The *Hailfire-class* assault ship was shrouded in deathly silence, broken only by the faint hiss of the ventilation system echoing through the corridors.
Thousands of clone troopers, clad in steel-gray armor and armed with various weapons, stood quietly awaiting the signal to deploy to the battlefield.
For them, the meaning of life, the value of existence, lay solely in wielding weapons and combating the enemies designated by the Republic.
No one found this unnatural. From the moment they awoke in their cultivation chambers, every moment of training had been dedicated to this single purpose.
They were born for war, and they were ready to gloriously fulfill their mission.
Finally, a shrill alarm pierced the silence, its buzzing reverberating through every compartment as it announced the imminent reignition of the fires of war.
In the next instant, the ship's countless compartments and corridors came alive with the clamor of footsteps, clanging metal, the friction of opening doors, the roar of engines, and the bellowing commands of officers.
"Hurry up, you lazy bastards!"
Sergeant KC-13Q-341 stood in the living quarters corridor, his voice drowning out even the alarm. He kicked a clone trooper who was moving too slowly. "Meet at Hangar L-3! Anyone who forgets their extra thermal clips will be tossed into the Hutt logistics corps to do manual labor! And you, Number Forty-One—you were late last time too! You think I'll let you get away with it again?"
As the last soldier charged out of the living quarters, the officer pressed the team forward, his gaze sweeping the corridor to ensure no one was left behind.
"Forty-Seven," KS-13RT-7041 (Forty-One), running in the middle of the formation, tapped the armor of the clone trooper ahead of him. His voice came through the internal comms, "Do you really think those tin cans we're carrying will actually be useful?"
He was referring to the captured B-1 battle droids. Solo's decision to deploy them in battle had puzzled many clone troopers. Some thought they would only waste ammunition, while others saw them as "living targets" to draw enemy fire. Most, however, simply accepted the orders without question.
Without turning his head, KS-13RT-7047 (Forty-Seven) replied, "If the Separatists are willing to waste their missiles on them, it won't be a complete waste. But the briefing said the enemy isn't just fielding B-1s—they've got tougher models too."
"Don't worry, bro," Forty-One said, patting the PLX-1 rocket launcher strapped to Forty-Seven's back, along with the heavy backpack containing five rocket rounds. "If it comes down to it, you can blast everything to dust with one of those."
"And me!" KS-13RT-7045, known as Number Forty-Five, raised his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon high, his voice brimming with optimism. "When my six-barrelled gun starts firing, I'll make sure those robots don't leave even a scrap behind!"
"Quiet! Forward—forward—forward!" The sergeant's roar cut off their chatter. The clones immediately fell silent, quickening their pace as they sprinted toward the hangar.
The clone troopers formed a surging tide in the corridor, squads coalescing into platoons, platoons merging into companies, until they finally poured into the vast hangar.
The hangar buzzed with activity.
Technicians swarmed around AT-TE walkers and AAT tanks, hammering at the armor with wrenches as they performed final inspections.
Pilots climbed into the cockpits of V-19 Torrent fighters, their fingers dancing over the control panels.
LAAT/i gunships hung from the ceiling tracks, boarding ramps extended, waiting for soldiers to board.
Near the landing craft doors on both sides of the hull, clone troopers riding BARC speeders checked their gear.
KR-13-Q17, also known as Q Seventeen, ran his hand over the speeder's hull. The Engineer had just installed a Shield Generator from a Destroyer Droid, ensuring the vehicle was now impervious to small-arms fire.
He leaped into the pilot's seat, switched the reactor to operational mode, and focused on a red button. Pressing it would activate a protective shield that enveloped the entire speeder.
Though the speeder was only armed with light cannons, Q Seventeen was prepared. His custom utility belt held twenty high-explosive grenades and electromagnetic pulse grenades, which he called his "pocket artillery."
"Third Battalion, board the gunboats! Quickly—quickly—quickly!"
The Regimental Commander's urgent command blared over the hangar loudspeaker.
The clone troopers immediately charged up the boarding ramps in groups of twenty-seven, swiftly taking their positions in the troop bay.
Six B-1 battle droids stood by at the rear of the bay. Three carried Z-6 tri-legged robots, while the other three hauled heavy power cells, E-5 blaster carbines secured on their back racks.
Since the loss of an entire battalion during the Battle of Donovia, the remaining heavy weapons had been redistributed. Now, each squad was equipped with Z-6 rotary blaster cannons, DC-15x sniper rifles, or PLX-1 rocket launchers, sometimes all three.
These robots were responsible for handling the auxiliary equipment of heavy weapons, forming mixed fire teams.
The troop bay doors slowly closed, the air pressure valves hissing as they sealed out the cacophony of the outside world.
"All ships, prepare for takeoff! I say again, all ships, prepare for takeoff!"
The dispatcher's voice crackled through the comms channel, clear in every soldier's ears.
"Attention... three minutes to prep!" The LAAT/i gunship pilot's voice was steady. "We're about to enter the atmosphere. Fasten your seatbelts!"
The clone troopers immediately tightened their seatbelts, their fingers resting on their weapon triggers.
The gunboat slowly moved along the track, its engines rumbling, the fuselage beginning to vibrate slightly.
"Ready... drop!" The pilot slammed down the button. The gunboat plummeted downward, bursting out of the landing bay at the bottom of the warship. Its engines roared to full power, propelling it forward in a blue streak of flame, shaking violently with each ignition of the mass-driver accelerators.
Dozens of LAAT/i gunships, escorted by V-19 Torrent fighters, formed up in formation and dove toward the surface of Diado.
There, the Separatist robot legions had already established their defenses.
As the gunboats pierced the atmosphere, their hulls heated from friction, and the interior temperature inside the cabins rose accordingly.
A few minutes later, the gunboats suddenly decelerated, hovering mere centimeters above the ice. The cargo bay doors instantly swung open.
"Charge!"
Someone shouted, and the clone troopers leaped out of the gunboats one after another, spreading out into a thin skirmish line across the ice.
The gunboats' autocannons opened fire simultaneously, blue energy blasts sweeping across the distant robot positions before abruptly pulling up to retrieve the next wave of soldiers.
"Advance! Take cover behind the rocks!" A sergeant crouched behind an ice boulder, waving his hand in a rallying gesture. "The tech gear is coming soon. We have to hold the landing zone!"
The B-1 battle droids moved faster than the clone troopers. Carrying tripods, they rushed to the ice ridges and swiftly unfolded the supports.
Number Forty-Five immediately ran over and mounted the Z-6 rotary blaster cannon on the tripod.
Another droid set down the power cell, plugged the cable into the blaster's interface, and the energy indicator lit up with a soft blue glow.
"Hold the position!" the sergeant shouted.
"Roger! Roger!!"
The robots' electronic voices chimed in unison. Two B-1 battle droids stood flanking Number Forty-Five, raising their E-5 blaster carbines and aiming forward.
Clone troopers swiftly occupied advantageous positions, crouching behind icy rubble or ridges, their weapons trained on the distant, snow-blown horizon.
There, the Separatist robot army advanced in formidable ranks.
At the vanguard marched the B-1 battle droids in perfect formation, their steps as synchronized as preprogrammed code.
Behind them followed the bulkier B-2 super battle droids, their metallic hulls gleaming coldly in the blizzard.
Between the gaps, DSD-1 dwarf spider droids scurried on spindly legs, their sensor "eyes" constantly scanning the surroundings.
The four-meter-tall Octuptarra eight-legged tri-legged robots stood out prominently in the formation, each step causing the ice to tremble slightly.
Further back, the fifteen-meter-tall Octuptarra Magna Type 3 robots advanced like mobile fortresses, their progress slow but resolute.
OG-9 homing droids, though clumsy, lumbered through the snow, their circular bodies disappearing and reappearing, armed with armor-piercing heavy weapons.
In the sky, the engines of IG-227 "Hellfire" drones grew increasingly audible, while the tracks of NR-N99 "Viper" tank droids were still visible on the ground.
"Fire at will!"
The moment the officer's command rang out, the clone troopers' blasters erupted in a cacophony of fire.
Number Forty-One propped his DC-15a blaster rifle between two chunks of ice, took aim at a B-1 battle droid's head, and squeezed the trigger.
The blue energy blast struck its mark with pinpoint accuracy, the robot's head exploding instantly as its body collapsed onto the icy surface.
*I hope we have enough energy clips,* he thought, his fingers never pausing as he locked onto another target. *There are more of these tin cans than I expected, but that's perfect—we won't waste a single shot.*
Earlier, he'd considered switching his bulky DC-15a for the more compact DC-15s carbine, but now he was glad he hadn't. The rifle's power was sufficient to pierce a B-2's armor at range, while the carbine would have required at least three shots to take down a single target.
Though the standard thousand-round ammunition loadout should have been enough, conserving shots was always preferable.
A thunderous roar of a heavy energy blast came from the right—the sole sniper in the company had fired.
He was using a DC-15x sniper rifle, specifically targeting B-2 battle droids and DSD-1 sensor droids. At four hundred meters, each shot found its mark with deadly precision, either piercing a B-2's core module or blowing up a DSD-1's sensor array.
Number Forty-Five's Z-6 rotary blaster cannon roared to life. Its six barrels spun rapidly, unleashing a torrent of crimson energy blasts that pelted the robot formations like a crimson deluge.
Standard power cells could only support two hundred shots, woefully inadequate for a rate of fire of 166 rounds per minute. But they had brought heavy-duty batteries, capable of sustaining tens of thousands of shots—just enough to last until their air tanks ran dry.
The only real problem was overheating, but Diado's frigid climate proved a godsend. The icy air constantly cooled the barrels, allowing the guns to maintain a sustained barrage.
Number Forty-One glanced at the display in his helmet. Seeing all his squadmates' green status lights confirmed they were still alive. He breathed a sigh of relief, swiftly swapped out the depleted energy magazine, and resumed firing.
Suddenly, a heavy crimson energy blast struck the icy rubble beside him. The ice shattered explosively, sending fragments ricocheting off his armor.
Number Forty-One immediately threw himself flat against the ground, his heart pounding.
"Take this, you bastard!"
Number Forty-Seven's roar echoed beside him.
Number Forty-One looked up just in time to see a rocket trailing white smoke plunge precisely beneath the torso of a Tri-Legged Robot, striking the weakly armored junction where its three legs met.
The moment the rocket launcher detonated, one leg of the tri-legged robot was blown off. Losing its balance, the robot's body pitched forward and crushed a dozen B-1 battle droids beneath it.
The PLX-1 rocket launcher emitted a cheerful beep, signaling that a second rocket had been loaded.
Number Forty-Seven quickly adjusted the angle and aimed the launcher at an OG-9 homing droid. The armor-piercing rocket easily penetrated the droid's circular body, triggering a reactor explosion. Flames and plasma erupted as the droid crashed heavily onto the ice, sending up a cloud of white steam.
"Nice shot, Number Forty-Seven!"
Number Forty-One gave his comrade a thumbs-up, his voice brimming with admiration.
Behind the clone troopers, an AT-TE walker slowly descended, its massive metal feet stomping onto the ice and kicking up a flurry of snow.
No sooner had it landed than its main cannon roared to life, firing orange energy beams in rapid succession at the robot swarm. Two "Viper" tanks were instantly destroyed.
The anti-infantry blasters also opened fire, tearing the charging B-1 droids to shreds.
The AT-TE's landing ramp lowered, and more clone troopers poured out, quickly reinforcing the defensive line.
In the sky, V-19 Torrent fighters swooped overhead, their autocannons unleashing a torrent of fire onto the ground.
The fighter planes' blaster cannons lacked the power to effectively combat infantry; only direct hits could destroy the robots, and near misses had almost no effect.
Worse still, the Separatists' anti-aircraft fire was dense and chaotic, leaving the pilots no time to carefully aim. They had to skim quickly over the battlefield, firing a single volley before pulling up.
Number Forty-Seven silently removed his backpack, took out two rocket shells, and loaded them into the PLX-1 with practiced precision. His movements were swift, but his fingers remained steady, each step executed flawlessly.
The shadow of a BARC Speeder swept overhead as Q Seventeen and the other scouts charged toward the robot positions on their speeders. The shield generators surrounding the vehicles formed a transparent film that rippled with each impact from the enemy's light energy blasts.
Not everyone was so fortunate. A heavy energy blast struck one scout's speeder, shattering its shields instantly. The speeder became a fiery meteorite that crashed into the robot ranks, triggering a chain of explosions.
The remaining speeders continued forward, weaving through the robot defenses on erratic trajectories before vanishing into the swirling snow.
Their mission was to circumvent the enemy rear and disrupt their supply lines.
"We're fighting, we're defending the Republic, and that's all we ask."
Number Forty-Seven slung the PLX-1 rocket launcher over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the cluster of robots ahead as he searched for a new target.
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 10+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my