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Admiral Yularen:
“Generals, I understand your concern. RC-0079 has been tasked with recovering Commander Cody and Captain Rex.”

Obi-Wan:
“He’s still in service?”

Yularen:
“Sparingly. His experience is considered too valuable for conventional operations. He is reserved for missions where failure is not an acceptable outcome.”

The doors slid open with a muted hiss.

Every eye in the command center turned.

The commando entered without a word. His scarred Katarn-class armor bore the weight of countless campaigns, the crimson markings faded beneath years of blaster fire and hard marches. A weathered kama brushed against his armor as he crossed the room with the quiet confidence of a soldier who no longer needed to prove himself.

He stopped before the holographic table.

“RC-0079, reporting.”

#captainrex #commandercody #toyphotography #republiccommando #clonewars
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18
They hunched in a shallow trench, huddled together in an attempt shield themselves from the constant barrage of hot dirt and shrapnel that tore through the air. Vastly outnumbered, outgunned, the majority of their squadron already dead or bleeding out in the dirt, they hid, and slowly, inevitably the enemy approached.
One of the troopers mumbled something softly. 
“Sorry, what’d ya say man?” asked the wounded trooper, adjusting his grip on the blood soaked bandage covering his upper thigh. 
The first trooper cleared the dust from his throat. “I asked how we’d all like to be remembered.” Three sets of eyes stared at him hauntingly. “Would be like to be remembered quietly down here? Or loudly up there.”
“Yer crazy,” grunted the old veteran, “I ain’t listening to any more of this, we still have a chance to slip away.”
“We’ll never make it, there’s no where to hide on this planet,” stated the fourth calmly. “It’s time we accept it, we’re dying either way. I agree with him, I’d rather go out with a bang.”
Slowly, the realization of the inescapability of their situation settled over all of them. First fear, then resolution hardened in their eyes. 
They readied themselves, the wounded trooper watching them from his slumped position. 
Finally the old veteran grunted and bent to help lift him to his feet.
“Just leave me, I can’t walk.”
“Don’t matter, I’ll get ya to that E-Web up there, and then ya just have to stand there and rain hell on them fer long enough,” and with a great heave he pulled him over his shoulders. 
They looked towards the first trooper expectantly. He paused, feeling the weight of their gazes upon him. His hands trembled as he gripped his blaster, but when he spoke his voice was strong.
“Upwards and onwards boys, towards death, towards honor…. Let’s take a few of them with us!”
And with a shout they ran from the cover of the trench, shooting straight into the gates of oblivion.
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