Clone Wars: Chronicles of the 607th

Chapter 1.5-Captured

An intense ringing hummed violently in Slice's ears, blocking out all other noises. He couldn't even hear himself breathe. Actually, he couldn't feel anything either. Arms, legs, torso...everything was numb.

Slowly, he forced his eyelids to part, but all he could see was dirt at first. As soon as he opened his eyes, he felt them sting, and he became aware of the acrid stench of smoke and scorched durasteel. After that, all of his other senses began to come alive. His head was throbbing, and his entire body was warm from pain and the fires that were flickering in and out of his peripheral vision.

"Contact the Commander," a distinctly droid-sounding voice echoed in Slice's ears. "We have defeated the clone forces."

Slice slowly picked his head up. He could see things better now, but it was all still a little blurry. He could see his helmet out in front of him, half of it charred black and the visor cracked; his blaster was just an arm's length away.

With a groan and a snarl, he willed his hand to move towards the blaster. At first, his arm didn't respond, but finally it reached out for the weapon.

A metal foot slammed down on the blaster, almost catching Slice's fingers in the process.

Wincing as a pain shot through his side, Slice picked his head up to see a tactical droid standing over him.
"Contact command," the tactical droid said, staring down at Slice. "Inform the General that we have prisoners."

Slice grit his teeth, staring daggers at the droid. He felt something grip his arms, and before he knew it, he was being dragged away. He tried to keep his eyes on the tactical droid, but his neck quickly gave out, and his head hung limply backwards. Slice could see the sky, but it was gray, clouded by smoke. The gray became increasingly darker, until it was utterly black, and Slice knew nothing more.

***

"Lieutenant, wake up!"

Slice groaned as he snapped his eye open. He was on the ground again, but this time he wasn't face-down, and the ground was smooth and metallic. "Ugh, the kriff?"

"Wake up, sir," a fellow clone-voice pleaded.

Slice winced as a loud noise that could only be an engine deafened him for a moment. With great effort, he pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked around.

Three other clones stared down at him in concern. Slice immediately noticed the manacles on their wrists. He cast a brief glance at his own, and they too were shackled. Also, most of his armor seemed burnt.

"What happened?" he demanded, trying to sit up quickly; the movement set off a sharp pain in his side, however. Instantly, he felt nauseous.

"They got us good, sir," one of the clones replied grimly. "We didn't stand a chance."

"We four are the only prisoners they took," another added, his voiced mixed with bitterness and sorrow.

Slice winced at the news. That was a lot of good men dead, then. A lot of good men he had failed. He couldn't let himself dwell on that now, however.
Slice continued looking around. Indeed, they were on an open-top vehicle of some kind. It looked more like one of the villager's carts being pulled behind the Seppies' tank. Slowly, he sat up and with the help of the troopers, managed to get situated on the bench inside the cart. 

He recognized the others now. CT-2326 was sitting next to Slice, his cheek raw and bleeding from a scrape; CT-3563 sat directly across from Slice, arms folded and face dirty, and CT-8805 plopped down next to 3563 dejectedly.

Battle droids encircled the cart as it moved along after the tank. Slice looked behind to see the village growing smaller behind them, but seemingly unharmed.