Prelude: Begun, The Clone War Has

Jedi Council Chambers - Coruscant

Calmly Master Kota entered the Council Chambers, the late day sun casting the circular room's interior in an orange glow as he bowed respectively to the Council, many appearing as holograms in their respective chairs. His eyes met that of the Grand Master's, a thick green clawed finger held thoughtfully to the lips. "Called before us, know you why?" the wizened Jedi asked in his unique idiom.

"I have an assignment," he replied.

"Yes. Two actually," Master Windu confirmed, "We suffered much loss at Geonosis, many Jedi were killed or injured, that has left many of our Padawans masterless." His gaze shifted to Master Yoda's, who still seemed to be viewing the proceedings deep in thought.

"Close to being recognized as Masters, given to them some have," Yoda added, "But taking on additional Padawans, to some Masters we must ask."

"You have expressed concerns with the new Clone Army," Mace continued, "So you will not be asked to lead a Corp. Instead you will report to Master Zey, he has been tasked with overseeing the Army's special operations. He will provide you with your assignment and your new Padawan will meet you there.

Bowing, Rahm Kota offered his respects and departed.

---

The meditation cell seemed empty. That was the intent, obviously, but he was more keenly aware of the isolation.

A small set of tools laid out in front of him in perfect rows, each in its place. The array had a sense of purpose and order that spoke of generations of tradition and craft. Not so the two ugly lumps of metal and plasteel that were arrayed to either side.

He lifted one. It had been slender, straight, and elegant. Tasteful traces of electrum rimmed the four-pronged emitter and circled the spherical power cell, but it was otherwise unadorned. It would have been iconic, if it hadn't been crushed, grip-pad torn and grip flattened and bent, the wedge-shaped indentation of an unfolding Droideka's foot. Great cracks rent the sides and fragments flared out, signs of yielding metal from the great effort he had taken to unfold the weapon and restore at least some of its dignity.

His hands moved with grace and practiced precision, ritualized motions only slightly distorted by the strange angles of screws and fasteners. As he slid the assembly out of its casing, his heart sank. Shimmering fragments tumbled from the assembly onto the table. The vibrant green cystal, carefully aligned, was cracked, half of it disintegrated by the brutal impact.

He set it down.

The soft light bleeding in through the frosted dome seemed colder.

Trembling his other hand lifted the other weapon. This one was larger, cruder, more ambitious in its design. It shared the spherical power cell of its elder kin, but was studded to prevent the loss from the grip of an amateur. Its chassis was of simple, straight design, but its grip, fitted to a rectangular cutout, was subtly bowed inward by coarse molding, to allow a variety of grips. There was a gentle click as he handled it, but he was careful not to indulge the tic of squeezing and releasing the mechanical safety catch. It had made Master Shay's lips purse most unpleasantly.

He let the personal memory wash over the sour recollection of the battle on Geonosis, finding his emotional center as he reviewed the damage. He tried not to debate whether it was a failure of technique or a lucky shot that had let his saber be hit, and simply examined the blackened scoring, then disassembled the blade for inspection. The blast had been indirect, and mostly absorbed by the emitter's recycler, but the interior circuitry had been fused.

In better times, he might have had parts purpose ordered, crafted bespoke by the network of artisans that surrounded the Jedi Temple. He might have used the time to contemplate his technique, to refine his understanding, and to perhaps make a better lightsaber with the knowledge gained from this failure.

But this was war, and he was expected to have a weapon.

With careful hands, he splayed out the parts of Master Shay's broken blade, plucking from it a handful of circuits and components. He stripped away the flawed and broken parts ofhis own lightsaber, hands steadied by determination more than certainty as he tried to fit the elegant, purpose-built coils into the comparative rat's nest of his emitter. Polymer spacers held the arrangement in place as he slid it back into the casing.

The dim light of the meditation cell blazed gold as he ignited the blade. The core was slender, wan, but stable. It would have to do.

Jedi Temple - Coruscant

Master Zey occupied a small, nondescript office and a shadowy alcove off of the Jedi's hastily constructed war room. Appropriate, perhaps, that what one might consider one of the most important of the Jedi Generals was close to the constantly updating reports from the various theaters of war and yet seemingly hidden off in an unadorned corner. The large, bearded, graying Master sat at his desk his gaze shifting across the many holographic displays floating above the desktop, the chair groaning under his muscled weight.

Rahm suppressed a smile, he knew Arligan and new the Jedi Master wouldn't be comfortable behind a desk nor the responsibility that came with it. He could see the dark eyes of his friend shift their focus from the images to him, the weary expression on his face brightening slightly as he beckoned Rham in with a wave of his large hands.

"Ah Rahm," his deep voice boomed, "Come in, come in"

Bowing respectfully, he entered to stand before the Jedi General, "I understand you have my orders?"

"Yes. Yes. I'm putting you in charge of a company of special operators. Trailing Sectors Command. Denon."

The grizzled Master's hands flew atop the desktop as he implemented commands as new images appeared and the previous ones faded, duty rosters ... specifically the teams in which Rahm would be placed in command. Thick fingers brushed across one team in particular, "Bravo Team." Shrugging, Master Shay's eyes meeting those of Rahm's apologetically. "They unfortunately suffered heavy losses at Geonosis ... so many of them have been introduced from other units that suffered similar fates and only recently assigned together." Snapping his fingers as a thought occurred the General's hands returned to the desktop, "I'm still working on getting a logistics and acquisitions officer assigned. All existing units are reluctant to give their's up and the Kaminoans haven't gotten back to me yet."

"If I may," the younger Jedi Master interjected, "I have someone in mind."

"Who? A clone officer?"

"No. And not exactly in the Army ... at least not yet."

"You don't want a clone? The Kaminoans' training is quite impressive ... in all areas of military and war time influences."

"Of that I have no doubt. I just wouldn't mind someone with a bit more life experience."

"Suit yourself ... if it doesn't pan out just let me know. I'll get someone transferred as soon as possible."

Nodding, Master Kota bowed with a respectful dip of his head before saying his goodbyes to his old friend and now commander.

---

Sub-level 1313 - Coruscant

The establishment's dark interior was compliment to the eternal darkness of the outside. Rahm's gaze swept the many booths and tables, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the more seedier types slowly slunk towards the rear exit or did their best to huddle further in the shadowy recesses under the scrutiny of who could be easily identified as a Jedi. Seeing his quarry sitting at a booth in the far corner he stepped to the table, offering a friendly smile to the pair of armored and masked individuals sitting across the table.

"Jeema," he exclaimed by way of greeting and stepping aside so the two armored thugs could hastily slip by.

"Those were two of my best clients," the white haired, pale skinned and very alluring women spat, her bright blue eyes betraying a touch of annoyance.

The smirking Jedi Master followed the retreating pair of individuals as they made a hasty beat towards the entrance, "Not the kind of folks you should be associating with anyway.

"Okay ... dad," the woman replied mockingly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this interruption ... with the War on I've seen a significant increase in business. I'd like to continue on with it."

Smiling, Rahm slid into the booth across from her, motioning the glitchy serving droid over as he did and ordered a drink, "The War is why I'm here. I could really use a person of your talents."

"My talents?" she exclaimed a touch surprised, "and what talents might those be?"

"Why finding and getting stuff from Point 'A' to where it's needed."

"And your shiny new clones can't do that?" she said, amusement heavy in her voice, "Rumor is they have the best training money can buy."

"Of that I have no doubt," Rahm replied, a touch of weariness in his tone and an indication that this wasn't the first time he had made this argument and probably not his last, "But I was hoping for someone with a little more field experience ... whose maybe seen a bit more of the galaxy."

"And what do I get out of it," the young woman purred with a rise of her pale brow.

"You'd get out of that cell you call an apartment for one," the grizzled Jedi Master snorted, "And put your talents to some good use for another ...

Republic Special Operations - Denon

Master Rahm Kota stared down into the training yard below, careful not to disturb the two individuals below, with a somber and perhaps grim expression. The pair of Padawans, now his Padawans, were making their best attempt at carrying on their former Masters' training, even in meditation their anxiousness easily felt through the Force. Ashame he thought that their Masters hadn't left them a Holocron of their teachings He might have been able to supplement their learning by building on their previous lessons ... keeping things a bit familiar rather than forcing an adjustment to his way of doing things.

His thoughts couldn't help but turn towards perhaps taking his own advice, that maybe all the remaining Jedi should commit their teachings to the archive. The galaxy was at war ... his young apprentices certainly wouldn't be the last to lose a Master. Smiling in an attempt to lift his mood, he made his way down to the young Twi'lek and Selonian below. There would be no teachings today ... simply introductions as the War would provide plenty of opportunities to learn, probably some very hard lessons neither he nor them were yet prepared for.

---

First Battle Of Geonosis - Geonosis

The sound of the engines roar as blaster fire zips past nearly hitting the ship, always nearly hitting.
"Look alive boys, we got some clankers to kill." CC-19-1110 says to his squad of fresh clone troopers with a unanimous 'Aye, aye.' If there was time, maybe the fear would begin to creep into his mind, but CC-19-1110 had a job to do and he was gonna...BOOM! A droid hailfire missile takes out the right engine of the LAAT/i he and his squad are in.
"Damn rust buckets. Can't seem to wait for us to kill 'em, ay sir." CT-12-786 says.
"Bring 'em on. I got plenty of refills." CT-12-787 response with fervor.
Another missle follows shortly after taking out the left engine; the LAAT races down to embrace the ground below, taking squad 19 with it.
"Brace for a rough one lads." CC-19-1110 shouts.
The LAAT hits, rolling twice, ejecting CC-19-1110 and his squad.
.
.
.
The ringing of a spining head obscures his senses as the world around him will not stay still long enough for him to take a step. He trys desperately to get his bearings; grasping haphazardly toward a direction. One step...two step...dirt. His foot hits something and he falls. Looking back to see what it was. CT-12-786. His lifeless body lying there in a position some would consider to be unnatural. While they went through training none had seen real combat yet and this, this was a shock.

He scrambles up to his feet looking around for cover. "Cover. Need to find cover." He thinks to himself just as a blaster bolt strikes his right shoulder. "Aw!" CC-19-1110 crys out falling to one knee. "Bloody clankers." He says crawling to a fallen super battle droid for cover.

Unholstering his pistol he opens fire back at the clankers. "I wont go down without taking a few dozen of you with me." Stepping out of cover he marches forward dropping droid after droid. "Aw!" A bolt to the leg. He stands and keeps walking. "Damnit!" Another to the gut. He drops. Pulling himself to his knees his fires again and again, dropping a droid at nearly every shot. The droids close in and he sees the bolt before he hears it; the bolt that ends his life; the bolt that finishes his tour much too early, but at least he took a few dozen with him. 'I didn't go easy you bolt heaps.' He thinks right as the bolt is about to hit him.

A rush of air then a loud hum. CC-19-1110 opens his eyes to see a flurry of light and blaster bolts firing off away from him. Droids being cut down in pairs with a swipe of a Jedi's saber.
"Get up soldier, I didn't give you permission to die yet." The Jedi says
"Sir." Response CC-19-1110. He stands and pushes forward with what remains of his squad as well as a few others the Jedi saved.

First battle of Geonis, on board the Resiliance Acclamator class troop transport.

ARC-7891 watched the invasion via holoprojector. He was there in advisory capacity, as the ARC line of clones wasn't yet cleared for deployment. However, it was believed that his unique development could provide perspective that others may lack.

So far he was impressed. The initial Jedi diversion was a complete success. He had to give it to those Jedi, the idea of pulling the enemies main army out into the open like that was a risky move but it seems to have payed off. Initially he had his doubts. He would have advised waiting the extra five minutes before making the armies presence known. Sure those three in the arena would have been bug bait, but that would have been significantly fewer casualties than those spent saving them. It was almost as if the Jedi had rushed in without thought of the consequences.

However the Jedi's reputation for wisdom was well earned it seemed. By sending in an initial attack wave of elite high value targets, the Jedi were able to draw out a much larger force for easy ambush. The initial air strike had devastated the enemy forces and evaced the VIPs. Even now, gunships were mopping up the remainder of the droids in the area while the main army redeployed. The jedi's apparent incompetence was actually a clever ruse and all was well.

He observed the battleline being formed up. A little basic, but it would serve especially if they softened them up with some orbital bombardment first. "Where is the fleet located." ARC 7891 wanted to know if he had time to get to a view port and watch the fireworks with his own eyes.

"The entire fleet has landed sir."

"The entire fleet?" Confusing. Surely a reserve fleet in orbit would be able to support the surface based assault more effectively both through bombardment and observation of enemy troop movements. Such a fleet would also be able to blockade the planet to prevent ships from escaping. He chose to ignore this obvious flaw. The jedi were the generals. They knew best. He redirected his attention to the holoprojector.

Ahhh, the gunships were starting their attack run. The geonosians had some starfighters, but the republic had brought far more gunships. Air superiority was the republic's. With it, fire would rain on the clankers. He watched the gunhsips move in... and ignore the troops in favor of the tankers.

That's alright, its just the initial attack run. With all of our ships in landed, 7891 supposed that enemy starships should be a priority. The gunships could just circle back and... oh, the troops are attacking. In a single massed charge. Over open ground. With absolutely no cover. Oh.

Oh good, at least we're getting the tanks deployed. Behind the infantry. Wait, why did we attack without the tanks deployed?

"Who's running this operation?" He asked to no one in particular.

"A general Yoda sir." responded a clone who thought he was being helpful.

"Which one is he?"

"The one who has trouble with galactic basic grammatic structure sir."

ARC-7891 watched as the artillery downed a single transport which covered the battelfield in dust. Well at least the troops had some cover now. Too bad that artillery wasn't firing on the enemy.

As the remainder of the transports escaped to dock with the remainder of their fleet at their leisure, ARC 7891 had the feeling that this was going to be a long war.

CF-2517. Wake up CF-2517, you brute! We’re starting our run, how the hell can you sleep through this. CF-2517!

The final emphasis on his name wakes CF-2517 from his slumber as well as a kick from RD-12-287, Check your gear we are going in, his battle Brother commonly known as Taser, for his shock gloves, states. CF-2517 and Taser had sprouted on the same day, done academy together and basic together. Now they were riding a rattling LAAT in to their first battle together and he could feel the fear of his battle brother, Don’t sleep on me now Brother we are going to need your skills I am sure.

CF-2517 stood up from his position against the carriers wall and stretched to his full height which was at least 3 inches taller than any other Clone, I am always better after a rest, CF-2517 replies rolling his broad shoulders. He goes through his checks and accounts for all his equipment, I’ll make sure you make it back Brother with the rest of us, even if I have to patch you . . .

His comments are cut off abruptly as a heavy ammunitions round rips through the lower deck instantly killing several Clones standing in front of him and the LAAT takes a sudden dive towards the earth, Hold on Boys we are going in fast, I will get you as close to those heavy Clackers as I can! Several more heavy rounds pound the front shields during their quick decent.

Leaping free of the transport CF-2517 with Taser and several other Clones Run clear, it is then CF-2517 notices the silence. No movement, no bullets, no Clackers! It’s like they just vanished, or were never there to begin with. Only the dust and heavy roar of the LAAT’s engine as it looked to ascend back into skies. He dove into the base of a rock outcrop looking back to see Taser and several others standing confused by the sudden deficiencies of danger.

And then suddenly, they were mobbed by firepower. The LAAT exploded sending a shower of melting hot shards of metal everywhere ripping through armour and flesh alike, several clones dropped where they stood or hid. CF-2517 watched as one tore through Taser’s shoulder taking an arm with it, Taser stood there transfixed by the sudden lack of appendage, eyes flicking from the wound to CF-2517 and back as his hand clutching at the stump. Then the rounds pelted them, slaughtering clones like sheep as thou they weren’t expecting it. Taser collapsed next to CF-2517, wide eyed and pale. Several rounds had smashed into his chest plate with several penetrating, blood leaked out of holes in the back of his armour, Save us Brother! trembled from Taser’s lips as his body convulsed before going limp.

Bodies of clones covered the ground and many more were pinned down by heavy clacker fire, still dazed by his friends death CF-2517 removed the shock gloves and braces himself to charge the cliff face occupied by the droids. As CF-2517 looks up to run from cover a blue light flashes between the rocks above, followed by a voice Don’t be shy boys let’s get to them.