I think Underbeats Papyrus (aka Nico) would really look up to and aspire to be like Swap Sans. Possibly even Cross. They all have that older sibling responsibility thing going on (although Nico is actually the younger brother, taking care of his older sibling).
They all basically want to join the equivalent of the military or are/were already in it—Cross and Swap with the Royal Guards, and Nico with his AU’s equivalent called the Grand Orchestra Knights.
Even more literally, the GOK were formed during the human vs monsters war and it seems Maestro Gaster—Nico’s parent—either was involved in it during it’s creation in the war or created it themself seeing as they became a Commander (hidden under the alias Commander Shade.)
I would say that perhaps Maestro inspired Nico’s interest in joining the military, but given that they’re heavily traumatized by the war in multiple ways and it’s unclear what the present day purpose of the GOKs are, perhaps maestro is highly against their son joining.
Especially since, if I recall correctly, Maestro lost their mother and possibly their wife (Nico & Beats’ mother) during the war, and it was always emphasized that Nico takes a lot more after his mother.
But maybe Nico wants to join not only because he wants to prove himself and show he’s useful, but because he’s also a glass child—and he wants to get away from all the responsibilities his family puts on him with caring for Sans. It makes him feel horrible to think and feel that way, so the only person he’s told is his Uncle Grillby, but he can’t change how he feels.
I mean, in human years Beats is 16, meaning Nico is at least 12-14 in human years. So he plans and intends to join the GOK rather young, even for monsters of sound, it seems.
Summary: Hawks Talon Legion will fulfill the first phase of the mission.
Word Count: 3.428
Characters: Jedi Helena, Commander Shade, Commander Hawk, Soldiers of Hawks Talon Legion
Author's Note: Part 1 out of 4, probably. :)
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The Invictus hangar thrummed beneath the gunboats’ engines, primed for take-off. The air reeked of oil, metal, and a taut anticipation only present before a mission. Between steel racks, Hawks Talon troops glided in formation, checking straps, HUDs, and magazines. No one spoke; none needed to.
Commander Hawk stood beside his LAAT/i, helmet on as if already deployed. His expression was impassive, visor fixed on the mission display—positions and coordinates long memorised, but checked again. A shadow stepped beside him, not quietly, but decisively.
Helena.
‘The air defences must be taken out before they even see our squadron,’ she said. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, yet carried the full seriousness this mission demanded. ‘If they see you, we’ve lost. Everyone is counting on you.’
Hawk nodded. ‘Then they won’t see us.’
‘Your men know what they’re doing,’ Helena continued, her gaze fixed on the troops boarding the transporters. ‘But they’re looking to you.’
Hawk turned, but before he could answer Helena, heavy footsteps echoed behind them, causing both to look back.
Shade.
He paused, surveying the gunboats, then Hawk, then Helena. His eyes were glacial, precise—not hostile, just piercingly observant.
‘If you fail, the whole Corps loses air. So don’t fail,’ he said tonelessly.
Hawk looked at him – not provoked, not impressed. Just calm.
‘Understood, sir.’
A signal flashed at the hangar door. It was time.
‘Talon – all aboard. Departure in twenty seconds.’
And without another word, he climbed in.
Helena and Shade remained side by side, both keeping their eyes on Hawk as he climbed into the gunboat. Helena broke the silence, calling after him, 'Time to impress me, Commander. Let’s see what’s really behind your reputation.'
Shade, still watching the gunboat’s doors close, replied to Helena without looking at her: "Just watch, General, but don’t be disturbed. It would be a shame if we suddenly needed a new Jedi. Again."
The atmosphere above Vehora III was a single massive storm. Lightning flashed through the thick cloud cover, casting bright light on the outer hull of the LAAT/i gunboats as they moved silently through the turbulence. Below them lay a black carpet of jungle, motionless and silent, yet it seemed alive – as if it were breathing. Commander Hawk stood in the open side entrance of his command boat, his hands on the magnetic mount, his gaze fixed through his visor on the overgrown hills.
‘Hawk to bridge,’ he said calmly into the radio. ‘Talon squadrons approaching target coordinates. Visibility limited. Vegetation dense. Suspect natural camouflage of enemy positions.’
A brief static. Then Helena replied in a clear, calm tone. ‘Confirmed. Suspected defence cluster at Sierra Three elevation. Confirm visual markers as soon as possible.’
‘Understood,’ Hawk replied curtly. ‘Initiating reconnaissance. Units switching to whisper mode.’
For a moment, only the electronic crackle of the jamming signal could be heard. Then Helena added something, more quietly this time – a voice that commanded not, but trusted:
‘And Hawk… You’ll get them through safely. I know you will.’
He didn’t reply immediately. A brief, silent nod. Then he switched channels – internally. Only his squad leaders could hear him.
‘Talon One to Four – status.’
The squad leaders responded in turn, each voice coming crisply and without hesitation.
‘Squad ready. Visibility poor, systems stable.’
‘No visual contact with the ground. We are maintaining zero-sound mode.’
"Scans show increased heat signatures east of the target coordinates. Possible droid movement – confirm after touchdown. "
‘Trajectory slightly corrected. Ready to cover the southern flank.’
Hawk listened silently, then spoke again – calmly, firmly, razor-sharp.
‘The objective remains to eliminate the anti-aircraft guns without attracting attention. No firefights, no traces. Mark and disappear. We’re not here until it’s too late.’
He paused for a moment before uttering the last sentence – to everyone, but almost like a vow to himself:
‘No casualties. Not in Phase One.’
Squad 1
The jungle swallowed them almost instantly. As they left the gunboat, engine noise faded, replaced by soft leaf rustling and the crackling of damp branches under boots. Military training lets them move silently. It was dark—not night, but a dense canopy blocking nearly all light.
Five soldiers moved silently through the thicket. One led, the others followed at intervals – keeping their distance, not standing in a group.
They knew an anti-aircraft gun emplacement lay somewhere ahead. Their maps provided an approximate location but not its hidden disguise. Everything on this planet seemed to conspire against their technology: scanners flickered, display devices distorted.
‘Over there,’ muttered one of them, pausing briefly. Through the visor, an unusual structure could be seen between ferns and roots – not a tree, not a stone. A slight source of heat.
The leader raised his hand. Everyone stopped.
The position was well hidden. Two droids stood in front of it – B1 units, as they were known. They hardly moved. It wasn’t much – but too much for a loud attack.
‘We’ll split up,’ the leader said quietly. ‘Two of us will go around them and set the marker. No noise. No attention.’
Two soldiers carefully moved to the side, between vines and damp tendrils. One of them knelt behind a slanted tree trunk and pointed a small device at the position – a marker that sent an invisible signal.
The device flashed green. Target acquired.
Then they heard it.
A crack. Soft, brief – as if someone had stepped on a dry branch.
Everyone paused. Nothing moved. Not even the birds were singing anymore. The jungle was suddenly silent – too silent.
The marker was set anyway. The second soldier attached a small charge to a nearby power cable. Then they quietly withdrew.
Ten seconds later: a dull thud, almost like a cough underground. No fireball, no noise – just smoke, a little pressure, and then: silence. The position was destroyed.
No alarms. No reinforcements. No counterattack. Just the same oppressive calm as before.
They had succeeded. And yet something had changed.
Something was watching them.
Squad 2
Not far away, barely a ten-minute walk through the maze of undergrowth and fog, the second squad moved cautiously through the undergrowth. There were five of them, too, all crouched down, all silent. The leaves clung damply to their purple armour, water dripped everywhere, and the fog between the trees had thickened – as if the forest itself wanted to swallow them up.
‘We’re close,’ said one. ‘Scanner is working again – signal weak, but present.’
The squad leader stopped. In front of them lay a steep, moss-covered slope. Something metallic protruded between the roots – no bigger than an arm, but clearly not a plant.
‘There it is,’ he muttered. ‘Partially embedded in the slope. Camouflage is good. No guards visible.’
He thought for a moment, then activated the radio on his armband.
‘Talon Two to command. Target visually acquired. No ground access. Request: air strike.’
A few seconds passed. Then the radio crackled:
Hawk: ‘Approved. Set laser targeting. Twenty seconds to impact.’
The squad leader nodded. One of the men set up a small tripod, barely bigger than an arm. A red laser beam silently targeted the gun – no light visible, only on the devices.
They crouched behind the slope.
Then it came: a short whirring in the air, almost too fast to notice – and then a sudden flash from the sky. The explosion was pinpoint accurate. The slope shook, birds scattered, but there was only one clean impact. No echo. No alarm.
When the smoke cleared, nothing remained of the gun – only burnt ground and a few charred roots.
‘Target destroyed. No casualties. Change route to next position,’ reported the squad leader.
But before they moved on, one of them noticed something. He turned around once more. Between the trees, far in the distance, something seemed to be moving. Just slightly.
Something big.
But when he looked more closely, it was gone.
Squad 3
The third squad advanced from the southern landing site via a dry riverbed—the easiest route, never a good sign, as easy usually meant traps.
‘The target should be right in front of us,’ said the soldier in front, tapping the display on his wrist. ‘But I can’t see anything.’
The others paused. Before them rose a wall of rampant vines, half covered in rocks, half in gnarled roots. Nothing metallic, nothing conspicuous. But the data was clear.
‘Something’s not right here,’ one of them muttered. ‘The gun should be right behind that hill.’
‘Or in it,’ said the squad leader quietly.
They took cover, climbed cautiously onto a small ledge and peered out over the green sea. And there it was: embedded in the rock face, barely recognisable – an anti-aircraft gun emplacement, camouflaged with a net of moss, branches and hanging leaves. Only the sensor attachment protruded into the sky like a dark eye.
‘It’s not moving,’ someone noted. ‘But it’s alive. Active.’
The squad leader thought for a moment. An explosive device was risky – too close to the roots, and it was unclear whether the net itself would trigger a reaction. So they had to get close.
They approached slowly, one by one. No droids. No sound. But just before they reached the range for the marker, one of the men stepped on something soft.
A crack. Then a soft hiss.
Everyone froze.
The ground beneath the camouflaged device began to move – very slightly. And a moment later, it was clear: this was not a mine. It was something plant-like.
Leaves uncurled. Thin, nearly transparent tendrils pierced the foliage. A plant—or something similar—reacted to pressure.
‘Back! Slowly. No sudden movements,’ said the squad leader immediately.
They retreated cautiously, step by step, while the ‘flower’ slowly collapsed back into itself.
‘The gun is secured – not by droids. By the jungle itself,’ someone muttered.
They retreated ten metres, repositioned the marker, this time from a greater distance. It was a risk, but the target acquisition worked. The squad leader detonated the marker – the air strike would follow in seconds.
When the impact came, it was loud. Too loud. The hill shook. And as smoke rose, the soldier at the rear turned around once more – certain he had seen something out of the corner of his eye.
Wasn’t there…?
No. Just shadows.
Probably.
Squad 4
The last squad – Talon Four – had the lowest position. Their target was to the north, at one of the highest points in the jungle area. An old lookout point, long overgrown. The perfect place for a heavy anti-aircraft gun.
‘This is Talon Four. We are approaching the target. Visibility zero, humidity high. Scanners are… strange.’ The squad leader’s voice came through the radio, slightly distorted. Hawk heard it in his helmet and leaned over the side panel in the cockpit.
‘What do you mean, strange?’ he asked.
‘The signature… jumps. One moment we see it, the next it’s gone. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Like a… living cloaking device.’
Hawk frowned. Next to him on the hologram, the last transmitted coordinates flickered.
‘Continue. No risks. If the position is active, mark it. If not, no games. Understood?’
‘Understood, Commander. We’ll keep the radio open.’
Seconds passed. A minute. Then two. Only faint static.
Then suddenly:
‘…Commander, we have… there’s something. Not droids. An animal. It’s standing… just standing…’
Crackling.
A scratching sound.
A deep, grinding noise.
Then contact was lost. Just like that.
Hawk froze.
‘Talon Four – confirmation. Repeat. Talon Four, come in.’
Silence.
He switched to the bridge channel. ‘This is Hawk. I’ve lost contact with a squad. Last ping: North Plateau. Noises before termination – no known droid patterns.’
Helena’s voice came first. Calm, but alert.
‘We’ve detected the same silence to the north. No signs of life – not even enemy ones. It’s as if there’s nothing there. Too quiet.’
A moment later, Shade.
‘They’re dead. Mission failed.’
Hawk didn’t respond. The last coordinates were reflected in his helmet. Then he reached for the side strap and tightened the rifle's strap.
‘I’m going to check it out.’
‘Negative,’ came Shade’s voice. ‘You’d better think about how you’re going to excuse your failure.’
‘With all due respect, Commander, these soldiers are my responsibility.’
Hawk was already stepping away from the transport as a new squad gathered. ‘I’m taking three men. No noise. No detours.’
Helena intervened – not to disagree, but to go with him.
‘I’ll mark the route with minimal disruption. Keep the radio open – as long as it lasts.’
The jungle was denser than before. The air was still. No birds. No insects. Not even the dripping sound of the trees. Hawk moved quietly, each step calculated. The men behind him said nothing.
After a few hundred metres, they found traces: torn plants, a dropped torch. And… scratch marks. Deep, long, circular. Not mechanical. Not natural.
The jungle was empty. Too empty.
‘There’s something here,’ one of them muttered. Hawk raised his hand. Everyone stopped.
A sound. Muffled. Behind them.
And suddenly, silence again.
This time, it wasn’t a neutral calm. It was the kind of silence that makes you feel you are no longer alone.
Something was here.
The jungle was silent. Every movement seemed wrong, every sound too loud. Hawk and his small squad moved cautiously through the root-strewn terrain, which seemed more like a grave than a living wilderness.
Then: a movement.
A body lay among dense ferns. Armour damaged, helmet askew, breathing shallow.
Hawk immediately knelt beside the trooper. ‘You’re alive.’
The clone blinked. His visor was cracked, his gaze empty, distant. He was trembling. His hands were clenched, as if he wanted to hold on to something that was long gone.
‘What happened?’ " Hawk asked, as calmly as possible.
The trooper shook his head slightly. ‘I… I don’t know. We saw the target. The station… it was there. Then… then we weren’t alone anymore. Something was there.’
‘What?’
‘I… I don’t know. It was fast. Dark. Something took them. The others… they… they were just gone.’
His voice broke. ‘I shot. I screamed. No one answered.’
Hawk put a hand on his shoulder – just briefly. Then he activated the radio.
‘Hawk here. Found one survivor. In shock, unable to walk. Need transport immediately, inconspicuous – no sighting from above.’
Helena replied immediately.
‘Transport is on its way. Three minutes. Hold position.’
Hawk looked at his men. ‘Tao, you stay here; the rest of you keep going. There might be more.’
They left the injured man in cover, his brother protectively by his side. The rest followed the trail of blood – it was impossible to miss. Dark red, fresh. Drops turned into pools.
The trail led through dense vines, past torn plants and cut lianas. And then – they found it.
The station.
Intact.
Undamaged.
Too undamaged.
It was undefended. Not a single droid. No camouflage. As if it were waiting.
‘It’s a trap,’ whispered one.
Hawk raised his hand – then he saw it. At the edge of the clearing. Something was moving.
Black. Much too large. Silent.
Then another. And a third.
Beasts – shadow beasts – that Helena had spoken of.
They stood at the edge of the light. Their outlines blurred with the trees.
Teeth flashed red.
‘Back. Slowly,’ Hawk ordered. His voice was calm. ‘Don’t run. Don’t rush.’
But then… came the growling. Deep. In all frequencies at once.
They had barely retreated ten metres when the shadows began to move.
‘Back,’ Hawk repeated. Quieter this time. His men moved slowly backwards, between tree trunks, over mossy roots. No quick movements. No noise. Just the adrenaline pounding in their veins.
Then his radio crackled.
Helena.
‘Hawk, get out of there. Now. Three unknown signatures in your area. Large. Fast. Not mechanical.’
Hawk replied immediately. ‘Shadow beasts, visual contact confirmed. We’re evading.’
‘Glider on its way. Less than two minutes. Hold position south of the position.’
Hawk looked at his men. A nod. Then they moved faster. Not frantically – but purposefully. Two of them provided cover; the others moved through the trees, keeping low and breathing quietly.
The beasts did not follow.
Not really.
One of them – the largest – stepped to the edge of the clearing. Half hidden between roots and darkness. Its shining eyes rested directly on Hawk.
He paused for a moment. Not out of fear. Out of what came next.
The creature did not move. No attack. No sound. Just a look.
A look that said:
I could. But not now.
Then it was gone.
When the evacuation glider appeared between the treetops, with Tao and the injured trooper already on board, the forest was silent again. No shots fired. No explosions. No heroic deeds. And yet – something had changed.
Hawk was the last to climb aboard.
‘One target remains active. The station has not been destroyed.’
Helena did not respond immediately. Then she said only:
‘It was never the target.’
Hawk sat down on the bench without saying a word. And as the glider lifted off and Vehora III sank beneath them, he knew – the war had only just begun.
No sooner had the glider touched down on the Invictus’ landing platform than Hawk jumped out. Dirt and blood splatters stuck to his armour, and half of the HUD displays were still malfunctioning. He took off his helmet and took a deep breath.
Helena approached him. She wanted to speak – calmly, directly. But then Shade arrived.
He was already there, standing in the middle of the hangar. Arms crossed behind his back, motionless as always.
‘Let me summarise: mission failed, orders disregarded, fled, resources wasted, time wasted, and all for a man who is only half alive.’ Hawk’s gaze shifts to the injured trooper who is being carried into the infirmary on a stretcher. Viper, Frost and Havoc appear behind Shade. Their faces are expressionless.
‘Sir—’ ‘Don’t make me reconsider your position. It wouldn’t be difficult for me.’
No contradiction, no explanation.
‘The final target is still standing. I want it destroyed – immediately. No discussion.’
Helena stepped forward. ‘Shade, he just—’
‘You do not speak for my officers,’ he interrupts her harshly, almost shouting, so irritated is he. ‘I speak for more than that, and if I may remind you, Commander, I am the one here who has the final and decisive word. If you do not value settling this matter sensibly, rationally, like a true leader—’
She is interrupted again, but this time by Hawk. ‘General, I appreciate your efforts, but the commander is right. The target must be taken down. I’ll go in with two men, no support needed.’
With that, he turns and walks back towards the gunboat. Helena followed him a few steps, speaking softly. ‘Are you sure you want to do this alone?’
Hawk paused briefly.
‘He wants it to end. So do I.’
Then he left. Back into the jungle. To the position. To the place where the beasts stood and let him go.
And this time, he didn’t know if they would let him go again.
The glider descended silently over the canopy.
Hawk stood at the open bulkhead, his rifle slung loosely over his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the clearing he had left only minutes before. Next to him were two men – quiet, focused, no words between them. None were needed.
‘Three minutes into the mission,’ Hawk said, barely audible. ‘No contact. No game.’
The glider hovered directly above the old position. No movement. No sound. Nothing had changed – and that was what made it unsettling.
‘Set the marker,’ Hawk ordered. One of the men jumped out, rolled into cover, and set up the targeting device. The other provided cover, and Hawk himself got out last, weapon at the ready.
The marker flashed.
Green. Locked on.
Hawk looked around – no eyes, no teeth, no shadows.
‘Confirm air strike.’
A high-pitched hum came from the darkness above them – a silent launch. Seconds later, a precise, glaring flash struck. The position collapsed, triggering a rock burst.
A sound shot through the jungle. Not a roar – but like the echo of anger that was not shown.
The three stood there for a moment.
‘Target destroyed,’ said Hawk. Then, more quietly: ‘No sighting. Phase I of the mission successfully completed.’
The beasts did not show themselves. They just watched.
The glider returned. They climbed in – and no one spoke on the way back.
Commander: Glacier (CC-4621) - Expert in heavy combat under extreme conditions.
Lead Medic: Cinder (CT-8672) - Expert in the treatment of burns, thermal injuries and the development of innovative protective measures against extreme heat.
Lead Pilot: Glace (CT-4923) - known for his cool and precise air operations in extreme conditions. Glacier is a master of control in difficult environments and ensures absolute air superiority during every mission.
Commander: Iceberg (CC-7845) - Tactician with a penchant for patient and precise manoeuvres.
Lead Medic: Coal (CT-5398) - specialises in deep tissue healing, shock stabilisation and medical care in complete darkness.
Lead Pilot: Blizzard (CT-2837) - Ability to fly in icy and stormy conditions. Blizzard conducts precise air strikes and secures strategic advantages through his masterful control of difficult aerial manoeuvres.
Commander: Boreal (CC-9823) - Leads with a strategic overview and a strong focus on reconnaissance.
Lead Medic: Burnout (CT-4381) - Specialises in treating exhaustion, physical and mental stress, and restoring combat capability after intense combat.
Lead Pilot: Ice (CT-7462) - unwavering calm and precision during air strikes in extremely cold environments. Iceman leads the Legion with exceptional efficiency, ensuring that air support is optimally utilised even in the most adverse conditions.
Lead Medic: Vex (CT-4317) - Skilled in pain management, treating serious injuries and quickly stabilising soldiers in extremely dangerous battles.
Lead Pilot: Chill (CT-8132) - operate with perfect precision in icy battles. Chill conducts air operations with a mixture of determination and control, allowing him to maintain the upper hand even in extreme conditions.
Commander: Blaze (CC-5234) - Specialised tactician for firefights and aggressive assaults.
Lead Medic: Ember (CT-2120) - Experienced in treating burns and serious wounds under extreme conditions.
Lead Pilot: Jet (CT-5129) - Known for his speed and agility. Jet ensures that the Legion always has the upper hand with lightning-fast and precise attacks in the air.
1st Battalion (576 soldiers): Commander Ember (CC-4427)
Commander: Ash (CC-7726) - Leads with a mixture of aggressive offence and tactical retreat.
Lead Medic: Surge (CT-4721) - Known for his rapid response and ability to perform life-saving measures in extreme conditions. Surge ensures that troops are always supplied quickly and their combat capability is maintained.
Lead Pilot: Max (CT-7819) - known for his quick reaction time and ability to gain the upper hand in intense air combat. Max leads his squadron with a sure hand and ensures efficient air operations.
Commander: Magma (CC-2207) - Tactical leader who knows how to fight the enemy in difficult terrain.
Lead Medic: Charred (CT-3127) - An experienced medic who is specially trained in treating soldiers with burn wounds and serious injuries from extremely hot battles.
Lead Pilot: Ace (CT-0923) - Known for his exceptional flying skills and ability to remain calm under extreme pressure. Ace ensures that the Legion maintains the upper hand in any air battle.
Commander: Scorched (CC-2294) - An experienced commander specialising in total destruction operations.
Lead Medic: Ashfall (CT-8093) - Specialises in smoke and respiratory damage, chemical poisoning and providing life-saving care in toxic environments.
Lead Pilot: Nova (CT-3157) - known for his ability to perform lightning-fast and precise manoeuvres. Nova leads his squadron with strategic finesse and ensures that the Legion is always superior in aerial combat.
Summary: Helena and the 13. Sky Corps meet for the first time and receive their first mission.
Words: 4.4k
Author's note: I'm kinda pleased with this - but I'll probably change some things over time. I hope I didn't mess up the logic, but I'm just so tired sooo.. I'll have a look tomorrow
The golden evening dawned gently over the endless skyline of Coruscant; the city lights cast a warm glow on the landing platform of the Jedi Temple. Plo Koon stood quietly and erectly, his hands clasped behind his back, as he looked at Helena standing opposite him. She seemed almost delicate in her light Jedi robes, but her brown-green eyes revealed the moment’s seriousness. ‘Helena, my Padawan,’ Plo Koon began in his deep, warm voice. ‘Even though you no longer bear that title, in my heart, you always will be. It’s hard for me to let you go, but I know the galaxy needs you. You’re ready.’ Helena smiled at him lovingly, her voice soft and full of respect. ’Master Plo... I owe everything I am to you. Your patience and wisdom have made me the Jedi I am today. I won’t disappoint you.’ Plo Koon inclined his head slightly, his eyes radiating warmth and care behind the mask.
‘Disappointment was never an option, Helena. I have complete faith in you. You will go your way, guided by the Force. But don't forget to take care of yourself.’ Helena smiled and nodded, her voice in a gentle, playful tone. ‘I promise you, Master, I’ll take care of myself. But only if you do the same and ensure Wolffe behaves.’ A soft laugh escaped Plo Koon’s lips. “A fair deal. I’ll make sure that Wolffe behaves. Even if that might be a bigger challenge than a fight against Grievous.” Helena laughed softly, her eyes shining with affection. ‘I’m sure you’ll manage, Master. Wolffe needs your patience more than anyone. Tell the Wolfpack that I’m thinking of them.’ A moment of silence fell, broken only by the gentle rustling of the wind. Both sensed the unspoken bond that united them and knew this farewell would stay with them for a long time.
Plo Koon placed a hand on Helena’s shoulder, his voice a quiet expression of paternal warmth. ‘May the Force be with you, Helena.’ Helena looked him firmly in the eye, her voice soft but determined. ‘May the Force be with you, Master Plo.’ She turned and walked up the ramp of the waiting transport ship, followed by two Coruscant troopers in silent watchfulness. Before she entered the ship, she stopped once more, turned around, and bowed deeply to her Master. Plo Koon bowed as deeply, his gesture full of respect and esteem. A last smile flitted across Helena’s face, her eyes shining with unspoken feelings before she entered the ship. The ramp closed with a soft hiss that broke the silence, and the ship lifted off, floating into the golden expanse of the Coruscant sky. Plo Koon remained behind, his hands still clasped behind his back. He followed the ship with his eyes as it continued to move further and further away until it finally disappeared into the distance. Quietly, almost in a whisper, he murmured, ‘May the Force be with you, my Padawan.’
-
Once in orbit, my gaze immediately falls on the massive cruiser waiting for me, silent and menacing like a lurking predator. The Invictus hovers motionlessly in space, its overwhelming size, yet it exudes an almost serene calm. As our ship approaches, I watch every movement from the cockpit, my eyes fixed on the bridge. As the massive hangar deck opens, we glide into the metal hall. From a distance, I can see a massive gathering of clone troops. And immediately, five familiar colour patterns caught my eye because I had already seen them in the report of the Sky Corps. In the front row are soldiers in black and grey armour. They form a wall that appears almost impenetrable, protecting and preserving what is behind it. They seem to swallow up and absorb all the light in the hanger. Behind this wall, however, four beautiful colour schemes greet me: the left block is like a meadow in late summer, and dark green armour adorns the rows of soldiers. The block beside it shows a stark contrast—ice-blue armour, as cold as the winters on Orto Plutonia. The next block is the complete opposite; the fiery red armour forms a sea of flames and boiling lava.
On the other hand, the block on the far right is completely different from the previous three. A Viollet, as seen on the kings and queens of the finest nobility, stands there in rank and file with a rare elegance. They all look stunning. The colours are unusual, even if they are not the first of their kind in the clone army. The green has a much deeper and darker radiance than the 41st Elitelegion. The blue is much harder and colder than that of the 501st. The red is much more aggressive than that of the Coruscant Guard. And the violet was much more pompous than the 187th Legion. They were fascinating and, in my eyes, beautiful. A moment of pride overcomes me, as I can now call this my troops. Not to mention that my new Commander, Shade, makes me feel it, too. I barely finished my thoughts when the ship came to a stop. The ramp opens. ‘Good luck, General.’ The pilots turn to me one more time. ‘Thank you.’ I say a brief and concise goodbye and then leave the ship. The cool air of the hangar surrounds me instantly, and my bones shake. But I will not show any weakness in front of these soldiers for the sake of mine and theirs. They deserve a leader who can prove himself and does not shiver because of cold air. The ship behind me takes off and leaves the hangar again, and at that moment, I start walking. My step was firm and determined, heading towards the wall of black-grey armour. The ground beneath my feet was firm, and with every step I took, the presence of the Hellfire Legion around me grew. The wall now seemed even more powerful and stable as it stood directly before me. At that moment, behind the troops, a door opened at the other end, and five clones emerged. The one in front, in black armour, walks ahead, hands clasped behind his back. Behind him, on the left side, is green armour; next to it, it is blue, then red, and on the right side, it is purple. All five are equipped with visors, kamas and shoulder pauldrons. In addition, their rank is marked on their chest.
Commanders, no question. Shade is, of course, at the front. As the marshal commander, he is my right hand. However, it could be challenging to teach him that. And behind him: Viper, Frost, Havoc and Hawk. They have been at Shade’s side since the beginning, fighting hand in hand on the battlefield. Each has their unique area of expertise, making them an invincible weapon. They are a team, and I certainly agree that a Jedi would only throw them off track. So that means it’s five to one. The thought makes me feel queasy. Especially when you consider that we are still running towards each other. We are getting closer and closer until we finally... stop. Standing in the middle of the hanagar, we face each other for the first time. Their presence is overwhelming, their posture full of discipline and power. They are a good head taller than I am, and their helmets look down on me. You would think the helmets would protect a shooter from the looks thrown at you, but the helmets alone look at least as threatening—especially the helmet right in front of my eyes.
He was the centre of this place, the darkness in this sea of colours. His armour seemed to absorb even more of the light in the hangar. It was black, almost like the night itself, with a presence that seemed to suffocate even the room. Everything around him was suddenly a bit darker as if his presence had plunged the entire hangar into shadow. His posture was perfect, as straight as a die—an image of severity and discipline.
Then, suddenly, a sharp order broke the silence: ‘Attention!’ In a single, fluid movement, the rows of clones began to form. They were now standing even more attentively. Any order given could set them in motion. Shade is aware of this and has no problem demonstrating it.
‘General,‘ he said with an undertone that almost sounded like a challenge.
‘Commander,’ I replied calmly, without hesitation. It wasn’t a reaction to his tone but an observation of my attitude. His games would not influence me.
Shade seemed to pause for a moment as if testing the waters. But instead of intimidating me, it only strengthened my resolve. I was here to lead and would do so no matter what he tried.
‘General,’ he began in a rough voice that lacked all politeness, ’I assume you’ve already rehearsed your speeches. Spare me the speech.’
His words did not come as a surprise, but their sharpness was impressive nonetheless. I raised my chin slightly to answer him directly: ‘I’m not here to make speeches, Commander. I’m here to ensure that our missions are successful.’
Shade didn't move a muscle. Instead, he lowered his arms only to fold his hands behind his back. ‘Missions, yes. And how many battles have you watched from the bridge of a Jedi cruiser? Or better yet – how many times have you given orders that have cost us our lives?’
I held his gaze, or rather, the blank expression of his helmet. His provocation was challenging, but I didn’t let it rattle me. ‘As many times as it took to win. And how many times did you disobey orders because you thought you knew better?’
His posture stiffened for a moment before he growled softly – a sound almost lost in the hum of the machines in the hangar. ‘Better judgement is the reason my Corps still exists. I take orders that make sense, General. Not because they come from someone swinging a lightsaber.’
The contempt in his voice was unmistakable. I took a step closer and stood directly in front of him. ‘And I suppose that’s because you believe no one could understand what you’ve been through? That only you know what’s right for the men under your command?’
Shade laughed briefly, a bitter, rasping sound. ‘Understand? You, General? You have no idea what it’s like to lose men every damn day because someone in a Jedi Council seat decided that a planet was worth more than we are.’
His words were heavy and charged the room with an almost tangible tension. Nevertheless, I held my ground against his onslaught. ‘You are not the only one who knows loss, Commander. But I am here to make sure that there are fewer of them. Whether you believe it or not.’
He stared at me for a moment, motionless like a statue, before gesturing to his men almost casually. ‘We’ll see. I don’t need promises. I need results.’
Shade turned slightly to the side and nodded at Viper. The Commander in the deep green armour took a confident step forward. His armour glowed like the skin of a snake. Only now have I noticed the matching snake pattern. Scale over scale covered the armour and made him look like he was wearing a snake’s skin as armour. In keeping with this, two large fangs were drawn on the visor of his helmet. Every step he took made the tense atmosphere even more intense.
‘CC-8965, Commander Viper,’ he introduced himself, his voice sharp and concise like a knife blade.
‘The Fang Legion is specially designed for fast and deadly attacks. We are like a shadow in the jungle; when we strike, the enemy dies before realising what happened. We prefer small, highly mobile units that leave no trace.’
I was visibly impressed and let it show: ‘It’s amazing how well these men fit into the Legion in terms of their movements and charisma. It’s hard to imagine how well they fight under your leadership.’
Viper barely flinched, but I could see a hint of pride in his stance as he replied, ‘That’s the plan. Only the best come through with us.
‘The Fang Legion is impressive, but why a snake? What inspired you to choose that motif?’
Before Viper could answer, Havoc, who was standing behind him, mockingly shouted, ‘Because he’s just as venomous as a snake.’ Frost, behind him, added, ‘And just as devious.’
I was surprised by the teasing. On the other hand, Shade seemed less so, as he didn’t want to comment on it. I could hear Viper growl softly before he finally fell into line.
Shade nodded slightly and turned his attention to Frost. The Commander in the ice-blue armour stepped forward, his movements calmer but equally controlled. Here, too, I noticed new details. The pattern of ice shards spread over his armour, almost like a frozen sheet of ice.
‘CC-6347, Commander Frost. The Frostbite Legion requires patience,’ Frost began in his calm, almost monotone voice. ’Our tactic is to wear down the enemy step by step. We favour the long-term attack, in which we weaken the enemy as much as possible until he finally gives in. Our strategy is based on control and precision, not brute Force.’
I listened carefully and looked at the Frostbite Legion. Their armour was also decorated with ice-blue markings that impressed me. ‘I imagine you are very effective in this form,’ I finally said, without taking my eyes off Frost. Frost just nodded and said nothing more.
Then Shade turned his attention to Havoc, who was moving forward slowly. His fiery red armour looked even more imposing up close. The flames on it depicted him as a wildfire. Havoc radiated a hardness shaped not only by training but also by survival.
‘CC-8080, Commander Havoc,’ he introduced himself, his voice deep and powerful. ’The Inferno Legion specialises in operations in the worst possible scenarios. We go where no one else wants to go – and we come out again, no matter what it costs. When you need us, General, you can be sure there’s no other way.’
His words carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. Havocs tone was a mixture of challenge and respect. Finally, he stepped back, folded his arms, and held his ground with the calmness of a man accustomed to difficult situations.
Last to step forward was Hawk. His violet armour is as beautiful as the finest garment, and his movements as smooth as those of a monarch who never bows his head.
‘CC-9142, Commander Hawk,’ he began, his voice calm but not rude. ’I lead the Hawks Talon Legion. We are flexible,’ Hawk explained calmly. ’We adapt to whatever is necessary. A fixed plan should not limit our strategy. We rely on quick reactions and precise attacks tailored to the circumstances. Our strength lies in our adaptability.’
‘I see,’ I said, looking at the Legion. “Your adaptability is remarkable. And I imagine it gives you an advantage.’
‘It is our philosophy,” Hawk replied with a slight nod. ’That is all.’
With that, he, too, stepped back into line, his posture as controlled as before.
Shade allowed a moment of silence to pass before speaking again. ‘These are your men, General. They are the backbone of this Corps, and each of them leads their troops with a precision and discipline that you won’t find anywhere else.’
His gaze wandered over the Commanders before returning to me. "Don’t forget: only success counts here. Every mistake you make reflects on us. And I won’t allow anyone – not even a Jedi – to weaken this Corps.’
It was a blunt and direct warning, and it was clear that Shade had no patience for weakness or carelessness. I took his words with stoic calm and nodded slightly.
‘I expect nothing less than excellence, Commander,’ I replied, my voice calm but firm. “And I will do my part to ensure we achieve every success together. I am here to fight – and lead.’
Shade studied me for a moment before grunting a short, disparaging grunt. ” We’ll see.’
A brief moment of silence fell until Shade finally commanded, ‘Hellfire Legion, attention!’ In the next second, Viper, Frost, Havoc, and Hawk fell into step with me, giving way to the Hellfire Legion troopers of Shade’s Legion, who marched up and stopped immediately before us.
The Hellfire Legion clones were unmistakable – their dark, battle-scarred armour and grey accents made them look like a unit straight out of a nightmare. They stood still, with a discipline that bordered on ruthlessness.
Shade turned to me as he began: ‘This, General, is the Hellfire Legion – my unit. They are not just part of the 13th Sky Corps but the core of our operations. Their reputation precedes them. And yes, they have earned it.’
He paced in front of the formation. ‘These men are the best and most brutal that the Republic has to offer. They carry out what others dare not even plan. If there is a nightmare for the enemy, these men are at the forefront of it.’
‘Everyone in this legion knows that mistakes will not be tolerated,’ Shade continued, his voice darker and more menacing. “And everyone here is willing to die for the success of the mission. Because success is all that matters.’
I raised an eyebrow. ”Results matter, Commander, I’m not disputing that. But a good leader knows how to preserve resources – including soldiers – for long-term success.’
‘Resources?’ He repeated, and the distortion caused by the helmet lent a dangerous undertone to his voice. “You call them resources? Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought that you were so pragmatic.’
‘I call them resources because that’s what they are, Commander,” I replied, keeping my voice firm. ’But I also respect them as people – something I’m not sure you do.’
There was a moment of silence, the other Commanders standing motionless like statues, but I sensed their tense attention. Shade’s posture stiffened a little. ‘Respect will not win us victories, General. Tactics, determination and sacrifice will.’
‘That may be, Commander,’ I said, my voice a little cooler now. “But respect makes the men under your command follow you because they want to, not because they have to. That’s the difference between a soldier and a weapon.’
He tilted his head slightly, a barely noticeable movement. ”An interesting perspective, General. I’m curious how you plan to prove this theory in practice.’
‘And I am curious, Commander,’ I replied, ’how much better this Legion can be when we combine your tactics and my leadership.’
The tension in the air was palpable, but Shade finally took a step back as if he wanted to end the conversation for now. The Commanders behind him remained silent, but I couldn’t shake the impression that they had registered every word – and that this duel of words had more effect than they were willing to admit. I decide to end the discussion.
‘I see men who are willing to give their all. That’s good – because that’s exactly what I expect. I will not fail, and I will ensure that we win every battle ahead of us together. There is no other option.’
And then he took off his helmet. A face like millions of others in this army. Short brown hair, visibly shorter on the sides than regulated, brown eyes, a warm skin colour. A scar adorned his lower lip, curved into a slight, slightly mocking smile. ‘Good,’ he said curtly. ‘Then prepare yourself, General. War waits for no man.’ He saluted. The commanders saluted. The entire hangar saluted. And so did I. My men. My 13th Sky Corps.
A brief moment of silence fell, our words echoing in the cool air of the hangar. Then he turned around and shouted with sharp authority, ’ Legion, prepare!’
The clones moved as one single organism. Black, green, blue, red and violet rows broke ranks, marched with flawless precision to predetermined positions and disappeared into the corridors leading deeper into the cruiser. Shade stopped briefly, then turned back to me.
‘Follow me, General. It’s time you saw what the Hellfire Legion is all about.’
Without waiting for an answer, he started walking. I didn’t hesitate and followed him, my thoughts clear and focused. The confrontation was over, but I knew this was just the beginning. The real challenge lay in the battles ahead of us and the balance between Shade’s ruthless leadership and the ideals I embodied as a Jedi.
As we walked the metallic corridors of the Invictus, I felt the weight of the eyes that followed us. The Hellfire Legion soldiers watched me with curiosity and scepticism, their movements precise and their faces hidden under their helmets. But there was an almost tangible loyalty in their attitudes – not to me, but to Shade.
I was determined not to undermine this loyalty but to use it for the common cause. Because no matter how cold Shade was, no one could deny that his Legion was one of the most efficient and deadly forces the Republic had to offer. And I would learn to work with them.
-
Shade has already received our first mission that we would lead as a unit. The bridge of the Invictus was quiet, almost eerie, as I looked at the assembled clones before me. Shade stood with his usual posture, almost like a statue, while his eyes moved across the holography. The commanders were standing around us—Frost, Viper, and the remaining leaders of the 13th Sky Corps—all ready to play their part. The room was filled with tension that hung heavily in the air.
I took a step forward, closer to the display showing the planetary coordinates of Vahora III. The map showed a dense, rugged jungle landscape stretching to the coast. The enemy station was nestled between the mountains and the coastal belt. I pointed to the relevant places. ‘The station is located near the coast, protected by several outposts. We must take them out quickly without getting involved in a protracted conflict. Our task is to destroy the communications infrastructure and isolate the enemy.’
I let my words hang in the room while everyone listened intently. Shade nodded, almost like a mechanical automaton, his eyes fixed on the map. ‘The Hellfire Legion will lead the attack on the coastal town,’ he said with his usual coldness, ‘We eliminate the outposts and secure the station. No consideration for collateral damage. Fast, precise, brutal.’
It was his way of saying things. Without mercy, without room for doubt. And yet I knew that his cold-bloodedness was a strength. In such moments, when life-and-death decisions had to be made, only success counted. Everything else was secondary.
I turned to Frost. The man was always calm, almost imperturbable.
‘I will secure the mountain passes in the north with the Frostbite Legion. Should enemy reinforcements try to cross the mountain pass, we will intercept them. No one will escape from there. The road must remain clear for the Legion.’
His voice was calm, almost monotonous, but it had an unwavering determination. Frost was a clone you could always rely on—there was no doubt about his ability to do what was necessary.
Viper stepped forward, his voice sharp and focused. ‘The Viper’s Fang will neutralise the air defences in the east. Once air superiority is secured, we can effectively launch the ground assault with the support of air troops.’
His plan was simple and effective: neutralise, secure, and advance. It was the only way to survive in a war like this without being stopped by the separatists’ air force.
Shade, always the strategist who had everything in view, spoke again. ’The rest will stay on the Invictus. We’ll secure space and support the attack from above. We’ll be in a good position if we need to retreat.’
His words echoed in my ears as I imagined the scale of the operation. The plan was sophisticated, precise, a machine-like sequence in which nothing was left to chance. But something in me – something I couldn’t always put my finger on – wondered if we were prepared to pay the price.
‘What about the Shinies?‘ I asked, my voice a little sharper than I had intended. Shade seemed to have expected the question.
‘Staying on the Invictus,’ he replied coolly. ‘They’re not ready to prove themselves in this chaos. We can use them as a reserve in case we encounter something unforeseen. They're not part of this advance.’
I nodded, a little disappointed, but I knew it was the right decision. The Shinies weren’t ready yet. They were fresh and inexperienced, and this mission was not the moment for a first test. In my heart, I hoped they wouldn’t stay in the shadows for too long. Every clone deserved to prove himself. But not today.
‘Once we’ve neutralised the station, we’ll retreat to fend off reinforcements. But we have to be quick. No delays.’
I knew that the pace of the mission would be crucial. Every moment we waste puts us in greater danger. If we hesitated too long, the enemy could gain the upper hand, and this planet could turn against us.
‘Exactly,’ Shade added, his voice as firm as steel. ’We only have a small window. We eliminate the target and secure the retreat. No compromises.’
I took a last look at the display. The coordinates, enemy movements, and everything formed a clear picture. The destruction of Vahora III was not only a matter of annihilation but also of efficiency and rapid retreat.
‘It will be fast and brutal,’ I said, my eyes fixed firmly on the clones, who were now all taking their places. ‘Everyone knows what to do. May the Force be with us.’
And with that, the plan was set. The attack would begin. I could feel the tension in the air, the unmistakable knowledge that, at this moment, we were all not only warriors but also parts of a precisely coordinated mechanism. There was no choice, only the urge to move forward. Soon, Vahora III would be engulfed in fire and destruction. And only the unstoppable brutality of the 13th Sky Corps could ensure that the plan was carried out.
Commander: Peregrine (CC-4517) - expert in high-speed operations and rapid reaction forces.
Lead Medic: Drift (CT-4927) - specialises in the treatment of blast injuries, burns and the rapid stabilisation of soldiers after intense combat with explosives.
Lead Pilot: Falcon (CT-6724) - known for his exceptional flight tactics and high precision. Falcon leads his squadron with calm determination, delivering fast, effective air strikes that keep the Legion one step ahead.
Commander: Kestrel (CC-7729) - Master of reconnaissance and covert operations.
Lead Medic: Smelt (CT-8291) - Skilled in treating burns, fusion injuries and caring for clones fighting in extreme, hot environments.
Lead Pilot: Raptor (CT-4738) - known for his exceptional manoeuvrability and precise tactics in aerial combat. Raptor leads with deadly efficiency, providing lightning-fast air operations that keep the Legion one step ahead
Commander: Harrier (CC-5684) - Strong in tactics and coordination of air strikes.
Lead Medic: Flash (CT-5209) - specialises in treating lightning and electrical damage as well as the rapid care of soldiers after sudden, intense combat.
Lead Pilot: Stratus (CT-8513) - known for his ability to make quick tactical decisions under pressure. Stratus is a masterful airman who coordinates his air operations with precision to give the Legion the upper hand on the battlefield.
Commander: Osprey (CC-9932) - Leads with a focus on precise coordination and defence.
Lead Medic: Scorn (CT-4752) - Known for his expertise in treating infections, inflammations and the rapid care of soldiers in biologically contaminated zones.
Lead Pilot: Thunder (CT-5729) - known for his resounding presence in aerial combat and his ability to overwhelm enemy aircraft with lightning-fast manoeuvres. Thunder ensures that the Legion is always unstoppable in the air.
