul... to see all there is that needs to be seen about your character. When I looked into her eyes before she was sentenced to life on Kessel, I almost pitied her and wanted to free her that instant. Maybe she used to be a Jedi and was exiled. I'll have to ask about that next time I talk to Windu. He'll surely know.

But off them for now. I hate my armor. Why? Because it's so damn heavy. It's uncomfortable, too. Yes, it takes blaster bolts well, but the fact remains, it's quite heavy and uncomfortable, and when fighting on a planet like Tatooine... it gets hot in there. I remember after the first battle there. My black-matte undersuit stuck to me. Yes, stuck. I was sweating that much. It was rather difficult to peel off. It also stank... as did I. I obviously took a long shower after that battle, though my scars stung. I hate blaster wounds.

Of course, I take blasters over projectile weaponry, or swords. In my studies, I found back 5,000 years or so, the main weaponry of the Republic's army was swords and spears. They were still widespread about the time of the R jedi, who used them frequently. I think I'm too studious for my own good, but meh. I think I'm gonna end this entry for now. Long live the Republic, or as it is in Mando'a, Kote be te Jetiise."-journal of CC-3297.

A/N:

Short, I know, just wanted to do some more character development. I'll add more later.

[Protoss_Honor]

6 is interesting, reading 7. Keep up the great work The Kongurous formerly known as the skippy formerly known as kongurous the spam queen. WOOOO!

[The_Maker]

Pretty good, I showed you all the typos that I could find in IRC...

I look forward to 8 :D

[kongurous]

Chapter Eight: The Raid on Anchorhead

Clone Wars, day 175...

"Oh, Anchorhead. That was fun. If you can call being stranded and surrounded by murderous droids fun. Of course, they say, If you've got a problem, you can send one ARC trooper, you can send one hundred clone troopers, or you can send a squad of four clone commandos. How true that was."-Journal of TC-3249

Blue oil sprayed across his visor as TC-3249, temporary commander of the Star Dragons, placed the hidden vibroblade in his gauntlet into the centerpiece of a B-1 battle droid. The figure, much smaller than the B-2s, or Super Battle Droids, squealed and went limb. It was night time on Tatooine, a rare time as the planet was in a binary star system. The cool air felt better against the openings in '49's armor. He suspected none of the clones under his command was unscathed at this point, but he worried about Shatter.

The situation was, Shatter was busy being sneaky. He himself had elected to sneak into the city they were attacking, called Anchorhead, without his signature armor on and to open the gates, and maybe take out a tank or two. He brought a blaster pistol and a rocket launcher, nothing more.

"It was truly an honor to serve with you brave soldiers.", Shatter had said before departing. "I'm truly the luckiest commander in the 501st, no... the luckiest commander in the Republic to have fought and bled with you. I hope that, if I don't return from this mission, you get a new commander who's more competent than I am. Mandalore knows I've made too many mistakes."

What might have been Shatter's last words. It made tears form in his men's eyes... and for the first time since the beginning of the war, they cried. The platoon cried for it's commander, and Shatter cried for his men. He knew that this could be his last mission, but he elected to do it alone, and alone he would do it. All the Star Dragons could do was wait... air support was out of the question, as the gunships were off fighting another battle. Mace Windu was busy with the other clones, and the only back-up the Star Dragons received was Delta Squad, but they were nowhere in sight.

'49 sighed and picked up his blaster rifle and incinerated an unlucky battle droid. The best he could do was command until Shatter was confirmed KIA or alive, and he intended to do just that.

* * *

Shatter grunted softly as his feet sank into the loose sand and he crept behind a house. Three super battle droids were in front of the house, discussing amongst themselves what to do. They were marked with red, signifying they were all commanders.

"I say we use the tanks and blow them back to Kamino." one of the droids suggested.

"They're a heavy platoon, they'll rip our tanks to pieces. Assassin droids are clearly the answer." a second proclaimed.

"I say we hold the gate as best we can and use the tanks as artillery." the third said soundly.

"Agreed." the other two replied. The three droids went to their business, leaving Shatter chuckling in his shadows.

"Alright, '38. Move." Shatter said silently, and four clone troopers materialized out of the shadows.

"We've heard all we need to. Fixer and Scorch, set up a det on that gate. Sev, find a sniping position. Shatter, you're with me."

"Sir!" the three commandos said in unison and went to their business. "I'm set, Boss. Let's move." Shatter replied, and Delta-38 nodded.

They moved swiftly without sound, even the large weapon on Shatter's back making no sound. The commando moved with the commander, CC-3297 with RC-1138. Both had heard of each other in the many battles, sometimes both of them being in said battle, if only under slightly different circumstances. They maneuvered through the shadows of Anchorhead, the sounds of battle echoing through the still desert air and the dry, cold of night hit like a ton of permacrete. '97 shivered slightly, but shrugged it off, the fate of this mission resting on the shoulders of him and the commando.

"Hold up. A queer feeling, I sense." Delta-38 said, placing his armored hand on Shatter's shoulder, stopping him.

'97 stopped and listened. He heard a slight creaking... and then glowing, red eyes in the shadows.

"Exclamation: greetings... meatbags." the harsh, robotic voice called as a rusty orange, 7-foot tall humanoid droid appeared.

"Oh hell to the no..." Shatter said, and rolled out of the way as the droid raised it's blaster rifle and pelted Delta-38's shielding with blaster bolts. The commando followed suit and switched his DC-17m to the anti-armor module and Shatter crouched and raised his rocket launcher.

"Question: what in heavens name are you doing, meatbags? I am merely facilitating communications to put an end to hostilities." the droid said, it's tone never changing.

"What do you mean, 'facilitating communications'? YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!" '38 said calmly at first, but with an aggressive tone at the end.

"Clarification: I was testing to see if you were indeed a meatbag, meatbag. I was hired to direct your explosive wrath upon these Seperatists, and to assist you in such." the droid replied in a slightly mocking tone.

"Bah... fine, if you can help us, then I guess we have no choice. You go distract the Seps, me and Shatter will destroy their tanks." Delta-38 suggested.

"Chiding statement: Oh no, meatbag.... You're coming with me!" the droid said, and chuckled.

"Fine... what do we call you, assassin?" Shatter asked.

"Answer: HK-47, at your service. Now, shut up, meatbags. We need to move quickly and quietly." the droid said, and motioned for the clones to follow. Delta-38 and Shatter shrugged to each other, and slowly followed.

Before long, the three came upon a vehicle pool, loaded with AATs and droids of all designs. The three commanders that '38 and '97 saw earlier were there, along with with what appeared to be at least four platoons of B-1 battle droids.

"Oh beautiful..." Shatter murmured to himself as the tanks lifted their main cannons and opened fire.

"Anxious offer: would you prefer I go down there and teach them a lesson, meatbags?" HK-47 asked.

"You do that, you bloodthirsty bastard. Shatter, with me. Let's disable some tanks." Delta-38 commanded, and proceeded stealthily over to a bluff with the commander close behind. HK made a sound that can only be described as trigger-happy, and almost gleefully erupted on gunfire from double Arkanian blaster pistols, having abandoned his blaster rifle earlier. '38 shook his head in disbelief, and began a slow descent into the pool.

Shatter landed with a soft thump in the sand and, all of a sudden, an outroar occured. A huge blast signaled that Scorch and Fixer did their jobs, and the resounding blasts meant Sev was having too much fun. Added on to HK-47's rage of fury, Anchorhead was turning into a battlefield. In the midst of this, '97 loaded both tubes of his rocket launcher and unloaded them on two AATs that were close together. They exploded in a crimson flash and Shatter was quick to reload as green laser beams scorched the sand and sliced seamlessly through the AATs and a gunship landed, with blue-armored clone troopers, members of the 501st Legion, Commander Appo himself, AND Jedi Master Kit Fisto cleared the ship.

The CIS never stood a chance. Kit Fisto, a skilled Master, employed his green lightsaber effectively, as any Shii-Choo user should. Shii-Choo was a balanced lightsaber form, taught to Younglings before moving onto the rank of Padawan and being taught new styles. Kit Fisto was the master of this form, if you needed to learn it, you would ask him.

But Shatter wasn't excited to see Kit Fisto... actually, he encouraged the droids to shoot at him. Of course he would never voice this opinion... but one day, someday, Kit Fisto's blood would decorate Shatter's hands.

A/N:

Short, I know, but hey! At least I introduced our main character's rival in love.

[iHawk]

OMIGOSH! You introduced the coolest droid ever! HK-47 is the definition of awsome.

Keep up the good work kongurous
~iHawk
Exar Kun

[kongurous]

Bah... don't have a reliable timetable to give you for the next chapter. No inspiration, no ideas... yeah.

[kongurous]

Star Dragons Chapter Nine: Betrayal

“They say Kessel was hell. Well, whoever 'they' is, he or she knows their stuff.” - Journal of CC-3297

Clone Wars, day 190...



Shatter cracked the tendons in his neck as he waited. He was outside of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant... and he had an appointment with Kit Fisto. He had told the Jedi Master to arrive alone and with his lightsaber. Shatter himself was shoe-horned in his signature red armor, the red tail of his overcoat nipping at his pacing feet still torn and tattered. Shatter shivered slightly, but shook off the slight chill from the air, looking for his contact.

Finally, the Nautolan arrived. Flashing his signature smile, Kit arrived at the top of the steps and stood in front of '97. The Jedi Master bowed respectfully, and Shatter did the same, and at full height, it came to be known that Fisto was the taller of the two, but only slightly.

“You wanted an audience with me, commander?”, Fisto started, still smiling.

“Indeed I did, Master Fisto. Am I not mistaken in the assumption that you and Master Secura are good friends?”, Shatter said in a false Concord Dawn accent in case anyone, or anything, was listening in on this conversation and was looking to identify certain people. As most clones had a Concord Dawn accent, the strategy was sound.

“You are correct, commander, but what relevance does this have?”

“Simple, Master Fisto. You stole my woman.”, Shatter said, dropping the accent and extending the concealed blade in his right gauntlet.

Shatter jabbed at the Nautolan, who dodged to the side and kicked his opponent forward. '97 staggered a bit as he spun and the Jedi Master activated his lightsaber with a whoosh and held it in an offensive position near his face. Shatter drew a blaster and fired at Kit, who easily deflected the bolt.

“Why are you attacking me?”, the Jedi called out.

“I already told you. You took Aayla from me. I'm sure that if you two weren't Jedi, you'd have taken her earlier. Well, just as a precaution... I'm going to kill you.”, the reply came.

“This is foolish!”

“I'm called Shatter for a reason.”, and with that, the trooper extended the blade in his other gauntlet. '97 lunged, his left arm extended, and though Kit dodged harmlessly to the his left, Shatter brought his right around and clipped Fisto across the chest.

Shatter hit the ground in a roll and stood triumphantly, his pulse quickening and his breaths getting shorter. He drew back both arms and charged once more in a quick attack, clipping Fisto once more on the arm and missing with his other attack. This time, the Jedi Master went on the offensive and placed his foot firmly against '97's chest in a swift but powerful kick, sending the trooper back and nearly tripping on his coat. The wrist blades extended a few inches more. Kit quickly closed the distance and sliced at Shatter, who ducked under the green swish of Fisto's lightsaber as the air sizzled where Shatter had once stood. That was a lethal attack, but it left Kit open, and Shatter exploited this... or attempted it, anyway.

Kit back-flipped, and Force-pushed Shatter in a pillar with a sickening crunch that emanated from the concrete in the pillar. Shatter was instantly thankful for the skeletal enhancements he had received for after his covert op on Tatooine. He stood up shakily and gritted his teeth as the Nautolan smiled once more. Uttering a Mandalorian battle cry, Shatter charged forth and caught Fisto in the arm, who wailed in pain and unleashed a Force wave so powerful, it knocked Shatter off of the temple and into the traffic flying by. Though it seemed to be the end of CC-3297... Fisto was in for a rude awakening.

* * *

Shatter fell. He fell and fell and fell. He began to wonder when he was going to hit the ground... and then a sickening CRACK brought him to his senses. He looked at the vehicle that had just hit him in the gut. Once again, he was thankful for his skeletal enhancements, and this time, for his armor that had been specially made to withstand such impacts. The man, and what Shatter assumed to be his wife or girlfriend, looked on in horror as the speeder slowed to a complete stop. Shatter sprawled into the cockpit, felt for broken bones, and looked up at the owners.

“Good evening. I'm going to have to commandeer this.”, '97 announced, cracking the man in the side of the head with his gauntlet and setting him in the backseat. Activating the speeder, Shatter set it to full speed and sped back towards the Jedi Temple.

* * *

Kit Fisto's heavy breathing slowed a bit as he collected himself after Shatter's attack. His lightsaber hanged daintily from his belt as he stood solemnly with the wind blowing at his back, wondering why Shatter had gotten so worked up about something so trivial. Of course he didn't know that '97 was in love with Aayla Secura, but the fact remained that his actions were rather asinine. Fisto turned on his heel and was about to enter the Jedi Temple but was caught unawares by a mad CC-3297, flying by in a speeder whilst shooting at Kit. The Nautolan dodged to the side behind a nearby pillar and called for help. This was getting annoying and stupid.

Sure enough, gunships arrived quickly and blew out Shatter's engines. The trooper was forced to crash land into a walking lane full of pedestrians, and by some miracle, survived with no loss of life. Moments later, armed troopers arrived. Leveling their weapons, a clone commander... CC-4477, by the looks of him, arrived on the scene.

“Thire... he stole my woman.”, Shatter called out weakly as he had hit his head on the way down.

“I know, Shatter... I know. Take him away, he's earned a place in Hell, but we can keep him comfortable for now.” CC-4477 commanded, and his word was done. '77 pulled out a data pad, activated it, and brought up CC-3297's account. He hit a few buttons, and it read like so: “Name: CC-3297
Rank: Commander
Status: Active...
Pending...
Pending...
Active status terminated.”


* * * * one year later * * * *



Kessel. Hell. Glitterstim. So many different names for the same hunk of rock floating out on the galactic rim. It was barely part of the galaxy proper, and was as desolate as can be. It was home of the largest Glitterstim spice operation in the galaxy. It was 21 BBY, day 558 of the Clone Wars by all official accounts. Shatter didn't care. He wasn't Shatter anymore, either... he was Dewback, on account he was solitary, quiet, and pretty much a beast of burden for the other prisoners.

Shatter did see an old “friend”, though. Valsta was there, and she seemed to be doing fine. As lucky would have it, their cells were right next to each other. Shatter found her presence to be calming... truth be told, he felt like a youngling in a class of Jedi Masters for lack of a better analogy, and she seemed to know everything about Kessel.

“I've been here more than once”, she had said one night. Night also calmed Shatter, and she had said it just as he was about to fall asleep.

“Then you certainly belong here. I see why you were sentenced so quickly.”, Shatter had replied.

“Dewback... I was born on Kessel. I know this place like the back of my hand. I know how to break out. But let's not talk about this right now. Good night.”, her voiced beckoned to Shatter's cell, but he was already fast asleep. He needed it for the next routine day... the existence he was apparently destined for till the end of his days.

[The_Maker]

Well, it is short. Very Short.

No obvious typos, but I hope you give the story a good (or dramatic, either way) ending and give Shatter a firery explosion type death, or a death dying for the only cause he cares about, or give him something really good to spice up his character before the attack on the jedi temple.

[psycho42b]

It does not appear to be the end of Shatter, And I hope it is not so. Still, I wonder what Shatter plans to do if he escapes. Although, if Valsta knew how to escape, why didn't she already?

[kongurous]

It does not appear to be the end of Shatter, And I hope it is not so. Still, I wonder what Shatter plans to do if he escapes. Although, if Valsta knew how to escape, why didn't she already?

Now now, little bunny... I don't plan on revealing the entire story to you. Besides... just assume there was a tighter guard or something.

[psycho42b]

Very well, I shall wait untill the next chapter. waiting...waiting...waiting...

[Protoss_Honor]

Nice job, didn't totally make sense to me, but nice job. Keep going dude.

[kongurous]

Star Dragons Chapter Ten: The Badlands

“I never liked my time on Kessel. The place was hot and a nuisance; but it wasn't so bad, after one fateful day...” - Journal of CC-3297

Clone Wars, day unknown...



Dewback sighed as he once again brought his pick down into the rocky surface of the asteroid known as Kessel. All around him, other prisoners worked, mining out minerals and spice from the planet. Criminals from all over... some of them being ones that Dewback, once known as CC-3297 “Shatter”, had captured!

It was in his training to obey any and all orders. He didn't like it, but he wasn't in any position to fight with the guards. Suddenly... a man with large legs ran. He ran as fast as his powerful legs could carry him, but it did him no good. Dewback knew what happened to the prisoners if one of them escaped, and he wasn't about to not be fed.

He took the rifle out of the hands of one of the green-armored clone troopers and dropped to one knee. Leveling the rifle, he shot once... and it hit. Perfectly between the shoulder blades of the escaping man. The man dropped... and Shatter did all of this without blinking. As a reward, he received a large WHAM to the back of his head and he was dragged off to the infirmary.

'97 awoke with a start the next morning... if you can describe mornings on Kessel. Valsta was above him, with her wonderful blue eyes wandering up and down Shatter's shirtless form.

“You've got your share of scars, eh?” Valsta offered, chuckling slightly.

“Enough to keep me sane.” Shatter replied and lay silent.

Hours seemed to pass as Valsta rose and moved around the room to various tasks. Producing a sponge and some soap, she sat back down near the clone and held the items over his face.

“While you won't be working for the next day or so, you will have to take care of yourself. Go take a bath, your sweat smells.” Valsta teased.

“And you're a barrel of roses?” Shatter snapped back, rising from his bed and cracking the tendons in his neck.

“I smell better than you. Now, get to it!”

“I'm going, I'm going!” the tired trooper said, defeated, and made his way to the showers. Stripping himself bare of the loin cloth he used as an undergarment, he turned the water on and waited for the only temperature this water could be; cold. But he wasn't about to complain. The mines on Kessel weren't known for being a paradise of perfect temperature, and cold showers were a luxury. Apparently, the cool water hadn't been used up, but by the time Shatter was done... it was long gone. As was the soap.

After a probably 2 hour shower, '97 turned off the water, grabbed a rough towel from the rack, and dried himself. He stepped into the hall, his bare feet, still damp, slapping against the steel floor. His footsteps echoed down the hall, devoid of anything other than some lights and a door here and there. He rounded a corner and entered the changing room. He put on his loose-fitting gray clothes and left the room. Two of the green troopers appeared seemingly from nowhere and grabbed his arms.

“Need something?”, Shatter asked, his mind laughing at the irony.

“The Captain of the Guard needs you. Follow us, please.” the guard at his left said, and they both dragged Shatter away. So much for following them, their prisoner thought.

The office was completely devoid of any decoration except a lone window behind an oak desk that overlooked the mines. The desk had a red polish to it, giving it an entrancing glow and it was covered with papers and stacks of credits. A lamp with a red shade was beaming a bright beam as Shatter's eyes drifted to a tag on the desk that read “Carsak Trekon”.

“Hello, prisoner number... 1138. Have a seat.”, Carsak started in a thick Coruscanti(similar to British), offering Shatter a seat.

“You needed me, sir?”, Shatter replied, accepting the seat.

“Yes, I did. Before we get to business, how have you liked your stay on Kessel? I understand that you were a trooper in the Grand Army of the Republic before you arrived here on my... pleasant little piece of real estate.”

“It's... hot, sandy, and generally a pain in the ass. Tatooine was worse than this”, Shatter began, chuckling. “thought it could be worse, I suppose. I would really like to get back to my job.”

“We both know that's impossible. Anyway, I saw how easily and quickly you dropped that escapee. What gave you the impulse to do that?” the warden prompted.

“My training, in part, and I know what happens when one of the prisoners escape.” the short and professional answer came.

The warden gave a short laugh. “Yes, I know how things are. I set them. Anyway, how would you like to be promoted to guard?”

“Guard, sir?”

“Yes. You get to guard the prisoners and make sure they don't escape. You get better facilities, better meals, and more water. You can't leave the planet, but it's better than toiling away in the hot sun, eh?”

“Hmm... well, sir, it's certainly an interesting offer. I accept.” Shatter said, standing, and saluting with a smile.

“Wonderful. Follow the guards who brought you here, they will show you to the armory and you will be assigned your duty schedule.” Carsak announced, his thick accent still prominent.

“Thank you, sir.” Shatter said resoundingly before turning on his heel and following the two green-armored guards.


A/N:

Yes, I know, it's short, but don't expect much war fighting for the next few chapters. Anyway, read and review please. Kudos to Protoss_Honor for the warden's name.

[Protoss_Honor]

Very nice. Very cool. Very short. Very to the point. Oh and thanks for the credit. I feel honored. Very honored. Now hurry up and get famous for making this a book and don't forget to mention me in the acknowledgements.

EDIT: Oh, and HURRY UP WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER! I need something interesting to read and reread and rereread and soo on on a rainy day. Like today. and possible tomorrow.

[psycho42b]

Sweet, the captured becomes the captor/captured. What will he do next?