Stand For the 989th (A story of the Clone War's last days.)

...And Who Will Fall

Aboard the Dreg Dominion. Somewhere in Hyperspace. Present.
Cody, Imperial Shock Trooper Command Corps.

Cody watched the command console with angst. He observed the naval cadets running their operations here and tests there. Beside him stood a fairly young man, gifted in mechanics and running big vehicles like the old Republic class Star Destroyer they were aboard. Cody knew he was about twenty five, but he looked much younger. Yet, no matter his age, Cody was glad to have him. He felt star sick being aboard this ship, especially in a commanding position. Sure, he'd been on several with General Kenobi...

"Kenobi," he muttered.

"I'm sorry?" the officer next to him asked.

"Oh, nothing..." Cody responded, drawing a blank on the man's name.

"Veers. Captain Veers. I will be a General soon though, at this rate."

"Well, Captain. Good for you," Cody replied awkwardly. Veers just beamed.
His smile brought back the familiar grin of Kenobi again. Cody still felt a pang of guilt. Even though he knew that the Jedi had become rogue terrorists, he still felt bad about shooting his former friend off of a cliff and down into the hole that would have resulted in his ultimate downfall. Literally. And that poor animal...

"You know, I love those new All Terrain Armored Transports that are coming out of the Kuat Drive Yards," Veers interrupted.

"Oh, yes. Much better than the AT-TE's we used to use," Cody half heartedly responded.

"Man, one day, as a General, of course, I'll pilot one of those bad boys. Imagine how impressed with my ability the Emperor would be if he saw me crush his enemies underneath its massive feet. Maybe, I could do it in some extreme biome, too. Like, the desert. Or, better yet, a snowy world. Like Hoth! How cool would that be!"

"Like that'll ever happen," Cody murmured. Veers smile disappeared.

"Well. Someone probably needs me somewhere," he grumbled, then disappointedly walked off.

"Sir, we are about halfway through our journey," a naval officer reported.

"Good, good. Let's get ready to kill us a Jedi," Cody signed.

Muunchak. Present.

Quad was afraid. He'd never done anything like this before. He felt like a pirate from one of those HoloVid dramas. But this was real. With the strength of willpower only a true soldier could posses, he hoisted himself up into the cart, knocking over several droid parts along the way.

"We need these," he whispered to himself. "Let's keep them intact." With that, he silently crept up to the front. He jumped back onto the other edge. Below him, Charlie was on the right speeder. The left flailed about aimlessly. He knew he needed to get on that to have a chance. He could just kill Charlie now with his knife (he'd dropped his gun when he tried to grab on to the cart) but then he would never get answers. No, he had to wait. So, he formulated a new plan. He pulled his knife out from the pouch at his side. This was risky. It would most likely fail. He would most likely die. He looked up. The city limits were fast approaching. Behind him, he saw several speeders in the distance, but they would never get here in time. As he prepared to carry out his plan, he thought back to his time with General Quilon Vos, before he went rogue early on in the war. They had been on Iega, one of Iego's moons. They had been rooting out some of the Separatist leaders there. One of the natives had given him an expression to use in near death situations, which referred to the seraphim which were rumored to inhabit the area. He knew that this was the time to use it. Now or never. He knew that he needed to act before Charlie got out of Bor Shadan.

"On Iego's wings!" Quad shouted at the top of his lungs as he leapt off of the cart towards the left speeder. As he flew, he slashed out with his small blade. It's sharp edge cut through the straps connecting the speeders to the cart like a fork through blue Bantha butter. One, two, three, all snapped loose, slapping at Quad's face. He wished he'd had his helmet on for this encounter. As he hit the speeder, his legs buckled around the sides, his empty hand clutched the handle, and he steadied himself. As the fourth strap ripped because of the pressure and the cart was left behind, he realized that he hadn't died. He was alive! Then he looked to his right. Charlie was staring at him in utter surprise and horror. Quad realized that he wasn't out of this yet. Charlie regained his composure, and slammed his speeder into Quad's. Quad pulled away, then brought his speeder into Charlie's. Sparks flew with the impact. Quad brought the knife towards Charlie. The other clone dodged and pulled out. Quad rammed him again and slashed with the knife, again missing. This time, Charlie rammed him. The impact was so jarring that both clones shook in their seats. Quad recovered first, and took two jabs at Charlie. Had he had his armor, it would have deflected the blade. But since he just had his undershirt, the jabs left two open wounds, and reopened one of the old ones.

"Garggh!" Charlie shouted in agony. He lost control of his speeder, and went flailing into the building at the right. Quad stopped, turned around, and hopped off of the bike. Where a door had been, only smoldering wreckage remained. A Muunchaki woman shrieked, running out the hole and holding her kids' hands. Quad assured her that everything would be okay, then ran inside. The speeder was covered in rubble, flaming. Charlie lay covered in dust and plaster, eyes wide open, bruises littering his head. Quad thought he was dead at first. Then he coughed hard. His eyes shot closed, then opened again. He looked at Quad and smiled. Quad just scowled, forcing his knees on top of the injured clone, blood sputtering out of his open cuts.

"Why'd you do it, trooper?" Quad asked, not even willing to use his friends name.

"Me is doing my duty. My duty," Charlie repeated.

"Duty! Duty! Duty to who?! Who did you do this for?!" Quad barked. Charlie grinned. It was a wickedly happy grin. It made Quad feel sick. Then he noticed it. The blaster pistol placed at Charlie's chin. The finger around the trigger. He began giggling like a maniac.

"For the Republic," he laughed. Quad lunged for the weapon. He didn't make it. The energy bolt ripped through Charlie's head. His eyes shot out flame. Smoke belched from his mouth. Brain matter splattered the rubble. Quad had to shield his face. Charlie gave one final laugh, before a rough gargling noise was emitted from his burned gums. Quad looked on in horror. He heard three speeders rocket up to the building.

"What's going... Holy Kark," Blitz hushed.

"Did you?" Cutter asked.

"No. No. No," Quad stuttered. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"We gotta get back to camp. Gremlin's waiting outside," Blitz said, clutching Quads shoulders. Dachshund. Charlie. Two friends. One week. Quad felt like he was going to break down. Then he remembered the fight they had ahead of them. And he held on. Like Charlie had said. For the Republic.