Fay
Well-Known Member
I am Sigma-17, or Sven as my regiment like to call me. I laid down suppressive fire on CIS forces on this dustbowl planet with my compact DC-15 pistol right along side several of my brothers as two Jedi dissected droids left and right via lightsaber action. Both seemed to be of the same species, 'Elysians' as I've had heard them called, but with notable differences. The Master was female and had large, white, angelic wings, but the Padawan had fairly smaller wings and the appearance of a scrawny male. However, I am unsure if such a difference was from gender, sub-species, or even age.
"Sven, we need that bunker taken out.. NOW!" my commander, Sigma-02, broke his train of thought over the comm in their helmets.
"Yes, sir!" was my prompt reply as I placed the blaster pistol into its holder at my belt and unhooked the PLX-1 portable rocket launcher from my back.
My fellow brethren were falling by taking hits from all directions with no cover in sight... I would have to hurry. A bunker along a line of cliffs was our objective. Once this is destroyed, we can go home.. I told myself while aiming this personal cannon at the structure that was 10 kilometers.
A millisecond after pressing the trigger, I felt the violent vibration as the rocket lobbed out of the metallic tube at blinding speed. The expended shell popped out of the other end, ready for me to reload it. Ignoring it, I and every other clone around me watched hopefully as the rocket sped up over the distance and eventually ram into the bunker. A massive fireball had covered most of the installation before the sound of the explosion reached the ears of the ragged band of clones. Cheers sprang out as droids, whom were apparently ordered to retreat, disengaged.
I was grinning in his helmet when fate finally fought up with me. A single, long bolt of energy sliced through the air from the still fiery ruins of the bunker. The bolt embedded itself into my torso, burning through armor, scorching flesh, and charring bone. Dropping my PLX-1 in a fit of agony, I fell backwards as voices crowded around in my head. "Man down!", "We need a medic!!", and "Hang on, Sven.. Where's that damn medic??" were the most notable as Sigma-02 stood over me My vision blurred... but I could hear a beeping sound. The commander answered his communicator hurriedly as the two surviving medics busily tended to other clones, whom they believed to be more seriously injured. I couldn't tell, but the faint holo-image on the communicator was that of Chancellor, soon to be Emperor, Palpatine.
His sharp, disgusting voice stung my ears, even through the sound filters of my helmet, "Commander, activate Order 66..."
"It shall be done, my lord," was the automatic response. My vision and hearing would finally escape me shortly after that as my organs shut down and my body ceased to function. I was not even capable of realizing the unsuspected fate of our Jedi generals.
"Sven, we need that bunker taken out.. NOW!" my commander, Sigma-02, broke his train of thought over the comm in their helmets.
"Yes, sir!" was my prompt reply as I placed the blaster pistol into its holder at my belt and unhooked the PLX-1 portable rocket launcher from my back.
My fellow brethren were falling by taking hits from all directions with no cover in sight... I would have to hurry. A bunker along a line of cliffs was our objective. Once this is destroyed, we can go home.. I told myself while aiming this personal cannon at the structure that was 10 kilometers.
A millisecond after pressing the trigger, I felt the violent vibration as the rocket lobbed out of the metallic tube at blinding speed. The expended shell popped out of the other end, ready for me to reload it. Ignoring it, I and every other clone around me watched hopefully as the rocket sped up over the distance and eventually ram into the bunker. A massive fireball had covered most of the installation before the sound of the explosion reached the ears of the ragged band of clones. Cheers sprang out as droids, whom were apparently ordered to retreat, disengaged.
I was grinning in his helmet when fate finally fought up with me. A single, long bolt of energy sliced through the air from the still fiery ruins of the bunker. The bolt embedded itself into my torso, burning through armor, scorching flesh, and charring bone. Dropping my PLX-1 in a fit of agony, I fell backwards as voices crowded around in my head. "Man down!", "We need a medic!!", and "Hang on, Sven.. Where's that damn medic??" were the most notable as Sigma-02 stood over me My vision blurred... but I could hear a beeping sound. The commander answered his communicator hurriedly as the two surviving medics busily tended to other clones, whom they believed to be more seriously injured. I couldn't tell, but the faint holo-image on the communicator was that of Chancellor, soon to be Emperor, Palpatine.
His sharp, disgusting voice stung my ears, even through the sound filters of my helmet, "Commander, activate Order 66..."
"It shall be done, my lord," was the automatic response. My vision and hearing would finally escape me shortly after that as my organs shut down and my body ceased to function. I was not even capable of realizing the unsuspected fate of our Jedi generals.
