The stench of ozone filled the air, as the sounds of the fight outside intensified. The trooper surveyed the room, watching his brothers check their weapons and tend to their wounds, and then glancing over at the cluster of fur-covered wookies--once strange and alien, now irrepacable companions. As his eyes fell upon the last two occupants, a Jedi and their padawan, he repressed the mixture of emotions that welled within him. *A kriffing shame. Amazing warriors, but that one so young should have to bear such a burden? Frag this war!* He mused to himself, as he examined the Padawan's face. The jedi had been injured, during the LAAT Crash that'd taken his squad lead, Halves, and most of the squad with him. Good men, all of them, and each one of them could never be replaced. He knew the Jedi wouldn't make it, as Patch's synthflesh had been used up in the assault earlier, and so he turned to the Twi'lek Padawan, Krella. "I'm sorry, General, but we can't afford to stay here any longer. The clankers'll have found our ship by now, and we were too injured to cover our tracks well enough. Since Halves is dead, I'll lead Measures," He grimaced as he said the name of their squad. Originally, it had been 9 clones strong, but now only three remained, and with the way things were going, they'd be lucky if any of them survived. "Leading Measures falls to me, and so I'll tkae Tubes and Patch off a little ways, see if we can't cause enough of a ruckus for you and the wookies to get back to command." She simply stared at--no *through* him--as he saluted and then turned to discuss matters with his fellow clones. *Never thought I'd die old, but frak me i-* his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in the back of his head, as a transmission played through his helmet, from a restricted channel. He heard the voice of the Chancellor state "Execute Order Sixty-Six," and then the transmission cut out. Still reeling from the pain in his head, and his vision blurry, he reached out to the wall to steady himself. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable snap-hiss of a lightsaber activating and his surroundings were bathed in turquoise light. As he turned, he watched as Tubes drew his sidearm, leveling it at the injured Jedi on the ground, whom despite his condition held his saber ready to defend. Time seemed to dilate, as Tubes pulled the trigger, sending energy surging forward from the blaser towards the Jedi who, almost casually, reflected the bolt back. The bolt went through Tubes, hitting the wall behind him, and refracting back at the Jedi whom was too slow this time, and it caught him square in the chest. As though from a great distance, the trooper heard the sounds of the shot, the grunts of pain from them both, and the scream of Krella. His head still pulsating, he turned towards Patch, finding the medic beside him, trying to steady him. "Easy now, Reach. I heard it too--and got the headache. Can only assume Tubes did too, but I've no idea why he did a blasted fool thing like that." Reach nodded, and slumped to the ground, as his senses slowly returned. *Frag, it's like I got hit by one of those Sonics the bugs used!* From where he sat, he watched as the Wookies formed a protective circle around Krella, whom was crying and holding the body of her master. Silence descended upon the room, broken only by Krella's occasional muffled sob--even the battle outside seemed to have stopped. Reach's headache seemed to have diminished slightly, and so he made an effort to stand--except he never made it fully to his feet. A Persuader-class tank rammed through the wall where the wookies had stood mere moments ago, the rubble knocking most of the room's occupants to the floor. As it retreated, a squad of Battle Droids swarmed through the new hole, pointing their weapons at those inside. Tension hung thick and heavy in the air, as the droids looked ready to fire, but before they could, they were interrupted by a loud thud. Reach's eyes snapped open, as he pulled the pistol from under his pillow, and snapped off a shot at the battle droid standing over him. "Roger rooogggee...er." It said as it shot sparks over the floor, before the light in its eyes faded. "Kriffing slag heap! Wroshyr!" He yelled down the hall, as he glanced at the chrono on the wall. As he heard the Wookie's growls from further down the station, he responded, giving the droid a swift kick "How many times these blasted clankers going to have to get repaired before they learn not to stand over me while I'm sleeping?!" The response was much more heated this time "Yeah! I know! It's comin' outta my pay. I'll get it down to repairs, first thing!" He buckled his armor together, holstering the pistol and strapping it to his right thigh, as Wroshyr continued to yell back at him. "Yes ma'am! Wait, visitors? Right on it! Repairs, then I'll get up on the roof. Can't trust these scraps to know friend from foe like that!"

Belief: The Republic. What it stood for, and to see it restored without corruption.