Ch.1:The Experiment

The war has come to the planet one many times, however there wasn’t as much active threats that the fighters had once thought when they orbited the system, so they haven’t been so lucky as to spot a single recon droid during their time there. And due to the limited resources that the squadron can only scavenge through slim paychecks and scrap materials from various merchants and downed targets, it wasn’t a cake walk as they once thought it was. But at the same time, this unit was contracted by members of the republic senate, and came under the secrecy of jedi general Quinlan Vos and his padawan, Commander Marcus Rydell, who knew that if he could enlist the help of a few mercenaries, despite the limitations set upon by the Jedi Council not to involve the order in bounty hunter affairs, but he, like his master, continued to assist in aiding the task force with whatever needs to stay on its feet, they could possibly bring the Separatist Alliance to surrender to the Republic.

As they strolled from the Chancellors Office, a curious question pops into Marcus’ mind.
“Why do you suppose the Chancellor called this an ‘experiment’? It’s as though he’s expecting it to collapse the moment we get there.” Marcus tells Vos as they’re walking down a corridor of doors and hallways.

“Well, wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Then again, this could turn out to be another way for the Senate to just pointlessly argue to each other about. I don’t even know why they even bother with them anyways. The wars’ already messed up without them.” Quinlan gestures, as they come across the Great Door, leading outside to their shuttle.

“Well, it’s not that they don’t like these guys just because they’re guys and girls who fight for just their wallet, ya know. Although that may be the case with most of em, don’t you think there are some who wanna, I don’t know, fight for something more? Maybe something to rid them of the constant burdens placed on their heads every day?” Marcus implies during the conversation. Quinlan heard out his padawans story, at first a bit skeptical at the idea, but realized that maybe he could be right about a few things.

“They just need some direction on where and how to start. Like some leadership or a structural system to set things straight and maybe, after putting in some hard work, just maybe, they’ll look at these guys differently.” Marcus added afterwards.

Just then, as they reached the Jedi Temple, Vos came up with an idea: While he stayed on Coruscant and keeps the senate busy with keeping the unit up to speed with tasks assigned and so fourth, while Marcus heads out to the system and oversees the operations of the garrison. But knowing they have to endure the the oncoming lecture and criticism of the Council just before their journey off kinda dampened the padawans well-optimistic spirits, yet was reminded of what his master always told him not to let the councils’ words disrupt him, which then he thought back to an old saying from a former jedi in his early days at the temple, that “your foucus determines your reality”, With those words embedded within him, they went into the Council Chambers to prepare for what awaits before them.


1200 Standard hours, 420 standard miles west of the capital city of Wolport.

The four Deltas fly over the skies of Ord Mantell, combing the empty, navy-blue atmosphere for enemy threats. One hour and 23 minutes have passed to the flight path assigned to patrol the southwestern region of the planet for supposed movement of arms and new droid tech to a Separatist staging area, 620 miles south of the Mantellian Capitol, and 240 miles southeast of the ships overhead.

Ahsoka, leading the ships in a left echelon formation, calls out her pilots through her transmitter.

“Razor 1 to Razor flight, come in. You awake over there, Asajj?” she says to Asajj Ventress, just waking up from a nap to answer back.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Could go for another nap, though.” The young Dathomiri responds with a yawn to her friends’ call.

“Well, look alive. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the rest of the war.”

“Its bad enough that we’re already BACK in this war, let alone we’re still on the galaxys’ hit list. I still can’t believe you got Barriss and I to take on this damned job, all because of some so-called ‘reward more than you can imagine’ rumor that probably doesn’t exist at all.” She implies bitterly toward her response, as though a blaster pistol has been put on her head, should she or her squadron miss even the slightest detail of a simple task of a mission.

“Look, I know you’re still upset about the whole deal of running all the time. I am, too. But this was the only way we could possibly lift all those burdens off of us. Not just for you and me, Ventress, but Barriss too, and maybe for once in the galaxy, the world won’t just see us as criminals and such. We just need to hold out a little longer. Trust me, it’ll be worth it in the end.” Ahsoka at first feeling a bit worried that her own words could backslide on her, but all the more confident that the situation could possibly turn in their favor.

“It better be, or you and I are gonna have some unfinished business to settle when this is over.” Asajj giving her flight leader a letter of caution to not bite off more than she can chew, ending the conversation between the two. Ahsoka then checks in with the other two ships just behind Asajj.

“Junior, you still with us?”

“Fine as wine, Razor 1. Skies are blue, and my guns are itchin for a fight.” Says Kos Actun, a young Zarbak mercenary, flying a Delta-6 tagged “Ray Gun”, who always had an eagerly optimistic attitude when ready to go on the hunt for nearly anything that could match his skills, maybe even surpass his own. However, he does have to rely on his fellow pilots to bail him out of certain situations.

“How about you, Joker , everything’s workin?” She says to her last fighter, flying the end of the formation.

“Nope, feel’s like I’m drivin a spice freighter with a lousy astro droid for a co pilot. Coolant indicator’s all over the grid.” Says Cristo Kalifa, a Human male from the planet Bakura. Kalifa had a comedian-type of personality, earning him the nickname, “Joker”. But he was ready to put on a serious personality as well once orders were put on the table. His Delta-6 wasn’t properly maintained as say Ahsokas’ or Asajjs’ fighters. But due to the low income checks that the unit makes when on sorties, it wasn’t a complete surprise to him that problems in his fighter occurred during the flight.

Ahsoka, analyzing the problem, decides to tell Cristo to turn back to base and get it checked out for repairs.

“Woah, hold on now, Cap. This gauge here’s a piece of crap, I can still fly this bird.” Joker implies to his flight leader.

“Captain, let me take a look-see before you send him back.” Kos adds, and pulls up underneath his wingmans fighter. He looks to see if there is any sign of trouble on Jokers’ fighter, but gives the all clear to him.

“Doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong. Maybe it’s just a bad indicator to me.” Kos pulls back into formation between Asajj and Kalifa.

Joker then pleads with Ahsoka to stay with the flight, stating that it won’t be as much fun without them if they send him back. She decides to let him stay, but reminds him to keep an eye on the gauge, should it malfunction again.

“Thank you, honey.” He jokingly responds to the order, then mumbles over the transponder, “Just my luck, I get stuck with a bucket of rusty bolts for a fighter.”

“Just another Delta no one in the galaxy cares about.” Asajj bluntly agreeing with him as spend the next 45 minutes searching the ground, sky, and stars for any sign of movement in the region.