Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Unlucky Reassignment - Part 1




JACEN BRESKA
CT-312 CT-312

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// On a border planet somewhere in Sith space..\\

“It’s just another boring patrol,” Jacen said with a huff.

“Quit your whining, 710.” A gruff voice ahead of him yapped back.

“Both of you shut up. I’d like to do this quickly. And quietly.” The commander said, casting a quick glance at Jacen and the other trooper, before turning back to Jacen, “For the record, 710, boring is good.” He said again, walking back down the line and gave a small, reassuring smack to Jacens shoulder before turning around and retaking his place at the head of the column.

“Boring is boring…” Jacen muttered under his breath, stepping over a small fallen tree as he continued walking, obeying his order to keep quiet,


This wasn’t the idea he originally had for his gallant service to the Sith. Shipped off to a border world in a small garrison simply to establish an Imperial presence on a planet that didn’t want them there, but didn’t do anything about it. Sixty days Jacen had been here, with sixty patrols with Squad 13. The garrison had been here for a year itself and in that time? Never a peep.

It bred complacency. Complacency that Jacen abhorred.

“It’ll pass.” they said, they all said. The twelve other members of Patrol Squad 13.

Thirteen soldiers in Squad thirteen? Someone got a real good laugh out of that, Jacen remembered thinking.

“Everyone gets here thinking they’re going to remain the top little soldier. It’ll pass.”

“Welcome to the rest of your life, 710.”
They continued to joke, first the squad, then the rest of the Garrison. All taking their turns ribbing on Jacen. It was tradition, they said finally. The newest soldier always got the ribbing, so the former newest soldier always cheered whenever the new guy showed up, finally. Sometimes it was a few days or even a few hours, sometimes months, as Jacen had learned firsthand. Two months and not only did they not get any new soldiers, they didn’t get any supplies. Thankfully, they were plenty supplied already, but it was…odd.

A place the Empire seemed to want to forget.

How none of them ate their blaster, Jacen never knew. How could you call yourself an Imperial and let yourself go like this? Resigning yourself to this fate where the best you could hope for was some poor soul took your place as the newest soldier in the Garrison? It was…disgraceful.

Still…it wasn’t all bad. The food was serviceable, the quarters were…fine. It was mostly Jacen’s pride that was suffering.

He continued to complain silently to himself for a few more minutes, the night time wildlife the only sounds he heard aside from the sounds of the squad moving through the foliage.

“Hold,” Squad Lead had ordered, holding a hand up in a fist as he put a hand to his ear. Then, with urgency, he whipped his head around, “RTB," He couldn’t contain the yell, gesturing madly with his hand, “The Garrison is under attack!”


// ISD LADY OF FORTUNE \\




Jacen sat on the uncomfortable metal chair, his helmet in his lap with his fingers idly tapping away on it as his eyes glazed over, remembering that night. The night his squad..his entire garrison died. When he called for evacuation, he scarcely believed anyone would actually come get him. Why waste the resources for one Stormtrooper? Yet, someone did.. Eventually. And now he was here,

The ISD Lady of Fortune, sitting in a room of wall to wall grey panels and white lights, typical Imperial design, surrounded by Stormtroopers. Every single one of them bore a different unit marking on their armor. Not a single one of them matched. Not a single one of them were from the same system, even. Every now and again, a new Stormtrooper would walk in through the door, and every single one of them had the same reaction. A bewildered look around before silently finding a place to wait.

It had been like this the past week. The Troopers had their own barracks, but every day they assembled in this room, and one or two of them would be summoned past a wide door on the far end of the room for several minutes before coming out, looking like they’d seen a ghost, and silently leaving the room not once answering the questions of the other troopers. It put Jacen on edge. Far as he could tell, the Star Destroyer was travelling through Imperial space, gathering individual troopers from each system, and then interviewing them. It had something to do with the attack, he thought, it had to. Nothing else made sense. But that didn’t bring him any comfort.

Was that why everyone was so…unnerved walking from the room? Were they all part of some attack? Were they told they were being punished? No, that made no sense. If they were being punished, the Sith would just punish them… right? Or maybe…

Jacen shook his head, willing the thoughts to go away. It didn’t matter, he thought, he was here now, and the path ahead of him was clear… for the next immediate step, anyway. Wait to be called, go discuss whatever had to be discussed.

He shifted uncomfortably in the metal seat, and waited.


 
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//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Jacen Breska 'TK-710' //:
//: ISD LADY OF FORTUNE //:
//: Attire //:

f35bf6e513ad0b117baa4d116cd650d8f6804da2.pnj


As the transport shuttle docked in the Star Destroyer, CT-312 along with a few other Troopers stepped out into the bay. Falling in line one right after another, they waited to be given the next orders. Shifting her eyes behind the visor of the helmet, she scanned across the docking bay. CT-312 noticed this was an affiliated Sith starship.

Unlike her.

A random Trooper that gets leant out to the highest bidder around the system. It surprised her that the Sith’s Star Destroyer was her destination. She focused on the open bay doors, watching the transport shuttles and fighters flying in and out. CT-312 could only think of how much she just wanted to be anywhere, but in space. There was something unnerving most times when she was assigned off-world. Being in large ships or other planets made her randomly uneasy at times. So far, everything seems to be fine. She focused her eyes back as her thoughts were interrupted by the barking of orders.

“Listen up you lot! I will be escorting you to your destination. Keep up and move out!”

They began following the escort across the docking bay through a large set of pneumatic doors that slid open. As they passed through, they entered a corridor. The air was cold. The walls were smooth gray steel with the lights casting sharp shadows, exposing every edge in detail. The humming from machinery was drowned out by their boots clicking. All that could be heard was a rhythmical beat from their marching as their footsteps made contact with the metallic floor. They would occasionally pass by a ventilation shaft or doorway. It felt as if there were no signs of life aside from the echoes of their footsteps. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly as they made multiple left and right turns continuing on.
_

“Looks like we got Leftovers assigned to us this time”
_

CT-312 did not know why her 13th mission was replaying in her head. She kept her gaze straight ahead as she continued to follow in line as they were marching towards their destination.
_

“Sir, I’ve completed my surveillance of the outpost up front. I have a feeling, I think we should wait for backup or advance with caution at a safe distance Sir.” CT-312 reported. Handing over a data pad that contained the scouting report. She felt uneasy about this mission for some odd reason. Mayhap it was finally her age getting to her?

Her current squad leader scoffed.
Then dismissively responded.

“Leftovers don’t think and certainly their opinions don’t matter.”

He continued scanning through the data pad. Not too long after, his head lifted up. He began giving his next orders for the squad.

“It seems the outpost isn’t properly manned. They have only a few stationed inside and out. This is a basic sweep Troopers. We should be in and out in no time!”
_


A sudden loud hiss of one of the passing doors brought CT-312 back to the present. She shook her head ever so slightly side to side that it was hardly noticeable as they continued marching through the corridor’s labyrinth.

Of course the squad leader somehow knew that she had sneakily placed explosive charges throughout the outpost for safety measures. She would not be surprised if it was in her file when she was assigned to the squad at the time. What else was on her file she wondered? Shifting her thoughts, CT-312 began thinking of what really bothered her.

Why was it that she was the only one that survived the slaughter? What eliminated her squad so quickly, when the opposition had such little forces nor the supplies to fight them off properly. At the time, why did she feel uncertainty? This wasn’t like her. She was always confident in herself, even for being a ‘failed’ clone. It was stupid. Disliking the fact that she felt like this as soon as she began to be continuously shipped off-world missions. Not understanding, CT-312 started to get irritated and mad.
_

Screams and yelling could be heard over the radio comms. She immediately laid down cover fire from the entrance of the outpost. Before she knew it, there was only one voice left. It was the squad leader. He frantically shouted the command.

“312. Blow this son of a Karabast and this Farkled outpost sky high! That’s an order.”

_
Coming to a sudden halt, CT-312 and the other Troopers waited. Soon the wide pneumatic door opened with a sharp hiss. The escort ushered them in and left. The other Troopers paused for a moment. Confused. They made their way into the waiting room finding a place to sit. Leaving her standing by herself in front of the door they had just entered.

CT-312 can feel the room full of the Troopers bore their gazes into her. Getting irritated with the stares, she made her way across the room to the back to sit. Ready to punch anyone if they said something cheeky at her. Finally making her way to the back, she plopped down and sank into the uncomfortable metallic chair. Folding her arms across her chest while sprawling her legs out, CT-312’s helmet tilted up to stare back at the room. The eyes that were once following her dropped and the room fell back into normality. Breathing out a small sigh of relief. She began to notice that she was the only Trooper in the room that had their armor in camouflage.

Camouflage. In space.
Gods she truly just wanted to disappear.

As she looked across the room, she noticed everyone else's armor. Never seeing so many different variations of Troopers, all with different ranks, insignias, and majority had their helmets off. Not her. She also noticed that most of their armor was pristine compared to her scratched up, worn down, grungy gear. Have any of them touched grass? Or even seen battle?

Across the room she noticed there was another Trooper that had their helmet off. His armor was mainly black with red markings all around. At least his gear was a bit scuffed up like hers. He looked concerned though, as he was tapping away on his helmet that was on his lap.

Funny. she thought.

As time passed by, more troopers were going in and out of the room. Serial numbers were being called randomly. She noticed that those who left a certain door across the waiting room were visibly shaken up or upset. What was going on? CT-312 finally thought, why were they all brought here? Couple of hours passed by and the next set of serial numbers was heard throughout the whole waiting room.

“TK-710 and CT-312”

CT-312 quickly stood up, the metal chair scratching the floor’s surface can be heard throughout the room. She proceeded to head towards the far door where all the previous Troopers were being called into. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?
 



JACEN BRESKA
CT-312 CT-312

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Jacen watched as the new arrival, some short Scout trooper in camo armor, walked through the doors and almost immediately after both his and theirs he assumed, as they walked towards the far end of the room almost as soon as they sat down and with a deep breath Jacen rose, carrying his helmet underneath his arm and joining them as they both walked through the double doors.

On the other side of the doors was a darkened room, almost dramatically so, save stage lighting in the center of the room and ominous lights backlighting a half circle large podium on the far side where three individuals sat, their faces shrouded by darkness.

The theatrics, Jacen thought, were a bit much but nonetheless he walked dutifully into the illuminated spot where he patiently waited.

“TK-710, and CT-312.”
A heavily modulated voice boomed from the desk at the far side, but Jacen could not determine gender, or anything about it besides the startled feeling it caused him.

CT? he thought, casting a sideways glance at the soldier beside him. A clone?

“You’ve been summoned here for your reports, each, on what happened on your respective last deployments. TK-710, we’ll start with you.”

Datapads clicked on casting a faint blue glow in the darkness before being immediately drowned in the white fluorescent lighting. “You were picked up, alone, following the battle that claimed the lives of the rest of your garrison, correct? The 913th Legion, Patrol Squad 13, all wiped out in a facility-wide explosion that somehow left both you and enough communication equipment and supplies to bring about your rescue?” One of the figures shifted forward, clasping their hands together, “Very fortuitous. Almost unbelievably so. It may lead one to believe you betrayed your garrison, that a larger rebel force attacked, and, thanks to the explosion, identifying bodies is almost impossible. How is it, that after all that, you survived. Just you? Perhaps there wasn’t even a rebel attack after all, no?"

The modulation in the voice was unwavering, stoic, and gave Jacen even more of an uneasy feeling, and the darkened figure gestured with a hand, as if drawing the words out of Jacen’s mouth.

He cleared his throat, and took a shaky breath before speaking,
“Sir, I-I…No, sir. I did not cause the explosion, and no, sir, I mean-Yes, Sir, there was an attack on the garrison.” He gestured to his helmet, “My helmet recorded the entire engagement, sir, A-any questions you may have, It could answer…But…Luck, Sir. That’s the only word for it…Luck. My Squad was out on patrol when the attack happened, by the time we got back to the garrison, the defenses were broken and most of the defenders were dead. Most of the Rebels, too. They bled against the walls, and were almost pushed back.”

Jacen licked his lips anxiously, sweat starting to form on his forehead as his skin clammed up, yet he continued, “My Squad joined the survivors and we fought against the rebels, then my Commander ordered me and one other to secure a possible flank around the command building. When we got there, my squad mate was killed by a turret the rebels had commandeered and I was pinned…only then did the explosion happen. The command building took most of it, I still…I don’t know what It was. A bomb, the Generators exploding…both, I’m not sure. It knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, everyone was…gone. No Rebels, no Squad, just smoke, fire, and broken buildings…” He took a deep breath, and continued, “I went inside the command building, into the Commander’s Office, and found a communication system he had. We heard rumours he had one, I just…hoped it was real, and it was. Short range, Sith frequencies, I broadcast an SOS…and…then a ship came. That’s it…that’s the truth.”

The voices were quiet, looking at each other and communicating unknowable opinions and ideas, before turning their attention back to Jacen.

“In truth, we know all this already. We just wanted to hear it all from you. Your helmet cam is unnecessary, base cams caught the entirety of the engagement. Perhaps you’d be delighted to know your squad commander's orders saved your life, as they all perished soon after. Or perhaps that, only by sheer luck, the ship sending resupply was finally showing itself after…two months? And That’s what saved you?”

Jacen stared ahead, silent. Simply, he shook his head. He wasn’t delighted to know all of this…It made him feel…unworthy.

“At any rate, TK-710, thank you. We’ve got what we needed.” The voice looked over at the other trooper and datapads shifted around again.


“CT-312. Quite an extensive resume for a clone. Not many of you live to be this old,” more shuffling, “On your last assignment, your squad was sent to eliminate an insurgent outpost. Quite an…interpretation of that order. ‘Eliminate.’ Our reports say it is destroyed. Naught left but ash, as is your squad. You were not given orders to place explosives, yet you did. Awfully fortunate. You did not guide your team to a slaughter, did you? Not easy for a clone such as yourself to make friends.” The voice paused for a moment, “A history of issues bordering on insubordination in many cases… Tell me, what possessed you to plant these explosives? Why are you here when so many others have died around you?”

The shadowy figures leaned forward all in unison, awaiting a response.




 



//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Jacen Breska 'TK-710' //:
//: ISD LADY OF FORTUNE //:
//: Attire //:

f35bf6e513ad0b117baa4d116cd650d8f6804da2.pnj


CT-312 stood rigidly next to TK-710. Immediately noticing the three individuals sitting at the large podium across the dimly lit room.

Ah. unsurprised.

Cross Examinations
Interrogation
Judgment.

A situation all too familiar with.

"You've been summoned here for your reports, each, on what happened on your respective last deployments. TK-710, we'll start with you."

She observed how the three figures were grilling into TK-710. Abruptly brought to attention when it was mentioned that TK-710 was the only survivor of his garrison.

‘What are the odds.‘ she mused.

He was stammering in his report. It seems like this was his first time to be in this situation.

‘Green’ she empathized loudly in her head.

CT-312, remembered her first few times when she was put up for questioning back on Bestal Three. Quickly learning. Nervousness is a sign of weakness. Those who are on the receiving end will be picked apart. She curled her right hand fingers into a ball. Tightening. Releasing. Extending her fingers back.

The three hidden figures did not hesitate to turn their attention to CT-312. Immediately after grilling KT-710 they came hounding after her.

"...'Eliminate.' Our reports say it is destroyed. Naught left but ash, as is your squad. You were not given orders to place explosives, yet you did. Awfully fortunate. You did not guide your team to a slaughter, did you? Not easy for a clone such as yourself to make friends."..."A history of issues bordering on insubordination in many cases... Tell me, what possessed you to plant these explosives? Why are you here when so many others have died around you?"

Snapping her helmet up. Looking straight back at those who wanted to watch her fall apart. CT-312 steeled herself ‘There is no room for failures. I must be the perfect soldier. Always.’ She knew what they were looking for. What all those around her were always looking for. Imperfection. Mistakes, from an already failed clone at birth. Her voice, distorted by the helmet’s mic, took on a guttural, harsh tone. Responding steadfastly to the criticized questions.

“Not fortunate. There was no luck involved with placing those explosives. The only luck was my survival.” Was it lucky though? she thought with disbelief. Yes, Sir. I did it purposely. The outpost was suspicious from the scouting report I relayed. I advised to approach with caution. The explosives I placed were only a contingency given how the orders to eliminate the outpost were handled.” Shifting her helmet’s gaze across the three. “I did not guide my team into a slaughter.”

CT-312 was glad that those who were looking down at her, could not see her angered expression. How dare they question her loyalty. She gritted her teeth.

“Clones do not need friends.” Unwavering in her response, “I am engineered to do the mission. I did the mission.” Expendable. Echoed through her mind. “It is better to be over prepared than under. Destroying and Eliminating means the same when the mission is on the line.” CT-312 brought her attention back to the middle.

“The mission’s objective and success is the only thing that matters.” Taking a deep breath, stating firmly out loud, ”If that means disobeying orders, I would not hesitate to do it again. Sir!” She straightened her back as far as she could. “Whatever was in there was not normal. The whole squad was wiped out and I was given the order to detonate.” Sadness briefly swept over her. “The squad leader somehow knew I had placed charges secretly. He could have stopped and reprimanded me at any time. Instead I received the orders to detonate.” She closed her eyes, reliving that exact moment. “Detonate I did. That thing and all the other opposition were eliminated. As for the squad. We all know the price. We do not hesitate for duty. Sir.”

Rage.

CT-312 clenched her right hand again. Opening her eyes, glaring through the tinted visor, she was doing her best to refrain from jumping over the podium at the ones questioning her credentials. She never asked to survive the encounter, but here she was.

“I do not know why I am still here. But when my time comes, I pray that it will be out there. For the good of the mission.” she swore.

Guilt.
‘Leftovers.’

Finally realizing that’s what has been bothering her since stepping into the Star Destroyer. She loosened the grip of her right hand and slightly relaxed her posture. If this is my trial for living, then so be it. I will accept any punishment.’ CT-312 acknowledged internally.

Standing there, waiting for the final verdict to be casted down unto her.

‘I deserve this.’
 



JACEN BRESKA
CT-312 CT-312

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Jacen cast his eyes sideways to glance at the trooper next to him before quickly staring back ahead, hoping to avoid the attention of the shadowed three figures before him. The passion in the words the trooper next to him spoke startled him slightly, though he did not know why. Perhaps it was the willingness to disobey orders to complete the mission? It was a slippery slope, Jacen thought, but he said nothing as the voice from the darkness spoke again,

“Yes, of course, CT-312. None here would actually dare question your dedication. Perhaps your methods, but not your dedication. Of course the mission, such as it was, was accomplished and that’s all we care about. You survived, the rest of your team didn’t. And now we know your heart is in the right place. In fact, I think both of your hearts are in the right place.” The shadowed figures looked at each other and nodded, before the voice spoke again, “You’re both being reassigned. When you leave this room, report to the Hanger bay immediately. There, you’ll find a new type of assault ship, a proof of concept you could say. AC-011-A is the ship designation, you will have new orders awaiting you inside.”

The shadowed figures each leaned forward in unison, “You both should be dead. But you’re not. It’s time to find out if that’s luck or something more. This mission…We don’t expect you to make it out alive but if you do…you’ll be among the first of a new type of trooper. You’ll have your chance for the ending you think you deserve, or the service you think worthy of you. You’re not to speak of what was discussed in this room with anyone but your team member until further notice. Dismissed.”

Jacen wanted to ask questions, but instead he felt the same feeling he had seen other troopers show when they left the room. His skin was pale, his face sweaty, and his eyes sunken slightly as he turned on his heels and left the room, unaware if the other trooper was following him or not. Silently, he walked past the waiting room, ignoring the questions from the others as he made his way into the hanger.

Now he was on a team with this faceless trooper with a history of ‘almost insubordination’? On what those people clearly seemed to think was a suicide mission?
Jacen found the ship, AC-011-A, and entered the small boarding ramp on the back.It looked like a standard gunship, except on either side of the ship’s loading bay lay a collection of four drop pods.

Drop pods? Jacen thought to himself. “We’re dead.” He said somberly, sitting down on a wall mounted seat next to the pod, setting his helmet on the floor, and burying his head in his hands taking this moment to let out the frustration and fear he felt in one loud sigh.


 



//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Jacen Breska 'TK-710' //:
//: ISD LADY OF FORTUNE //:
//: Attire //:

f35bf6e513ad0b117baa4d116cd650d8f6804da2.pnj


The brief silence was deafening.

Guilt and anger were swirling inside CT-312. She lost count how many times she was drilled like this, it never was easy at the end. She’d thought she would be unphased or gotten used to it by now. No matter what, every single verdict ended with her being thrown in the hole. Voices from the three shadowy figures began to speak.

"Yes, of course, CT-312. None here would actually dare question your dedication. Perhaps your methods, but not your dedication. Of course the mission, such as it was, was accomplished and that's all we care about...", "You're both being reassigned. When you leave this room, report to the Hanger bay immediately..."


Confused. CT-312 rapidly blinked a few times behind the visor. The guilt and anger, forgotten instantly. Relieved that it wasn’t her loyalty and dedication that was the issue. Her methods? Methods. Yes. Understandable. Even she questioned them at times, but they worked. Her string of thoughts were interrupted again, To the hanger? Not confinement?’.

"You both should be dead. But you're not. It's time to find out if that's luck or something more. This mission...We don't expect you to make it out alive but if you do... you'll be among the first of a new type of trooper. You'll have your chance for the ending you think you deserve, or the service you think worth of you. You're not to speak of what was discussed in this room with anyone but your team member until further notice. Dismissed."


Still processing what was being said to her and TK-710, ‘Not confinement, but a suicide mission. That is my punishment?’. Hearing the words “New type of Trooper”, further perplexed CT-312. ‘New Trooper? Perhaps maybe a new start.’ dare she hoped. They were dismissed.

Times like this, CT-312 was glad she always had her helmet on. She can see TK-710’s expressions clear as day. Now understanding why everyone who left this room looked like they had seen a ghost. They were basically given the death sentence. Silently following behind TK-710 as they exited out of the rooms and headed towards the Hanger Bay.

The footsteps that echoed in the corridor were somber. Not as enthusiastically when she first arrived at the Star Destroyer. She focused on TK-710 in front of her. ‘I suppose no one wants to go on a suicide mission willingly.’ she understood.

Arriving at the Hanger Bay, CT-312 observed the ship that would be taking them to their fate. The serial number on its side of the hull, ‘AC-011-A’, faded. She continued to follow behind TK-710 inside the ship’s loading bay. Her eyes immediately focused on the four drop pods. The left corner of CT-312’s lip raised up to a small smile. She chuckled silently to herself as she walked to the back right drop pod. Inspecting it.

"We're dead."

She turned her head to the right to see TK-710 sitting down with his head in his hands. Frustration evident. Ignoring him and looking back at the drop pod in front of her, raising her right hand, and placing it on the pod itself.

A Gamble.” she said out loud in a low amusing tone.

It was fitting.
Let the Gods decide their fate.
She welcomed it.
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(All art on this bio/thread is made by me. The rights belong to myself. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)
 

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