A small, golden orb. He plops it into his mouth, pressing the delicate ball onto the top of his mouth with his tongue. “So plain” he bitterly mutters to himself, not being able to enjoy the candy he had liked since he was young, before his duty. “Master, it is time.” A young man says to him, his apprentice, his Padawan. “Very well.” He says, clipping his armor onto his pale robes. “Is it ready?” He asks his Padawan. “Yes, the Engineers just finished prepping it for flight.” The Master sighs, knowing what shall happen as soon as they hit the ground. A familiar voice booms over the intercom of the Ship. “All flight teams prepare for atmospheric entry, ETA 5 minutes.” He could tell them apart, to some extent. The fact that he was surrounded by men with the same face, same voice, would never settle well with him. He was amazed, but at the same time shocked. All of the men aboard the ship, save for him and his apprentice, would not be able to live a normal life. Let alone hope for a future after the war ended. They would never be able to know what civilian life was like. Strangely, he felt the same way. He had been stripped from his parents when he was young, and to some extent he resented them for that. He wondered how they could just give away their son. He wondered where they were, who they were. He would never see them again, and he was fine with that. He didn’t need them. “Master. Master. MASTER!” His Padawan woke him from his thinking. “Yes?” He asked, realizing what had started. Low Altitude Assault Transports had been prepped inside the main landing strip of the Main Hangar Bay. He stood, not needing an answer from his Padawan. A Trooper, Blue stripes indicating that he was a Lieutenant, walked to them. “CT-7753/9032 Reporting Sir. All men accounted for and awaiting instruction.” He spoke with a stern voice. “Please, use your name with me, Dremler. I know you well enough for that.” The General put his hand on the Soldier’s shoulder, comforting him. He towered over him, as many Trandoshans did. “Very well, sir.” The Trooper said. He was mixed with emotions, he trusted the Jedi, but his instinct was to fight. “Now, shall we begin our assault?” The Trandoshan said to his Lieutenant. He and the Lieutenant walked to LAAT closest to the moonpool. As the doors of the vehicle clasped around them, red lights flickered on. The Jedi held his commlink to his mouth, giving a final check to all of his men. “This is Jedi Master Pize, all LAAT Crews prepare for liftoff.” Then one by one, the LAATs and surrounding V-19 Torrent Starfighters gave checks. “Mother Goose 1, Ready.” “Mother Goose 2, Ready.” “Mother Goose 3, Ready.” “Mother Goose 4, Ready." “Swan Leader, Ready.” “Swan 1, Ready.” “Swan 2, Ready.” “Swan 3, Ready.” “Swan 4, Ready.” “Swan 5, Ready.” “Swan 6, Ready.” “Swan 7, Ready.” “Swan 8, Ready. “Swan 9, Ready.” “Swan 10, Ready.” All Fighters accounted for, good. “All Fighters, take off. Let’s give them hell.” A Cheer from the communications could be heard from his commlink, and Pize Smiled. He opened a closed frequency to his Padawan. “Jar’vel, I have trusted you to command Swan Squadron, don’t disappoint me. May the force be with you.” A little choppy, his Padawan responded. “Don’t worry Master, I won’t fail you. May the force be with you as well.” The Ride down to the surface of Imdrog was filled with bumps, turns and explosions. “Sir, Swan 3 and 4 are down.” Pize had known that it would be a costly insertion. He cared, but he pressed on. He would not have those men’s deaths be in vain. “Cracker, ETA to landing?” He asked on his commlink. “ETA… 4 Minutes.” They were on schedule, good. “Hold on… oh no. All hands hold onto something, missile locked on!” Cracker yelled from the pilot’s seat, swerving the LAAT so as to not get hit with the torpedo. “No good! Brace yourselves!” He said as a large explosion hit the LAAT was hit. “Mother Goose 1 is going down! Repeat Mother Goose 1 going down! Prepare for an emergency landing!” Pize held his breath, waiting for the crash.
