Cicatrix

Trepidations

You point off to a corner to direct one of the trainees on where to store the latest shipment of proton torpedoes. You watch as they carefully walk across the slippery floor, pushing the hovercraft into the armory as if it will explode at the slightest jolt.

You pull your hood over your head tighter and look down at your datapad. You did not miss these awful storms that Kamino is known for. You've been here for a few weeks now, acting as a high-ranking supply specialist, and so far, it's been literal hell.

Apparently, the last one wasn't doing a very good job, so you got "promoted" from the Bad Batch's personal one to acting coordinator on this stupid water planet. You spent your first days cleaning up the mess left behind and reorganizing everything to the proper standards. And then you were given the great task of reassigning everyone's schedules and orders, which hasn't made you the most popular person on base.

No one in the squad was impressed when the order came through for your reassignment. You suspect that someone high in command discovered your secret relationship, thanks to the reckless actions Crosshair insisted on having in a supply closet on Felucia. Though he didn't agree with your theory about your relocation at the time, Crosshair did find it extremely frustrating that you were being pulled because of someone else's incompetence.

On your last night spent together, he promised that you'd only be away for a little while. He held you tight against his chest, comforting you as you lay in his bed. With a smug smirk, he whispered in your ear that when he finally gets his hands on you again that he'll make it up to you in more ways than you can imagine.

And since landing on Kamino, you've thought of plenty.

"Alright, that's the last of it!" You shout over the pouring rain as one of your colleagues pushes out another hovercraft filled with the remaining proton torpedoes. You follow them into the armory, brushing off the excess water from your rain jacket.

Your communicator suddenly buzzes at your side and you pause to pull it out. Your is heart racing and you find yourself holding back a smile. Then it drops. You were expecting a message from Crosshair, telling you how things on Kaller are going. Instead, it's some mass message from command.

NEW ORDERS ARE INCOMING. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

"The hell?" You hear someone mutter, voicing your thoughts.

You look around at the armory, seeing everyone just as lost as you. They begin murmuring to each other, asking if anyone knows what's going on. This message is the last thing you want to deal with, but you have to keep things on course.

"Everyone, just focus on the task at hand." You say, catching their attention. Their wide eyes look at you with a mix of puzzlement and nervousness. "Let's finish sorting this shipment and then I'll go try to figure this out."

Though they seem unsure, they follow your command. You guide them into properly storing the latest shipments, just like always. You then give out specific squadron order requests to the newest recruits, trying to keep everyone busy as you search for answers to what is going on.

You end up with nothing. Just the same message over and over again.

NEW ORDERS ARE INCOMING. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

X X X

It doesn't take long for uneasiness and suspicion to make a permanent impact on Kamino. Rumors are floating around that the war has ended, but nothing official has been stated to the public yet. Thanks to Tech, you learned how to get into the encrypted comm chatter, but none of it makes any sense.

You've spent hours trying to figure out what Order 66 is without drawing any unwanted attention, but have come up completely empty and just as anxious.

You're especially thrown for a loop just a few days later when the Coruscant Guard suddenly arrives on Kamino with no explanation and begins making changes to everything you know.