Star Wars: Stranded on Zoma V

Pain was all Tesz felt at first. Slowly, light bled through to her blinking eyes. They, they had been hit. They had been flying, and then they were falling. Shattered glass surrounded her as she struggled to lift what felt like a ton of scrap off her back. The force, she could feel it calling out to her, it was hers to use, but the panic was stronger. Where am I, where’s Viego. Zoma V, I’m on Zoma V, but where’s Viego! Her mind raced as she strained in vain against the rubble. “H-help!” Someone, hel-" She called, getting cut off by a sudden fit of coughing. She was probably close enough for Bravebird, Quips, or Wannabe to hear…


Not, ye-

Turning his head, Quips saw the pale yellow glow of the Medical droids eyes.
“Hey, it’s Wannabe.”


At the sound of the voice Wannabe began advancing across the rubble towards her location. The coughing reverberated off the rubble more efficiently than the speaking did, and he had almost perfectly zeroed in on her exact…


“Incredible.” Wannabe noised flatly. “Assistance is required.” He moved over to the large chunk of rubble in which the trail end of a sad cough was seeping out from. “Te-” He paused in place as he changed the volume of his voice. “Tesz Nel’Sha? Are you present?


Graphite couldn’t quite see behind - or was it above? - himself. It was just out of his periphery. It was whitish in color, and metal.

He left arm craned around, his fist slamming into it with disappointing weakness. There wasn’t much leverage to work with. The noise was doubtful to be loud enough to hear over any other. He tried again harder, to the same result.

He was beginning to panic. What if he couldn’t get out? What if he was left behind? What if there wasn’t anyone else out there? He knew what would happen. He would suffocate before he ever starved.

He hit his helmet against the girder.

It was louder. Much louder, a metallic echoing reverberating up the gridlike steel column. He didn’t know how far down he was buried, but the noise was definitely louder.

And it definitely hurt.


“Commander Tesz?” Bravebird asked. He surveyed his surroundings to see where the Padawan’s voice came from. Then, he saw her. “Commander!” he yelled as he ran towards Tesz to help her.


Rook’s head hurt, like really hurt, like the kind of pain that you might feel after a long night of drinking, not that Rook had ever done such a thing since that was blatantly against protocol. Rook tried to lift his head from the ground but found that it wouldn’t budge, perhaps his steel girder theory wasn’t too far off… Confident to escape this predicament he placed his hands on the object that was not only restricting his movement but his vision as well and sure enough the metal object moved to the left by a bit, exposing his visor to the sun.

Rook tried once more to sit up and found it came a lot easier now that what he now knew was an elevator door had been removed from his helmet. Successful in his escape from that troublesome door, Rook decided now was the perfect time to take inventory. “Knife? Still strapped down. ? Dc-17? On the ground, about a meter away. I think that’s everything-” Rook laid his eyes on what must surely be an illusion; a perfectly intact Commando droid Vibroblade sitting amongst the rubble, “Well hello there beautiful.” Rook spoke aloud as he removed the blade from the surrounding debris, “How did you end up here." the clone couldn’t seem to remember what had happened during the attack, surely a byproduct of that elevator door.

Rook Returned to scanning the environment looking for any sign of life that may have survived the crash, “Anyone still alive out here?”


“Y-yes,” Tesz shouted back. It hurt to shout. “I’m pinned, I, I can’t mov-” She was cut off again by another flurry of coughs.

brave bird would find what was left of the left side bridge laying on it’s side, the upper body of the padawan protruding from under a pile of debris and broken glass.

Graphite would be rewarded with the echoing cacophony of his banging running down the empty vessel, calling for anyone near.


The first thing Legacy heard when he woke up were Harbinger’s alarms.
Then he woke up again, pinned by the nearby bunks, and gravity was no longer pulling him straight down, but instead more at an angle.

Doing his best to push aside one of the bunks that was pinning him, Legacy’s leg was in immense pain as it was being crushed an area where he had cut down his armor. Blast it, I suppose there are downsides to mobility Legacy thought as he continued to try and move a bunk.

“Is there anyone else in here?” he called, following up with “Heck, Ill take a runner if your there”


Saddle scrambled onto his hands and knees. Not a few hours ago, he had been conducting a pre-combat check on Midnight Company’s BARC speeders. Then the warning klaxons blared, sounding that Saddle’s Venator was under attack from Confederate guns. The BARC trooper remembered clearing the hangar bay at that time to report to his commanding officer, Captain Duke, and await instructions. He never made it that far.

The clone officer tried to rise to his feet, but found himself unable to rise above waist height when the small of his back struck the ceiling.
Stang. Glad for the armor. Guess the place collapsed.

Saddle surveyed his cramped surroundings. The lights had obviously failed, and what used to be a relatively tall corridor ceiling had collapsed on top of him. Still, the corridor was relatively intact for all the damage it had sustained. He may be able to crawl back to the hangar bay…

After a short crawl, Saddle reached the partially-closed hangar doors. With difficulty, he pried them open and looked into the wreckage below.

Walkers and spacecraft remains were strewn about the mess of a hangar. The hangar bay’s side doors were gouged open by the crash, exposing the ship’s interior to the Zoman sunlight.

At least I’m not pinned under anything. Saddle walked through the hangar, looking for just a glimpse of an intact speeder bike.

Not one.

The clone decided to cut his losses and rummage through the skeleton of a Nu-class attack shuttle instead, finding a handful of grenades, a pack, and a blaster carbine. Better than nothing, but not enough to fight off the entire Separatist army by himself. He’d be better off with other survivors. Saddle opened the emergency comm frequency in his helmet.

“This is CC-2897 to any surviving GAR personnel. Any surviving Republic forces, please respond.”


Boomstick awoke.
This had happened to him before. Only twice, but he had been unconscious before. It was not enjoyable to wake up not knowing your location. This time, however, was different.
His vision cleared. He could see others. He was at a decent distance, but he believed it to be Bravebird, Quips, and possibly the Jedi, possibly the droid. Yes, he could hear the voice, it was the droid.
He was pinned down in an almost sitting position. Uncomfortable. He believed his comrades could not see him, as if they could he would not be where he was. He believed he could free himself, however. A metal sheet and a pillar pinned him down. The sheet was easily removed. The pillar was less so, but was removed the same.
He would figure out why there was such a catastrophic failure. This was not acceptable. He approached the others, though it seemed one of the two was off in another direction.


“Hold on Kid.” Quips said. He extended the barrel of his rifle, offering the stock to Tesz. “Grab on.”

"Bravebird, Wannabee, see if you can lift up the beam so I can pull her out.

Quips pressed the button on his wrist communicator, letting everyone clearly hear Saddle.

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“I read you CC-2897. This is Coma-agh-Commander Duke. All forces, leave the ship, Immedi-augh, immediately.” Duke called over the emergency comms.

Anyone tuned in would hear, but Rook and Legacy might hear his real distant voice coming from somewhere deeper within the crew’s quarters.

With a shaky hand, Tesz grabbed the stock, wincing in pain. Quips could see flecks of red on her arm.


“Affirmative” Bravebird replied. He gripped the beam to lift it off the Padawan.


“…897 … viving GAR … nel … Republic … espond.”

Comms. Graphite didn’t have the elbow room to reach his helmet, where his comms device was built in. He grunted in desperation, trying in vain to strain upwards at the girder and plating.

He banged his head against the girder a second time, this time going dizzy and seeing stars. Not good. He’d be dead without his helmet, was for sure.


“Immediate aid is present.” Wannabe said, lowering down on one knee and staring uncomfortably at her. “You are currently experiencing anxiety. If it is at all related to the prior argument-”

That was enough. No more talking, only working.

Wannabe searched the rubble with his eyes to see if the source of injury could be located. Jedi were beyond top priority.

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“Who’s out there? Im in bunk room C, pinned down. My gear is in here somewhere”

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Boomstick had arrived at the two clones.
“Hey! You guys okay? Seems like we must’ve had some mighty fine malfunction to get here…” He doubted it. This didn’t seem like a malfunction, more like human error.

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“Th-thank you…” Tesz responded, a dazed look in her eyes. “Master Norr, wh-where’s master Norr?” Was all she could manage.

Wannabe would notice a sizable cut across the top of her left arm. It was long, but didn’t appear too deep.

“What’s your number soldier?” A voice barked from the dark corridor.


Which two clones?


“CT-2904, Im Legacy, an AT-RT driver. Who’re you? Where are you?”

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Bravebird and Quips