#clone trooper tibanna

[shagpaboloutpost]

Set in my Dead Brothers Rescue Coalition au, because my brain won’t let it go: in the simplest of terms, this is a Domino Squad lives au and the war is over now; Hevy spent some time in the Coruscant Guard befriending my oc Nel who helped him and the rest of Domino stop Palpatine and reveal the truth about the chips. There’s a lot more context but it doesn’t play into this snippet too much, since it is very oc-centric

(Part Two; Part Three is coming soon)

It was the first time Tibanna had been to Coruscant since… he didn’t remember. He’d been once. He’d hidden in the barracks the whole time, sure that if he set foot on the streets every red-clad clone on the planet would know and treat him accordingly.

Not a terribly rational fear, but his more rational brain agreed with the outcome anyway if not the logic.

Assignment to Shag Pabol had been a gift. He’d never have to go to Coruscant again, and never risk running into a Guard who knew about him.

Now the war was over, and clones were being recalled to the Core in batches of a hundred, so they could be questioned at length about what they wanted out of life. The Jedi did it compassionately, at least; the Senate was clearly doing it because they were worried about money. For Tibanna, who’d had to spend the entire flight here listening to Starcatcher ask the same questions, it was all torture.

And what the hell was he meant to answer, anyway? His life was Shag Pabol. It was always supposed to be Shag Pabol. Who wanted a bomb defused by someone who couldn’t stand the sight of explosives? Who wanted demolitions done by a man who’d try anything but demolition? Even Wraith hadn’t wanted him, until he saw that Tibanna wasn’t about to let anyone get hurt for his shortcomings.

“Think bigger!” Starcatcher had urged him. “It’s not about doing what you’ve been doing. If you could do anything in the galaxy, what would you do?”

“I’d shove you out an airlock,” Widow had said from two seats down. A couple clones – mostly Tibanna’s squad – had snickered. Tyrant had drawn herself upright, eyes blazing.

“Widow,” she said coldly. Widow’s mouth had closed with a click. Tyrant had looked over at Starcatcher.

“Give Tibanna time to think it over,” she’d advised, flicking a sympathetic glance his way. “What are your plans?”

Starcatcher had a million of them, which if you asked Tibanna meant he wasn’t any more decisive about it than those of them who had no answer at all. But he had a feeling if he pushed his luck Tyrant would come down hard on all of them, and Wraith would be glad to watch. It was always dangerous when those two were together.

The peace only lasted so long. Not being separated by squad meant time to form new alliances, and potentially dangerous ones at that. Tibanna knew the night would go wrong when Festival called his name with Teal, Turquoise, Magenta, and Starcatcher at his back.

“You’re coming out with us, right?”

“Festival…” Tibanna searched for an excuse that wouldn’t give away how much he didn’t want to be here.

“Come on! No fireworks in bars, after all. Every clone in the army’s been to 79’s but us.”

“I’ve been,” Starcatcher offered.

“Everyone including Starcatcher but not us,” Festival said. “Tibanna. What’s the issue this time? I know you’re not actually allergic to fun.”

He sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine, but only so I can keep you idiots from crashing a speeder into a wall once you’re drunk.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” Magenta said. “I didn’t want to go. You can deal with them.”

“Wait –“ Tibanna said, alarmed, but Magenta was already gone. He looked at the assembled clones with a sinking feeling: Festival, Starcatcher, Teal, and Turquoise.

“Please tell me Wraith or Ty will be there,” he said faintly.

“Not sure,” Festival said. “Only one way to find out!”

Wraith was there, and Festival whooped with delight as soon as they saw him. Teal leaned over to Turquoise, muttering something in his ear with a dirty look at Wraith. Tibanna may not be Magenta, but he knew their plotting faces when he saw them. He put an arm around each of them and hauled them after Festival to the booth where Wraith sat.

“Sergeant! Hi!” Starcatcher said delightedly. Wraith turned, and Tibanna froze. He barely noticed when Teal and Turquoise wriggled out of his grip. There were two clones sitting opposite Wraith. One wore civilian clothing. The other was fully kitted out in Coruscant Guard red, their helmet sitting on the table beside them.

“I don’t think this is the party you’re looking for,” Wraith said, but he scooted over to let Festival sit anyway. Tibanna knew he was standing there like an idiot, but he didn’t know what to do.

“What are you up to, sir? Catching up with old friends from your Intelligence days?” Starcatcher asked.

“Classified,” Wraith said.

“Banthashit, the army’s disbanded!” Turquoise blurted, apparently more eager to push his luck than he was to escape Wraith’s watchful eye altogether. “Nothing’s classified anymore.”

The clone without armour laughed.

“You’d be surprised,” they said. Teal perked up; Tibanna couldn’t blame her. This vod had a unique accent.

“Sergeant!” Teal whispered. “Sergeant, that’s the one from the recording!”

“Told you I’d be famous, Hevy,” they said. The Coruscant Guard groaned and shoved their friend.

“Ignore him,” Hevy said. “They’re the only people we know actually saw the thing, anyway.”

“That we know of,” he replied. “Hey, Hevy, scoot over, they’re still stuck standing there.”

“There’s plenty of space!” Hevy protested.

“I’m fine,” Tibanna said. “I was just – uh –“

Wraith was watching him now. Of course Wraith would notice something was wrong.

“What’s this about a recording?” Starcatcher asked.

“I found this recording in our systems,” Teal said eagerly. “After a security breach a couple months back? The one where nothing happened? And Ty and Sergeant Wraith said to keep it quiet – oh. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s not sensitive anymore,” Wraith said. “Right?”

“We just don’t want to advertise it, in case somebody doesn’t like how much time we spent breaking and entering,” said the clone with the accent. Wraith nodded. He looked up at Tibanna again, but looked away without saying anything.

“Right,” Teal said. “That’s… Was it true, then? All the things the recording said?”

Wraith pursed his lips.

“Your unit is scheduled to have your chips removed tomorrow morning,” said Hevy quietly. “We didn’t make an army-wide announcement, because the Senate is being awful as it is.”

That we was strange to hear. Hevy wasn’t a high-ranking clone, going off the armour. But they talked like these decisions had been theirs to make. Tibanna wondered again about the details of the war’s sudden end.

“Sir, if you knew about this how come we didn’t?” Starcatcher asked, sounding hurt. He was the only one. Tibanna and Festival were both used to the way Wraith operated, and Teal had obviously told Turquoise right away.

“Op sec,” Wraith said, ignoring Festival as she mouthed it with him. “Need to know only.”

“Do we get the story now?” Starcatcher asked plaintively. Everyone very visibly leaned in. Hevy nudged their vod. The other clone nudged back. Wraith groaned.

“It’s classified –“

“I’m not getting their drinks.”

Another Coruscant Guard nudged Tibanna gently out of the way with an elbow, setting down drinks for Hevy, Wraith, and the other clone. They sat next to Hevy with a wince and a sigh. As the light hit their cheek, Tibanna knew why. They’d grown their hair out, keeping it tied in a loose braid, and an intricate-looking tattoo peeked out from their sleeve, curling a little tail across the back of their ungloved hand. Those things didn’t matter. Tibanna knew the shape of the scars he’d given them.

“Shrapnel,” he blurted.

Everyone stared but Shrapnel, who curled their hand around their glass and didn’t look up.

“I was hoping that wasn’t you,” they said quietly.

“Nel?” Hevy asked.

“How deep does this dark secret thing go?” Starcatcher complained.

“Go order your drinks,” Wraith commanded the others, picking up on the implications in an instant just like always. Tibanna liked his sergeant most days, but he’d never been quite so grateful for him before. Teal and Festival took their cues, pushing Starcatcher and Turquoise with them. Wraith stood, setting a hand on Tibanna’s arm.

“Do you two need a minute?”

“It won’t take a minute,” Shrapnel said. “There’s nothing to say.”

Wraith looked from one vod to the other, obviously calculating something.

“We may not be friends, Nel,” he said. “But I think mutual informants owe each other something, and I ought to tell you that Tibanna’s one of the best I’ve ever worked with. More careful and considerate than most of my squad, and thinks everything through. It means he’s not half bad at talking those things through, either, if you let him.”

“This has nothing to do with you, sergeant,” Shrapnel said. “I’m sure you’re proud to stand up for your troops.”

“Nel, what the –“ Hevy hissed.

“I’m leaving, actually,” Shrapnel announced, visibly struggling to their feet. Tibanna’s guilt twisted over and around itself in his stomach. “Don’t want to bring your party down.”

“Shrapnel, wait,” Tibanna said, finally finding his voice as he grabbed for their wrist frantically. “Please, I – how have you been?”

“In pain,” they said shortly. “And that’s not my name.” They shook him off and walked away.

“You’re Nel’s batchmate,” Hevy said.

“Is this supposed to mean something to the rest of us?” their brother whispered. Hevy swatted him.

“I’ll tell you later, Cutup,” they said. “You are, aren’t you?”

Tibanna managed to nod.

“Shrapnel is a pretty cruel joke of a name,” Hevy said coldly.

“This coming from the man who named Droidbait?” Cutup muttered into his drink. Judging by his wince a second later, Hevy had kicked him.

“I didn’t – They were Shrapnel before it happened,” Tibanna protested weakly. He sank into a seat at last, more because he didn’t trust his legs to hold him than because he wanted to be here.

“Tibanna,” Wraith said. “What’s going on?”

Tibanna got the feeling Wraith already knew; he knew what Tibanna had done, just not who he’d done it to. The fact that Shrapnel – Nel and Wraith had known each other from Coruscant was a surprise. He was glad he’d never dropped Nel’s old name. Wraith was clever enough to put the pieces together.

“You know,” Tibanna said. Hevy was watching him like a judge. Cutup looked worried. He wished Festival would come back. He could use a squadmate. “I wasn’t careful, and I wanted to show off. Nel had an idea, some theory they wanted to test, and I loved going along with that kind of thing. I walked away to get something, leaving unstable compounds behind, and…”

He tried to say it all with the cadence of a briefing, something he’d learned a long time ago from Wraith to keep the feelings out of it. He almost made it through.

“I’m going after her,” Hevy announced, standing up. He looked Tibanna over with a neutral expression. Tibanna had assumed that was an Intelligence thing, when Wraith did it, but maybe it was just a Coruscant thing. The music and lights in the bar shifted, and for a moment Hevy looked like Nel had on that awful day. Tibanna dropped his head into his hands. The last thing he needed was to hallucinate from guilt.

“Hevy,” Cutup hissed.

“I know,” he hissed back. “Just – you can just drink your drink, all right?”

“Like hell,” Cutup said. Tibanna dug his fingers into his scalp, refusing to look up at whatever display of brotherly devotion was in front of him. He didn’t deserve it.

“Nel won’t talk to you, anyway,” Hevy said. “I’ll be back.”

Wraith sat gingerly beside Tibanna, who refused to look up.

“If I’d known I knew your batchmate…” he began awkwardly.

Now Tibanna did look up, the better to fix his sergeant with a doleful glare.

“What would you have said, sir? What could you say?”

Wraith’s moustache twitched unhappily. With a look of extreme discomfort, he gingerly wrapped an arm around Tibanna’s shoulders.

“You’re still a terrible hugger, sir,” Tibanna informed him, but he appreciated the gesture. From the look Wraith gave him, equal parts tired and amused and fond, he knew.

“Uh,” Cutup said. “Do you want to hear about the crazy Force parts of ending the war, or should I not try to distract you?”

“Please tell me about anything that doesn’t involve Nel,” Tibanna said. Cutup made a face.

“Crazy Force shit it is.”

[eclec-tech]

These Are a Few of OUR Favorite Things (Clone Fandom Edition!)

I made up a little holiday ditty today as a gift for my fellow clone fans! 🧡 I think you all know the tune, but here it is in case you don't. (cut and paste bake graphics by @saradika)

Snow-covered planets and whiskered commanders Bright blaster fire and unfair Fox slanders Tattooed skin flexing on pretty “short kings” These are a few of our favorite things

Muscular torsos on handsome Tup doodles Oh, how these dear men turn us into noodles Snipers that shoot men beneath vultures' wings These are a few of our favorite things

Boys in white armor with bright blue paint splashes Wolf packs and medpacs and sexy mustaches Silvering temples and injured in slings These are a few of our favorite things

When cadets fight When drunk clones sing When I'm feeling sad I simply remember our favorite things And then I don't feel so bad

(Well, OF COURSE I did the second half of the song too!)

Raindrops on helmets in angsty clone fanfics We all love reading those Domino antics "Brown Eyes" in goggles fixing starship dings These are a few of our favorite things

White eye prostheses and scomps on ARC troopers Bomb shells and bunk smells and daring bike swoopers Rescues that wind up on keeradak wings These are a few of our favorite things

Shinies in full kit with tibanna blasters Really weird haircuts and tattoo disasters Clones that choose farming, kids, and wedding rings These are a few of our favorite things

Rishi eels bite Yalbec queens sting When I’m feeling sad I simply remember our favorite things And then I don't feel so bad

[cabezadeperro]

Hi! Can I ask for pocho + 44. sitting on the other’s lap?

hello!!!!!!!

pre-relationship, takes place during the war, before echo "dies" on the citadel. established echo5, T, ~1.1k words.

---

Echo checks the coordinates one last time and pushes the speeder forward,. Damp, hot wind crawls up from the dark, and Echo scrunches up his nose, missing his bucket. The civvie clothes aren’t his but Fives’s, who always had the stickier fingers of the two, and the jacket is too tight about the shoulders, and somehow too warm for the weather and not enough. Echo scowls impatiently at the speeder in front of his, paused in the middle of the empty skylane and waiting for the way down to clear—after a beat he rolls his eyes and cuts the engine, ducking under the other vehicle’s and cutting in front of it. Someone yells at him in Huttese. Echo rolls his eyes again and ignores them. 

He wants to go back to the front. He never loved Coruscant, and the experience of having to actually work in the city is making him hate it like he hates very few things. It’s loud, it’s smelly, and it’s insanely expensive. Fives keeps pestering him, asking for updates, telling him to visit this place or another, and Echo’s running out of ways to tell him that living in it is more expensive and more boring than spending your two-day leaves there now and then. Their respective schedules are so off it’d be funny if Echo was in a better mood: they talk little and not very often, and Echo misses him so much sometimes thinks he’s going to die from it. 

The jacket smells like him. Echo doesn’t sigh, quietly judging himself and his own banthashit, and forces his mind back on track.

He was told to take one of the suspiciously ample number of unmarked Corrie speeders and drive down to one of the lower levels, and to do it out of armour. He’s to pick up someone else—they didn’t tell him who, or why. 

Echo dislikes not knowing, dislikes the vagueness and the surety on his handler’s part that he’ll just yes-sir and do as he’s told, but by now he knows that’s how it goes. He will get the job done, and then he’ll go back to Arca—he’s been spending so long in the range there that his scores are within the ten highest on the list. 

The coordinates take him down the nearest chute, many levels below the surface, and to a small landing pad close to one of the entertainment districts. Echo parks the speeder and then stays inside, leaning in his seat with the engine off. He’s sweating under his leather jacket: it’s warmer than up top, and the air stinks of speeder exhaust and cooking food, the lights and the music that come in from the nearby streets distracting and alluring at once. 

One minute becomes two, three. Ten. echo’s impatience grows sharper and more bitter.

His comm beeps in his ear. Echo accepts the call with a scowl.

“1409,” a voice says. They sound like a clone trooper, but—off. Hoarser, lower.

“Copy.”

“Two levels down, next to Herrik’s garage. Get the speeder as close as you can to the wall and wait there. Five minutes.” 

The call ends. Echo lifts an eyebrow and starts the speeder again.

He can see Herrik’s from where he is, the shop’s neon boards shining poison green in the murky dusk of the chute. Echo drops across skylines, ducking under the top-heavy freighters floating their way back up to the surface, bored and impatient and already thinking about dinner, about taking a shower and maybe trying to call Fives again, and then—

Blaster shots, the noise unique and familiar and somehow comforting, and then a flash of dark clothing and dark eyes, and a smothering and sudden weight. One arm around Echo’s neck, warm breath against the side of his face, and

“Drive,” the clone trooper says. 

What the fuck.

Echo swerves away from the wall of the chute, the motion of the speeder pushing them back against the side, the other man heavy in his lap. He’s wearing civvies, and he stinks of tibanna discharge, and instead of moving off Echo’s lap he stays, looking back, deecee in one hand. There’s blood on his face.

“This’ll be easier if you get off my lap,” Echo says. 

The trooper blinks. He shifts and settles on the copilot seat, breathing hard. Echo doesn’t roll his eyes and pulls them higher, ignoring the skylanes, just pointing them towards the upper levels. 

They’re being followed. Lights, too far away to count properly, moving too fast. Echo scowls and switches gears, gets them under one of the big freighters, hides them in its shadow, and blaster shots slide uselessly over its hull, showering them in bright hot plasma.

“This won’t last,” the clone trooper says. “You should let me drive,” he continues. “I’m the better driver.”

He sounds so—sure of himself. Confident in his own abilities, or maybe just distrustful of Echo’s. He’s very—standard. Hair regulation short, no tattoos, no facial hair. Just scars, and that hoarse voice. He looks exactly like Echo, except in all the way he does not.

“No,” Echo replies. “I have my orders.”

“I can make it an order, then” the trooper says. 

It takes Echo longer than it probably should.

He has met Thire and Stone. Fives has met Thorn. Echo doesn’t know enough about Commander Fox to know if he’s the kind of man to pull rank just because he wants to drive a shitty speeder. 

“Of course, sir,” Echo replies. Not too slow, perfectly bland. The commander sighs, exasperated. He doesn’t move, and neither does Echo.

Echo shifts his grip on the controls, checks the rearview, glances up: he sees lights, lights, lights, and then a patch of orange sky. The sun’s setting on the surface. 

Fives would love this. He can never know. 

Echo feels the commander’s eyes on him all the way back to the surface, while they fight their way back to the Corrie barracks, and then on the Corrie medbay, Echo being treated for a nasty blaster burn on his back, the commander bleeding from his nose and his mouth and sitting on the cot next to his.

Later, he’ll wonder about Fox. He’ll find himself wondering about what kind of man jumps on moving speeders from great heights, Coruscant’s endless void under his feet and blaster shots at his back, about his flat dark gaze and his breath on Echo’s throat, but that night—tired, hurting, hungry, missing his friends and missing Fives—Echos ignores him the best he can. This is it, he believes. Fox’s already just another story.

(He’s wrong.)

[vyingeyes]

Clone Squad Compositions

In the same vein as my 5-trooper-squad (and subsequent Math Consequences) spiral, I have taken the liberty of establishing guidelines for what specialized training each clone in a squad may have.

Initially Domino Squad was my primary reference for this, but I also referenced Delta Squad (and the Bad Batch, to some extent).

For my own worldbuilding consistency, squads consist of 5 troopers:

2 of these troopers are standard infantry

1 information analyst per squad

2 "specialized" troopers per squad

Infantry are the "default"; all troopers receive the same standard required physical and weapons training, but if a clone is not in a special track, he'll have a training period dedicated exclusively to advancing weapons training, formation practice, endurance training, live sims, etc.

Information analysts are the designated "brains" of a squad. If they aren't their squad's lead, they'll work with their squad lead to build and execute plans. Most information analysts will have at least a basic understanding of concepts like splicing and have an advanced understanding of factors such as land formations and native wildlife. They may be less physically imposing than other troopers (by a standard likely unnoticeable by most natborns, but that is recognizable by other troopers), because their specialized training involves little physical strain.

Specialized tracks are a broad range of potential focuses for troopers. Like the other trooper types, these are assigned upon decanting and are only changed in examples of extenuating circumstances (for example, if a squadmate fails out of their original track and is "demoted" to infantry). This category includes tracks such as heavy gunner, engineer, ordnance specialist, medic, scout, pilot, sniper, etc. There are various expectations placed on troopers in certain tracks—scouts must be good runners, snipers have to have an eye for detail, etc. If a clone is incapable of meeting the standard of his track by their third cycle (approx. 6 years old, developmentally), he is removed from his track and becomes infantry. This may also happen to information analysts. In this instance, the original infantry of their squad will be evaluated, and one of them will be inserted into an appropriate track.

For the sake of showing my work:

The Bad Batch exemplify "advanced" versions of some of these tracks. It's presumably that more clones like them would have been developed had they been viewed as "successful" experiments earlier on. Hunter is an advanced scout. Tech is an advanced information analyst. Crosshair is an advanced sniper. I actually think that Wrecker would have been an advanced heavy gunner (big, bulky, able to take a lot and dish it back without too much delay), but found more love in ordnance than rotary weaponry (although he is certainly an expert at both).

Domino Squad is a little tougher, because of how little we see of Cutup and Droidbait (my poor boy barely even died). I think Echo is likely an information analyst, which is primarily due to his technological expertise in TBB (I simply think he would have a more "typical" prosthetic hand by this point if wanted one, so I think he prefers the scomp). I think it's also in line with his characterization in Rookies. He's the one to consider liquid tibanna as a method for destroying the base, solving the problem Hevy raises. Hevy was a heavy gunner, of course. (So is Commander Thorn.) I also believe Hevy was squad lead, and I will die on that hill. Fives is a fun wild card for me. I lean infantry, because nothing else stands out as obvious to me. And also because I think that Droidbait was the other tracked member of their squad. He's clearly got a knack for getting himself into precarious positions that ended up with him having a slightly unfortunate name; I think he's had a little less active-battle training than, say, Cutup and Fives. I imagine him as perhaps a scout or engineer.

And Delta Squad. Fixer is an IA, Scorch is an ordnance specialist, and Sev is a sniper. I would peg Boss as infantry, but I think technically you could make a case for few options since he's the played character and doesn't have a lot of solid character established in the current canon. I could make an argument here reinforcing my 5-squad rule by saying commando squads wouldn't need a second infantry trooper, but this is already long winded and rambling.

Every single trooper OC in my work follows these rules. My Obsidian vault is very convoluted.

[propheticfire]

I’m having way too much fun with FaceApp. Please enjoy Rex and Tup.

Bonus: my OC Tibanna! She’s an ARC trooper and she will fuck you up.

[cienie-isengardu]

As they explored the ship's corridors, Boba and Garr often had to stand aside for formations of clone troopers marching to the mess hall or to the main docking bay for a battle sortie. [...] The troopers marched from place to place, or sat in their dorms polishing their Tibanna-gas blasters. They never talked with anyone outside their ranks, and rarely talked to one another; and never noticed the two ten-year-olds who walked among them. They always traveled in groups of four, six, ten - always even numbers. They didn't like to be alone. They paid no attention to Boba and Garr as they continued to go everywhere together. They saw the vast hydroponic farms, tended by droids, that turned waste into air and water, just like the forests and kelp beds on the planets. They saw the immense plasma engines, tended by droids and a few harried crew members. They saw the clone troopers, never excited, never bored, endlessly cleaning their weapons.

Boba Fett: Crossfire

[theclonewarsdaily]

let’s talk: the clone wars rewatch!

It’s time! This week we will be focusing on the first 10 episodes of season 1. They are about 22 minutes long each and would add up to less than 5 hours. So, about five hours of clone wars this week.

Or, below the cut, here is a summary of each episode (courtesy of Wookieepedia and my brain recollection):

Ambush (s01 e01)

Jedi Master Yoda is on a secret mission to forge a treaty with the King of the strategic system of Toydaria when his ship is ambushed by Count Dooku. Yoda and three Clone troopers must face off against Count Dooku’s dreaded assassin Ventress and her massive droid army to prove the Jedi are strong enough to protect the king and his people from the forces of the war. Yoda and the troopers prevail despite one clone being injured. Katuunko is impressed by the display, and opts to have Toydaria join the Republic. Furious about the outcome, Dooku orders Ventress to kill the king. Ventress knocks the king’s Toydarian royal guards unconscious and prepares to deal the killing blow, but Master Yoda arrives just in time, stopping Ventress mid-swing. Rather than surrender, Ventress quickly triggers an avalanche with pre-planted explosive charges, using it as a distraction to escape in her solar sailer. King Katuunko gladly accepts Yoda’s offer to join the Republic, and Republic gunships come to retrieve the group.

Rising Malevolence (s01 e02)

Creating panic throughout the galaxy, a devastating Separatist mystery weapon terrorizes the clone starfleet. Anakin and Ahsoka race to save Jedi Master Plo Koon and his clone troopers in time. Jedi Master Plo Koon and his squad barely survive an attack from a mysterious Separatist warship called the Malevolence. Feeling his force presence, Ahsoka overtakes control of the ship and leads them to Plo Koon and the Wolfpack’s location. Grievous’ battle droids detect a signal from behind them and move to attack. Having powered down all of their systems to avoid detection but forgetting about the medical droids, the Jedi rush to get systems back up and running to possibly escape. Grievous orders the use of their warship but the Jedi and company manage to escape.

Shadow of Malevolence (s01 e03)

With the help of his Padawan Ahsoka and Jedi Master Plo Koon, Anakin utilizes new long-range Y-wing bombers to lead a bold strike on General Grievous’ warship the Malevolence and its destructive weapon. As General Grievous uses the Malevolence to terrorize medical bases, the Jedi rush to defend Republic space. With help from his Padawan and Master Plo Koon, Anakin leads a bold strike mission into enemy territory. In attempt to destroy the Republic’s squadron, Grievous fires his weapon, causing major casualties to the Republic forces. Realizing that with the large loss of bombers destroying the Malevolence would be impossible, Anakin is forced to change their plan of attack.  As its mega-ion cannon charges, Shadow Squadron opens fire on it, causing the ion cannon to overload when General Grievous tries to unleash it once more on the Republic ships. The blast also damages the ship’s hyperdrive, preventing it from escaping into hyperspace. With newly arrived Republic capital ships led by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Admiral Yularen firing on him, Grievous orders the wounded flagship back to Separatist-held space. Anakin and the rest of Shadow Squadron then board the medical station, where they are congratulated by Nala Se. Anakin, however, mourns the losses of his men among Shadow Squadron, despite the great victory their lives had earned.

Destroy Malevence (s01 e04)

Padmé Amidala and C-3PO are taken hostage by General Grievous, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan to save the Senator and complete the destruction of the Malevolence. Anakin and Obi-Wan chase down the Malevolence, hoping to destroy it before it can escape. But when Padmé and C-3PO are captured and held hostage aboard, the Jedi are forced to hatch a new plan. Deciding to split up, Anakin and Padme head to the bridge to destroy all the droids and rig the ship’s navicomputer. They then leave the bridge, hiding the broken droids before others could find out what happened. Obi-Wan goes to destroy the hyperdrive. However, Grievous learns of this and sends droids down to guard the drive.  Obi-Wan duels with Grievous after dispatching his droids and manages to avoid the cyborg’s clutches. He reaches the Twilight along with the rest of the group and as they leave the ship, Grievous pursues in his starfighter. The droids on the warship then try to jump to hyperspace, only to discover that Anakin rigged the navicomputer to set a course right into the moon. Grievous watches in horror as the ship crashes into a nearby moon, then flees the system.

Rookies (s01 e05)

On the remote Rishi moon, a small unit of rookie clones stationed there, including Hevy, Echo, Fives, Droidbait, and Cutup (Domino Squad). Echo reads reg manuals while Hevy daydreams of being on the front lines when Sergeant O'Niner reminds them that their listening post is vital in keeping an eye on Separatist activities and making sure they do not try to slip past and launch a surprise attack on Kamino, the center of clone production and training. The Sergeant orders his men to prepare for an inspection by Captain Rex and Commander Cody, who are en route. Soon after, the station detects an incoming meteor shower and prompts it to raise its shields. But the meteors aren’t all meteors—two of them are boarding ships carrying several droid commandos. The droids infiltrate the place and Domino Squad, minus Droidbait, are the only ones to make it out.  Hevy, Echo, Fives, and Cutup emerge from a maintenance tunnel into a deep crater below the outpost and plan their next move. Suddenly a massive Rishi eel silently emerges from one of the many caves in the crater, snatches Cutup in its jaws, and disappears back into its hole taking the other rookies by surprise. Just then Cody and Rex’s shuttle flies in for a landing high above. Hevy, Fives, and Echo are unable to make contact by radio, so they decide to use a warning flare. Eventually, Hevy, Fives, and Echo are united with Rex and Cody, determined to retake their base and alert the Republic of the infiltration. Not wanting the base to fall back into enemy hands, the clones resolve to blow it up with liquid tibanna, which would disrupt the all-clear signal, thereby alerting the Republic. As the other clones escape through the tunnels, Hevy tries to arm the explosives but the remote doesn’t work, so he decides to activate it manually. In a heroic last stand, Hevy is wounded. The droids are unsure of what to do with him, asking each other if they take prisoners; Hevy defiantly says that he doesn’t, and sets off the explosives. The base, along with Hevy, is destroyed. Alerted, the Republic fleet jumps into the system and Grievous is forced to retreat as he is outgunned.When they return to the Resolute, Echo and Fives are granted medals and Rex inducts them in the 501st Legion.

Downfall of a Droid (s01 e06)

R2-D2 is lost during a fierce space battle - and Anakin, along with Ahsoka and a replacement droid, R3-S6, must find him before the Separatists discover the Jedi military secrets locked in his memory banks. As they search the debris field, they spot a freighter and dock with it. The Trandoshan captain, Gha Nachkt, claims there is no R2 unit on board but allows them to search anyway. Anakin hears R2’s beep and begins to slice through the door that he thinks he heard it in. But Goldie accidentally activates two IG-86 units instead of opening the door. The two Jedi manage to slice the droids in pieces as Anakin gets through the door, only to find Gha, who is angry that his droids were destroyed. Ahsoka concludes that R2 is not on board and they leave. But unfortunately, Gha had the little droid locked in a crate with a restraining bolt on and contacts Grievous, informing him that the droid is of great strategic value. Figuring that Grievous has a listening post somewhere, Anakin decides to go scouting but Ahsoka sends along R3, saying they could bond. R3 instead accidentally turns on the tracking device, alerting Grievous to his position. R3 only makes things go from bad to worse, detaching Anakin’s fighter from its hyperspace transport ring, not cutting the engines when he is told to, and disabling the blaster cannons. He is luckily saved by Ahsoka and Rex in the Twilight.

Duel of the Droids (s01 e07)

Anakin, Ahsoka and replacement droid R3-S6 (Goldie) embark on a dual rescue/sabotage mission when they discover R2-D2 is being held at General Grievous’ secret enemy listening post. When the team arrives at the station, Anakin separates from Ahsoka and the clones, heading out alone to find Artoo. Unbeknownst to them, R3-S6 is actually a spy for the Separatists, and alerts General Grievous to their presence. Tano and the clones infiltrated the reactor control room, but they had to confront and eliminate the security battle droids. After that, Grievous orders his IG-100 MagnaGuards to take Artoo to the ship. Ahsoka defends herself against Grievous’s blows and retreats to a room filled with spare droid parts. She hides from the general, but R3 gives her away. Grievous destroys her comlink, and she manages to escape through a vent. As Anakin and the clones, who have succeeded in planting the bombs, meet the Twilight in the hangar, R3’s treachery is revealed when he traps them and activates several droids to fight them, as Anakin’s suspicion on the golden droid’s true allegiance is true. Anakin orders Artoo to open the doors. Ahsoka rejoins the team, who defeats the Vulture droids and escapes in the Twilight, detonating the bombs. Grievous escapes the station in his ship, Soulless One. Anakin leaves in his starfighter to pick up Artoo. Meanwhile, Artoo manages to open the hangar doors, but R3 moves to intercept him, and the two droids face each other in combat. Artoo pushes his Separatist counterpart over the edge, but R3 grabs him with a suction cup. Artoo succeeds in cutting the cable, and R3-S6 is sent flying into the air, and he is destroyed by flying debris. Artoo is then rescued by Anakin.

Bombad Jedi (s01 e08)

Padmé Amidala is sent by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine on a secret mission to Rodia to negotiate peace. On her way, she meets up with Onaconda Farr, Padmé’s friend, whom she affectionately refers to as Uncle Ono. However, Padmé doesn’t realize that Farr has joined sides with Nute Gunray. Gunray promised Onaconda Farr that if he joins sides with Gunray, Gunray will supply Farr with food and shelter for the people of Rodia. Meanwhile, Jar Jar Binks and C-3PO try to plan a way to save Padmé from Nute Gunray. Jar Jar disguises himself as a Jedi and tries to save Padmé. With a little help of a sea monster, Padmé is rescued and Nute Gunray is captured.

Cloak of Darkness (s01 e09)

Ahsoka and Jedi Master Luminara escort captured Viceroy Nute Gunray to trial, unaware that Count Dooku has dispatched his deadly apprentice assassin Asajj Ventress to free the prisoner and eliminate the Jedi. Back on the Tranquility, Unduli and Ahsoka interrogate the Viceroy. When they get nowhere and the Viceroy refuses to answer their questions, Ahsoka threatens him, only to be chastised by Unduli. Nonetheless, the threats coerce Gunray to start talking. Unfortunately for the two Jedi, a swarm of Vulture Droids escorting three Separatist boarding ships attack the Tranquility. Super battle droids assault the Cruiser and hold off the clones, allowing Ventress to slip inside undetected. The Super Battle Droids are destroyed, leaving Ventress the last enemy on board. She duels Ahsoka for a short while before ironically locking her in Gunray’s cell. Luckily, Unduli’s timely arrival prevents Ventress from rescuing Gunray. Unfortunately, the assassin detonates the charges, rocking the ship before fleeing down the elevator shaft. Unduli goes after Ventress, confident that she can defeat the assassin, leaving Ahsoka again, in spite of the Padawan’s insistence that Ventress is too dangerous for any one Jedi to combat. In the generator room, Ventress and Unduli duel: Unduli is swiftly outmatched as Ventress, outraged because Unduli is taunting her fighting style as a sloppy and amateurish imitation of Dooku’s, overpowers Unduli and traps her under a number of collapsed pipes. Ahsoka makes a timely save only for Ventress to escape again. Later, Unduli and Ahsoka report to Yoda and Anakin Skywalker about the loss. They are told that they may be able to track the stolen ship. Ahsoka leaves to join Skywalker with Kit Fisto’s fleet, but not before receiving an apology from Unduli for not having listened to her monition about Ventress.

Lair of Grievous (s01 e10)

General Grievous must prove himself worthy of the Separatists when Count Dooku leads Jedi Master Kit Fisto and his former Padawan, the Mon Calamari Jedi Nahdar Vebb to Grievous’ villainous enclave. Upon discovering that the castle is the lair of Grievous, Fisto devises a plan to ambush Grievous as soon as he arrives. After landing his ship inside the castle, Grievous is confronted by the Jedi and the clones. A skirmish breaks out and Grievous’s legs are chopped off above the knees. As Grievous escapes, he kills two more clones before retreating to his control room to undergo repairs from his medic droid, EV-A4-D, he orders his MagnaGuards to lock down the perimeter. After Grievous is repaired, he decides to check if Gor has killed the Jedi, only to find that Gor is dead. He is then contacted by Count Dooku. This time the Count confirms to Grievous that this is a test for him since his defeats by the Jedi has shaken Dooku’s faith in the general. He decides to play along, and he and his guards go hunting. Since Fisto is locked in the control room, unable to help Vebb, he finds EV-A4-D and cuts him in half. Vebb proceeds to attack Grievous, but the general shoots and kills the young Jedi. After an intense lightsaber duel with Grievous, Fisto starts to gain the upper hand, but some of Grievous’s MagnaGuards arrive, which turns the odds against him. As R6-H5 arrives with his starfighter, Fisto escapes and returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

[eirianerisdar]

Twenty Minutes and Sixteen Seconds

For @celebrate-the-clone-wars’s 12/12 Writing Wednesday prompt Radio Silence.

>Twenty minutes and sixteen seconds of radio silence.

It was a figure Boil would always remember, even when the orange-yellow stripes of his GAR-issued armor melted away into the unyielding, featureless white of stormtrooper gear.

Twenty minutes and sixteen seconds was all it took.

He remembered-

-remembered the LAAT/i shaking under his feet, the scorching, dust-filled Utapau air whirring through his bucket filters; remembered the durasteel under his boots trembling as antifighter bolts streaked beside the open sides of the gunship, wind whipping at his orange-yellow armour as the answering thud-thud-thud of the Vigilance’s ventral cannons sounded like thunder, far above. A glimpse of a sinkhole so wide it could swallow a star destroyer whole, a city built on its gaping maw and wave after wave of plasma pouring from its lips even as the Republic navy rained down fury from above.

And beyond that, far, far below, a glimpse of something else; a blue lightsaber against four other blades.

Boil’s heart leapt at that; the knowledge that his general had begun the final battle against Grievous, and that Boil and the other men of the 212th were there to aid him.

And then the next antifighter bolt struck true.

The LAAT/i came apart around him. Towards the stern, a half-dozen shines died instantly, vaporised in midair. Boil clung to his support strap, shouting, twisting to lunge for Waxer in a whirlwind of shrapnel and hissing fuel, only to realise, as the remains of what had been a GAR gunship plummeted towards the ground, that Waxer was long gone; Umbara had taken him.

Boil fell alone, in ash and flame and the shriek of a terrain warning from a cockpit no longer piloted by living men.

He did not remember the crash.

Boil recalled, instead, the sickeningly-sweet smell of scorched flesh when he woke; his helmet filters were broken, and his HUD a mess of flickering, jagged lines. His bucket comm would not respond to his blinked codes for activation, though the chrono in the corner of his vision was remarkably intact; he had been unconscious for no more than five minutes.

The ground was painted in rusty red when he yanked off his helmet and; he crawled out of the tangle of twisted metal, tamped down on his rising gorge with long practice when he spotted one of his men - half of one of his men - a little ways to his right - and stumbled to his feet, body screaming in agony.

There were no other survivors.

In the distance, spheres of flame erupted from the lip of the city-sinkhole; the ground still shuddered under Boil’s streaked boots with the familiar sound of battle. The song of plasma meeting plasma, and the cries of familiar voices: his brothers.

Boil slammed the butt of his DC-15 into the dusty ground and took a single step towards the the sinkhole. Every muscle and bone in his body shrieked in unison, but he took another step. And then another.

His comm was still not working. Boil tapped at the helmet on his belt every few steps, eventually resorting to banging an armoured fist against it; and yet nothing issued from it but static. The intermittent buzzing was discomfiting; made him forget the ache in his spine and head and the ragged quality of his breaths and focused his eyes instead on the rim of the sinkhole, not so far away now, still streaming with bolts of liquid fire.

Then the battle stopped.

The silence was so sudden that Boil nearly stumbled; he leant heavily on his DC-15 as he blinked at the cliff edge that marked the beginning of the sinkhole, barely a few dozen paces ahead.

Everything was still.

The air still smelt of ozone.

Boil stumbled to the edge of the sinkhole; stared on his hands and knees down at Pau City, laced with the bodies of shattered battle droids and the unmoving forms of fallen troopers, all the way down to shimmering azure pools at the base of the sinkhole itself.

Movement.

There, far below, orange-yellow striped armour. Troopers moving between frozen droids.

Victory.

Boil sucked in a breath of such relief it hurt. His fingers were clumsy as he attached his zip-line to the cliff edge, but they did not falter as he levered himself over the stone lip and rappelled slowly down to the city proper.

Cody’s distinctive visored helmet was the first thing Boil spotted when his feet hit solid rock.

It only took two steps for Boil to realise something was horribly wrong.

There was a...terrible rigidity to the movement of the 212th around him; none of the men were speaking, and none had removed their helmets, even at the battle’s close. Company medics moved from one wounded trooper to the other with efficiency in their motions and not a shred of warmth.

Everything was ghostly silent, save for the tramping of plasteel boots against stone.

Far above, the Vigilance had halted in place. The star destroyer hung over the sinkhole, blotting out the sky; Utapau’s sun was eclipsed by durasteel and ghostly tibanna.

Boil moved through his friends and brothers-in-arms, the only bared head among them.

None of them raised their helmets to meet his eyes.

Cody was standing perilously close to the hangar edge when Boil reached him. The angle of that visored helmet suggested Boil’s commander was staring down at the shadowed blues of the rock-pools below.

“Sir?” Boil said.

Cody jerked slightly. Looked up, so the empty black eye-slats of his helmet came level with Boil’s eyes. “Trooper?”

There was something foreign in Cody’s voice; Boil frowned, but proceeded.

“Sir,” he reported. “My gunship came down a half-klick north-northwest from here. No other survivors. I’ve just rappelled down. Where do you want me?”

A pause.

“I’ve sent out three search parties,” Cody continued, voice completely even. “I’m thinking of forming a fourth, and I need a veteran to lead them. Assemble a squad of twelve men and start sweeping the lower caverns. You’re still able?”

Boil nodded once, sharp. “Yes, sir. A few bruises and scrapes here and there, but I’ll manage. What are we searching for?”

Cody’s helmet had already begun to turn back towards the rock pools below, but at Boil’s query it snapped back up, sharp as a Geonosian viper.

“Sir?” Boil ventured.

“The General.” Cody said, after a moment. It sounded flat.

“Grievous escaped?” Boil nodded at once, understanding. “We’ll keep a sharp eye out, sir-”

“-No,” Cody interrupted, taking a half-step forward; Boil stepped back as his commander’s helmet suddenly loomed in front of his face.

“...No,” Cody repeated. “Not- not Grievous, that objective’s complete. General Kenobi.”

Boil inhaled sharply. “General Kenobi’s missing? Was he wounded? I’ll bring a medic along, just in case-”

A flash of white plastoid, rimmed with the orange-gold that the 212th was so proud of, hand-painted by each of General Kenobi’s men after he welcomed them to the battalion - the Negotiator’s men.

Boil froze.

Armoured gloves pressed into his arms, pinning them to his sides. Cody’s face was obscured by his helmet, but Boil would never forget the note of hollow realisation in his commander’s voice as Cody said, “The order didn’t reach you.”

“...My comm,” Boil said, after a moment. His commander’s fingers were clenched so hard around his upper arms that he could feel them even through his armour. “My helmet took the brunt of the impact. My HUD and comm were cracked to the nine Corellian hells.”

Cody let go of him very abruptly.

“Sir?”

“Boil,” Cody said. There was no emotion in his voice. None at all. “Six minutes ago, we were ordered by the Chancellor himself to execute order sixty-six.”

A thunderclap through Boil’s head.

Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders-

Boil snapped out of it with Cody’s hand on his shoulder. He heard himself agree to form a squad. Felt the stone under his boots as he turned in place, hands horribly steady on his blaster.

Cody resumed looking over the cliff edge.

Boil looked up at the curved cliff wall.

There, a few levels up and across from the hangar entrance - an area of shattered stone ten metres across, pitted with the familiar scorch-marks of GAR heavy cannons.

It didn’t make sense. The position could not have been a Separatist defensive post; it would not have been strategically viable.

Ten metres.

An acceptable margin of error if one were aiming at, say, a single Jedi moving with the Force-borne speed of mastery.

Boil nearly emptied his guts onto the cold stone floor right there and then.

The air smelt of ozone and blood.

The scent brought him back to the Second Battle of Geonosis; the dusty air of Point Rain so similar to the arid heat of Utapau as he and Waxer sprinted across no-man’s-land to reach their General’s downed gunship.

The give of tortured metal under their hands as they heaved open the gunship doors; General Kenobi’s wry, pained smile painted sanguine, warm as the hand he had wrapped around Trapper’s wrist - the only trooper still alive amongst a dozen men.

The General had not stopped telling them to take care of Trapper first the entire precarious way back towards the rest of the 212th, a litany of even, cultured words slipping out between lips that were gasping from a punctured lung.

Boil paused in place; took a breath.

General Kenobi’s face was ferocity and utter determination then, at Point Rain, even when the circle of fire grew smaller and smaller until it nearly overwhelmed them completely.

Boil hoped - wished, that when the General hit the water, he had that same expression on his face.

Live.

Boil gathered a squad, as he was ordered. Began to search, as he was ordered.

He would have raised his blaster to kill the general he so admired, as he was ordered, if the general had been found. He was powerless to stop against the voice in his head.

Boil’s helmet bumped against his hip. He glanced within, at the flashing chrono.

Twenty minutes and sixteen seconds.

Twenty minutes and sixteen seconds of comm silence.

A comm silence in which he missed a cataclysm; a rending of worlds.

Another sharp blow to the helmet finally snapped the HUD back to life; Boil slid the bucket back over his face.

And in the privacy this afforded, he let the tears brim over his eyelids.

END

I was in a writing mood but I was too tired to bother with longfic, so I thought I should take a crack at this week’s writing Wednesday! It’s been long enough since my last tcw fic!

Access my fanfic masterlist in the replies - tumblr isn’t letting posts with links show up in the tags at all now, apparently.

[alarmjust]

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Once Solo was confirmed to be in perfect hibernation, the carbonite block was turned over to Boba Fett for transport to Jabba's Palace, where Jabba would display it as a trophy in his main audience chamber. Having blackmailed Baron Administrator Lando Calrissian into letting him use Cloud City's crude industrial carbon-freezing facility, he tested the device out on Han Solo to ensure the chamber would be safe. ĭuring the Galactic Civil War, Skywalker, now Darth Vader, intended to trap his son Luke in carbonite on Bespin. They used a large facility housed in the Jedi Temple to freeze themselves in carbonite, as a means to smuggle their team past the prison facility's life-form scanners. ĭuring the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, and the clone troopers under their command embarked on an extraction mission to the Citadel on Lola Sayu. The earliest known use of carbon freezing living victims to be displayed as trophies date back thousands of years to the ancient Krath and their conquest of the carbonite mines of the Empress Teta system. At various times the likes of Imperials, bounty hunters and some underworld gangsters had been known to use this cruel but effective method. However, with some modification industrial grade freezing chambers could be modified into a crude and indeed painful means of bio-stasis sometimes described as "a big wide-awake nothing". Only industrial applications remained in common usage, typically for freezing coaxium, tibanna and other volatile cargoes for transport. Over time the use of carbon freezing dropped off as the advent of hyperdrives eliminated the need for such extended voyages, and bio-enthropic field generators became standard for medical stasis applications. Ushering a new age of exploration that expanded the pre- Republic borders, carbonite freezing was employed aboard ancient sleeper ships to keep crews alive in extended periods of hibernation as they traversed interstellar space. The discovery of the peculiar stasis qualities of carbonite by the scientists from the planet Koros Major saw the end of generation ships and development of sleeper ships. The best part is that BlueStacks always backs your game data up so you never have to worry about losing it in case something does happen." Are, uh, we sure this thing is safe? I don't wanna end up a wall decoration." ― ARC trooper " Fives," before the Battle of Lola Sayu

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Play Block City Wars on Mac or PC and choose how you want to live you life, but first, you must download the free BlueStacks Android Emulator from one of the links on this page. All you have to do is click the link above to get started.īlock City is a massively scaled open world with a lot of freedom for you to play, fight, and just relax. Now, you have the power to play all of your favorite Android games and apps anytime you want. This means you never have to worry about draining your battery or finding a decent internet signal. With BlueStacks, your computer becomes an Android player that's able to install and run any Android app. Such a vast and open space to explore and do battle in, make sure you do it right and play Block City Wars on PC or Mac using the free BlueStacks Android Emulator. Enjoy crisp HD graphics with a fun, pixelated design and dynamic lighting. PvP is available in not one, but two separate game modes with new maps added regularly. Battle cops, gangs, and even zombies as you explore tall skyscrapers and drive a variety of cool vehicles. In this expansive block open world you must choose a side and complete missions to become the king of Block City. The city as at war and no street is safe for you. Block City is not like any other city you have ever visited before.

[shagpaboloutpost]

Tibanna and Linsey aren’t necessarily friends, but they’re some of the quietest, least outgoing members of the Todd Squad, and they take a lot of solace in each other. Linsey’s issues come from being too close to his batch, while Tibanna is estranged from his, but both remember their childhood squads fondly and can relate on a certain level to wishing things were how they’d been on Kamino.

They don’t really open up to each other - even when they do have those moments of relatability it’s in very subtle, small, unspoken ways - but when people are taking too many risks that Tibanna can’t control or when Linsey is feeling too homesick for people who wouldn’t be back home anyway, they tend to seek each other out in a quiet room and just get on with their jobs in the same space.

[tiend]

carrion & dust

The scavengers start to appear before they’ve finished burning the resistance out of the hives. Insects and small animals at first, then bigger predators, attracted by the reek of the dead. In the beginning, they concentrate on the bug splatter, but soon figure out a dead brother carries enough meat to make a meal. 

So it’s drag and tag detail for every trooper still standing. Intel cordons off the corpses of known high value individuals, otherwise it’s back through the tunnels, boys, map it as you go, check every last alcove in case a strategic target crawled off to bleed out, stack the bodies high on the repulsorlift carts. As the piles of bug splatter grow, some of the survivors come to pick through them, ask if they can lay them out properly. Grand Master Jedi General Yoda generously allows it, and the brothers stand guard, DC-15s low and ready. The bugs have grounded themselves. They don’t like walking, but they hate the way any noise from their wings results in every deece being trained on them.

Turns out the Senate’s sold off the smashed-up clankers for metal scrap. The engineers make glittering drifts of them, stick a geolocation beacon in the mess of parts, and after that they’re strictly someone else’s problem, nothing to see here, move along, you need something to do, trooper?

Geonosis is their first major area clearance recovery op. It’s a slow grind in the heat, tagging every left wrist against the MIA database, sorting and grading the plastoid armour for re-use, checking and double checking for unexploded ordnance. They miss an occasional tibanna cartridge anyway, and the whole mortuary processing station flinches when it cooks off in the pyres. At first light, they’ll plow the ash into the sand, black smears spreading across the planet’s surface, and start again with the new day’s dead. The smoke never stops rising; their helmet filters clog up in a matter of hours. 

So that’s most things taken care of. Every clone trooper has been trained on post combat recovery; there are regulations, procedures. Manuals. The officers have flash-training for shittier areas of operation than this sandpit.

Somehow there are no regs regarding Jedi remains; a terrible oversight. The mortuary processing personnel cannot bring themselves to burn Jedi in the same pyres as the clones. It seems disrespectful; Jedi are different. Jedi are special. So they requisition some of the body bags used for Kamino’s field samples, and resew them to fit. After that, they ease the bodies into them, and gently lay them down on pallets, like they’re sleeping, and wait for command to tell them what should happen next. They are prepared to take full responsibility for their disgraceful ignorance regarding the Jedi funerary rites and be relieved of their duties, back to Kamino for reprocessing.  

All Grand Master Jedi General Yoda has told them so far is that dead Jedi are considered to have become one with the Force; the bodies are mere leftovers, crude matter. That’s an interesting philosophical question, but not a useful one; corpses are a problem of decay, not metaphysics. When the clone commanders try to ask him how they should update the manuals so that this devastating lapse doesn’t, can’t happen again, Grand Master Jedi General Yoda doesn’t give them an answer. In spite of the searing heat, he almost seems to be shivering; they’re not sure he’s slept in days. His ears droop, his shoulders slump, and he returns to his endless walking, limping up and down the ever-growing lines of neatly arranged Jedi dead.

[cravitus426]

armchair science rambles - plasmaguns and pigs

tl;dr plasma is not laser beams and it needs ammo to function

also star wars plasma is (obviously) a bad representation

something i’ve put some thought into recently (read: a few weeks ago in a discord argument) was plasma weaponry, and specifically i was picking at some lore for a weapon from the extended Aliens universe, the M78 PIG

now the PIG is a phased plasma infantry gun and what this means is it’s basically a rocket launcher shaped plasma gun that makes the target stop existing fairly quickly

now my specific conundrum with the PIG to start with was ‘what does it look like when firing’ - and so i figured i’d go to the next best source for phased plasma guns in a james cameron film, the terminator franchise

now as we can see that’s not your typical halo lightball of pain, and it’s more like a laserbeam - closer to star wars, in fact, but regardless i was met with skepticism from my peers as to the kind of plasma the PIG would be blasting at tanks from a kilometer out and figured a halo style bolt made more sense

i agreed to disagree and then we escalated from applying the visuals from two different movies of the same tech from the same director to justifying why the PIG would probably fire a long beamlike bolt of plasma, which then took me into the pseudoscience behind how the PIG probably works

now the PIG itself is in two components as the AvP wiki (or if you want to get to the root, the colonial marine tech manual) says, covering the launcher and the powerpack; within these two components, we know that there is a laser, a magnetic coil, and a feed of cadmium telluride pellets plus a power source - that black shiny material in solar panels, i believe

now at first glance you may make the mistake of thinking that vaporized pellets are fed into the plasmagun, which is simply incorrect and, upon further consideration, impractical, unfeasible, and is in fact the main reason i’m making this post to begin with - but more on that in a moment

now the rough idea i have with the PIG is that during it’s firing cycle it charges or uses the laser to then vaporize the cadmium telluride pellets fed into the weapon, causing them to vaporize, becoming a gas, and subsequently become ionized - becoming plasma, in other words

after the laser rapidly heats the pellet, the ionized gas which has shed it’s electtrons is then rapidly discharged by the magnetic coil in a focused beam or bolt towards the target, and the projectile has such power or focus that even up to a kilometer away the single pellet of material is enough to punch through the rear armor of a heavy tank - that’s how i’d imagine the PIG works, at least

now when in flight certain things would happen to this bolt of plasma, especially once it leaves the magnetic field generated by the magnetic coils of the PIG - the least of which is a dispersion and cooling over long distances

plasma is still hot gas, after all, and gas wants to expand outward rather than be compressed into a space, which is then all the more reason for a rapid beamlike discharge because the faster that gas goes to the target the less time it has to expand and weaken

a contemporary example of what this could look like in action, as far as videogames go, would be XCOM 2 - that aside, however, the important part of this post is the material used to make plasma in the first place, and with the PIG that’s pellets of cadmium telluride

games always tote plasma as this super high end energy weapon, uses energy cells, batteries - power to fire, but that’s simply not the case

plasma is a state of matter, and like any other solid, liquid, or gas, there’s different kinds of matter that can become plasma, and not all plasma will perform the same nor be equally fit for the task

take lighting, for example - we use neon to generate plasma, which is what neon signs are all about; it’s already a gas, just needs electricity to hit that glow, and it doesn’t have to be super dense to make all that light

if you tried to use, say, argon for example, you’d have twice as much density, twice as much mass, and twice as much weight as the same amount of neon which then makes it more impractical to use as a light source - and that’s not considering the difference in energy required to make argon hit plasma versus neon

this said, it’s not too important at that level whereas things get a bit more complex when you want to use plasma as a weapon

take star wars and it’s tibanna fueled blasters, for example

here we have the typical stormtrooper blaster - the classic e11, courtesy of google and wookieepedia

in the event that you were unaware, star wars blasters take one of two things to function, those being power and tibanna gas which i’d guess is converted into plasma by adding energy from the powerpack

now as far as star wars goes there seems to be enough tibanna in there for all the shots you’d ever need in the field, never seem to need reloading - come to think of it have you ever seen a clone trooper load his weapon outside of republic commando’s blaster rifle, or the animated clone wars?

regardless what i’m getting at is star wars somehow packs enough tibanna in there and enough energy to create large, relatively slow, and lethal bolts of plasma in combat and without the need to ever really reload

star wars is basically science fantasy, but realistically speaking that gas would have to be of exceptionally low density to be packed in there at large quantities with little weight impact, and the more you pack the higher the pressure rises - and the higher that pressure is, the more you risk by dropping or damaging the weapon

imagine that every storm trooper carried a propane tank in their weapon, and imagine what would happen if one of them tripped and sprung a leak in that tiny super pressurized tank

not pretty for mister stormie

as far as the theoretical density of this material goes it’s definitely heavier than air otherwise it’d be swirling around cloud city, a population center whose primary export seems to be tibanna gas mined from the gas giant of bespin

for reference, oxygen’s density is around 1.4 grams, nitrogen is a little lighter, and CO2 i believe is around 2.25 (around the neighborhood of propane); therefore, tibanna if below the human-breathable atmosphere layer on bespin would have a higher density and as a result be heavier per unit than propane, which then makes it more unwieldy; that said, this is not necessarily a bad thing for the projectile

aside from the weight and safety issues that would arise with packing so much material into such a tiny space there’s also the matter of weapon effectiveness to consider; for example, neon gas would be inferior to theoretical tibanna because it’s ligher or less dense than the atmosphere it’d usually travel through; a somewhat fitting example would be like trying to throw an air-filled ball through the water - the projectile, less dense than the volume it’s traveling through, will bleed off more energy trying to get through and will actually be pulled up in this case due to basic buoyancy

replace ball with neon plasma and water with air and you get the effect of a brief flash of light sort of just slowing down and dispersing like a cloud of smoke being pulled upwards

tibanna at least has the precedent of being heavier than air, allowing it to at least not get screwed by buoyancy - but then there’s it’s low speed to consider, how sluggishly it travels through the air compared to the ‘primitive’ slugthrowers

considering then the low speed and presumably low or at least workable-and-light-even-with-pistols density/weight of the blasters you would think that they wouldn’t hit hard, and would get the bulk of their power out of the heat transferred to the target

and then you get this

there have been others to apply hard calculations to this but you can’t even get that kind of flinging force from bullets short of the big stuff

force equals mass times acceleration and tibanna seemed like it had neither of those on it’s side but apparently it has one of those in stupid high quantity

it’s definitely not speed, which then implies it’s got to be the mass - and that then retroactively implies the blasters are all stupid heavy now

however this then ignores the inherent thermal energy of the blaster bolt - i guess in theory you could impart enough energy so rapidly that it does fling tr8r to the ground like anakin’s arms and legs, but if you’ve got that kind of energy at your disposal why not just use straight up lasers

and none of that fake laser stuff turbolasers perpetuate

continuing on, the low mass and speed of a blaster would logically limit it’s range stupidly, as the plasma would slow and disperse as it would not have the inertia necessary to continue to carve through the air to the target, regardless of super high heat per shot

however if the bolt gets even a bit of it’s power from the density, the mass of the projectile, then despite the implications it has for the weight and handling of the weapons, the density would make the actual bolts far more feasible

so in review now with delusions of realism applied to star wars blasters tibanna would have to be of high density and contained at hazardous pressures within the weapon to have the power and capacity demonstrated in the films - or otherwise be contained at high pressure and gain the bulk of it’s killing power by being superheated to a point where it can fling stormtroopers around like windu beats droids

i mean it’s plasma so the latter is kind of the point, but only to an extent

there are other things to consider when using a gas such as tibanna as your plasma reaction mass

for example, what kind of material and how much of that material are you using to store it, what is the state of that material in extreme conditions, how do you refill that in the field - and that last one makes me picture world war two flamethrower incidents, except with more laserbeams to accompany the big backpack gas tanks

oh tibanna’s volatile too isn’t it that just makes it even better

now, going back to aliens and the PIG, instead of tibanna we have cadmium telluride pellets - solid at room temperature, used already in solar panels, density of somewhere above five grams per centimeter i believe

comparing the solid to a gas, in a few points:

you don’t have to worry about pressure containment because it won’t explode if you trip; transportation is then a non issue, and while you would need to use magazines you don’t have to use a pressurized tank to refill the gun, nor would you have to worry about containing a mini superdense propane tank in your weapon

you have a more solid grasp on ammo expenditure and reloading is a risk free operation compared to connecting tubes and watching meters

you don’t need to mine gas giants to feed the gun

the solid is inherently usable in cold environments because the weapon was meant to take a solid in the first place, whereas gas may condense into liquid or even freeze into a solid, both of which would be relatively unusable for a gun meant for gas

both the solid and the gas would require energy, and while in theory the solid would need more to jump to plasma it’d be much safer and practical i’d say to use it over natural state gas which introduces inherent risks and design constraints to begin with

i do want to go back to density and force but those are subject to specific materials involved - that said, solids i think would be more effective as plasma because they would inherently be hotter as plasma

in simpler terms

which one of these is solid at room temperature

the block of iron, or the block of neon

the winner will inherently require more energy to become a gas and then even more to become a plasma, which would then increase the potential lethality through proximity alone, not even considering the mass, speed, or force of the projectile

so basically plasma is not a pure energy weapon type and it requires ammo - plasma is a state of matter, and you need mass of some kind for it

out of the masses you could use for plasma, gas in my opinion would be the inferior choice due to inferior power offered and complicated storage

solids in comparison seem to be inherently better suited as the ammunition

oh and i did forget to mention that storing vaporized solids is a stupid thing because you’d have to constantly heat them which then turns them into a gas but even worse as far as resources and safety goes

imagine if your star wars blaster had a constant superheater on with your volatile super pressurized mini propane tank that you’re already trying to heat to shoot plasma at people

that’s the kind of thing you’d be carrying around

i think that’s about it for this ramble, at least for now

now the real surprise will be if someone actually reads this

tl;dr plasma is not laser beams and it needs ammo to function

also star wars plasma is (obviously) a bad representation

[cabezadeperro]

HLELO!! Can i aks for maulrex with 9 or 27? Or kenfe wirh 47 (I had to chekc the numbers FIVE TIMES i'm hoping I got them right xhdjdhdjdh 🙈 ) or wait echo5 with 47?? I don't know ehichever you prefer! 🧡

hi svar!!!! i chose kenfetti and touching their elbow to get their attention because of course i did. 550w, pre-relationship, canon divergence au: jango changes side during the arena fight in attack of the clones.

---

A trooper with a red cross on his pauldron cuts in front of Obi-Wan, and then he finds himself on the other side of the gunship, the ship itself rattling all around them and the taste of Geonosis dust thick on his tongue. It stinks of something he doesn’t quite know what it is—tibanna; it’s tibanna and blaster discharge—and the noise is deafening, maddening. 

The curved wall of the ship is cold and unforgiving against his back. Obi-Wan stumbles: his legs are shaking; everything hurts.

There’s a mask on Anakin’s face, and his eyes are closed, and—and he’s grey, face pale and drawn, and there’s blood on the corner of his mouth, and dark circles under his eyes. Obi-Wan ducks around the medic—it must be a medic; he looks like he knows what he’s doing, and his mind is a reassuring point of blank, dense calm in the Force—and places his hand on his shoulder, touching bone and sinew and muscle. He’s shivering.

He forces himself to look lower, to the place where Anakin’s hand used to be, and bile climbs up his throat and into his mouth. He can taste burnt flesh and ozone on the back of his tongue.

A hand wraps around his elbow, and Obi-Wan twitches. He reaches for his lightsaber, blinking in the dark as he turns, and finds himself face to face with Fett.

He looks as dusty and tired as everyone else. His kid—Boba—is sitting on one of the jumpseats, watching everything and everyone with huge dark eyes. The clone troopers act as if he isn’t there, but Obi-Wan can sense their discomfort.

“What,” Obi-Wan yells, impatient, to be heard over the noise of the gunship’s engines. Fett tugs at Obi-Wan’s arm, and jerks his chin towards the other side of the gunship; after a beat, Obi-Wan huffs and lets himself be pulled away.

Fett has his helmet under his arm. There’s blood in his hair and on his face, and he looks tired, but his eyes are still sharp. 

“Let them do their jobs,” he says plainly. “You’re in the way.”

Obi-Wan scowls; he knows Fett’s right. He turns back to look at Anakin: he can feel him, in pain and scared and still clawing to consciousness with all his strength. 

Fett’s hand is still on his arm. He’s not wearing his gloves, and Obi-Wan can feel him—he’s warm and steady—through the fabric of his robe, strong fingers dimpling the dip of Obi-Wan's elbow. 

He shakes Fett off, but doesn’t move away—there’s no room. 

He didn’t expect Fett to change sides, didn’t expect him to join them in their gunship, didn’t expect him to shoot at Dooku, jetpack raging.

They hurt him—in the end, Dooku got away, but they hurt him. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what they’d have done without Fett; they owe him, and Fett knows they do. Obi-Wan can feel his eyes on him: his attention like it has physical, tangible weight.

He’s keeping secrets. Fett’s mind is like a bulwark, and Obi-Wan could break into it, could break him, and the certainty reassures him and makes him feel ugly at the same time. 

Obi-Wan glances up at him; Fett stares back, face blank and hand bare, and takes a seat between Obi-Wan and his child.

[deadpansal]

CT-0230 was an ordinary clone stuck on a nowhere assignment in the cloudy of lower Bespin. He was often forgotten and his attempts to stop local crime failed as his opponents struck from the cover of the clouds and disappeared without a trace. High above his watch on Cloud City, the local government turned a blind eye to his reports and he grew frustrated by the corruption of the Baron Administrator and his thugs, the Wing Guard. When one criminal pushed his limits too far, CT-0230 pursued him throughout the floating city and into a tibanna refinery. Before he could apprehend the fugitive, he was seriously injured and thrown into the mining shaft where he slid to certain death.

Inside the shaft, he was bombarded by the slag runoff from various fuel and corrosive waste, which ate away at his armor and into his skin as he fought to keep from falling into the gaseous planet below. When they found him, he was blind and flayed. They immediately brought him to a vat of bacta, and told him to pray. But it was too late. CT-0230 was dead.

CT-0230 was Born Again a full three minutes later, as the bacta in his system seemed to react to something in the chemicals. He regenerated his skin and nerves, but to a hypersensitive degree. He found himself unable to shut out the sensory overload of his touch and hearing. His renewed vision had been blinding and burned out within an instant of healing. The sense of sound he returned with was so overwhelming he was put into a sensory deprivation tank to be returned to Kamino, where he was to be decommissioned into a Bad Batch reject and placed on light cleaning duty.

When he broke out, he sought justice and found passage to Coruscant, where he petitioned Senator Bail Organa for aid. Since CT-0230 was a clone, and therefore did not have the full independence of a citizen, he was considered an asset of the republic and urged to return to serve by the senate. Organa, however, connected CT-0230 with Arsha Lome and he was allowed to plead that was was unfit for duty and given freedom. He continued to pay his debt to Arsha Lome as a paralegal, studying to defend others within the Coruscant legal system. He continued to live this life, but would only leave with the assistance of his droid, a secondhand and defective protocol droid, whose vision was only slightly less foggy than CT-0230′s total blindness. The droid served as his eyes whenever he needed to walk in the city.

However, far away on the planet Bespin, a devil was seen rising from the red clouds of dawn and running down its quarry. The red armored trooper was rumored to be capable of inhuman feats and many guessed it to be a jedi in disguise. Regardless of the identity of the armored figure, a wanted criminal was finally brought to justice years after he fled the scene. It wasn’t long after that Coruscant began a formal investigation into the Baron Administrator and stripped him of his role, causing an upsetting power vacuum and shutting down production by a full cycle. Voras the Hutt surfaced to bring control to the city, and Arsha Lome and CT-0230, now “Matt”, found that the republic had little influence over Bespin’s affairs. It was at this time that the two found themselves invited to the Supreme Chancellor’s estate for a nice dinner.

There was no cordiality to the Chancellor’s final order - they were to never again meddle with the affairs of the hutts. The actions of Voras on Bespin were for the good of the republic. The pair returned to work in an attempt to find another recourse to stop the hutt’s control. Matt warned Arsha seconds before a thermal detonator smashed into their workplace. While they escaped unharmed, it was impossible to find work anywhere in the upper city. Once respected and living in the rises above the city, Matt found himself without work and working out of a small room in the dark underbelly of Coruscant. It became more difficult for Arsha or his droid to escort him around the city safely. As a result, Matt was seen leaving the office less and less as time went on.

The devil in the armor, however, was rumored to emerge from within the shadows of the lower levels that same week.

Was thinking about how to play with (non-amputation) disability in Star Wars, because a lot of 'this main character is deaf or blind' AUs tend to get... weirdly fetishy about disability? I guess?

I feel like the cleanest way to approach disability is through the clones, then, since there's so many of them and we always need more of them for whatever plot is going on, and disabling battle injuries are happening all the time (see: Wolffe).

Seriously considering making some clone OCs that are just expies of Marvel character, so that we have an ARC trooper and sniper duo that are basically Daredevil and Hawkeye.

(Joking because characters naturally adjust for circumstance to the point of being different characters entirely, especially with regards to superpowers, so they'd be actual OCs instead of expies, but I'd still want to call them Matt and Clint as a reference.)

(I'd need to figure out how to translate the Daredevil 'blind but still a skilled hand-to-hand combatant that is trusted to go into the field' thing to SW, but 'minorly Force Sensitive' should do the trick.)

[propheticfire]

Ozone

Hanna (stormtrooper)

Hanna (Resistance fighter)

Tibanna

I was inspired by @thebisexualmandalorian to use the dollmaker for my own OCs, so here they are. Obviously there are some limitations (Cinch’s face, for one thing, is...a lot more scarred than that; and it is near impossible to represent a buzz cut with the available tools), but I did my best. Gala does not usually have that much makeup. I put all my pilots in flightsuits, and I get to introduce a new one! Ozone, of the 212th, who flies gunships.

Also pictured is my only non-clone OC, Hanna. She was a First Order stormtrooper, but she defected and managed to find a Resistance cell to take her in. Now she fights oppression.

Edit: Literally almost as soon as I finished this, I gained a new OC. So I added Tibanna to this list. She’s an ARC trooper and her favorite color is purple.

[envy-the-freak]

Mun: *flips open Star Wars Complete Visual Dictionary to make sure she got the type of weapon right*

Book: “Clone Troopers are issued plasma guns of two types. Like all standard blaster weapons, these guns create a charged plasma bolt using a small amount of Tibanna gas.”

Mun: Huh. That’s pretty neat-

Book: “Blaster weapons free clone troopers from the need to carry projectile ammunition but are notoriously hard to aim due to the inherent instability of plasma bolts.”

Mun: Wait IS THAT WHY ALL THE STORM TROOPERS IN THE ORIGINAL TRILOGY COULDN’T HIT ANYTHING?! THEY WEREN’T BIO-ENGINEERED SUPER SOLDIERS?!?