The Life of Epsilon 775

A World Unknown

2011-04-07T22:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a couple years, hasn't it? I'm not sure where to start. I'm currently sitting on the RNS Endeavor, cruising at speed to Coruscant. Where have I been? Christ, the question should be where haven't I been. The Outer Rim has been my home for the past few years, my brothers-in-arms the only thing remotely constant in my life. Every system out there has had some political crisis or another, something we've had to deal with. Everyone has their problems. Even me. I met a woman, actually. We courted for a year, a wonderful year until her perfect, fragile life was cut short at the hands of some unknown space-borne disease. It seems that everything is gone now. Even Jardena Oneida, a Commander in this wonderful Navy, and perhaps the only friend I made outside of combat, hasn't checked in for several years. What is this Republic? Is she lost? What have we given everything for?
I'm told that due to my actions in combat, I'll be presented with at least a year's leave upon returning to Coruscant, a grim reward for taking so many enemy lives. I guess that's something to look forward to, I know almost every man on this ship would kill for an opportunity like that. I don't know what I'll do. Free time isn't something we clones were ever trained to handle. I know where my first stop will be, though, the ceremony for all those we lost out there over the years. I started posting here nearly six years ago. And in the span of six years, well, let's just say we clones have a way of coming and going considerably faster than that.
Anyway, first to the ceremony, then to a nice bar to buy my lads a round while they ogle those whorish twi'leks. After that, who knows? The Republic has granted me something brand new: a life. I think I'll try and track down Jardena, bloody hell I hope she's alive.

Until next time!
Your friend always,
Epsilon 775 (Sev)

A question

2008-05-23T20:01:00.000-07:00

The following are E775's personal thoughts, not a part of the current story

So... wow. A lot has been going on lately. Reassignments, deployments, readiness exercises. Demolition of the older Deep Spatial stations, and doing security for construction in Coruscant. I've been damn near all around the galaxy in the past few months, all at the expense of the lovely taxpaying citizens of the Republic, and I've seen just about everything there is to see, all the way out to the Outer Rim. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing touch with what I'm supposed to be. I mean, I'm a clone trooper. What mentality am I meant to have? What am I supposed to do after I'm unfit for combat? I heard a rumor circulating the barracks at Terrestria Novata (one of those planets waaay the hell out in space) that because of our "growth acceleration" used to make us ready to fight earlier, we would be dead before the Republic had a problem with us. Are we then no more than the simplest of battle droids? It would seem like a bad idea, then, making droids that need food and medpacks, and may the gods forbid that someone in the Senate ever question the morality of this whole thing.

I grew up under the harsh fluorescent light of the surveillance robots. They watched me and my fellow clones grow up. The Kaminoans did their best to ensure that not too many of us died in training, but if we did, who really cared? It was only a matter of slapping another development pod on the incubator. I raced through my first ten years of life, having them compressed into the span of just about 2 years. None of us ever really knew what was going on. There was nothing out of the ordinary. We didn't know any better. When they started training us with "live fire" it was common to see the guy that you just ate midday food with get shot in the faceplate by the guy who you ate breakfast with. Death was ever-present, and doled out in generous helpings, by your own friends, whom you would gladly place a round of plasma through. It was as if we didn't know what we were doing. We were rewarded for killing people, and though the Kaminoans thought we were all the same, we could tell when someone never came back from a training session. Then they had the wonderful idea of splitting us up into two massive divisions. Red and Blue. We ate only with our team. We were trained to truly and deeply hate the other team. They were not like us, we were told, they were different, THEY were the enemy.

After a few more years of this, they sent us out into the field, being particularly careful to never deploy any former Reds on a mission with any former Blues. They messed up once, as was inevitable. A whole legion of former Reds was working away at a city center on Felucia, when the "reinforcements" of former Blues showed up en masse. Someone found out that the two were "enemies", and as one thing led to another, the battlefield was scattered with hundreds of dead clones and destroyed gunships. It wasn't that any of them had consciously thought to kill the others, it was ingrained in them, along with the obedience and unwaveringly loyal cooperation. I say all of this with an air of contempt. "How could they have been so foolish?" But the truth is, I am no different at all. We are all clones, bred for battle, without thought to the consequence. We were meant to be the perfect warriors, the Republic's answer to the armies of battle droids hoarded by the Confederates. The problem that no one saw was this: We had minds.

The question that I ask myself every day, the question that plagues all of my thoughts is one that seems so basic in it's concept. Do I really have a mind of my own?I think, therefore I am. But do I really think if I have things so driven into my mind that they avoid conscious reasoning or emotion?

Am I really alive?

-Epsilon 775 (Sev)

An unexpected visit

2007-11-02T15:38:00.000-07:00

A continuation of the "new" story that began with the last post

“Attention crew of the Aggressor, this is the Captain. You’re probably all wondering why you had to dress up today. Well, I’ll tell you why. Commander Seidel is arriving in three – zero minuets. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, but for whatever reason, his shuttle is under a top secret classification. When I give the order, I want all nonessential personnel to report to Shuttle bay Alpha Hotel Sierra. Form up by rank, and let’s give the commander a warm welcome.”

Commander Seidel was a very good friend of mine, we had gone to the Academy on Coruscant together, and most of my crew had met him as well. Although his rank was “Commander”, he was actually an Army commander, not a member of the Imperial Navy. His rank was roughly comparable to that of a Navy Rear Admiral or Vice Admiral.

“Wait…” Corporal Guendson began, “We’re…picking up something on an approach vector.” “Get me whatever visual you can,” said Lieutenant Priore, already walking to the slightly sunken navigation “pit”. “Sir,” yelled a young ensign, tearing his headphones off and wheeling around from his screen, “there’s more than one. I read at least three objects approaching our current position at mark 44.78 around the planet, speed…” he paused, “mach 10, sir!” This was unexpected. “Raise shields” I said, “size estimate?” “About the size of a Lambda – class each,” replied the ensign, “But they’re traveling far too fast to not engage hyperdrives.” “Sir!”, yelled the lead communications officer, Junior Lieutenant Vahr “They have no Imperial identification, not even mandatory civilian I.D. tags.”

“Are they Rebels?” I asked. “Possibly,” replied Vahr, “but what’s driving them so fast without jumping to hyperspace?” “I don’t know. Open a hailing channel and instruct energy control to drain the main drive’s power. Divert it to the shields.” “Aye,” he said, tapping on a built – in data pad. “Channel open.” “This is Captain Golon of the Imperial Star Destroyer Aggressor to the three craft approaching our position. We have you on our scanners now. Please identify yourselves immediately.” There was about 4 seconds of tense silence, followed by a brief burst of static. I waited a few seconds more. “I repeat, please identify yourselves at once.” I flipped of the microphone, “Lieutenant Priore, make ready all batteries. Hold fire until I order.” “Aye,” he said, “all batteries charging.” I would try every means possible to establish contact, but if they refused to reply, and continued on their attack vector, I would be forced to blast them out of existence, not that any of the energy from the ship's 20 turbolaser arrays had gotten to my head.

To Be Continued...

Rendezvous at Transita 12

2007-08-18T12:16:00.000-07:00

“Captain,” a voice said. “Captain, you requested to be awoken at 1500 hours Coruscant time.” I laboriously forced my eyes open as the voice on the private com to my quarters continued. “Captain, it is currently 1502 hours, on Coruscant time.” I remembered why I had requested the wake – up call, and bolted upright in my bed. “I’m up. Thank you, Corporal.” “Not a problem sir, hope you rested well. We’re holding position above Transita 12, as per your orders.” “Very good Corporal. That will be all.”

I needed to make an important announcement to the crew. I had gone to sleep in my uniform, anticipating that I would be too groggy to get dressed before I got to the bridge. I stood up off of the bed, combed my hair, and placed my cap precisely on my head. I checked my clock, which was always on Coruscant time, but could switch rapidly to the time on any Inner Rim planet. 1504. That was suitable. I gently opened my door out into the hallway. I liked having the door open on occasion. It allowed a person to not feel so cut off, so secluded. I tied my dress shoes with a pinpoint precision. I had ordered all of the crew to be in full dress today. None of them quite knew why, but that would change shortly. I stepped out into the hall, and shut the door into my quarters.

Although it was afternoon on Coruscant, it was early in the morning here, and on this side of Transita 12, the sun had yet to rise. On my way to the bridge, I was saluted by a few crew members, all, of course, in dress. I liked it when my crew looked sharp. I also knew, however, that they always seemed a little bit uncomfortable in their “Admiral’s Attire”, so I rarely ordered them into it. Today, though, I had yet to see a single Ensign fidget in their uniform. I finally arrived at the bridge, after taking a leisurely walk up. “Ah, it’s a beautiful sunrise, no, Lieutenant?” “Yes, sir, Captain, it is. It sure is.” He replied. “Alright, I need to talk to the crew. I’m sorry I couldn’t have told you earlier, but I’m under orders.” “Of course, sir,” he said. I picked up the microphone and activated it for shipboard communications systems.

Keep the Change

2007-08-18T12:13:00.000-07:00

For a few weeks, maybe longer, this blog will be shifting to the story of a Captain Golon, of the Imperial Star Destroyer Endeavor. Sorry about that bloody bad cliffhanger that the old plot "ended" on, but, ya know, we're movin' on to a different story. So, I hope you enjoy it, if you don't mind the character switch!

A Plan of Action

2007-03-04T11:44:00.000-08:00

A continuation from "The Light"

The object, which vaguely resembled a huge starship traveled upwards for about a minute, at a very slow rate, and came to a stop about 200 feet off of the ground. The effervescence was no longer nearly as intense, but the ship still radiated some light . "Right, well, you're in charge now, Epsilon" said Beta 492, "what do we do, sir?" "Uhh.." I paused to think. I wanted to see if the shaft, and, therefore most likely the ship, was controlled by the Confederates, but I didn't want to put anyone in danger due to my own curiosity. Other commanders made decisions like this all of the time. They put lives at stake because they needed to. Because the Republic needed them to. We were used to taking those kinds of suicidal orders, we knew we would die with honor, we would die to save the Republic. But I am just another trooper. How do I tell my comrades that they need to sacrifice themselves for our cause? How would I ever be able to live with myself knowing that I had sent my friends to their deaths while I stayed safe? "Sir, what is our plan of action?" Beta inquired again. "Split into two groups. Beta, Tau and I are going into the shaft, everyone else, move to offensive positions around the shaft, and be prepared to provide cover fire."

My plan seemed like a pretty good one, at least at the moment. What I had forgotten was that Tau was our best sniper, and a fairly poor infantryman. The three of us in the small "strike team" crept over to a small staircase which spiraled downwards around the circumference of the perpetually deep shaft. We started to creep down the stairs, and we approached a small control console. "What in the hell is this?" asked Beta. "Wait... I've seen one of these before, it's..." Tau muttered. Beta reached forward to touch it. "No, don't!" yelled Tau, just as Beta's finger connected with the holographic panel.

Comm signals back online...

2007-03-01T19:54:00.000-08:00

Hello all you readers of this blog. I've been quite lacky on the posting lately, but I'll try to get back up to par sometime soon. Maybe there will be a post this weekend. The problem is, you see, I'm not entirely sure where this storyline is going. It starts here if you haven't read it. This is also a pretty good post. When I started writing this current line, I thought I knew what was going to happen in it. It turns out I was wrong. The whole "death of Kappa" part onwards was pretty much made up as I was typing it. So, yeah, that's my excuse for not continuing it for a month. I'm going to try to do another joint with Oneida such as here and here, but no guarantees on that. Yep, that's the post for now.

The Light

2007-01-16T17:59:00.000-08:00

A continuation from "Don't let them know what hit 'em"

Now we knew that these Confederates were prepared for our "surprise" ground assault. "Next gun, next gun!" yelled our clone CO. "Use grenades, and don't let them know what hit 'em." We ran over to the next turret, tracking the plasma bolts back to their source to find it. It was about 2000 feet away, so we had a bit of a sprint ahead. Our footsteps were light and swift, just as we had trained for them to be. I listened through my helmet to the deep "chunk, chunk" noise of our target, and the grasses swaying in the light nighttime breeze as we ran past. I heard my own breathing, which started getting heavier and heavier. Then I heard a sound that shouldn't have been there. "Tink". That was it. It was followed by a thump and some static over the comlink. "Oh, god!" yelled Beta 487, "They've got Kappa, sniper, sniper!"

We dropped to the ground instantly, and crawled as fast as we could in any direction of cover. We were in the middle of the open field, and the only protection accessible was another part of the forest that we had recently emerged from. We turned perpendicular to our previous route, Kappa's last route, and crawled for the trees. Whoever had shot at us fired one more round of a sleek, long, lethal, red plasma round, but then mysteriously stopped. We continued towards the forest for what seemed like an eternity, but at last, the trees stood before us, offering to shelter us from our unseen attacker. We continued inwards, still crawling, until a bright spectrum of light, dominated by a silvery gold hue blinded us.

An immense hole, larger than any ship that the Republic had in service, opened slowly in the ground, releasing more and more of the increasingly brighter light. We shaded our eyes with our hands, but the light was everywhere, all - penetrating. Then a massive object started to move, very slowly, and hardly visible through the glare, upwards, towards the now bright night sky.

To be continued...

Don't let them know what hit 'em

2006-12-26T10:59:00.000-08:00

From "Back to work"

The trees appeared instantly, and they were followed too closely by the ground. We hit pretty hard, and jumped out, looking for a fight. There weren't any droids on the ground near us, but our first priority was to take out the Anti - Air turrets so that the Gunships could get out, and more troops could be brought in. It wasn't too hard to find the first turret, after all, there were plenty of them. We had landed in a sort of coniferous forest, but the turrets were dispersed in the trees and in the plains surrounding them. The mystery planet was beginning to form it's landscape around us. There was indeed a large forested area which was partially covered in snow, and the plains around it were home to grasses around 2 feet tall, and the ground around them harboured snow as well.

My squad headed towards the nearest AA gun, which seemed to be utilizing shells to "enhance" the plasma. All that we needed to do was take care of the droids operating it, and stick a charge to the gun itself. That's what we thought at least. We jumped over the small barriers surrounding the turret position, and opened fire on the droids inhabiting it. The last droid activated a failsafe, and we didn't even notice. A few seconds later, the turret exploded just as Kappa 664 and Tau 492 were setting the charge. The blast knocked me onto my chest, and when I turned around to look for the 2 demolitions men, all I saw was a chunk of blacked plastoid and a mangled helmet. The charges had gone off as well, which caused the plasmatic blast to magnify at least by ten times it's original power. Now we knew that these Confederates were prepared for our "surprise" ground assault. "Next gun, next gun!" yelled our clone CO. "Use grenades, and don't let them know what hit 'em."

A short post, but this will be continued...

Back to work

2006-12-15T17:29:00.000-08:00

After my last "escapade", I had to spend almost a week in a tank of pure bacta, and I've been in an improptu sort of "rehab" (not much thought is given to clones who survive serious injury). After quite some time, I was ready to go back. I had to re enter rigorous training, but an officer noticed that my number appeared on a Republic commendation list, and he let me through. So now, here I am, waiting for the enormous Cruiser that will take me and my division, the 305th, to yet another battlefront.

2 days later:

Today is "Deployment Day". We all look forward to and dread it. I can hear the massive Repulsor engines roaring in reverse, we've come out of hyperspace. I don't know where we are, none of us do. All we know is that a lot of us won't be coming off of this planet we're about to land on. That was the only thing we were told. A voice blares over the intercom: "Legion 225, move to Boarding Area 549". A trooper I was talking with, his name was Omega, I think, stood at attention as his C.O. yelled "You heard 'em, 225, let's go!" Such was the way of it. The 305th division was split into legions, units, platoons, and squadrons. We were only expecting a few squads per unit to make it. Finally, my legion was called, and we moved to our boarding zone. Only 2 squadrons could fit on a gunship, so I said goodbye to my other friends, and climbed slowly aboard. My hip still hurt from a serious bone fracture, but I wouln't give up defending the Republic until I physically couldn't. That's what I was born for.

The gunships descended swiftly and quietly through the dusk sky on the planet, but the pilots still seemed nervous. It's never a good sign when your pilot is nervous, because they almost never are. I heard a strange sound from over to the right. It reminded me of Geonosis, and a chill went up my spine. It had an eerie quality to it, it almost vibrated the air around it. I smiled a little, it sounded kind of pleasant. Then I saw it, and simultaneously recognized the sound. "FIERFEK!!" yelled the pilot, "Anti Air guns!" A chunk of golden plasma rocketed past the side of the gunship, momentarily blinding me. The whole dropship shook violently. Then the ship next to ours was hit. It didn't actually explode right away. The plasma impacted the bottom, and time seemed to slow. It molded around the bottom of the ship, and in a fraction of an instant, 15 troopers, and 2 pilots were disintegrated. The pilots decided that they needed to get us out as soon as possible, so they practically cut power to the repulsorlifts that power the crafts. We fell a few hundred feet, before the pilot reactivated them, and just in time. The trees appeared instantly, and they were followed too closely by the ground. We hit pretty hard, and jumped out, looking for a fight.

To Be Continued...

Tactical Operations 3

2006-09-16T09:10:00.000-07:00

As my vision started to fog up, I desperatly threw myself into the bunker which housed the passage to the underground tunnel. "Huuuh" I said quietly, realizing the bizzare abscence of droids. Then I lost my vision completely. About 5 minutes later, I could see again, and I realized that my leg was not only pouring blood, but the ionization from the blaster bolt had melted a large part of my plastoid armour. Knowing that if I kept losing this much blood, I would end up drowning a bantha in it, I slapped on all of the bacta - enhanced gauze pads that I had, then placed a piece of metal on top of them to add pressure. The instant I set the metal piece on, blinding pain shot up my leg, through my back, and into my head. I was promptly knocked out. With the blood pooling up under the remaining plastoid, I had to remove the leg plates of my armour, and then attempt to crawl down the tunnel while preventing my half - destoyed leg from touching the ground. The droids must have thought I was dead, because none came into the bunker at all. I finally made it to "Location 0" the place where I was supposed to stick the detpack. I reached into my pack (it was clipped on to the armour suit) and felt around for the detpack. I looked up in pure fright. It wasn't there! "Oh, fierfek" I said, "This is just great". I started to tear up, realizing that the Republic would now have to send another squad out here, because the previous squad had been so inept, had let them down. Then a chunk of rock fell from the ceiling and hit my leg. I was knocked unconscious again. When I woke up, I realized that I had, in my semi - conscious state, been pounding my fists into the ground. the plastoid hand pieces were broken almost perfectly in half. I looked at them, pondering just how worthless I was now, and heard a voice somewhere in the back of my head. "When in unfamiliar hostile territorry," the voice said, "improvisation can be a priceless skill." Then I recognized it. The voice was from a holo - training program that I had been flash - taught on Kamino. I looked around and saw the rock that had fallen from the roof. I pulled the small black bag (that was supposed to contain the detpack) apart, into long black threads, and tied a piece of the broken gauntlet to the rock. I started pounding fiercely at the small control console that would have accomodated the det. After about 10 minuets, the top layer of plastic was removed from the console, and the sharp gauntlet chuck had virtually disintegrated. I tied another chunk to the rock, and pounded away at the newly exposed electronics. When a few sparks started to appear, I backed up, and repeatedly threw the rock at the console. After5 consecutive minuets of rock throwing, the system went critical, my shoulder was basically dislocated, I grabbed the rock with my other hand, and started to crawl, as fast as I could, up the passageway. When I made it to the bunker, I saw that Tak had ditched the turret, and was running around wildly with his DC blaster, shooting every droid that was even remotly flinching on the ground. "Ay, Sev!" he yelled, "I think we best be getting out of here!" He used his comlink to call for gunship evac, I crwaled out into the open, and as I saw the gunship descending above me, and the bunker exploding behind me, I simply thought, as my vision began to blur again, "This is just.... beautiful." As the little black circles began to form in my eyes, I faintly heard a pilot yell "Trooper, are you alright?" And, still losing blood, with my sight nearly gone, I managed to raise my left arm in the air in a fluid motin, and give a simple, universally understood thumbs - up.

OOC: Whoops

2006-09-09T16:06:00.000-07:00

Okay. I think my head is screwed back on again. I sincerely apologise for not posting all summer, it was just incredibly hectic. I kinda ditched the blog to keep up with everything. But, (assuming anyone even reads this blog anymore) ... I'm back! Part 3 of "Tactical Operations" should be up soon. That is, as soon as I write it ;). No, really, I'll take better care of my poor blog, whose feelings are simply read "Severely Demoralized". Anyway, I'll be posting again soon, and I hope people still read this thing!

OOC: Move

2006-07-22T09:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry about not updating in over a month, but daang have I been busy. I just moved last week (to anyone looking to move: don't, it's a HUGE pain in the ass) and, in doing so, nearly broke my back, lost two fingers, and had a fully - laden dolly cart fall on my chest area, which I was convinced (for a period of time) would have certainly been fatal. And then, just when I thought I could rest, I end up driving all the way to San Diego. So, this post is brought to you from a dial - up connection on the coast. Know the dial - up pain which I suffered to update! And yes, the storyline will continue once I get my brain cells to the condition that they were in before said move. Thank you for your patience.

Tactical Operations 2

2006-06-12T17:45:00.000-07:00

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" replied Tak, almost stunned. "Yeah, but remember what we did with the KE - 9 Enforcer droid back on Kamino?" I asked him. "Yeah, but that was dumb too." "Well, we're about to see if it'll work here" I said plainly. "Fine, just do it." he began, "Once you get clear in the hole, sighnal to me, and I'll run for it." "Alright." I said, "Udesiir, I'm not that much of an ordiini." "Sure you're not." He said concisely. With that I ran into the bushes on the side of the droid encampment. I gave Tak a standard audio alarm signal, even though I knew it would probably piss him off. It was pretty annoying. I sent off the beeping to his helmet, and saw him cringe on the hill. "What the **** was that for?!" He yelled to me. "Just tell me to fire!!" I just ignored him, he was firing anyway, so the alarm did it's job. After a few seconds, as planned, the firing stopped and I ran out into the droid horde. They were already disorented, and some weren't even functioning. I figured Tak had used some EMPs along with the turret fire. As I ran towards the shaft, I heard a scream on my com - link. I spun around instinctively to Tak's position, and saw a smoking turret, and an unconsious trooper next to it. I was already too far in to turn around and help him, so I continued on towards the entryway. Besides, i could probably be of more help, repelling droids from there. Disoriented by panic, my vision blurred, then I realized that it was accompanied by a stinging sensation in my left leg. The sensation quickly turned to searing agony. It was only after my leg gave out, just 5 feet from the shaft, that I realized I had been shot.

To be continued...

Tactical Operations

2006-06-10T16:16:00.000-07:00

I look behind me, over my shoulder as I lie prone in the foot tall grass. Tak has a portable turret strapped to his back, and he's crawling behind me. I use my short range com - link to flash a warning to him. "Three targets ahead, probably Seps" I whisper to him. He acknowledges with a brief thumbs up signal. I approach a small cliff, no more than 10 feet tall, and look down from my new vantage point. As I glance over the edge, I see that there are not three droids, but rather, at least 15. There are also organic, maybe Maalistarian commanders with them. I give Tak a thumbs down as he peers over the small cliff. He starts assembling the turret, which stands no more than a foot from the ground. I start to realize that our target, a small entrance shaft to an underground cave, is completely concealed by the droid horde. "Damnit" I whisper to myself. Then, using the com again, I inform Tak of my extremely risky plan. "When I give the signal, lay down a volley of cover fire. After 3 seconds of fire, duck down, and conceal the turret. Then I'll run out, as you open fire again." "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" replied Tak, almost stunned. "Yeah, but remember what we did with the KE - 9 Enforcer droid back on Kamino?" I asked him. "Yeah, but that was dumb too." "Well, we're about to see if it'll work here" I said plainly.

To be continued...

Coruscant

2006-05-07T16:29:00.000-07:00

We've been in extensive "upgraded" combat training at the base here on Coruscant for a month now. Not only have we been in training, but the 305th was assigned to conduct some basic self - defense courses for civilians. You'd be suprised how many people show up for those kinds of programs, after all, sparring and vibroblades aren't going to do you much good against a blaster. But there are alternatives to shootouts. The best thing that's happened in the past month here actually, was comedy. Those stuck - up bureucrats had a little "problem" with the Senate complex. A certain Senator "accidentally" set a thermal detonator off in the complex. Of course, we had to assist the Coruscant Fire control in keeping people calm, but the funniest thing that I saw was a Senator, crying because he "wet" himself, and his expensive attire, of fright when he heard the blast. No one was injured, but that Senator's ego surely suffered. And, as we leave that subject behind, I would like to simply assure you that we had nothing to do with the Thermal blast. Honestly.
Epsilon

Busy

2006-04-07T17:55:00.000-07:00

Wow, have I been busy lately. We had a crisis where an Attack Cruiser left the atmosphere of Couruscant, and then came, burning, through the clouds into a civilian portion of the city. That was bad. There was a series of crimes throught the camp, but we don't really own anything, and later, Beta 857 confessed. He told the barracks commander, Kappa 489, that he simply "couldn't resist all of the shiny white grappling hooks". Not that I was eavesdropping. I heard that the Lt. Commander started her civilian assignment, but I couldn't be there to help with the move, too many tasks here at base. Besides, since we clones are viewed almost as battle droids, rather than humans, the civilian population usually shuns us being in public. However, Tau 639 and I decided to leave base camp ( after hours of paperwork filing) and walk around. What we forgot, though was that we were still wearing our armor. It becomes almost a part of you, when you wear it all day, every day. Anyway, we only noticed it when people started giving us funny looks, and hurrying their children past us. It dosen't feel to great to know that you people you die to protect think of you as freaks. Oh, well, I dropped by the Lt. Cmdr's new place, asked about her strange looking sofa, was told that it wasn't her idea, wished her luck, annd went back to the barracks. Anyway, I'd better catch up on my sleep, there may be an assignment coming up.

Adventures onboard a Cruiser

2006-03-05T10:15:00.000-08:00

Well, where should I start? When I first got onboard the space cruiser called the "Empowerment", I was stunned by the immensity of the ship. When I got to my bunk, I was stunned by how tremendously small it was. Tau 274 brought an extention pad, but even that only made his bunk remotely tolerable. The only thing that made the bunks forgettable was the food. Dehydrated crud. The cooks forgot to hydrate my meal once, it was just a chunk of foam. I didn't eat that night. We were attacked once, a ship full of vulture droids rammed us, sending the ship out of orbit. Before I could get to my fighter, though, the other ship had gone into the atmosphere. There was also an incident involving some "batch three" clones. Let's just say that a Lt. Commander had me use knockout gas. After that, Beta 878 couln't stop playing pranks, and our commander, Gamma 667 had to slap him and lock him in the abandoned quarters of a Seargent. But now, after all of that fun, I'm back on the ground, here on Coruscant. Not the real Coruscant, the essence of the Republic, but the GAR base in "The Works" section of the planet. No contact with the outside world. Just the way we clones like it. Most of the time.
Epsilon

Reassignment

2006-01-22T13:21:00.000-08:00

We clones of the 305th just got word that we are to be reassigned temporarily to an Attack Cruiser. Those are the huge starships that serve the Grand Army of the Republic. I don't really like being in space. The last time I was on board a Cruiser, the Grav Generators failed. That was really unpleasent. On the plus side, though, I will probably get to fly more. What with all of the fighters on board, we'll probably be doing Attack and Dogfighting drills every day.
Epsilon

What's so special about them anyway?

2006-01-13T09:53:00.000-08:00

Now, I'm angry. So is every one else in the barracks right now. We just found out that those scumballs of the 501st get to go fly the new starfighters. It's not the ARC - 170, but they're still cool. We all really despise the 501st. When we were on Kryyoth, we were fighting in close quarters, getting killed. In order to take a shot at a driod, you'd have to climb over your dead comrades. It was a bloodbath. Those 501st lunatics were back at base or "Rear Command Post 278". Guess what they were doing? NOTHING!! Just relaxing, sunning, etc. When the news got out that we were victorious, guess who got the praise, the rewards? THE 501st!! We made our contempt known, in a not - so - subtle way. We got reprimanded severly. Oh, well. Tau 739 just tacked up a picture of a 501st commander, and we're throwing darts at it. Kappa 249 just hit it in the eye visor. Epsilon 775

New Armor! Not for the 305th.

2006-01-12T19:29:00.000-08:00

Sorry about not updating for so long. Lots of battles. Stuff like that. I got to fly a Gunship fresh out of the Engineering yards on Rothana. Kappa 928 had to take over after I got a little, well, clumsy. Almost crashing a few times didn't sit too well with the commander. Anyway, there is a rumor going around that those spoiled clones in the 501st are getting new armor. It's supposed to be all "high tech". Whatever. We don't need new, fancy armor or whatnot. But, that new starfighter that I test - flew is really sweet. It's called the ARC - 170. It's still a prototype though, so I could only fly in a simulator. And, I got a new sniper rifle. Gamma 653 and I took out some womp rats. Then a Tusken raider mauled Gamma. He didn't make it. Oh, well. I'll update more often.
Epsilon 775.

Security

2005-08-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

Security duty is over! Something interesting did happen while I was on security, though. I, Tau 654, Beta 993 and Upsilon 384 were joking about this wierd senator guy who had the most ridiculos hairdo that I have ever seen, and the guy who had none, when someone inside the "arena" screamed. We were posted just outside the giant spacios area, when we heard the scream. We turned around just as Upsilon said a joke that made Beta laugh so hard that he couldn't breath and he passed out. I peeked through a curtain and saw some crazy neimiodian with a blaster out. just as I leveled my own rifle, he fired a single shot. No one breathed, especially not Beta 993. We later found out the the crazy bloke got so flustered that he shot himself. Brilliant blokes, those Trade Federation types. I hear one of them tried to test a blaster, with it pointed at him. Like I said, brilliant blokes.

Removal from Kryyoth!

2005-08-16T13:16:00.000-07:00

We were victorious on Kryyoth, and now, we are being sent to Couruscant for security duty. I met a few Commandos last night, on the transport off of Kryyoth. They were headed to Couruscant from some planet called Naboo. Don't ask me why they would send commandos to a "secured" planet, a planet that is a known member of the Republic, unless they were on security. And there are few things that a commando hates more than security duty. I hate it too. Not enough action. Escorting some blah blah high - up person all around some stupid dome, only to be told that something like "the senator from the soverign seystem of yada yada blah has arrived and wishes for an escort. All I hear is blah, blah, go get this official dude, blah, blah, blah. Wonderful fun ins't it? The worst part is watching all of theese people in comfortable fancy clothing (too fancy if you ask me) eat this delicious food, only to return to the Barracks in your hard, cold armour and eat artificial food. I mean, the food's not that bad, only when you see other people eating real food does it begin to taste awful. I mean, we clones are humans too! Oh, well.
Epsilon

Ahh, sweet, sweet artificial food

2005-08-14T17:46:00.000-07:00

Wonderful, absolutely wonderful, essence of Kamino with Freeze - dried sides and Flash - cloned meats. I am in a blissful state right now. We finally had some battle action here on Krryoth, and the sanctions on all combustable materials were lifted. Huzzah! Also, I might even get to go on board one of the Republic's own giant Attack Cruisers. Those things are said to be HUGE!! Anyway, the only bummer around here is that, even though the CIS (Confederacy of Independant Systems) retreated, we lost half of our best pilots in the last battle. We also lost my commander, Gamma 465. Not cool. Word is that either Chi 549 or Tau 825 could be promoted. I'm voting for Kappa 778. He's a good soldider. But, considering that we're all clones, aren't we all?

At Last!! Nevermind

2005-07-19T17:25:00.000-07:00

Crud. Cruddy crud crud. That is all I have to say. Some stupid sharpshooter killed himself with a flippin' grenade. Brilliant. The entire outpost was put on full alert for "traditional" reasons. Everybody knows that that lousy idiot killed himself, but now everyone is having everything that they own (well, we don't really own anything, everything is issued to us members of the GAR) searched for any, any signs of illegal material. Now, even our armour is cleaned everyday in an extremely toxic chemical cleanser. Delta 437 tried to complain, but he was killed on the spot, marked as a "terrorist". And to top that off, these new security restrictions do not permit any type of combustable material anywhere in our outpost, exept at the Armoury. Guess something that combusts when heated. THE FUEL FOR MY BLIMEY JET PACKS!!! The Jet Packs have been outlawed, all thanks to that ONE LOUSY SHARPSHOOTER!!! Uh, oh, here comes Gamma 784, our commander. I'd better shut this off. Maybe the restrictions have been lifted. Probably not, most likely, another ARC trooper had a missile malfuntion, in the Armoury. Great.

Bummer!

2005-06-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

Well, turns out that that supply gunship only had rations onboard. Oh, well. Clone Troopers are trained in basic survival cooking, just to survive in battlefields where ration ships can't reach. However, some lucky (or unlucky for that matter, you decide for yourself) clones, including myself, recived "special" culinary training from an obsessed Kaminoan. I can cook fruit and vegetable meals of almost any sort (you should try On-bolt-casted asparagus) cakes (handy for a birthday, hahaha) medicinal foods and a varity of Kaminoan "gourmet" foods. We recive news via our head of planetary ops here on the outer rim system of Krryoth, and word is that there's trouble in the Galactic Senate. Oh, well, we're soldiers, not politicians. Well, we are about to conduct evening briefing, drills, and watches. So, I'll update later if I have time (the Krryothian day system is Wierd, man, and I mean Wierd, like a few hours to some days, multiple to another, but today is a "normal" Krryothian day. Thank goodness.

Hello, sir

2005-06-28T17:28:00.000-07:00

I am Epsilon 775, just a normal clone trooper in a normal battle of the normal clone wars. Actually, my life is pretty exiting compared to the brokers on Couroscaunt. There is a chance that I may be eligible for Jet Pack training, then I get to use a jet pack, just like Jango Fett. Well, sounds like we've got a gunship down, like "saving Private Windu" no, just kidding, I'd probably be on in court for reffering to Master Windu like that. Oh, well, no treason commited. Anyway, we haven't had fresh supplies in a bout a week, so I'm gonna go help unload the Gunship. Maybe I'll get an extra thermal detonator or two!