Fan Fic: Cannon Fodder

Just wrote this one, think I'll probably write more later... just thought I'd run with the idea as it came...

Blood, there was so much blood; on his hands, on his armour and even on his blaster. The worst of it was that it his own men’s blood, not that of the enemy. He hadn’t killed any of them. Instead they’d been blown apart by the machines they were fighting. Dismembered where they stood while the more important Commandos were given the time they needed to blow the building they were assaulting.

Deek couldn’t understand why a Trooper was seen as so undervalued, they were cannon fodder, and not even their Jedi General had come to the front lines with them. He and his Padawan had stood in the less dangerous zone and deflected blaster bolts from there.

At his feet lay several dead men, his brothers by genetics and by combat. One lay twitching in the last throws of death. Deek couldn’t take the time to soothe his dying brother instead he continued to fire at the metal droids that just seemed to keep coming.

The blaster’s recoil was starting to make his arms ache which was remarkable given the hours upon hours of use Deek had performed with the weapon. Beside him a brother had his blaster jam, his moment of inspection cost him his life as a blaster bolt cleanly shattered his visor.

Deek gritted his teeth, why hadn’t they been told to fall back? This was ridiculous, sure clones didn’t tend to get the mercy or compassion of other living beings but this was a blood bath.

The sound of incoming ships echoed in the distance. There was a buzz of static on Deek’s headset but no real orders. Deek hissed as the thought of having a dysfunctional com system entered his mind. He blew the legs off another droid and dodged to the side as it fired a bolt at his helmeted head.

Obedience was the only thing that held Deek in place. Yet his mind was subconsciously questioning why the hell he was in this situation. The truth of it was there wasn’t an out option for clones. No retirement fund, no honourable discharge, the only way out was in a body bag. Right now Deek was fairly certain his days were numbered; especially now while almost all of his platoon was down.

Deek didn’t have the luxury to actually identify how many of his platoon mates were actually still alive. As a Private it wasn’t his responsibility, but chances were the higher ups were already dead anyway.

The call finally came, “Fall back, now!”

Deek didn’t hesitate in moving, his eyes remained on his targets as he backed away from the barrage of blaster bolts. He felt the faint sting of a blaster bolt hit his left shin guard but kept moving. His peripherals gave him enough guidance to avoid bumping into one of his remaining brothers.

The shout of “Grenade” blared in Deek’s headset. He immediately dropped but kept firing. The thermal detonator blew a hole in the ground deep enough to hold a small speeder. Deek didn’t think about the body parts that had been splattered across the field. He ignored the dismembered arm that slid from his back as he got to his feet. His mind blocked out the distress that would come later.

Survival was a need so strong that Deek couldn’t resist its call. He continued to back away. Finally the air support made it. Deek didn’t blink he kept firing at the enemies until he finally felt someone grab his shoulders and pull him into a bunker.

Within the bunker were five other soldiers, each as bloody and muddy as Deek suspected he looked. “Are you injured, soldier?” the Sergeant asked.

“Took a light hit to the left shin but I’ll live,” Deek answered systematically. Before he could get a response from the sergeant the ground shook with great force and the roof of the bunker began to groan and buckle.

Deek launched himself back out into the battle, certain that death lay in the bunker if he stayed there, but also knowing that he was no safer on the battle field.

Republic ships were now littering the skies and some were already littering the ground. A transport came in low enough to reach for him. Deek outstretched his arm to reach for the trooper who was trying to help him aboard. He hissed in pain as he felt a blaster bolt hit the inside of his forearm.

The wound saved Deek’s life, the transport took a hit and began to shudder in a way that Deek knew it was about to explode. Running with all the energy he had left, Deek spotted a speeder bike lying on its side and immediately rolled behind the metal frame for any possible protection it could give.

The resounding boom and tinker of metal confirmed that the transport was down. Deek took in a few deep breaths as he tried to ascertain where he was and which way was out. Before he could plot a course a searing pain laced down Deek’s side and darkness suddenly over took him. His last conscious thought was of that damn body bag.