Lana was tiered of waiting, yes I do she opened the door aimed and fired at the closest enemy squad taking most of the members down

Slugger had his Cannon ready to fire again once the Ice Queen had opened up the door, he fired at the squads before him taking out 4 men with ease. " Don't get too close the door now!" Slugger shouted as the clones who hadn't been downed jumped to cover.

Ranged Heavy : 2eP+2eA+2eB+1eC+1eD 1 success, 2 advantage

26 damage before Soak.

The slicer crouched by the door of the command centre would look genuinely surprised by the appearance of the woman wielding the rifle. 'What the-' was all he manged to say before him and his squad mates were cut down.

This was quickly followed by the viscous attack by the rotary cannon, slicing through half of an entire squad. It was clear on the faces of the troopers that their attack was failed, but clones were taught to never go down without a fight.

'Stop that cannon before he gets us all!' one clone would shout as the remainder of the squad fired wildly at Slugger. One of the stray shots would catch Slugger square in the chest, dealing a heavy blow to the human cannon.

Meanwhile the tattered remnants of Banshee squad would move to follow their squad mate, crouching low under the heavy fire. '6180, are you insane?' the squad leader would shout after him. 'Don't advance on your own!' Banshee squad's current squad leader could always be a but of a unbending character, but it had helped them on many occasions.

As they went they focused their fire on the squad closest to them. Despite the meager numbers they were able to knock down a couple of enemy troopers, but they had to be weary of losing any more troopers.

Seeing the destruction caused by their allies, Acklay squad would once again join the fray. 'Let's finish up!' Cloud would shout with a grin, aiming down the sight of his carbine. Songbird would get a fantastic shot straight to a troopers head, felling him instantly.

As CT-6180 applied pressure on the Clones tampering with the mechanism next to the Command Centre, the doors suddenly opened! The surprised clone thought " Huh? ... Wait, is that a girl at the entrance? " as he watched the feminine solider volley stunfire at the infiltrators next to the door. CT-6180 continued his thoughts " This new Commander is full of surprises and tricks! ".

Focused on the battle, the clone rapidly turned to provide Banshee with advancing cover fire. CT-6180 spent a little more time aiming as he fired upon the grunts who first shot at him. He yelled " You got my attention now! " sending multiple blue bolts into the cadet's armor.

CT-6180 releases a team spirit howl for Banshee Squad as the enemy clone collapses next to his squad leader.

Doc sees a group distracted by the reinforcement's screaming and goes to work with his blaster carbine.

With that shot, all of the opponents were down for the count.

"...We're clear," he says to the ones inside the control room.

And with that, Doc takes a long sigh. It was quite the fight. All that was left was to wake up the ones that were downed.

CT-6180 thought " Mynock? Those bat-like power supply drainers? Sounds like a scary bogeyman for a Clanker; Follow orders or the Mynock will drain you when you charge at night... Must be a compliment! ". The clone says over the comm " Thanks brother, just winning the objective ".

CT-6180 scouts the lower Command Centre's platform to confirm Drummer's forces are indeed unconscious. He questions " Has anybody confirm with Zombie the forces are eliminated or is time still ticking? ". CT-6180 positions himself by the corridor in case there were still hostiles until victory confirmation.

“There we go lady and gents, thanks for the assist banshee squad.”

Finally there was a quiet within the building. After all the chaos and gunshots, the peace felt almost unnatural. The only noise was the soft thump of boot soles on the metal floor, and a regular electronic beep coming from one of the computer consoles. The timer had run out at long last. There'd be a few exhausted whoops and cheers from the remaining troops as they moved from one unconscious enemy to the other, making sure that they were ok.

After a few minutes, medics arrived to begin the standard procedure of reviving those taken down by stun shot, and to bring stretchers for those that had taken greater damage. They had a lot of work to do, there must be hundreds of unconscious clones in this building, and after such a short battle as well. It had truly been a viscous combat scenario.

Of course the cadets had taken part on firing exercises before, and had been run through several combat situations in the past, but this was the first true battle for many. If this was an indicator of the war outside of the watery planet, many would not survive their first encounter. It was a sobering thought, and one that many were forced to push from their mind.

After a few more minutes, Zombie and his entourage arrived at the command centre, surveying the sight. The sergeants that were following him were taking frantic notes on data pads as they went. The colonel would pause, glancing around the centre scattered with the would be corpses of the battle.

His helmet would be tucked under his head, making his frown visible as he spotted Gunslinger wearing Drummer's helmet. He would stoop down to swipe it from the downed cadets head before returning it to the recently revived trooper. 'Looks like they got the best of you Drummer' he'd say with the faintest sign of a smirk.

Drummer would grown, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up. 'It's that jedi, they're impossible to plan for'. He'd grumble as he struggled to his feet.

At the mention of the jedi Zombie would look across at the down padawan, nodding his head slightly. 'Yeah, they could really be a game changer' he'd muse to himself before snapping his fingers. A pair of medics would hurry forwards with a stretcher. 'Take the commander to the med-bay', the last thing we need is him getting damaged.

The medics would nod, carefully loading the jedi up before carrying him down the corridor. Fortunately there was a Kaminoan shuttle to ferry those who were badly injured, including those who had been buried under the rubble from earlier.

The other clones would be subject to a less luxurious recovery. They would wake to a brilliant shock of electricity from a handheld device used by the field medics during combat. A crude yet effective way of keeping soldiers on their feet. Unsurprisingly though, it really does sting to be revived this way.

During this time, Zombie would work his way from clone to clone, sharing a few words with them before moving to the next. He'd pause by CT-6180, looking him up and down before slapping him over the back of his helmet. 'What's with that screaming business cadet? Your going to be a soldier of the grand army of the Republic, not some raider on a backwater planet'. He wouldn't wait too long for a response before moving to the next trooper.

After a few more quick conversations, the commander would reach for his comm, his voice now heard in all of the newly conscious cadets. 'Alright cadets, the exercise is over. All weapons on safety and anyone with injuries report to a medic. Now I bet you're all wondering who won. The answer,' he would pause dramatically at this. 'Is the four hundred and third!' Zombies men would let out a great cheer at this as the men of the 404th sunk slightly with defeat.

'Yes yes' he'd say as it begins to quieten down. 'Now here's the catch cadets, the exercise was breach and sweep because this exercise was meant to represent retracing a civilian site. The reason we say minimal damage is that whatever destruction we make, we have to put together! So now you guys have to put this place back together!'

At this there would be a universal groan from the victors. 'Yeah yeah, no point in moaning cadets. It needs to be done, besides, it'll be good exercise!' He'd chuckle at this after turning off his comm and making to head back up the corridor. The remaining sergeants would set to work corralling their squads and setting them to work.

'You were too reckless young one' Anler Tar was knelt before his Ithorian master, Umathon Wuum. They had just finished one of their rare lightsaber combat practices, and despite his distaste for such violence, the master had once again proven himself to be a talented duelist. It had not taken him long to disarm his young apprentice, and now he was stood above him, saber back on his belt.

'I know that you have followed my path of peace and diplomacy, but this is a skill you must learn'. The strange grunts of the Ithorian language sounded soothing against the peace of the sparring room of the jedi temple, comfortable even. Master Wuum would kneel to help his apprentice to his feet carefully. 'You have much potential Anler, and I hope that you will never have to draw your lightsaber outside of training, but I must teach you all the same'.

His eyes would show he is smiling, or at least the best that an Ithorian can as he pats him on the back, moving back to the starting position to duel once more. 'You will learn, do not worry' he would say soothingly. 'Now, let us try again'.

At this, the scene would grow white before being broken up by the pale lights on the ceiling of the med-bay that Anler was staring up at. Looking down at him was Shaak Ti, smiling as if seeing an old friend. 'You're too reckless young one' she would say from her seat beside the padawans bed.

'I have seen the recording of the exercise, you lead by example. That is a commendable trait for one so young. You must not forget though, you still have much to learn of yourself and combat. You are not a jedi knight yet, you must learn to hold protect yourself as well as others. You are not a knight yet'.

She would pat the padawan lightly on the shoulder as she moves to her feet. 'But one day, you will be, given time you will be'. With that, the jedi master would leave the Anler to rest and recuperate alongside a few of his troops.

It had been difficult exercise for all involved, but in the end they had succeeded in their goal. In the real combat situation this may have come at a large cost, but fortunately, this was only training. When these soldiers and jedi were unleashed on the real world, they would be ready.

CT-6180 stood at attention as Zombie conducted this team assessment. Drain by stunfire, the cadet strives to remain resilient in formation as he gets smacked in the back of the helmet. The clone thought " Is Zombie really irritated by the Banshee cadences? Perhaps we took the squad intonations too far and there was psychological collateral damage? ". " Sir! Banshee tactics. We were trying to distract the enemy from the objective, Sir! " maintaining composure from the long exercise. The clone knew the intent of the tactics succeeded and he was exceedingly proud of his brothers. Nevertheless, the cadet knew better than to tell Zombie so.

A few days had passed since the somewhat violent introduction of the jedi and the clones to this experimental programme that high command was running. It was impossible to know what their views were on the current progress that had been made over the last few days. It was probably too early to tell whether this was going to be a success or not. Even if they did know, no was telling the participants. Jedi master Shaak Tii had been remaining quiet on the subject, and Major Zombie had not been made privy of what his superior were discussing. The only real gauge Anler and his men had was their own personal feelings on their progress.

Since their first day together, their training had progressed well. They were put through the same intense training as the other clones, if not more intensive. Having a lightsaber wielder in the ranks tends to make people expect greater things. Despite the sometimes brutal training conditions, they had all weathered through it so far with flying colours. In fact, the 712th had proven themselves to be a battalion worth watching. They had the potential to do great things in their future.

Their training had varied greatly over the last few days, Swapar proved himself to be as creative as he was brutal. As hated and feared as he was, he had most certainly earned the respect of the men, or at least most of them. One unfortunate clone had stood against one of his commands, and had promptly had his arm broken in a fight with the bull of a man.

Acklay squad was still proving themselves to be one of, if not the best squad the 712thf had to offer. Law had kept a tight grip on his men and it had already been confirmed when they left Kamino that he was going to be a sergeant. This was not the case for Cyclone squad. There were rumours that it was going to be Gunslinger, but according to one of the more open administrators, some of the trainers wanted to see Doc take up the mantle.

Today had been a surprisingly calm day. Perhaps it was due to the endless training they had been participating in, but the battalion had been given the whole morning off. It was a welcome chance for the clones to catch to relax or do pretty much whatever else they'd wanted. A few had thrown together an improvised game of shockball in one of the hangers. Unsurprisingly Grorr from Acklay had proven himself to be man of the match. He'd knocked out half of the enemy team on his own after all.

Now it was time for lunch in the cafeteria for the clones and their jedi. Overall it had been an interesting week. The clones of the squad had still needed to grow used to having not one, but two outsiders join their ranks. That combined with the intensive work they had been doing would unsurprisingly have left them worn out thoroughly. But now was a chance to relax with some hot food and comrades surrounding them. It certainly could be worse for the clones at this moment.

However it would not be a day on Kamino with at least some kind of surprise or disruption. One of the clones from Banshee squad; CT-6180, had been handed a data pad just before lunch by a sergeant. It was a transfer order from his own squad to a squad listed as cyclone squad. Apparently the trainers had decided his skills would be better suited with this cyclone squad than with his original brothers. Unfortunately he didn't have much say on the matter, the decision had already been made.

CT-6180 salutes the arrival of the Sergeant, " Sir? " he questions. In rather a rush state, the Sergeant hands the clone a datapad with a set window open. As he examines the window, his eyes would widen reading a order. It was a transfer order... Time felt as if it stood still as the clone reflected on the past week to the 403rd VS 404th battle exercise. He read the transfer order advising his skill set was more suitable, according to the instructors, with Cyclone squad. " The new creative Commander's squad? " he thought.

CT-6180 hands back the datapad to the Sergeant and nods to confirm he's finished. The Sergeant proceeds to inform his squad leader the news. Not knowing what to say, the clone reached out to his original brothers notifying them about the transfer before heading to the cafeteria. These guys were his first brothers, probably pod growth neighbors. This lot deserved to know it was a pleasure to train and serve with them.

Shortly after his good byes, CT-6180 headed to the cafeteria to meet his new fate. There he saw his new brothers socializing next to the new Commander. CT-6180 nods as he approaches their table. He politely hands the Commander his transfer orders on a datapad, " Sir! CT-6180 reporting for duty ". Unsure of what to expect, he stood at attention awaiting a response. High Command made their decision and there was no going back now.

There were going to be a lot of changes for Doc after the exercise. He had been cleared for medical training, which proved to be helpful when Swapar decided to get creative with his brand of punishments. Doc's physical fitness went up and he studied some survival techniques, since they were expected to be deployed to a wide variety of places. Finding food and shelter is always nice, but he had a lot more work to do in terms of crafting up ways to get said items. Doc also seemed to be a little more vigilant of his surroundings, a result of the exercise when things got a bit crazy.

Hearing that some advisors were recommending him for the position of sergeant, Doc decided to study some basic tactics. He felt like the position was suited more for Gunslinger, since he was much better at taking command in a fight. Being third-in-command, he thought, was more of his style.

As the days went, there were also some changes to the squad. Data and Gundark got transferred out to another squad, unfortunately. Losing a melee combatant was bad enough, but losing what could have been their tech specialist was worse. Doc considered taking some studies in computers, since Lana seemed to be more into slipping through locks than slicing through consoles. Speaking of, Doc hadn't spoken to her all this time. Probably wasn't over the whole dragging out of the room that one time, he thought. Best not to reopen old wounds on a good day. Besides, she was probably off somewhere where she'd be hard to find.

As for Anler, the clone did appreciate the Jedi being around since the exercise. He had potential to be a great leader, too. Hopefully, he learned to not eat blaster fire since the exercise.

As Doc was enjoying his meal with his brothers, he noticed one clone come towards them. And as CT-6180 spoke, he recognized the voice.

"The mynock from Banshee Squad. Joining us?" Doc said, smiling.

Slugger focused on athletics and firearms training for the time after the exercise since he was given his role as heavy weapons specialist for Cyclone Squadron. He would spend his time either in the gym improving his ability to carry his gun or competing with Songbird on the gun range.

" Mynock that's a Good one Doc." Slugger slapped his brother on the back, laughing heartily as he did so, " So, Mynock sit down and meet your new brothers! Don't be a stranger." Slugger pointed to a seat on the bench in front of him, " I'm Slugger, That's Doc, Gunslinger, Jackpot, Ice Queen and the Commander." Slugger gestured to each person at the table as he mentioned their names.

Gunslinger had been out, for 6180's grand entrance at the command center showdown, but the haunting cries had managed to pierce through the incoherent fog of his semiconscious state.

"Yes! Have a seat, Mynock.. or Banshee , perhaps..? We'll see what sticks."

He raises his cup to the new arrival: "Welcome to the Cyclones, brother."

Gunslinger had been busy, as well. When not at the pistol range, he had been diligent about improving his overall fitness, and readiness. Also.. following their first mock battle, it seemed like they might be grooming Doc to take point of Cyclone Squad. His rival had a good head, and he would follow his lead, if that's the way things shook out; but he had begun devoting more time studying the leadership prep materials for the Sergeant assessment.

Master Wuum’s favorite saying was that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing it right. That included lightsaber training, on the rare occasions his master forced him to practice with his lightsaber. And today was just such an occasion. “But master, you always say that you can solve more problems with words than with wars, would I not serve the Jedi Order better if you told me why those Pantorans responded with such warmth to your suggestion about the flowers?” Anler asks his ancient Ithorian master as the old one hands Anler his lightsaber back.

“I don’t want to practice with the lightsaber, Master Wuum,” he says, before he realizes where he is. He’s not in the Jedi Temple with Master Wuum. In fact, his master is one with the Force now, and in no position to offer his advice or training to anyone anymore. Just another casualty of this damned war.

As he looks up he sees the kind eyes of Master Shaak Ti, and the Jedi Master scolds him in a friendly tone about his recklessness. “Sorry Master Ti,” Anler replies almost automatically, but follows that almost immediately with the question “did we win?”.

When Shaak Ti nods with a smile he relaxes again. “It couldn’t be helped, master. We had to assault a dug-in enemy of equal strength without any support or heavy weapons. The only thing we had going for us was recklessness. And a lightsaber. And since this was the first test, I thought I had better go all-out to win it. I guess if that had been a real war, I wouldn’t have survived to have this conversation,” he adds sheepishly. “I will train harder. And try to let the clones lead the way next time.”

In the following days Anler studies the surveillance footage of the assault, focusing on his squad of clones, but also taking in the performance of the other clones. He also takes Shaak Ti up on her offer for lightsaber training.

When not studying up on tactics, training with Shaak Ti or on teambuilding exercises with the clones, Anler spends his time reading instruction manuals on tactics, leadership. When the team breaks for lunch he is surprised when an unfamiliar clone hands him a datapad with transfer orders. “I wasn’t told of any transfers,” Anler says with his mouth full as he examines the transfer paper. “But welcome to the squad, CT-6180,” he says, eying the clone with a curious look in his eyes. “CT-6180. That’s not a good name. What do the others call you, trooper?”

Before the clone can answer, Anler’s squad answers for him. “Mynock, huh? How did you earn that name, I wonder,” he says with a barely contained grin on his face. “At any rate, sit, eat and then join us for the exercise this afternoon.”

“Welcome, thanks for the assist back in the sim, saved our butts for sure.” Jackpot says.

" Thank you - Sir! " CT-6180 says sitting down with his Cyclone brothers. " Actually, Doc gave me that name, sir; I assume its a compliment. A symbol the entire droid army fears, capable of surviving anywhere " he says with a mild smirk turning his brothers. CT-6180 listens to Slugger introduce him to the entire squad.

As introduced through the list of clones he reflected what he already knew, " Doc is the quick-shot who finished the last 404th survivor and brought us victory... Slugger is the tough burly clone who was rumored to stun 3 entire squads by himself... Gunslinger is the sharp-witted thinker who was rumored to impersonate Drummer with his own armor. Haha! ... Jackpot is the speedy runner with an accurate grenadier arm and shot... Ice Queen, Oh! That's the girl who ambushed the infiltrators at the command centre. Ummm, she's no clone ". He had heard rumors that specialists were Republic citizens who got arrested for fighting the Trade Federation and Techno Union before the Republic declared war. He figured she must of seen more combat than any of us and is a natural born killer.

After listening to all of Cyclone's comments, Mynock says " Thank you brothers. Looking forward to this exercise! "

There would be a crash from a near by table as a number of metal trays were hurled to the floor, scattering cutlery and food as they did. Stood atop the table was Swapar. 'Alright maggots!' He would bellow, his voice commanding the attention of the entire canteen. 'You have ten minutes to be at training hall two! Leave you're weapons in your locker, you won't bee needing them!'

There would be a pause in the room as the sergeant looks around. 'Well? What are you waiting for!' He'd reach down to tear a cadet out of his seat, shoving him towards the door. 'Get a move on before I decide today's training is deep sea diving without a suit!'

"Ah, frakk." Doc says to the rest of the Cyclones before heading out to the training hall. At least they weren't being gassed out of the canteen.

" Well so much for Lunch." Slugger gets up from his seat leaving the half eaten meal on his tray.

Mynock snaps at attention to read the Commander's orders. After Anler confirms to proceed to training hall two, CT-6180 unzips his side leg pocket and grabs a ration bar. Prepared for the transfer order, he was unsure if lunch was a option. Mynock wisely eats his bar jogging with Cyclone to the destination and finishing his food before the ten minutes is up.

Jackpot snags a protein bar as he follows the rest of the Cyclones out,”He’s cheerful as ever.” As they leave he throws a longing look towards his food.

"Alright, Cyclones ! You heard Sergeant Sunshine , no weapons. We've been split-up a lot these past few weeks, pursuing our AIT , but we still need to act like a unit. Might be sparring, hand-to-hand; if it is, let's show 'em what happens when an Acklay is struck by a Cyclone !"

"Well, I guess I wasn't that hungry," Anler says dryly and pushes his food away. "You heard the man," he says to the others and hurries with them to see what awaits them.

'Come on! Move it move it!' Swapar would shout, dragging the slower clones out of their seats. 'Get a move on before I replace you with a droid!' He'd bellow, shooing them all towards the exit. He spots a few clones grabbing food to eat on the run, prompting him to shout after them. 'If that food isn't gone by the time you hit the training hall, you'll wish you were starving!'

Any clone that glance behind would see the rest of the trainers and a few officers descend on the mess hall from other corridors or the edges of the room. They would take up the recently vacated seats, tucking into what was left of the cadets lunch. Among them was Zombie, and what looked like a couple of captains from the same battalion.

The cadets however were ferried down a maze of corridors till they reached the large expanse that was training room two. It was used for all manner of training, from firefights to hostage situations. The adaptive floor panels allowed the room operator to throw all sorts of surprises at the cadets. There were even a few light hearted rumours that one operator had run an 'earthquake simulation' that had flung two squads from one end of the room, to the other and back.

Today though, there was additional scenery. It seemed that someone had set up an impressively extensive assault course. The clones had done plenty of physical training, but they hadn't seen a course quite this brutal. Judging by the excessive amounts of barb wire, this could have the hallmarks of Swapar's work. The whole battalion wasn't here today, only a platoon or so. Due tot he sheer numbers, most of the force was regularly separated for training.

'Alright ladies!' Swapar would bawl from the back of the room. 'Get in your squads double time! You've only got a few days left till citadel day, and I need to make sure that when you get suited for armour, your belly's won't hang out from underneath it! Now, who should go first?'