CT-7723 -a Star Wars Story-

In Preparation

As the familiar sound of the morning roll call echoed through the barracks, CT-7723-39, or Condor, stirred from his sleep, his mind still buzzing with the events of the previous day's training session. With a groan, he stretched his limbs, the stiffness of his muscles a reminder of the physical exertion he had endured.

Rolling out of his bunk, Condor quickly dressed in his pristine white armor, his movements precise and efficient. As he fastened the straps of his helmet in place, he felt a surge of anticipation course through him. As he made his way to the assembly area, Condor couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement gnawing at his insides.

As the roll call began, Condor stood at attention alongside his fellow cadets, his gaze fixed straight ahead as their names were called out one by one. The cadence of the sergeant's voice was steady and unwavering, a reassuring presence amidst the flurry of activity.

"CT-7723-39," the sergeant called, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Present and accounted for, sir!"

Condor's response was crisp and confident, his demeanor betraying none of the nervousness that churned within him. Today was the day he would prove himself worthy of the title of Clone Lieutenant, and he was determined to rise to the challenge.

As the roll call concluded, Condor fell into formation with the rest of his squad, his mind focused and his senses sharp.

The squad marched in unison towards the training grounds, where the morning sun cast long shadows across the obstacle course ahead. Condor surveyed the course, a complex maze of walls, ropes, and barriers designed to test both physical prowess and mental acuity. With a steady breath, he stepped forward, ready to tackle the challenge ahead.

The first obstacle loomed before him-a towering wall of steel, slick with morning dew. Without hesitation, Condor launched himself forward, his muscles tensing as he propelled himself upwards with practiced precision. With a grunt of effort, he hoisted himself over the wall, landing on the other side with a thud.

As he navigated the course, Condor encountered a series of challenges that tested his agility, strength, and endurance. He swung from rope to rope, his movements fluid and graceful, never faltering in his stride. With each obstacle conquered, his confidence grew, fueling his determination to succeed.

But it was not just physical prowess that saw Condor through the course; his sharp mind and quick thinking proved to be invaluable assets. When faced with a particularly tricky section of the course, he paused for a moment, assessing the situation with a cool, analytical eye. With a flash of inspiration, he devised a strategy, darting through the obstacles with lightning speed.

Finally, as Condor crossed the finish line, his breath coming in ragged gasps, a wave of triumph washed over him. As Condor caught his breath, he glanced over to see Sweets, his loyal friend, approaching. Sweets wore a warm smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Nice run, Condor," he said, clapping him on the back. "You really aced that course."

Condor returned the smile, gratitude swelling in his chest. "Thanks, Sweets," he replied, his voice tinged with relief. "It was tough, but I managed to pull through."

As they began to make their way towards the assembly hall, Sweets fell into step beside Condor, their camaraderie evident in the easy rapport between them. "So, Condor, have you heard where they're assigning us after we finish our training?" Sweets asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

Condor nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah, I heard I'll be joining the 41st Elite Corps," he replied, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "What about you, Sweets?"

Sweets grinned, his eyes alight with anticipation. "I'm headed to the 212th Attack Battalion," he said proudly. "I hear they're one of the best in the Republic."