CLOSED SIGNUPS Star Wars: Age of the Sith

AceSorcerer

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The shuttle felt a tad cramped. Then again, it usually did since it was always a tad above its typical capacity.

The droid sat in the front, the red-domed astromech plugging himself into the navicomputer in order to ease the ship out of hyperspace while the Jedi stood next to the robotic co-pilot as he loaded the prior communication onto the holocommunicator that he held in his hand. In the main hold of the shuttle, the remaining crew could hold fast as they began to lurch out of hyperspace and approach the ice-bound world ahead of them, the streaking stars taking a far more seemingly stationary position.

Every organic was covered in cold-weather gear in order not freeze upon exiting the shuttle when they landed, with their various other belongings stowed in the shuttle’s small cargo section in various lockers and crates. Walking into the main hold from the cockpit, the Jedi holding the communicator in his hand stepped forward as the clatter of his boots against the metal floor caught the attention of his fellows. Placing the communicator on top of the shuttles central console and plugging in a cord to an access panel, a tall, hooded figure began to appear as a projection on the central console, roughly half the size of the figure in real life.

As the grainy, blue-tinted projection removed its hood, one could see the face of a male Kel Dor, mask and all, wearing traditional, thick Jedi robes with a lightsaber at his side as the message began to play, the figure’s voice distorted slightly due to the layering of his breathing mask upon the recording software.

“Attention, Recovery Cell One. This is Master Val Keem of the Jedi Council. Reports from Enlightenment field agents give records of an Old Republic facility on the planet Ithal in the Outer Rim. The record, however, was highly corrupted and very little could be extrapolated. Our best assumption is that it is either a repository from the days of the Old Jedi Order or an Old Republic supply cache.

“Your mission is to locate the facility and investigate. If successful, begin immediate recovery and salvage procedures and make immediate contact with Enlightenment agents. In case of an emergency or something unprecedented, contact Enlightenment Command immediately for further resources. Best of luck to you, my friends. May the Force be with you.”

With that, the hologram dissipated as the communicator was disconnected and slid into the Jedi’s coat pocket. The Jedi himself, Ishua Ken, was wrapped up in thick black pants and boots, with various layers underneath his dark blue parka, on top of which was a small utility belt on which his lightsaber hung, as well as his own black cloak that served as an extra layer of padding against the biting cold they were about to enter. Grabbing onto a handle at the console, the shuttle swayed and rumbled as it underwent some turbulence upon entering the planet’s atmosphere, the occasional hard jerk symptomatic of evasive maneuvers and the ship’s stabilization.

There was some idle chatter, some reviewing of the mission at hand as the ship began its slow descent to the ground. The little astromech droid approached his longtime friend and companion, the pair going over the recent data they had acquired in order to ensure that they could enter their target without tearing the place to pieces. As the soft thud of the landing gear upon the permafrost could be heard, a hiss emanated from the loading ramp as the first hint of the cold breeze blew into the ship. Rusty, excited as he was, was the first of the group to make his way down the ramp in search of the facility.

The section of the planet they had landed on after following the provided coordinates seemed fairly barren compared to most of what remained. The occasional wrecked starfighter or cruiser could be seen strewn about on the horizon, with various crevices and cliffs dotting their surroundings. The wind was mostly calm, and the clouds themselves seemed to be fairly sparse. The shifting snow revealed the remnants of a concrete walkway, with the small droid activating his flamethrower until it could be seen that the path itself lead into a nearby hill. A few seconds of splicing on the astromech’s part and the group could make their way into the relative warmth of the facility.

The thick and unmarked durasteel doors sat tucked neatly against the hill of solid ice. Even after all these years, frost hadn’t accumulated here, and the doors were still warm to the touch as the mechanisms whirred to life inside. Beyond them, a nondescript hallway leading into a junction adjoining three rooms; to the right, the Aurebesh read “Communications” right above “Security” and “Hangar,” and straight-ahead read “Control Center.” The door to the left was labeled “Medical Bay” and “Cryochamber.” The junction was otherwise empty, filled with nothing but stale air and eerie silence.

At first glance, the control center was rather plain. Consoles marked with the Republic insignia lined the right wall, while a massive shuttered window filled the control center’s left wall from floor to ceiling, glazed at the edges from the cool air. Beyond it was a massive chamber, filled to the brim with rows upon rows of cryopods, frozen in time but otherwise well cared for and attended to.

While they stood dumbstruck, it was easy to miss the two synchronized pair of robotic footsteps that slowly approached them. Out of reflex, Alexander pulled his lightsaber from his belt, his thumb on the ignition switch. The first droid he recognized straightaway, an old medical droid model that still had some use in the Outer Rim (after being heavily modified, of course). The second droid was something else entirely. Its chassis was reminiscent of the KX-series droids he had seen in museums, while its head was something else entirely. The droid began to speak in a tone that the Jedi could only assume was somewhat pleased.


“Greetings, generals. I am MTP-XR-001. I am also referred to as ‘Caretaker.’ I am a prototype model designation ‘XR’ military protocol droid build in accordance with designs of the Avalon Project. My programs are specialized for strategic analysis and tactical advisory, resource management, and interspecies communication. I am accompanied 21-B-MDX7, also known as ‘Doc Seven’ or ‘Doc,’ the Senior Medical Officer for the clones. With your presence, generals, the automatic awakening procedure is now underway.”


The Jedi went aghast, putting his lightsaber away before speaking up. “I have… many questions. Firstly, what do you mean by ‘clones’? Secondly, why do you call us ‘generals’? We’re not commanders.”

The medical droid then raised one of his arms, directing the group down the corridor and to the right as he spoke in his metallic bass. “If you will follow me, General, I will show you. I shall explain as we walk, Jedi.”

The group then began to walk towards, speaking to the resistance fighters as they followed the medical droid.

“During the Clone Wars, a small group ordered that a section of the Grand Army of the Republic, in this case, the Ninth Legion, be frozen in cryostasis here on Ithal as a trial and in case of an emergency. This project was risky, but all present Clone Troopers are alive and will be prepared to fight in approximately half an hour, generals.”

“Still, why do you call us generals?”

“Because you have come to take command of your Clone Troopers, general. You are clearly a group of Jedi Knights. Your corresponding ranks, therefore, are the common rank of Jedi General as there is no indication that you are a padawan or an apprentice, save for the smaller organics accompanying you. Likewise, you are the first group of Jedi to appear since this facility was sealed. According to my orders and my programming, I have relinquished responsibility and command of the Ninth Legion to you and have begun the awakening process. The clones will be prepared and ready for combat transportation in a half hour and will be in the parade grounds in one hour to meet you.”

“Uhm, err… Rusty, could you scomp link with the caretaker and give him all historical data since the Clone Wars?”

The astromech droid whistled, plugging into a terminal with the protocol and medical droids as all the information in the facility was updated, the tactical protocol droid speaking slightly after.

“The actions of these other clones are irrelevant- they do not impact our mission. We have been designated to obey orders from the Jedi Generals, not from the Supreme Chancellor. These clones will serve under only you and your fellow Jedi Knights.”

As such, with a cohort of medical droids appearing as the floor began to be filled with steam as lines upon lines of cryopods began to crack and open, releasing the long-contained soldiers. The clones’ equipment was stored in durasteel lockers held against their respective cryopods, containing everything from their armor to their standard-issue armaments. Quick physicals were had, medications were given, and orders were handed down to prepare the legion for a fresh deployment.

While Ishua wanted to outright marvel at the sight of a literal army assembling before him, but that would be a poor use of his time. Allowing his rational side to take hold, the Jedi Knight was certain that they needed some more information before doing anything else. Meanwhile, they likely needed to contact the Conclave- this definitely fell under “something unprecedented” for the most part, although the holocron of Master Kenobi might argue otherwise.

For the time being, though, Ishua looked to his friends while the two droids looked onwards, with the Consular speaking up firmly. “We need to get in touch with someone, quick. I don’t think the shuttle would be able to send a message out fast enough- this place. Maybe Rusty can contact the Conclave using their own equipment while we try to sort things out here? What do you all think?”



Post made with assistance from Dipper Dipper .
 
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181995

Stella sat on a bench with her fellow Enlightenment companions. Head to toe she was covered in thick winter gear to protect herself from the frigid temperatures of the planet. Stella looked around her surroundings. She was surrounded by allies, men and woman that would have been enemies years ago. Amongst them, Stella always felt like an outcast, she was a one time enemy and has killed possible friends of theirs. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind, she'd be better off focusing on the objective.

Ishua Ken removed his holoprojector and connected them with Jedi Council Member Val Keem. He went over the mission. They were to investigate an Old Republic cache of some sorts. It was a simple investigation mission, no point in sending so many people. Their shuttle landed, but they did have one hell of entry when they touched the atmosphere. She was happy they finally made it, the ship was too cramped. She was use to such situations, but that doesn't mean she was fine with them.

Others such as the droid Rusty and Ken lead the way. Rusty flamethrower melted their path towards the facility. Upon entering, the facility was still running and in decent condition. It was warmer too, that's always a plus. Stella and the others eventually reached a junction and found something unbelievable. Cryo Chambers, rows upon rows of sentients frozen. She'd never expected anything like this, did the Enlightenment and the council know anything about this? "Who could these sentients be?"

She noticed the clinking of droids approaching them. She turned away from the frozen spectacle and towards two outdated machines. "What do we have here?" She said keeping her calm. They didn't seem dangerous, and why worry when there was currently only two of them. The droids introduce themselves and explained exactly what this cache was holding, Clone soldiers. Remnants of the clone wars fought decades ago. It then mentions that we would have complete control over this army. Stella Shay knew her history, this didn't seem good. Clones were part of the reason why the Jedi were destroyed anyway.

As the Clones were brought out cryo. Stella was rubbing her head and thinking this was a terrible idea. This Ninth Legion could be a batch of defectives for all they know. She was well aware of order 66, they could have the same protocol drilled inside their cookie-cutter shaped brains. When asked about her feelings on the matter, Stella agreed with the Conclave needed to contacted and briefed immediately.

"I feel as if the Enlightenment and the Council were fully expecting this." She turns to her allies. "Are any of you not worried about the idea of Jedi leading a Clone army? Last time the Old Jedi were gunned down.." She turned and pointed in the direction of the clones. "..By them. The Jedi are far smaller than they've been since then. On of the Sith fines a way to trigger six-six and kiss this uprising goodbye. Let's not get desperate loves and make a huge mistake."
 
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[With group in facility base, directly addressed Boba Fit Boba Fit BlueFlameNikku BlueFlameNikku ]


When Taal had departed his home world of Mygeeto, the Lurmen had (in his youthful exuberance) tried to imagined what his life as a Jedi-in-training would be like. He imagined spending long hours learning to wield the almost mystical weapons known as Lightsabers, going on far flung journeys to worlds beyond his wildest dreams to discover the mysteries of the Force, and saw himself as tall and proud Knight, a protector to those who couldn’t protect themselves.

If, during the course of these idle fantasies, he had ever imaged that he would find himself crushed between a seat’s harness and one of the Jedi Knights he so admired, he might have just decided to stay on Mygeeto.

Taal had his knees drawn up, his tail wrapped around his legs, and pulled as much of his fur around his head to cover his face as was possible. To an outside observer, the Lurmen looked more like a bundle of cloth and fur, strapped to the lap of a Jedi. He did this in a vague hope that if he tried hard enough, he could simply vanish from existence and hopefully take some of his embarrassment with him.

How had it even come to this? Taal had just been having a fairly pleasant time exploring and napping around the shuttle the group were being transported in, a feat made possible thanks to his capacity to clamber along its pipes and shelves; cramped as the shuttle was, there was always room for someone who could move above the floorspace. However, he had focused up when the massage from Master Val Keem had been presented. This would be Taal’s first real assignment, even if it was just to accompany the much more capable Knights on what sounded like a fairly mundane retrieval mission. Even with such a humble objective, he was determined to put his best foot forward, and to really give this task his all.

It was off to a poor start, then, when he discovered the seat he had occupied in their initial take-off had been commandeered by Tsolus’ rather intimidating canine companion, Ferid-Ferid. Taal, a small boy that considered even mundane animals intimidating, had looked to Ferid-Ferid, a creature that had teeth the size of damn knives, and decided that he would…gracefully allow the hound to use his seat. Of course, that meant he had to find somewhere else to sit, or risk being thrown about the shuttle like the galaxies’ fuzziest pinball.

In a sequence of events that even Taal now struggles to accurately recall, he found himself stammering out some nonsense that resulted in him sharing a seat with one of their Jedi Knight supervisors, Lahsan Taaks. What had seemed like a good idea at the time – Knight Taaks was one of the friendlier Jedi Taal had met, and he figured it would just a slightly amusing situation that would pass quickly – had rapidly descended into mortifying embarrassment as the landing took longer than expected, giving Taal ample time to realize what a ridiculous fool he must look like. He hardly looked the part of a strong, honourable Jedi strapped to the front of Taaks like some babe. The only saving grace was that, in the turbulence of entry, the noise made it difficult for him to hear any comments that might have been made.

Taal felt no small relief when the shuttle finally touched down, and he more or less launched himself from the seat, stuttering out,

“W-well, thanks for your help Knight Taaks, I’ll justbegoingdowntherampnow, okay bye!”

And all but sprinted down the landing ramp, just behind Ishua Ken and his red astromech.

The cold air of Ithal hit Taal in one big rush as he finally stepped outside, and despite everything, the Lurmen felt some relief. The icy air felt reliving against his still bright red skin under his fur, true, but also because this kind of chill was vaguely familiar. For a creature with a thick cover of fur, a lot of planets ended up feeling somewhat too warm, and oftentimes stifling. This deep set cold, however, reminded him a little of Mygeeto. True, this was a different kind of cold; Mygeeto suffered from a perpetual snowstorm all year round, but Ithal’s frosty air was the kind of cut straight through you, giving the disquieting feeling like even your bones were starting to freeze over. Even Taal had thrown on a shawl above his usual clothes in preparation on approach to the planet, and he still shivered slightly as he stepped out onto the snow. Despite that, he felt a little like he was in his element.

That feeling was short lived, however, as not too long later Taal found himself staring dumbly as an army almost literally out from history stirred and awoke before his very eyes. Taal blinked as several different iterations of the same man started climbing out from their cyropods, almost entirely missing the medical droid’s run down as he tried to wrap his head around the situation. They had actually stumbled upon a still living legion from the Clone Wars? A period of history that was so far before Taal’s time that he was struggling to even guess how long these troopers had been asleep? How the hell was he even supposed to react this?

“We need to get in touch with someone, quick. I don’t think the shuttle would be able to send a message out fast enough- this place. Maybe Rusty can contact the Conclave using their own equipment while we try to sort things out here? What do you all think?”

Knight Ken’s voice cut through the white noise of Taal’s scrambled thoughts, causing the Lurmen to shake himself, trying to focus.

He was definitely in agreement with contacting the Conclave, considering this was completely uncharted territory; the Masters would at least have a better idea of what to do next. But there was something troubling him…

“…Speed might not be the only thing you need to worry about.” Taal murmured, before looking up. “This base is in great condition for how old it is, but the snow might have played havoc on the communication equipment. It might be a good idea to send someone who knows their tech to help Rusty.”

So saying, Taal glanced about the group until he spotted a certain blond-haired Initiate, and in one smooth motion, ran, jumped, and clambered up onto Denis Celwick’s back. Poking his head around the boy’s shoulder, Taal grinned slightly.

“How about it, Denis?” Despite the strange turn this mission was taking, Taal’s voice couldn’t help but being light. “Up for fiddling around with some real retro tech?”

"Are any of you not worried about the idea of Jedi leading a Clone army? Last time the Old Jedi were gunned down.."

Taal looked up just in time to see Knight Shay point to the emerging Clones, features drawn into a suspicious frown.

"..By them. The Jedi are far smaller than they've been since then. On of the Sith fines a way to trigger six-six and kiss this uprising goodbye. Let's not get desperate loves and make a huge mistake."

Taal shivered slightly at that. History had never been his strong suit, but even he had heard about how the Old Order fell. The idea that they were all standing in a facility chock full of the same kind of soldiers that had succeeded in killing even whole groups of Jedi…

Taal found he had no words to speak, though that might have been just as well, considering how tight his throat felt all of a sudden. Instead, he just ducked his head down, staring with concerned yellow eyes over Denis’ shoulder at the proceedings.
 

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Asuro had never seen so much snow. Skeletal ships dotted the stark expanse of Ithal's surface, stretching out for miles upon miles. A veritable graveyard of Republic ships, Empire ships, ships he'd never seen before... If it hadn't been for the shuttle's quick descent, he'd have spent more time plastered to that viewport. He pulled himself away and swore quietly when his shoulder popped. How long had he been standing there?

Junkyard it may be, Ithal was a beautiful planet in its own way. Crystal-white slopes of ice, distant mountains reaching for a clear sky, and if his eyes weren't deceiving him, a shimmering stretch of solid ice.

Master Keem's voice was a soothing balm to Asuro's jittery nerves. The Kel Dor had always been kind, always been the first to offer him advice when he'd been brought to the Jedi. To be sent on this mission under his trust puffed up Asuro's confidence to unprecedented levels, and Asuro very nearly put a voice to that confidence to assure the old Jedi. He maintained his silence out of respect as the master went over their mission once more.

He tried to quash the disappointment as they descended, touching down in an empty expanse of snow devoid of much beyond the frosty hills and rocks. No ships, not here. The air around them felt empty, eerie, something abandoned and still watching. When Asuro shuddered, it wasn't from the cold. He shoved his discomfort aside, and followed the others out of the shuttle and toward the new discovery.

Excitement burned like fire in his fingertips, which had wound themselves tightly in the hem of his coat. The hallway they passed through was just as silent as the rest of the planet, yet this bunker, this base, breathed and thrummed with life. It lingered on the very fringe of his Force awareness, but it was there all the same. A shifting of lifeforces far too numerous to count, hidden beneath a haze of... something. He couldn't put his finger on it. He was still learning the ins and outs of the Force, and could easily have mistaken something else for these lifeforces, yet... he felt so certain. This was more than an outpost.

It had to be.

The sudden appearance of the droid brought a smile to his face; ancient military droids? Here? If Asuro's excitement wasn't palpable before, it sure was now. He looked up suddenly at the mention of clonetroopers of all things, his face breaking out into a grin. Finding clonetroopers on his first mission was a taste of luck he'd never gotten before. To see them, to hear them rouse from an age-old slumber as if it had only been a short nap... The rush of wonder was exhilarating. Could he talk to them? Would they answer his questions?

That wild train of thought came to a halt when Knight Ken addressed them.

Asuro cleared his throat, looking over at his fellow initiates. "I think the Republic might have used communications buoys, sometimes. To get their encrypted long-range signals out. You think those're still operational?" Republic era tech was exceptionally enduring, a fact supported by the clone troopers of ages past rising from their ancient pods as the jedi spoke.

He approached the window overlooking the cryobay. "Clonetroopers," he breathed. "There's got to be thousands!" The Clone Wars. He knew his history, the wars best of all. Jedi, clones, droids... Droids. And what of Blite? No, he'd be fine, Asuro would make sure of it. The Clones would listen to reason, if only they could see what a B1 could do when it wasn't under fire. He'd make history, speaking to these men.

That thrum of life made sense now. It was growing stronger as the clones woke, but now there was something underneath it all. Something clearer. Stronger.

Something was coming.

"Knight Ken? There's someone here."

-


Stasis had a tendency to scatter the mind. The center became the fringe and the fringe became the center, where unfocused thoughts became all you knew and all that made sense. They were less than a dream but similar enough to lead to confusion upon waking.

CC-3337 woke to such confusion, his head pounding and his limbs aching like never before as he moved to clench his fist in a weak grip. Atrophy? Couldn't be, there was not atrophy in stasis. He must be exhausted. He pushed up and out of the cold pod and stepped on to an equally cool floor a little too fast, and the pounding in his skull intensified for a couple of breaths before abating.

He felt terrible. What the hells was this?

There was a broken chrono on the far wall that was stuck in a stuttering loop, therefore of no use. He couldn't recall any orders when he'd gone under, now that his mind was clear enough to remember at all, which meant he was stranded on his own. He'd have to figure it out as he went along.

CC-3337 stood tall and flexed his stiff joints to alleviate the lingering tension, then pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars and pulled them away. Good-- he could still see properly, and his limbs hadn't completely locked up in the pod. He rolled his shoulders a couple times.

His kit had been stored in a locker across from the pod. He reattached each piece with care, slipping it on as if it were a second skin, and immediately felt more at ease. Comfortable. Although he longed for a rifle, he snapped his DC-17s into their holsters at his sides without complaint and breathed a sigh of relief that they still appeared to be in working condition. The kama was a comfortable weight against his hips, and his helmet's visor was a welcome change once it polarized the bright overhead lights.

The rest of his men - brothers, really - were likewise waking and gearing up, in varying states of confusion and discomfort. They didn't hesitate however, and he felt a rush of pride. If they were awoken, there must be Jedi nearby who needed assistance. He'd want to imbue confidence in this new General if they were going to work together.

He left the cryochamber once he'd assured himself the men would need no help to situate themselves, heading toward the command center where their resident Caretaker would likely be addressing the newcomers. Judging by the many voices his helmet's audio sensors picked up, there were more than one Jedi, but he didn't need that to tell; Jedi always had a buzz about them, something between soothing and irritating. The Force if he had to venture a guess. It was a mystery how they managed such a thing.

CC-3337 entered the command center with all the confidence of a GAR Commander. His heels clicked as he stood to attention, his back straight in perfect form. Unable to tell who, exactly, was in charge. he settled for addressing them as a whole.

"Sirs." His head dipped in greeting. "Commander CC-3337 of the Ninth Legion, at your service."
 

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182105

Small shuttles and cold. Those were a couple of the things Lahsan Taaks hated. Jedi aren’t really supposed to hate, but Taaks wasn’t a usual Jedi Knight by any means. As things currently were, she was in a small shuttle, full with an enlightenment recovery team. One of the initiates, a particularly fuzzy one, to be specific, was on her lap. There wasn’t a seat for him, it seemed. Personal space was important to Lahsan, but more importantly, she was being friendly.

Eyes closed, head leaning against the wall of the shuttle, she just listened and felt. The team lead played a holo message with the mission details again. Finally, the shuttle began its descent, and landed. The fuzzball on her lap, hopped up quickly, spoke something barely intelligible, and then took off. He clearly seemed uncomfortable, and Lahsan didn’t blame him.

She responded with a, “Don’t worry about it.” Though it didn’t appear as though he heard it since he had already taken off.

One of the last ones off the ship, she followed everyone else, a thick fur lined coat covering her light armored robing she wore on missions.

Entering the facility, she just took it all in. The droids approached, and then the excitement really ramped up. This facility held hundreds, if not thousands of clones. Clones! The same clones her great grandmother had led. Clones like Captain Rex. She couldn’t help but let a huge smile cross her face. This mundane mission just got very interesting. She removed her coat, and nonchalantly tossed it over a console. They were definitely going to be here awhile.

Her colleagues and some of the initiates raised some valuable points. Lahsan felt that she needed to put her own thoughts in, due to her knowledge of this time period. It being such an important part in her families history, she studied it intensely.

“I agree with all the points, but I would like to point some things out. The clones turned on the Jedi because of the Inhibitor chips. Ahsoka Tano’s Clone Captain, removed his chip and was unaffected by that Order. He helped her escape and even served the Rebel alliance with her.

Based on the knowledge at hand, I think we should split into teams. Team 1 should go and work on establishing communications to contact the conclave and update them. See if the facility has scanners that can be used as well. The amount and size of ships needed to move an army of this size, will be extremely difficult to keep secret from the Sith.

Team 2 should continue exploring the facility, mapping, and taking some inventory. Be prepared for the six-six protocol at any point.

Team 3 should work with the Medical droid on trooper physicals. We should see if in the physical, we can remove the chips from them. If possible, I think we should start with the officers and commanders, then go squad by squad. When a squad is de-chipped, we can give them a briefing on the situation at hand, as well as take an inventory log.”


During her discussion of her own thoughts with her colleagues, the Commander approached. Lahsan couldn’t contain herself. Without even waiting for the others to discuss her points, she approached the Commander.

“It is a pleasure, Commander. I’m Jedi Knight Lahsan Taaks.” She bowed to him, before asking a question. “Do you or any of your men have any standing orders or missions?”
 
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A cramped shuttle ride through the galaxy, receiving search orders from group determined to fight against the current reigning Sith Confederation and now walking around on some ice ball of a planet; freezing his butt off. This was life now. Can't say that it is all that much better than the living in Coruscant's lower levels. Arguably his life expectancy hasn't changed much as his path was still wrought with danger. Admittedly however the excitement of something new happening each day was well worth it instead of the dullness day to day that was his old life. Thankfully most of the people he's found himself grouped with are no where near as bad to be around as some folks he's had the displeasure of crossing.

Most of the Jedi Knights in the group seemed like reliable individuals; though there is always something about Lahsan and Stella that makes him uneasy. Denis isn't sure why the hairs on the back of his stand up when next to either of them but it happens. Vaimele's sense of humor has only succeeded in worsening Denis' nervousness and the initiate swears that Tsol's hound has been swiping bits of his food here and there. At least comfort can be found with his fellow initiates Asuro and Taal. Overtime Denis has been behaving much like an older sibling would towards the two. Even though he is of similar training level he felt responsible for them given his difference in age to them. He's always ready to listen when Taal has something to say and isn't afraid to pull Asuro back on course when he gets distracted. It was nothing glamorous but it felt fulfilling.

Following along with everyone else with Ishua leading, Denis couldn't help but shiver despite the numerous layers as the frosty air nipped at him. He could hardly fathom why people would even set foot on worlds like these so long as they had a choice in the matter. Though the harsh cold was the last thing on his mind once they reached the facility. The place was clearly lined with some pretty dated tech that was for sure but why was it here in the first place? Of course Denis stood still dumbstruck much like the rest of the group once the purpose of this facility was revealed. At first he was filled with amazement which then swiftly morphed into dread. Due to his researching he was well aware of what happened with Order 66. Despite being reassured by the droids that these clones were different Denis' thoughts became filled with thoughts of an army of clones marching up on them through these halls, blasters at the ready and then...

Thankfully the antics of a certain fur-ball snapped him out of his thoughts before he went any further. "Y-Yeah I think I can give Rusty a hand and get something out if they've got communications buoys; like what Asuro said. I just might need to salvage some parts and do a little jury-rigging if they aren't in working order."

Then the initiate rather awkwardly jogs up to Ishua and Rusty with Taal still clung to his back before addressing Ishua directly. "Honestly Knight Ken, I have my worries just the same as a few of us here. But what just fell into our lap is too good of an opportunity to pass up." It was then that Lahsan seemed to start taking charge and organization of the matter. He'd raise his hand just before she greated the clone commander. "Rusty, Taal and I have communications covered." With his thoughts laid out Denis motioned to Rusty with a nod down one of the halls; sporting an optimistic smile. "Lead the way Rusty. Let's see what else in this place is still up and running."
 
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Desert Bee

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Tsol scanned the frozen plains through his helmet visor, a bitter gust ruffling the collar of his parka and into the shuttle interior. Nothing but white for kilometers, few odd starship wrecks in the distance. Rangefinder put the nearest wreckage at the extent of sniping range. The half dozen Jedi accompanying him seemed more preoccupied with the light snowfall.

He looked over his shoulder at their shuttle pilot - a nautolan woman with pink lekku who smiled too much, the only other non-Jedi in the team - and silently checked her status then gave a nod. The old B1 model droid owned by the Chiss was instructed to stay aboard and keep watch over the ship. Tsol's job wasn't necessarily to keep these people alive but it made things simpler when collecting the fee. Less complaining.

Obsidian clawed paws clacked on the steel deck behind. Ferid's gleaming eyes stalked the horizon from behind its transparent faceplate. There had been a time the dark hound would've decapitated itself if it meant removing the cold-weather mask and harness. It had been a long time since then.

"Tst tst." Tsol waved a hand forward and Ferid leapt out into the shallow snow, the two taking up the group's rear.

He kept a bead on his HUD's motion tracker, toggled between thermal and other visor modes. The initial landing sweep hadn't indicated any lifeforms but he wasn't interested in surprises. When bits of a permacrete path where discovered in the shifting snow, their lead, one of the Jedi called Ishua, had his astromech further reveal the path through its flame projector. Tsol made a mental note to invest in a density scanner. Would waste less fuel.

Their mission parameters had been salvage recovery, more or less keeping with the prior ops Tsol had been given through the Enlightenment. What wasn't as standard was the abundance of children he had to babysit. For whatever reason, the alleged precious and rare Jedi-in-training comprised almost the entirety of this Cell. Worst came to worse and they all bit the dust, that's a fair number of trainees gone like that. Seemed a better idea to sparse them out. Or, better yet, use actual recovery specialists.

At least a few of them had actual combat experience, Makena Yao for one. Had served as a rebel sniper before getting inducted into the mystic mob. Few of the other Jedi were so-called 'knights.' The more experienced of the lot. Tsol would have been more at ease with proper soldiers, but he wasn't being paid to be at ease.

So he kept his mouth shut, kept the Jedi alive, and did his job.




The underground facility was a bit warmer, shielded from the wind, so Tsol unzipped his coat. Ferid waggled its body from head to tail, dumped a bit of snow on the unblemished floor. Tsol blinked at icons on his HUD, began recording footage of their environments. If the Old Republic insignias littered about the panels were any indicator, this was likely the base their group had been sent to find.

Now they were within an interior, Tsol took point beside Ishua, unsnapped his holster. He kept an eye on his motion sensor to monitor their group, glanced over the shoulder every now and then to confirm with his eye Ferid and the rest were sound. Their lead Jedi opted to enter the marked CONTROL CENTER. That's when they found the army.

Hundreds upon hundreds of cryopods, still operational after several centuries. A nice endorsement to the longevity of Old Republic tech. Unless...

A blip popped up on his radar. Then another.

The DE-10 was snapped out of his holster and trained between the pods when a pair of droids entered sight. Ferid bound to the front but Tsol held out a hand, kept the dark hound from getting ahead of him. Ferid leaned low to the floor, front paws spread with its back legs poised. The rest of the Jedi were staring dumbly at the machines and Tsol furrowed his brow with a sigh.

Kriffing di'kutla Jedi. At least Ishua had bothered to pull out his lightsaber.

Tsol made one of the machines as a med droid, the other was seemed some type of military class but not a war droid. Still, didn't need to be to pick up a blaster.

The droids stopped several paces away, possibly noticing the blaster pistol trained on them, and greeted them. They didn't seem to have weapons from this range but certain droids utilized internal weapons. It paid to be cautious. The pair - announcing themselves as Caretaker and Doc - called his group generals. Not for the first time, Tsol wished the group would wear helmets. Closed comlink circuits were an extremely simple and useful piece of kit.

Glancing to his side at Asuro, their resident Old War historian, he checked to see if the chiss had any facial indication of whether or not this checked out. Boy seemed on the verge of squealing.

Tsol grunted and lowered the blaster pistol. Ferid kept low but its head raised by a few centimeters. No longer in attack mode but still ready.

As before, Ishua took lead and questioned the droids. Apparently to these units, being a Jedi made one a general and commander of Clone Troopers. Tsol wondered if they figured he was a Jedi too, then wondered how they had deduced the group were Force-users at all. Ishua had been the only one to prominently display a lightsaber. Might be they figured the first folks to enter this base were their new bosses. If that was the case, seemed a fair assessment no one had discovered this place yet before them...

Taal made a point of climbing on top of the Jedi Denis, volunteered him to repair the communications equipment. It was hard to take the furball seriously when it acted like a child, but it was a good idea. Denis and the astromech could deal with coms.

After a line of questioning and information trading, including the wholesale slaughter of their Jedi generals by the clones, a host of med droids emerged from the back and began attending to the cryopods. They were waking up the clones.

Tsol slowly slid his blaster back into the holster. Bad first impressions with an army straight out of cryo seemed unwise.

Ishua suggested they get in contact with command. Proper idea, but not the first order of business. Tsol was shaking his head but another Jedi called Stella had a far more sound initial suggestion. Brought up the point the whole Jedi massacre via clone army.

Tsol kept a hand on his holstered blaster, and flicked out his hand. "Reckon we're already makin a mistake here. Execution orders aside, these men been in sleep stasis for centuries. We need to keep them from arming up. Might have sleep sickness." He had seen a handful of people come out of carbonite and other cryos. Every one of them had an initial illness if they weren't outright lobotomites. And you don't hand ill nutcases a blaster.

Tsol turned his attention to Caretaker who seemed to be relatively in charge. "Oi, clanker," he said, jutting a finger at the droid. "Don't let the clones gear up yet. You hear me?"

Time was of the essence and from the looks of things, half of them were already armed. That's when Asuro said someone was here.

The sheer effort it took not to draw his blaster was borderline galactic. Tsol grinded his teeth, hand twitching over the grip but not pulling. If the clones were manic, blasting one now would just get them all fried.

Breathing through his nose, Tsol carefully turned his body to angle himself at the newcomer. Made sure any possible blasterfire wouldn't be a straight shot at a wide profile.

Snapping the heels of his synthetic white armor, one of the apparent clone troopers was saluting them. He had a T-faced visor with blue livery and a pair of blaster pistols holstered on a kama - this kit definitely had a mandalorian aesthetic. Called the group 'sirs,' said he was Commander of the Ninth Legion. Having lived in a helmet most all his life, Tsol tended to have a decent grasp on where people were looking behind a visor. This clone seemed to be evaluating them. Smart, but not proof of being mentally sound. Even if he was, that was no guarantee for the rest. Tsol stared back at the clone through the corner of his own T-visor.


One of the Jedi Knights, Lahsan, was being perfectly amenable to the commander. A pleasure, she said. Meanwhile, Denis was casually walking off with the astromech to take care of communications. Maybe it wouldn't be the clones to kill them first, not if Tsol snapped and slotted the entire cell.

Was no one aware of the clear and present danger right in front of them? This type of complacency, thousand credits that's what got your kind killed in the past, Jedi.

Tsol cut in after Knight Lahsan, didn't give the clone an opportunity to respond. It occurred to Tsol he might be overstepping his bounds here. There wasn't an exact power structure to the group itself, but Tsol sure as hell wasn't in charge. But getting paid came first, and that meant being alive.

"Nayc, as one of your new generals-" That rank really stuck in his mouth, giving command of an army to someone due to genetics? Jedi always found new ways to bother him. "-I got your standing orders. Tell your men to disarm."

Lahsan had made some points earlier, some of which like divvying up duties wasn't horrible, but still wasn't on the mark in Tsol's mind. This business about de-chipping was a step in the right direction, but the blasters came first.
 
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AceSorcerer

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182538

The Consular pondered everything that was said and remained quiet as the others spoke. He did raise a hand to the Mandalorian an attempt to silently ask him to be quiet. He did have a point, but he didn't want to have to explain why a teenaged operative got himself in trouble with the officer of a standing army. Eventually looking to the Torgruta and offering a nod, Ishua gave a brief exhale before speaking up in the same calm tone he had before some heated nerves could melt through the permafrost outside.

"That's probably the best idea, Lahsan. You've got a pretty strong knowledge of these clones, why don't you take Tsolus and Makena and go with the medical droid. I'm willing to bet you could take a small sample and see how they're functioning. Even then, we also need to get that message out. The comms center is right here, I'm thinking that Denis, Taal, and Rusty can get it activated and running fairly easily given that the tech seems to be in fairly good shape if the rest of this place is any indication. I'll go with the senior commander, here, and Caretaker in order to get a general sense of the available materiel here. Stella and Asuro'll come with me. If anything goes wrong, just use the comlink. Otherwise, we'll all meet up back here once we're done. So, if no one has any objections, let's get going."

A few moments passed as the three groups separated and began walking down the various corridors, with the two upright droids moving to escort their accompanying guests down to the cryo-chamber while Rusty emitted a few excited beeps and whistles before beginning to whirr his way back down the corridor towards the communications center. After a few moments, once the last group remained, the Jedi Consular turned to his new ally and his potential new friend and offered a small smile. Extending a hand to the clone commander, his voice was firm and polite if not somewhat eager (although, not nearly as eager as was visible on the Chiss Initiate's face).

"You said you were Commander CC-3337, correct? Jedi Knight Ishua Ken, at your service. Please, show us what all you have at your legion's disposal here. Although, if I may ask, is there something that you would like for us to call you? I recall that many clones such as yourself often had more personal names that they preferred to use."
 
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Dipper

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Jedi had a particular air about them. The masters had their stern wisdom, the knights had their cool confidence, and the padawans brimmed with eager potential. Underneath it all, there was a certain soothing tranquility about them regardless of rank, and to experience it was considered good luck to his brethren; a brush with the Force, that undeniable rush of invincibility, meant you were going home. It was trust, reliance on the leadership of the Jedi, that gave them all the confidence they needed to do their duty.

He basked in it, and did not suppress the faint smile that pulled at the corner of his lips when one of the Jedi approached. His helmeted head canted to one side slightly in amusement.

This particular Jedi reminded him, strangely, of a Commander he'd met only once.

"Our orders are fairly bare at the moment," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm meant to wait on--"

His head snapped to the side at a second voice, harsher than the Jedi's. The itch of his trigger finger insisted he go for the blaster first, while the more awakened part of him calmed his nerves and brought proper etiquette to the forefront. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Standard protocol, I'm sure you understand."

Even mercs had a standard operating procedure most of the time. Disarming his men was not an option, not until a justifiable reason was brought to his attention. But he should have expected it; Mandalorians always spoke their mind, and he supposed he could respect that. Just when it was to his face. His fingers twitched and curled into fists before he turned back to the togruta. Anyone with a close association with clones would easily pick apart the subtleties to find a man who'd been off the field for far too long, and was now developing a tic.

"Whatever orders the Jedi have for me now are all the orders I have."

A second Knight introduced himself. He divvied up the tasks and assigned them to his companions before they split up, and CC-3337 wondered why communications would need any attentions. They ought to have booted up automatically.

He thought it'd be a sterile interaction, and was yet again proven otherwise. These Jedi were quite personable, he realized. "Thrice, sir. Thrice will do." His shoulders slumped, whatever tension harbored there finally releasing. He hadn't even considered his name or that these Jedi would care to know. It was... nice, to find that they did. "I can show you to the hangar. Large armaments will be housed there, and once my men are geared up down in the cryochamber, we can go over weaponry."

Strafe would be coordinating the men and getting them settled. Thrice sent him a brief update on what to expect, and received an enthusiastic thumbs-up signal in response.

"A hangar. A full hangar."

Asuro followed after the Commander and Knight Ken, always a step behind. It was all a lot to take in, this base, these clones. Things he'd only read about and never thought he'd actually see. This mission truly favored him, and he was suddenly thankful that the masters had allowed him to join the expedition. It wasn't quite what he'd expected on his first step toward becoming a full Jedi, but then, what standards were there? Asuro rocked back on his heels as Knight Ken and the Commander - Thrice, and Asuro quite liked that name - conversed.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Republic era tech. Old, reliable, and difficult to track. I'll bet their communications encryption is better than ours. The CIS were known for infiltration."

Advanced encryption technology such as that found in old Republic bunkers would be a massive boon for the Enlightenment. If this base housed any Commandos, that tech would possibly be portable as well, and easy to transport. Asuro's only regret was that he wouldn't get to secure this tech himself, not until the base's communications were online, leaving the trio sent to do the repairs would likely rake in the glory for it all. In the meantime, though, armaments would do, and he was happy the clones were only a door away.

If Asuro didn't know better, he'd think the Commander was chuckling under that bucket of his.
 
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182680

Stella wasn't pleased in the slightest at the team's reaction with the clones and she wasn't afraid to show it. She was paranoid perhaps, but a healthy amount could do one good. Lashan was too trusting of these clones, as were the others. Stella wasn't familiar with the clone she spoke of and didn't care too. Thankfully Tsolus was thinking with her head an at least suggested to disarm them. The clone, CC-3337 wasn't too keen on that idea and shot it down. "Tsolus made a fair point. These clones have been in cryo for a long time, they might someone, probably a Jedi."

Ishua then began to divvy out orders and split them up into smaller groups. Asuro, Stella, and himself would accompany CC-3337 to asses what else was located at this cache that they can use. Medical supplies and weaponry wouldn't hurt. If this place had clone soldiers, surely it will have other useful supplies. Her squad followed CC-3337, but Stella remained quiet and ignored Asuro's cheerful tone. The initiate was far too excited. Ishua remained open with the Commander and asked if he would prefer to be called anything besides his numeral designation. The clone chose the name Thrice. Stella wasn't interested in the clone's name, 3337 would suffice.

He had offered to show them the hanger where the large armaments were located. Ships would be lovely, the rebellion is desperate for them. The Commander's clones were getting armed up so freshly after coming out of cryo, armed Clone Troopers made Stella nervous. "CC-3337, why not slow down and let your men rest for a bit." She said with a static and detached voice. If noticeable this Jedi didn't care too much for these clones. "Knight Ken, I'm still wary of these clones being armed so soon. We are acting rash." She explained stressing her concern. "CC-3337, at least have those chips in your men's heads removed before you let them arm."
 

Boba Fit

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182841

Everyone had provided their input, herself included, but then she asked the clone commander a question. Just as he was responding, he was rudely cut off but the little bounty hunter, that Son of lothcat. Tsolus had the audacity to proclaim himself as a general, when he wasn't even a Jedi. Lahsan knew how the ranks of the older Republic militaries worked. Jedi Masters and Knights were Generals, with the Masters being assigned whole fleets and ships sometimes. Knights tended to lead the forces into battle. Padawans automatically achieved the rank of commander, and this idea came under some scrutiny. After all, their were 13-17 year old children leading whole regiments into warfare and making tactical decisions. Her own great grandmother was in that position. Lahsan was going to respond to Tsolus about the command structure, but the clone commander did it for her. Effectively telling Tsolus, that he wasn't in charge. A smile crept onto her face, but she kept her own mouth closed.

Ishua then dished out the orders for the group, as well as some praise for what Lahsan said. They went with most of her plan, and she was assigned to the task that was most exciting. She would be working with Doc, the medical droid, and overseeing the physicals of the clones. As the groups split up and began to depart, she called to the droid. "Hey, Doc. I've got some questions and some suggestions. We have a lot of clones to get through, and not enough time to do it. I need the clones in their assembly area, lined up by squad. They are quarantined in there, till their squad is called and the chips are removed. I want to call the first squad in, and do scans for the inhibitor chips. Once found, we need to come up with a plan on how to remove them in the quickest and painless way possible. How large is your med bay? How many clones can we effectively work on at one time?" As Lahsan was talking, she turned and began to head toward where she thought the med bay was. It was the direction the med droid had come from after all. Lahsan also hoped the droid would walk and talk. Their were so many clones, and so little time, so she needed to be efficient.​
 

BlueFlameNikku

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Collab Featuring [Rusty, Taal & Denis] Communications Team​

The little astromech droid clicked and whistled as he turned back down the corridor as the groups split up and began to go about their various tasks. In this case, the small trio began making their way to the communications center as the droid stood upright, a small latch on the front of his chassis opening as he revealed his scomp arm, working to access the door. After a few seconds, the sound of a soft hiss could be heard accompanied by a light creaking as the automatic door pulled itself into the side of the doorframe for the first time in decades, revealing the equipment within.


Denis followed Rusty closely as they traversed the corridor; Taal still latched to his back. Spirits seemed high for the most part within the cell except for an exceptional few. Regardless, whatever would happen next it was paramount that communications were operational. The importance of the task hit the initiate hard once the doors to the comm chambers slid open revealing rows of dated communication equipment. Sure repairing old electronics was nothing new to him but all of this might prove difficult.


With a rudimentary assessment of the room it was made clear as to what was still operational and what needed to be worked on. Denis spoke up with a hesitant tone. “So...uh...the external communications array and planetary sensory relay still work. Getting a message back to the council about this should be easy for you Rusty.” The young man sighed. “In the meantime I’ll see what I can do with the stuff that ain’t working.” With his tinkerer’s satchel retrieved the initiate began his work opening up a small latch on one side of the holocommunicator that was within the center of the room. Laying on his back with his upper half tucked inside the small compartment, scattered static sparking like sounds and the sharp bang of metal could be heard here and there. Not looking away from his present work, Denis pointed towards a wrench like tool sticking out from his bag. “Taal, would ya mind tightening any loose piping or bundles of wires around the room with that? Some of em are high up on the walls so they are kinda hard to get to; should be easy for you though and it should help with the orbital scanning module. Just...be careful ok.”

The Lurmen in question hopped up, quickly moving from his position observing Denis’ work through the small opening in the holocommunicator to quickly scanning through the equipment bag with a frantic pace. After triumphantly pulling the wrench free, Taal shot Denis a quick salute (despite the human very clearly not being able to see it).


“Leave it to me. When I’m done, there won’t be a single loose screw in the station.”


So saying, Taal shoved the wrench between his teeth, and went running towards one of the taller sets of equipment placed against the walls, hands and feet quickly pattering against the cool metal floor. It was with a series of muffled grunts that the diminutive Initiate hopped his way up and across the wall, moving from consoles to monitors to grates until finally latching onto one of the pipes running parallel to the ceiling.


The piping had a somewhat clammy feeling to the touch; the result of something that had been functionless and cool for so long finally coming alive, much like the rest of the metal in the base. Taal’s brow fell briefly into a concerned line, but he shoved his worries to one side, and focused on carefully pushing a piece of rattling piping back into its proper place. Wrapping his legs around a fairly study feeling pipe, the Lurmen hung upside down as he carefully cranked the wrench around the faulty pipe joint. As he steadily set about his work though, a thought started to slowly come to the forefront of Taal’s mind.


“Hey, Denis, what do you…” Taal briefly spun the question around a few times in his head, but failed to find a more articulate way to word his question as he called across the room, “make of all this? Finding the Clones, I mean.”


The uncertainty in Taal’s tone betrayed his own concerns, but the Lurmen tried his best to keep his focus on his task even as he kept his ears strained towards Denis’ position.


The droid, in the meantime, wheeled its way to the central console on the back wall, slowly booting up the remaining consoles and systems in order to run a general diagnostic. Blue and white screens began to buzz and hum to life as general diagnostics began to appear on the largest screen in Galactic Basic. With his advanced programming compared to the astromechs that would typically have acted on this technology, Rusty was able to run multiple systems at once while the general diagnostic kept sprawling across the main screen while specific diagnostics began to run on the individual console stations.


After a moment or two, the astromech turned his red dome and let out a rather quick and high-pitched whistle, attempting to get the human’s attention on the large screen.


Caught off guard by Taal’s question Denis banged his head on the cold metal interior of the holocommunicator. A low groan followed the comical bang of metal. Removing himself from the small space Denis responded though he still rubbed his head from the impact. “I…I don’t know what to make of it all. It all seems too good to be true. A portion of me is absolutely terrified of what the clones did to the Jedi of the past. But at the same time...if these clones are truly on our side they would be a huge help.” He stood up, giving the holocommunicator a quick once over. “It's just as I said to Ishua. This opportunity is too good to pass up.” Just as he finished answering, the blonde slammed his fist down onto the console edge of the holocommunicator. After a low metal thud the device began humming to live with an array of blue holographic images popping up. “Heh, sometimes you gotta give old tech some tough love.” It was then that Denis’ attention was grabbed by Rusty. “I hear ya I hear ya.” He replied while casually making his way over.


On the central screen, the text froze after a short time as a summary came to the fore as the droid whistled and beeped at a far softer tone.


ERROR. ERROR. ERROR. CRITICAL SYSTEMS OFFLINE.


>External Communications Relay (EXC) has failed to activate.

>>EXC: 0% Online. EXC is below minimum functionality requirements.

Initial power failure. Examine external power supply cables and external console ports.


>Planetary Sensory Relay (PSR) has failed to completely activate.

>>PSR: 60% Online. PSR is below minimum functionality requirements.

Meteorological Subsystem Module (MSM) has failed to initialize.

MSM initialization failed upon attempted activation of the physical console. Examine the corresponding electrical systems.

Orbital Scanning Subsystem Module (OSSM) has failed to initialize.

OSSM initialization failed upon attempting to access orbital charts. Required data not found. Update orbital chart data and attempt to restart the module.


>Awaiting Input.




Taal looked up from the pipe he was adjusting, nearly fumbling with the wrench as he darted his eyes around to the console Rusty was connected to. He was initially confused when he couldn’t make sense of what was coming up on the main display, until he realized he was trying to read it upside down.

Quickly shaking his head, he focused on the fact that their resident astromech had sounded somewhat less energetic and hopeful then what was probably good. Of course, Taal had never been the best at interpreting the droid’s little beeps and whoops, so he turned and called to Denis,

“What’s Rusty saying? That didn’t sound too optimistic...”

Denis lowered his head and nervously scratched his head after hearing what Rusty said and what was displayed on the monitor. “Okay okay I was wrong, you don’t have to rub it in Rusty. The External Communications Relay and Planetary Sensory Relay are still offline.” With that the blonde would stumble into some deep thought. The instructions were rather clear on what to do but it was never that simple. He’d need to divide up what tools would be needed, how much time, anything that was dangerous. More and more concerns and questions flooded Denis mind which caused him to lose focus over himself. The majority of his tools that were scattered across the smooth floor beforehand to float gently upwards towards the ceiling; even Rusty would levitate a couple inches before he looked around and noticed. He abruptly shut his and regained his composure. Not a second later multiple metal clangs would sound off as the tools and Rusty met the floor. Slowly opening one eye Denis sheeply apologized to the droid. “Sorry Rusty.”


After cracking his neck Denis spoke up once again. “Alright, we can do this, we can do this. Everything will be fine, everyone is counting on us...no pressure” He took a deep breath before huffed it all out. “Ok, Rusty, uploading the orbital chart data to the (OSSM) is all you. Taal, I’m gonna hand you another tool to help with the pipes just in case any pipes need welding. External Comms definitely have cable and port issues. I trust you’ll do just fine. I likely have some more wires to splice in the MSM systems.” A sudden chill went up his at the realization of the responsibility he’d undertaken. Come on don’t be a kriff up don’t be a kriff up. After a short awkward silence Denis retrieved the tools for Taal and himself before heading to his own task. He got on his commlink and got into contact with Ishua. “Knight Ken, the holocommunicator has been made operational. The rest of communications should be up and running soon.”
 

Desert Bee

The Enemy Stand!!!
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Tsol wasn't much of a historian, but again he had the thought this behavior was exactly what had gotten the Jedi wiped out a couple centuries ago. The pretentious complacency. This legion's apparent commander, his attitude made sense at least. Organics programmed to follow orders. The Jedi had no excuse, but at least Stella Shay was using her brain.

All the same, Tsol was a contractor and assistant here which meant the most he could do was make suggestions, sometimes forcefully, but suggestions all the same. Didn't mean he couldn't complain about it though.

Following the droid calling itself 'Doc' to the medbays, Tsol followed up the rear. Jedi Makena had been rather quiet so far, respectable. Lahsan on the other hand...

He had noticed a conceited smile on Lahsan following the legion commander's refusal and Ishua's request. It wasn't good to assume, but simple explanations tended to be the correct ones. She was happy Tsol had been talked down. What a juvenile reaction.

Prior to the mission, he had made a point of inspecting the profiles of his new team. Very few individuals had worthwhile combat or strategic experience. On Mandalore things were different, they raised warriors from birth and because of that an individual was considered an adult at thirteen. Because they had been tried and tested in their field. Hunts. War.

These Jedi, even collectively, didn't measure up to the number of operations he had been in yet still exuded confidence. Then again, vanity was a galactic trait and not exclusive.

Ferid brushed close, fur meshing against his thigh and holster, looked up at him. The hound could probably sense his annoyed mood. Animals tended to be empathetic about subtle cues. Tsol ruffled Ferid's mane while they walked, gave a pat.

Lahsan was already diving into the role she had given to herself. Organizing squads, effective mitigation. All the same, she was yet again ignoring a large problem. You didn't immediately give weapons to people coming out of cryo. Even without this whole inhibition chip it was dangerous. But the fact these troopers had actual programmed orders inside them that said "Kill all Jedi" was a tad concerning. Cryo could have messed with the chip as well, who knew what degradation the chips had gone through. Maybe some, or chaos forbid all, were damaged and letting slip execution orders early.

But hey, Tsol thought. They know I ain't a Jedi, so that's a concession.

At the medbay itself, a host of other droids were stationed at terminals. Ferid stalked up to one but the automaton was rigidly focused on its task. Droids tended to be a lot more fearful; might've been the medical programming. After Lahsan had finished her questioning, Tsol walked up beside her, helmet facing ahead.

"Maybe not forget about hibernation sickness, yeah? Best not to have an ill clone shoot a Jedi this early, general."

As Doc, Lahsan, Tsol, and Makena set about procedure review and requesting bio samples from the clone troopers, Tsol took to data review. It was actually rather clean. Whatever technology the Old Republic worked with, it was solid. There seemed no present trace of any mental or physiological instability as of yet but it only took one to cause problems.

There was offhand mention at times to the clones' background throughout the data entries, a lot of it lining up with the terminals back at Enlightenment facilities and what Asuro had talked about. Still there were gaps. He looked up from the terminal, raised his voice to chief medical droid. "Oi, Doc. Did the cloners find a way to reverse that accelerated aging?" He had did a double-take on reading they had been accelerated at all. What kind of psychosis these troopers might've had from that kind of origin. Being born in a tube, having a twenty year old body at age ten. Tsol had all sorts of new concerns about the clones mental states.

Diving back into the records, he started looking for any mention of the clone army's gestation and upbringing. Kaminoans. Seemed they had had some excellent doctors. Most of the data on the mental well-being of the troopers were copies of files from someone called Taun We. That's when he read it.

Tsol pulled his head back, turning his gaze to the side where clone troopers were organizing themselves marching about the facility. His eye darting around within the confines of his static headdress. Looking back at the terminal, he stared at the name for several seconds. Something that hadn't come up in all the briefing, all the terminals. The clone template, Jango Fett.

These clones were Mandalorian.

He took a deep breath, sighed. Lahsan was till interrogating the med droids. Ferid was, surprisingly, letting itself by petted by Makena. The stoic man was scratching Ferid behind the ears. And the clones of the Ninth Legion... The clones were following orders.

Tsol's head was spinning. Wait, wait a kriffing minute. Wait-what is-

Connections were forming in his mind. These clones, these human beings, had been programmed to kill Jedi but before that they had been programmed to serve them as well. Allowing untrained, pseudo-pacifist monks, even children, to lead them into battles where they fought and died and for what, where was the choice? There was no glory in being a slave.

There was a lot for Tsol to process, and very little for him to speak up about. He had to organize his thoughts first. Lahsan was asking for something. Emptying his mind, Tsol rigidly followed orders.