Timeline:
During Episode 48
SOM-292
tried to line up his shot on a clone trooper laying waste to multiple battledroids
that tried to take the clone position with a chaingun. He lined up the shot…
and fired.
And
missed.
“Curse
my processors!” he hissed. His nearby guardian, a droideka, slightly shifted
its head in response. “Sir?”
Of
course, the “conversation” was held entirely over their communicators, and in
droidspeak. This was meant to be a security feature.
SOM-292
hated it all the same.
“I
can’t line up a shot!” he hissed again, taking aim at the SAME clone from
before. “It’s this… nonsense being broadcast over the wideband.”
The
droideka hummed for a moment. “I suppose it doesn’t bother me.”
SOM-292
scoffed. “Of course it doesn’t, does your programming even allow you be
bothered?”
“No,”
the droideka responded tonelessly, “it does not.”
The
droideka’s shields turned on, and SOM-292 took that as the sign he should duck
behind it. Sure enough, a few red-marked clone troopers came barreling around
the corner, and the droideka opened up. The clones screamed as the heavy
blaster bolts ripped into them, their own blasts helplessly impacting on the
shields. When the blasts finally stopped, all the clones were dead, and SOM-292
looked around the droideka as its shields clicked off.
“Great.
Now they know we’re here.”
“They
most likely learned of it due to your missed shots.”
SOM-292 glared at
the droideka. The dispassionate tone almost made the barb sting more. “Whatever. I’m not even DESIGNED
for sniping. By the maker’s sake, my models are known for having POOR accuracy.”
He set back up at the ledge, looking for clones to snipe. “And this stupid
music isn’t helping!”
He took a shot,
and this time met with success. A clone fell to the ground, a hole seared into
his helmet. SOM-292 would have grinned, if he had a mouth. “Now THAT’S more
like it.”
“Reports across
the field are similar to yours,” the droideka mused suddenly. “I wonder if the
clones purposefully began to broadcast this music to distract us, and if so…
intruders.”
The droideka’s
shields went up again, and SOM-292 went to step back behind it. But this time,
all that came around the hallway was a tiny blue orb… with a rapidly flickering
light.
“… Damn it,”
SOM-292 said before the electromagnetic burst went off, causing him to crumple
lifelessly to the ground. The droideka was hardly phased, though it took a
moment for his sensors to re-adjust after the magnetic burst.
When they did
readjust, he saw a clone standing nearby, holding up a massive chaingun. The
droideka couldn’t tell, but the clone smiled behind the helmet.
“Here that chrome
dome?” it said, tapping his helmet. “They’re playing our song.”
The droideka began
to open fire, and as the clone rolled out of the way, the chaingun warming up. “Let’s
dance!” he yelled in maniacal glee as the lasers ripped between the two.
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