Days Gone By (A Star Wars Story)

Aftermath

The ringing in Stone's ears was never ending.

An explosion that had gone off, seemed to have demolished his ear drums.

The world around him was silent, but the dust filled air was ablaze with blaster fire. 

He gazed about, his fallen comrades of the five hundred and twenty-fourth Elite Assault Batallion were laid in the dust.

His brothers, twisted and mangled lay cold in the Genocian soil. His heart ached. These men had willingly charged with him into the heat of battle... and into a trap.

The Confederacy of Independent  Systems' army made the ground shake with its sheer numbers.

Stone sat up. He had to keep fighting. It was his duty. It was what he was cloned to do.

His back cracked a chorus of pops muted by his armor.

It was seared in many places. Blaster fire had forced black stripes to appear on his armor.

Reluctantly, he stood to his full height. Unlike other clones, which stood at six and a half feet, Stone stood at six feet and ten inches.

It was quite a tell tale feature about him.

Stone tapped a small button on the left side portion of his helmet.

His radio was silent.

The explosion that killed most, if not all of the 524th, also severed Stone's connection with the rest of the 23rd Fleet.

Stone pulled his helmet off, his sticky skin snagging as caught his chin.

The helmet fell to the dirt, kicking up a little shockwave of red dust.

Stone limped to a fallen trooper. He recognized the Clone without having to even see him without armor.

CT - 5637. Stone thought to himself.

The rookie had the fighting heart of a Rancor. He stood beside Commander Stone until the end.

Stone pulled the binding straps of the Rookie's helmet from his cold skin.

His face was frozen in shock. It haunted Stone to the core.

Stone dragged his sore fingers across the Rookie's eyes. He wished he could give the Clone a proper farewell, he wished that for them all.

Commander Stone trudged back to his helmet. He dislodged the radio from the Rookie's helmet and put it into the empty cavity where his broken one once was.

He reluctantly slid the helmet back on.

He tapped the radio and it hissed with static and all at once, Stone's hearing returned.

Blaster fire pierced the air. The heavy footsteps of AT walkers shook the ground.

The battle cries of troopers sent goosebumps up and down Stone's spinal cord.

Like a category five hyperspace engine, words shot from his mouth with speed.

"This is Commander Stone of the five hundred and twenty-fourth Assault Battalion, does anyone read me?" He swallowed, harsh Genocian sand lodged in his throat.

He involuntarily coughed as he finished.

A transmission buzzed through the distant sounds of battle, on the Regimental Band. "This is CT - 8765, Sergeant Keel, of the 524th Elite Assault Battalion.  Commander Stone, you out there?"

Stone inhaled quickly. He was pleased to hear that someone had survived the ambush.

"Affirmative. What's your status, trooper?" Stone fired off words again.

Blaster fire sounded in the radio. "Green, mostly. I've made it to the objective, sir, along with Roanoke and Geeves."

Stone smiled. His troopers were die hard, and he couldn't ask for better comrades.

"Roger that. Hold, I'm on my way." Stone picked up his pace, awkwardly running toward a small blue dot that appeared on his visor.

That was the objective, a droid production base.

It was a few hundred meters away. Stone was quick too, but with his busted ankle he would take significantly longer to cross that gap.

As he moved however, something snagged his foot. An outstretched hand of a trooper reached for his ankle.

He whispered, Stone struggled to hear. Yellow stripes glistened in the red star that overlooked the battlefield.

The trooper said something again, but Stone couldn't hear him.

He hoisted his left arm around the trooper, and they trudged on.

Three hundred meters now.

"Sir, ETA?" Sergeant Keel opened up on the radio again, clear impatience in his voice. A rare tone for a clone trooper to have.

"Unknown. Gathering wounded and able troopers as I go. Hold tight." Stone responded, ignoring the impatient troopers calls.

Two figures slumped over small rectangular shilloettes.

As Stone emerged, two "shinies" raised their blasters, nervous, shaking.

"Stand down troopers!" Stone reached for his DC-18 sidearm reflexively, before realizing it wasn't there.

"Sir, sorry, sir. Been a bit jumpy since the ambush." The shiny responded.

Stone recognized him. He had seen him grow since he was a shiny. CT-3333.

His partner bore red insignia of a combat medic. Very few battalions had their own medics. Stone was fortunate.

"You, tend to this trooper." Stone pointed to the medic and then the trooper that he had carried on his shoulder before leaning him against the shilloettes that was actually a pair of BARC speeders.

"You, patrols. I want any and all of our wounded round up and brought back here. Take a speeder bike." Stone pulled a small cylindrical item off of his belt while the other Clone Trooper commandeered the bike, and sped off.

Stone planted the cylindrical object into the ground. It was a base way point.

He looked at the Medic again. "Stay here, tend to the wounded. Defend them at all costs. " Stone said so simply and monotonous he could've been reading it from a list.

Stone straddled the last remaining speeder bike, and rocketed off in the direction of the objective.

Now he could easily cover the remaining three hundred meters and collect his wounded men and keep them from dying to soon.

Hopefully.

The BARC speeder slowed and shuddered black smoke as it approached a humongous tan door.

Separating the colors, Stone noticed distinct outlines of three Clone Troopers.

Stone neared the troopers and let the bike slow to a stop and grind into the dirt.

The troopers watched Stone with careful eyes as he approached them.

Stone knelt beside the shinies, in front of the Sergeant.

"Sir, orders?" Keel impatiently wanted to fight.

Stone swallowed.

"First things first... I need a weapon."