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CC-12355

Blaster Niceshot

BlasterNiceshotInfobox
Biographical information
Homeworld

Kaminoplanet Kamino

Born

32 BBY

Physical description
Species

Human (Clone)

Gender

male

Hair color

light brown

Eye color

brown

Skin color

fair

Handedness

right-handed

Chronological and political information
Era(s)

Clone Wars

Rise of the Empire Era

Rebellion Era

Affiliation

Galactic Republic Super Troopers

Galactic Republic

Rank

Field Marshal

Family

MommyWan Secura

Dad Bane

NICK NICESHOT

SYAL NICESHOT

STRIKER NICESHOT

CLONE NICESHOT

Squad Rank

Leadericon Leader

Battle Class

Bc icon jediBc icon mercenaryBc icon sithBc icon trooperExileTechnician

"Come on Super Troopers! Let's move!"
– Blaster Niceshot

     CC-12355, or Blaster Niceshot, was cloned on Kamino in 32 BBY. He became a Field Marshal after a few years of serving in many life-threatening and important battles. Later on, he decided to start building magnificent structures for the Republic, but he eventually began building things that were not for the war.

Kamino Training

The 53rd Attempt

     "I really don't think this is a good idea!" yelled CC-12355 as his fellow cadets played dead in a Kamino training session. Nicknamed "Blaster" for having an excellent aim with a blaster pistol, he'd been wishing he was born a tactical officer rather than a clone soldier for the past few weeks. The cadet squad Blaster had been apart of was called Shooter Squad, because, rather oddly, all of the clones in the squad had names that had something to do with a weapon. They failed exactly 53 times and were lucky not to have been made cleaning clones- not yet, at least. Bolt, Barrel, and Target were laying motionless on the hard gray floor and trying to make the droids stop firing, or at least distract them. While they did this, Blaster, Rifle, and Shooter were tasked with climbing up turrets and pulling a light out of its stand. Bolt divised this plan and invited himself to become the team leader. Unfortunately, to his confusion, the droids thought the clones laying on the floor had already been stunned and were firing at the others. The fact that the droids didn't fire at targets that seemingly were knocked out or stunned hadn't occured to him.

Shootersquad1

     Now, Blaster and Rifle were running as fast as they possibly could towards the towering wall of turrets, since it was harder for the turrets to shoot them when they were against the wall than when they were running around the course. Shooter, who happened to be carrying a Rotary Blaster Cannon, decided that instead of dragging the heavy weapon and armor around, it would just be better to be stunned. He was already limping from a fall in their 52nd attempt, and this didn't help his situation.

     "Shooter! Are you ok?!" Blaster called over to his fellow unconscious clone. He turned to Rifle. "We have to get him to a safe spot, or we'll fail again!"

     "What about the others?" Rifle replied with a worried look. "They'll get stunned, too."

     Bolt, Barrel, and Target were having problems of their own. They were no longer in their playing dead positions, and the droids were now firing at them, too. Bolt, looking over his shoulder, could tell that this wasn't going to end well.

     "Barrel, Target! Get the cables off your belts and-"

     BOOM!

The left wall of the training area exploded, and droids poured into the room.

Meanwhile, During the 53rd Attempt

Grevious gets a Bad Cold

     Meanwhile, during the Shooter Squad's 53rd attempt, a massive droid fleet emerged from hyperspace around Kamino. It had been a few months since the droids had attacked Kamino last time, and General Grevious, who was determined the Republic would not win this time, had the unfortunate luck to catch a cold right in the middle of his glorious moment of heading to Kamino and fighting the Republic. He was coughing twice as much as normal.

     "Commander, prepare *cough cough* to *cough* launch the *cough cough cough* assault," Grevious ordered a red-colored command B1 battle droid. This battle droid, who along with many other battle droids alike, was having a difficult time processing what his cyborg-general had said.

     "Uh... yes sir," the battle droid replied, thinking Grevious had said, "Commander, prepare to launch the assault rocket into the command ship."

    
Grevious1
The battle droid began to run down the corridors and hallways of the Separatist frigate towards the hanger bay, where the rocket was being stored. Grevious, whom had a headache on top of his cough, was a little confused on why the battle droid was leaving the bridge, but wasn't in the condition to think to stop him. So, the battle droid was running as fast as his metal legs could carry him, for Grevious had smashed many unfortunate battle droids who had not completed his orders "in time". Clank clank, clank clank clank, clank clank. When the droid reached the hanger bay, the rocket was put in place to fire at the Separatist command ship.

     "Three. Two. One. KABOOM!"

     The rocket blasted off in one large explosive push towards the command ship. A few battle droids were burned or completely smashed from the energy of the explosion, and a few more were broken or knocked over by flying droid arms, legs, and heads. Grevious, whom was still on the bridge, watched as the assault rocket that was supposed to burst into a Republic cruiser, exploded in a firey burst into his own command ship. Even worse for Grevious and his fleet, the command ship had been equiped with 57 more assault rockets, which exploded and took out three nearby ships. Those ships, each having another assault rocket, exploded seven more ships. Every ship contained an assault rocket, and half of Grevious's magnificent fleet burned up in a crippling fire ball. Half of the remaining half had lost an engine or two, a bridge, turbolasers, or some other part making them unable to participate in combat. Now, Grevious, who had been so confident, was flying towards Kamino with one-fourth of a fleet, just because his bad cold had made the battle droid who gave orders to fire the missle hear him incorrectly.

Inside the Republic Fleet

     It had just so happened that Grevious, who had been having even more coughing problems and headaches all day, was not the only one to have caught a cold. Since it's a bad idea for cyborgs to wash their hands, Grevious had been spreding germs all over the place. Battle droids, computers, ships and various other objects were home to a vast number of germs. Just recently, the Republic and the Separatists were in battle on Ryloth. Grevious had been in charge of that attack too, and it just so happened that he caught his cold from a clone trooper during that attack.
Image20140305-17-20-07
Grevious already coughed quite a lot, so even though he wasn't feeling the cold's effects yet, both blaster bolts and germs were flying through the air. 100 of the clone troopers at that battle each caught the same cold Grevious had. Unfortunately, these 100 clones didn't know they had a cold, so when they were traveling back to base they infected 1,000 more clones.
Bumpercruisersscreen
Those 1,000 clones infected 10,000 more clones, and those 10,000 clones infected 100,000 more clones. This all added up to 111,100 infected clones, not including the 1,000 fleet officers that each caught colds. 112,100 Republic units were now sick, and some of the cruisers guarding Kamino were entirely infected. None of these clones were in the right condition to be navigating a cruiser, so when cruisers started bumping into each other as if they were in a game of Bumper Cruisers, which actually was a game onboard some of the ships, much dismay was caused in the Republic fleet.

Attack of the One-Fourth Fleet

     Even though Grevious was sick and he now led one-fourth of a fleet, the attack on Kamino had to proceed. Darth Sidious had told Grevious that if he failed to capture Kamino again, he would have to do the hula for an upcoming Separatist festival.

     "Grevious, do not fail me again. Next time I will make you do the hula during the Throw-Marshmallows-At-The-Jedi Festival and make a spectacle of yourself," Sidious had warned Grevious in a holographic message, trying unsuccessfully to sound serious and not laugh.

     "Of course, Lord Sidious. My fleet *cough cough* will not fail again," Grevious replied worriedly.

     Unbeknownst to either of them, however, the Republic fleet wasn't in much of a respectable condition either. No one who was on board the cruisers was in the condition to transmit a message back to Kamino, much less the Chancellor.

     Grevious' dwindling fleet closed in for attack. In a bright red and blue flash of blaster bolts, both sides opened fire. Cruisers, frigates and the like broke apart and exploded in enormous orangish-yellowish blasts. BOOM, BOOM, CRASH! More and more ships went down as the sickly Republic troops and power-drained battle droids struggled to aim, sometimes hitting their own ships by mistake. Suddenly, the Separatist ships began to move straight into the Republic blockade.

     CRUUUUUUUNCH! Four Republic cruisers blew up or broke apart in a massive, loud explosion as two Separatist command ships collided into them. A large hole was opened in the Republic defenses, perfect for the opposing fleet to get through. From the surface of Kamino, the sky lit up with a boom as if the currently non-existant Death Star had suddenly exploded. Back in the cosmic battlefield, the Republic cruisers zig-zagged to try to block the Separatist fleet from breaking through. They were too late, however, as the one-eighth remainder of the Separatist fleet burst through the weakened blockade. As transports landed on the surface, droids began their assault on the cloning facilities.


Back in the Training Center

      Clank, clank. The sound of machines marching in unison and bright glows of blaster fire filled the room as Shooter Squad turned to see the heart-pounding sight of an entire legion of droids. Target, Barrel, and Bolt quickly began firing at their new opponents, but their weapons were equiped for deactivating holograms and in no way capable of destroying a single clanker.

     "Uh-oh!" Blaster yelled worriedly, "The training droids are still activated!"

      Sure enough, Bolt, Barrel, and Target looked behind their shoulders just in time to catch the sight of the holographic training droids aiming and stunning them. They fell on the ground motionless, this time not pretending.

     "Destroy the power source for the training droids!" ordered Blaster to Rifle, thinking quickly as holographic and real droids alike began to fire in their direction.

     Rifle and Blaster both had excellent aims for two training clones, and Rifle made the final blast to the power source that shut off all the lights and training droids in the room.

Plenty of, "Oops!", "Excuse me,", and, "Where did they go?" echoed through the room due to a signifigant number of confused droids bumping into each other. No one, unfortunately including Blaster and Rifle, could see in the pitch blackness that engulfed the training room.

     CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK! Something that sounded like an old heavy metal door that was being opened for the first time in fifty years broke in the darkness, and everything went silent. Blaster looked up at the ceiling, where he thought he had heard the sound, but he could only see darkness. Oh, it's nothing. Just some metal from the damaged wall got bumped, Blaster thought to himself. Suddenly, he remembered something. Something that meant big, big trouble.

     While Blaster and Rifle were shooting at the power source to the clone training center, one of the bolts blasted through the super glue which was all that was attaching a piece of old scrap metal to the ceiling. The scrap metal was slowly giving way under the force of gravity and right above Blaster and Rifle. They could not, of course, see the pending danger to get out of the way.

     Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh! Blaster thought as he heard the noise of creaking metal. Maybe it was over to the left a little more. Yup. It isn't above us about to squash us like Palpatine Pancakes with some sticky and delicious Senator Syrup. Mmmmm! I haven't had those in a while. I-

     Suddenly, a long loud creaking and crashing sound filled the room. Blaster knew the piece of metal was above them now. He was about to warn Rifle, who didn't realize what was above them, to get out of the way, but then something as hard and cold as metal and a lot of dust smashed into the heads of Blaster and Rifle.

Run!

    Something stirred and moaned under the jagged metal scraps. Dust billowed in choking clouds.

    "Uggggggggggh"

    The patrol droids looked down at the wreckage in astonishment. What was that? Could the clone trainees really be alive?

    No. They couldn't be. One hundred pounds of sharp-edged steel falling on two cadet's heads must guarantee that they would be dead, mustn't they?

    Blaster opened his eyes, his head pounding. Where am I?, he thought to himself. He took a glance at his surroundings, remembering that he was in the training center, and something had fallen on his head. Blaster moved his arm to push away the metal shards in front of his visor. CREEEEEEAK!

    "What was that?" a robotic, clanky voice asked suspiciously.

    Blast! Those clankers are still here, Blaster thought to himself in worry. He tried to stay as still as possible until he could think of a plan.

    SCREEEEEEEECH! Blaster felt the weight of the metal above him lessening as the droids began to search the wreckage for any survivors that must have been the source of the noise. They were getting close. Too close. He moved his hand slowly down to his spare, just-in-case DC-15s blaster and looked behind him. There was more room to move, now that the signifigant removal of the weight above had caused some of the metal sheets to slide around. He saw Rifle, but could tell that his fellow clone was unconscious, and there was no time to try to wake him. Blaster reached into one of his pockets for a quick snack, as the thought of Palpatine Pancakes and getting hit on the head can make one hungry, but found a pen.

    Just then, the droids pulled the last piece of steel off of Blaster. Sunlight was pouring into the room through the hole in the ceiling as Blaster took the pen and squirted ink in one of the droid's faces.

    "AAAAAAAH! I have been attacked by a land squid!" the droid screamed, though land squids did not exist.

    Blaster jumped and ran as fast as a rolling droideka towards the exit to the training center, looking behind him only to shoot at the droids. Blaster bolts whizzed past his head and he turned left onto the platforms that lead away from the training center.

Platform Skirmish

    Blaster breathed heavily, as if he was a panting dog. That was close, he thought to himself. Only a cadet and I already had one life-threatening experince. Probably more to come. He kept walking at a leisurely pace, trying to catch his breath. The skies were clear today, unlike most Kaminoan days. Blaster admired the waving water glently sloshing while creatures of all different shapes and sizes swam care free in their underwater home. The water was a translucent teal, and a pleasant, mild breeze ruffled Blaster's black hair, the standard style of cadets.

    Scenery was not to deter any undesirable circumstances, however, as a platoon of B2 battle droids marched up along the platform, some way behind Blaster.

    "Hey, you! Hold it right there!" the B2 commander called, as he and his squad aimed their built-in hand weapons at Blaster.

    "Oh... um, don't mind me. I'm just admiring this beautiful day. No need to get nasty...," Blaster laughed nervously.

    "You are under arrest."

    "I was just leaving..."

    The B2s opened fire and Blaster quickly dodged out of the way as a blaster bolt nearly decapitated him. He shot down a few of his opponents, but he knew he couldn't fend off so many. Wait a second. They are droids. They can't swim! He thought to himself. Blaster turned around, ran to the edge of an intersection, fired a few desperate times, and jumped into the ice cold water.

     Blaster dove downwards, just far enough that the droid assailants could no longer see him. More droids came to the scene as the search began for the clone cadet, and Blaster desperately swam away from the platforms, into the open ocean. He swam for hours, but gradually he lost enough energy for his backstroke and began a sluggish doggy-paddle across the perilous, freezing ocean.

    Blaster saw smoke in the distance. Buildings. But they were too far away, and he was too tired. He grabbed onto a piece of floating sheet metal and decided to use it as a makeshift raft. He climbed up on top of it, a tad bit surprised that it had not sunk, and laid down to rest. Only for a few minutes, he thought, but slowly, his eyes began to close, and he fell asleep.

Smoke is Never a Positive Sign

    Blaster's body ached as he opened his eyes. The sun was low now, and dusk was already upon Kamino. He looked around. The waves had not carried him far, and lucky for him, he had not drowned. The buildings were in clear view now, and Blaster could swim to them as long as no droids began patrolling the area. He attached the sheet metal to the extension cable of his blaster, clipped the blaster to his belt, and began to backstroke towards the buildings.

    Blaster had only been swimming for ten minutes when he gripped the edge of the low platforms that led up to the buildings. He climbed up and pulled the sheet metal out of the water.

    The area appeared to be deserted as Blaster surveyed his surroundings. He was in one of the main and busiest sections of the Kamino cloning facilities. The sounds of machines working or friendly clone chatter was absent from the usually noisy center. Stone-colored smoke rose from one of the storage buildings. Blaster decided to investigate, and when he entered the smoking storage building he gasped. Fire, he thought, trembling in fear.

     The storage room contained a small supply of ammo and weapons, along with some food supplies. The ceiling was low, and only one large flame could easily have engulfed the entire room. Absolutely everything was scorched, blackened, and burned. Blaster lifted a charred clone trooper helmet of the floor, marked with a tally of droid kills and the identification number CT-3457. This clone must have been captured, Blaster determined in half-relief. The rest of his armor isn't here.

    Carrying the helmet under his arm, Blaster pressed the green entrance button of the nearest dining hall, only to discover several squads of B1 battle droids and three droidekas guarding the far exit that lead into the hallway. I should have known, Blaster thought. Smoke is never a positive sign. He lifted up the piece of scrap metal, using it as a shield. Boy! This thing really is one of the best things to bring in battle. I'll have to suggest it to one of the generals, he realized as a the piece of steel acted as a shield against an incoming blaster bolt that would have went straight through his armor.

    After a few minutes, all the B1 battle droids laid deactivated on the floor, but the three droidekas were going to put up more of a fight. Blaster's back was up against the wall- and the emergency defense button, used as extra defense against anyone attacking the dining hall. The button clicked and intense, red emergency lights flashed so monotonously and vividly that they stung Blaster's eyes. A thick fog-like smoke filled the room so that all Blaster could see was grey, blaster bolts, and spots in his eyes from the emergency lights. "Not a nice combination," he later recalled.

    Blaster heard weapons firing from somewhere above him to his left, and the barrage of droideka fire ceased. Utilizing the visor on CT-3457's blackened helmet, he was able to make out a security cannon with a small, black Republic symbol printed on its lower right side. Blaster turned his attention to navigating his way out of the cloudly fogginess of the dining hall.

    Stepping over droid parts and hoping he would not trip, Blaster accidentally walked through the doorway of the control room instead of the hallway. A shield activated behind him and he could see clearly now since the control room was not filled with smoke.  It was a small closet-like room, and the walls looked as if they glowed red from all the lit red control buttons. Wires and computers covered the walls and floors, and Blaster felt like he became the size of an ant and was playing hop-scotch inside a computer. Near the back of the room, a tied-up helmetless clone sat with his head down, almost like he was sleeping. The clone looked up as Blaster carefully stepped over the tangled wires. Blaster paused for only a moment as he saw a long scar across the clone's right eye and blackened dust from a fire.

    "What are you doing here, *cough* cadet?" The clone spoke warily, "You shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous."

"I didn't really have a choice, sir. My training session ended abruptly when droids attacked. Are you alright, sir?" Blaster replied.

    "I see. I'm CT-3457, but you can call me Storm," the clone said, ignoring Blaster's question.

    "I'm Blaster... um... I found your helmet," Blaster answered nervously. Oh, I hate introductions like this! he thought with anguish.

    "Thank you. I know you are a cadet, Blaster, but if you made it through those droids, I think you can handle a mission." Blaster leaned in to hear what Storm said next. "There's a landing platform nearby that the droids took over. They are keeping a device there that is suppling the battle droids with extra power on a MTT. You have to take it out."

    "Yes sir!"

    Blaster untied the injured Storm and helped him stand up. Blaster knew Storm would not be able to come, and the rest of Shooter Squad might not be able to find him with their tracking devices before he reached the platform, if they were even awake. I have to complete my first mission, Blaster decided in a mix of worry and excitement.

Mission Accepted

    Blaster stepped over threshold into the hallway. The walls were red, like those of the control room, except the color was from emergency lights. Blast marks, smoke, and deactivated battle droids made it clear that the hallway was host to a small battle. He turned the corner into another hallway that looked similar to the one connected to the dining hall. The droids must have gone this way, he decided.

    The hallways became almost like a large and confusing maze. Blaster turned corners and opened doors that occasionally went in a circle, and others were so long and twisty he forgot how to get back. Finally, he opened a back door that opened up to the outside. He felt a rush of water as he climbed up old, decrepit metal stairs that creaked and screeched when he stepped on them, like an old door that was being opened for the first time in fifty years. When he reached the top, he saw the backs of a MMT and two command tanks. Luckily, none of the droids inside heard the racket from the stairs. Blaster ducked back onto the stairs quickly as a droid from one of the tanks climbed out and shouted to the operators of the MTT.

     "It is time to change positions. We need to keep the filthy clone scum on their toes."

    Well, he must be refering to someone else. I took a shower this morning, Blaster thought as the droid closed the hatch of the tank and it began to move. The confusion of the moving vehicles will open up time for me to get closer. Just then, the door behind him opened. He loaded his weapon but stopped when he saw who it was.

    "Rifle! Barrel! Target! Bolt! Shooter!" Blaster whispered excitedly, "Stay low, there are droids up there. How did you catch up to me in time?"

    "The speeder garage wasn't far away," Rifle smiled.

    "Oh. Follow me, I have a plan. There's a module on the MTT that-"

    "Yes, we know. Storm told us about it," Barrel whispered loudly, cutting Blaster off.

    "We need to move before the droids finish rearranging themselves. Come on!" Blaster whispered as he climbed over the rim of the platform.

    The clone cadets quietly snuck to a pile of crates in front of the enemy vehicles. Blaster was right, the confusion of the position change made it easy for them to sneak over to the perfect attack position.

    "Ok guys. Follow me and do exactly what I do. There's not enough time to explain the plan," Blaster ordered his fellow cadets.

    They jumped over the crates and aimed their weapons at the nearest AAT. A grapling hook shot out of each and they pulled the tank with all their might into the MTT. The droids did not have enough time to react before the tank's momentum took it straight into the MMT. BOOM! The explosion caught the last AAT and all three vehicles went up in flames.

ARC Troopers

    "Wooooooooo!" Barrel yelled as a battle droid was forced up into the air from the heat and landed it front of them.

    "Now what?" Target looked at Blaster expectantly.

    "Well... I suppose we should get off this platform before reinforcements arrive. I don't know where to go from there, though." Blaster replied, hesitating slightly.

    "You don't sound so sure," Bolt pointed out, "If you are going to lead us around, you should have some idea of what you're doing."

    "Then what are we supposed to do? Fight an entire legion of droids?" Blaster argued back. Anybody but Bolt, he thought, He'd order us to do something "brave". 

    As if in answer, a LAAT flew overhead and landed a few meters away, using its fire equipment to douse the flames leaping from the defeated Separatist tanks. The door opened, and an ARC commander stepped out and motioned from them to come in the ship. Blaster saw Storm sitting in the back of the ship, and the injured clone patted him on the back as he entered the ship.

    "Nice job, Rookie," Storm said, smiling.

    Blaster could feel a change in the pressure in the gunship after a few minutes, as if they were in the atmosphere and now traveling off Kamino entirely and into the enormous, void blackness of space. Where are we going? he thought worriedly. This could be a trap and that ARC trooper might be a battle droid in disguise! Ugh, there goes my habit of pointless worrying again.

     The gunship passed through the shield of a Republic attack cruiser and its passengers were rocked with a jolt as it touched down in the hangar bay. Whew. That could have ended poorly, Blaster thought as the door opened and he saw other Republic vehicles and clones stationed around the hangar. The ARC commander stepped out of the gunship and once again motioned for the others to follow. Blaster tilted his head slightly to the right to see if Storm followed, but a medical team had come to take Storm down to the medical bay down the hall.

    "Cadets! Listen up!" the ARC commander ordered in a drill-sergeant voice, startling Blaster. "General Skywalker has requested to speak with you. Meet him in Hangar 221."

    "Yes sir!"

    Target pressed the button to open the blast door that led to Hangar 221, a larger room connected to the smaller one they were previously in. LAATs, AT-RTs, AT-TEs, and Y-wings all moved about and the hangar was busy with clones guiding the incoming ships, squads landing straight from the heat of battle, and a few pilots who were discussing their adventures in the Kaminoan atmosphere. Anakin Skywalker stood near the middle of the half-order-half-chaos with his arms folded, looking out into space. He turned around as Shooter Squad approached.

    "Hello, cadets," he greeted them with a slight wave. "I just wanted to tell you how it is an honor to serve with brave clones like you in the battlefield."

    Oh no, Blaster thought as Skywalker continued on and on and on about bravery and being a soldier. Not this. Can't he just say, "Congratuations on your victory!" and be done?

    "Anyway," Skywalker continued, "I think you all have proven that you can fight alongside the rest of our troops and more importantly, as ARC Troopers. As for you, Commander," he nodded to Blaster, "perhaps you will have a few opportunities to change positions if you feel you no longer want to fight on the front. After many battles, of course!"

    Well, Blaster thought excitedly, that was unexpected. Shooter Squad saluted with pride, and they each knew the same thing: Their 53rd attempt had been successful.

Second Battle of Geonosis

You Call That a Pretty Good Landing?

    KABOOM! A large explosion rocked the ground as ARC Commander CC-12355 or "Blaster" looked over the edge of the LAAT at the enormous battle raging below. It was hard to believe that the Republic was, for the second time, sending an attack force to Geonosis. He could not decide if he was excited or worried, as this was only his second mission, at leading a small task force to infiltrate a droid stronghold located slightly north of the main conflict. There is just so much dirt and sand! he thought to himself, remembering the abundance of water that nearly covered the entire surface on his home planet of Kamino.

    It had been a month since his first mission and Blaster's promotion to ARC Commander, when he and his training squad, Shooter Squad, destroyed an MTT that was carrying a module supplying the Separatist invasion force with power pack refills. Since then, he had been receiving extra training for becoming an ARC Commander when he was assigned the mission to destroy the droid stronghold. The mission was not a surprise for Blaster, ever since he completed the final level of training and the Grand Army of the Republic engaged in battle with the Separatists on Geonosis. Clone commanders were few and far between, and the exalted Republic officers saw it as a rare opportunity to take a final evaluation on a new commander and take out a Separatist garrison at the same time.

    "Alright men," Blaster addressed the clone squad behind him as the LAAT approached the landing site. "When we land, we'll head two klicks to the north and break into the Seppies' base through the back entrance. Once we're in, we will locate the control room and set explosives and hopefully make it out before the place crashes to the ground. Got it?"

    "Sir, yes sir!" The clones shouted in unison.

    Suddenly, a Geonosian fighter crashed straight into the back of the ship which burst into flames and fell off completely, taking the engines with it. Blaster knew the change in pressure would create a vacuum and he pulled out one of his pistols and sent a grapling hook into the front of the ship, and about half of his squad did the same. The other half was not so lucky, and they were sucked out of the ship like a pile of small LEGOs that were being vacuumed up on a hardwood floor. Blaster pulled his second pistol and shot one of the clones with a grapling hook as the clone was thrown out of the ship. At least I was able to save one, he thought sadly as his brothers plunged downwards.

The pilot was having difficulties of his own. What remained of the LAAT was plummeting warp-speed towards the ground. It hit the surface, and everyone inside was knocked off their feet or, in the pilot's case, went straight through the glass-covering of the cockpit. Clones began to climb out of the wreckage and onto the dry, nearly waterless, war-torn surface. The air smelled of fire and war, and several blast marks scorched the landscape. A downed Geonosian fighter was burning up on a small hill nearby, and the Separatist base loomed in the distance.

    "Well, that was a pretty good landing!" Lava, the pilot, yelled with a tone of adventure and excitement.

    "You call that a pretty good landing?" Rockslicer, a clone sergeant, retorted. "Now we're stuck out here in the middle of nowhere on a planet infested with those ugly bugs!"

    "Settle down, troopers," Blaster ordered the two clones who looked like they were going to start an argument. He turned his attention towards getting the remainder of his men into the base. "We need to get moving before those bugs or the clankers figure out we're coming."

    The still-startled clone squad began to march slowly towards the Separatist base, unaware of what dangers awaited them there.

A Hallway?

    Clang! Clone trooper Hedgehog, the squad's experienced slicer, dropped his bulky collection of delicate dentist-looking tools on the steel platform outside the back door of the Separatist base. He sighed at the long task ahead of him, his spirits already down from loosing many of his brothers in the LAAT crash and an hour-long walk through a light sandstorm. He wiped the sand off his visor as if he was wiping sweat from his forehead while the remnants of the team watched with even less enthusiam.

    "Let's hope the Seppies don't check the back door too often," Blaster whispered as loud as his dared, looking behind his shoulder. "If they find us, they'll blast us to bits."

     Blaster looked down at the clock he had installed in his armor. Fifteen minutes gone.

    Sixteen.

    Seventeen.

    Click!

    The thick, blast-proof door opened, disappearing into the wall above it, revealing a dark, bitterly cold hallway. Or what looked like a hallway.

The Maze

    The walls of solid, jagged rock formed a short, dark, barrel-shaped tunnel that smelled slightly of rotten eggs and spoiled milk. The clones activated the lights on their visors so that they shown blindingly in the darkness and looked down the tunnel.

    "Catacombs...," Rockslicer realized. "Let's go home."

    "We can't," Blaster replied. "It's too late to go back now. We don't even have a ship. Come on, we need to move."

    The bedraggled clone squad entered the catacombs that were leading deep into the planet's crust. Sleeping Geonosians infested the dreary tunnels, and the clones knew that if just one of those bugs woke up, they would be done for. The lumps and bumps in the floor of the tunnel nearly caused some clones to trip.

    "Gotcha!" Lava whispered very loudly as Eagle Eyes stumbled over a particularly large rock.

    "Quiet, Lava. Those bugs are going to wake up!" Blaster ordered, but it was too late.

    A Geonosian to Blaster's left stirred and opened its eyes. It looked around and starred straight at the clones for a moment, but closed its eyes again as if it had not been awake enough to see them.

    "That was close. Nobody say a word and watch your step," Blaster reminded his team in a soft whisper.

     Hours passed. They were wandering through tunnels with no knowledge of where they were going and whatever tunnel they entered seemed to connect to five more tunnels that all went deeper- the opposite direction of which they wanted to be traveling. Finally, after nearly waking up the Geonosians again, Lava motioned for them to come over.

    "A hole in the ceiling? That's weird," Rockslicer commented as Lava pointed upwards.

    Bright light, though distinctly not sunlight, poured through the hole and they activated their grapling hooks, each of them shimmying up their rope and into the room above. The ceiling was high above them, at least forty meters from the floor. A humongous door and yellow striped lines indicated that this was a hanger. Luckily for the clones, all the ships that were being stored here had flown out to battle, and the hanger was completely empty of both starfighters and life.

    "What now, Commander?" Inquired Slice, an elder and experienced sergeant, to Blaster.

    "Hedgehog, try to get a read on where the power source is coming from. That'll be the reactor room," Blaster ordered the already-tired clone slicer.

    "There appears to be a secret passage that way, sir," Hedgehog replied, pointing to his right and looking back on his computer screen. "But I'm picking up a life form that way too. A big life form. There's another way around but it looks like we'll have to trudge through some more of those blasted catacombs and it's twice as long. I still don't think going the shorter way is a good idea."

    "I'd agree with you, but we don't have time," Blaster decided, already walking towards the right wall and using the self-installed laser on his glove to cut an opening into the wall.

Like the Catacombs Weren't Dreadful Enough

The wall crumbled forwards in a choking cloud of dust and debris, nearly squashing Blaster into a Palpatine pancake, and a nauseating stench like that of something fishy that had been gloomily forgotten and neglected for millenniums spread through the room as if it was dye being dropped into a bowl of clear water.  A dark passage emerged from the rubble and the disheveled clones held their noses as they entered, which was tricky, considering the nose is not easily accessible with a helmet on. Note to self: Always check expiration dates on eggs, Blaster thought to himself, crouching under a low rock while his stomach lingered far behind him. They give us training to battle these super deadly, carcinogenic, bloodthirsty monsters that we have a 0.005% percent chance of coming across, but not sickening smells that will make us pass out. Brilliant!

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