STAR WARS: ENEMY OF THE REPUBLIC

Chapter 1

Oorvo Glikk watched as the Republic gunships swooped down from the highlands into the low plain that the fledgling Confederacy of Independent Systems occupied. He watched as they cleared a landing zone, watched as they disgorged their platoons of humans coated in shining, white armor, and as those same humans began to open fire on his people. His wings quivered with anger, and he clicked out a curse. They were heading for the Spires; a grouping of sacred hives containing living quarters, with their immense droid foundries underneath.
Six legged Republic walkers-like giant mechanical roga-trudged foward, raining fiery death upon his fellow warriors. Letting out a high pitched trill, filled with righteous fury, he took flight on his thin, durable wings, ascending into the arid sky.
He readied his sonic blaster, wanting desperately to make the Republic pay for daring to invade the Queen's planet. Oorvo found a pillar and perched himself upon it and looked down to see a new group of humans exiting another gunship. Leveling his sonic blaster on the lead trooper, he was just about to squeeze the trigger when he felt a niggling in the back of his mind. The Queen was calling him. Oorvo was not one to ignore the Queen's order. He was an extension of her will. Lowering his blaster, he took flight once more. She wanted him back at the Spires. The Republic…clones…were trying to infiltrate. He would rather sacrifice his life than let them tread on the Geonosians' great forge.

Oorvo had gained immediate updates via his hive link throughout the exhausting flight to the Spires. According to reports from his warrior brethren, the Confederate leaders had already fled the system, and their leader, Count Dooku, was in the process of escaping as well. Things were not looking good for their new resistance, and what he saw on his way to the Spires confirmed that presumption. Hulking masses of slag that used to be Confederate artillery littered the landscape. Billows of deep black smoke columned out of them as if the vehicles' essences were slowly being drawn out of their twisted and bent frames. The ground around them was no different-shattered battle droids were everywhere. Enormous piles of them, like perverted shrines, dotted the battlefield. No doubt the clones had made them.
The arid plains became progressively quieter as he continued, the battle back behind him, and Confederate staging areas ahead. He wished he could have been back at the battle-to have fought for the glory of his Queen, but he had her direct orders.
Oorvo finally arrived at the Spires, his wings quaking with the strain he had put on them. He made known to his Queen that he had arrived, and that he was awaiting further instruction. Mere milliseconds passed before his next directive was given: "Republic has entered spires. Defend Spires. Kill clones. Multiple warriors already engaging." Oorvo was taken aback. The clones were already here? He shuttered to think of what they had already done. He would see to it that they were killed. Not just for his people, but for his Queen.

Oorvo entered the facility via one of the many small worker ducts that perforated the spire. He emerged from the tunnel to find himself looking in from the ceiling onto one of the thousands of catacombs connecting the hive above to the droidworks and the foundries beneath. Dropping from the tunnel, he immediately caught the scent of death, mingled with the smell of ozone from discharged blasters.
Looking around the dimly lit corridor, Oorvo saw no bodies, but the rocky walls were pocked and scorched with the aftereffects of blaster fire, and there were dark golden stains from where either the workers or warriors had been slaughtered by the Republic clones. The lack of bodies indicated that worker drones had already cleared this path. Every Geonosian had their assigned task. A drone had to keep efficiency up, whereas warriors like himself had to protect the hive against intruders. As he continued through the maze of catacombs, the stains became fresher. He traveled through several more corridors before he found one where the bodies still littered the floor.
He continued, flying through doors that led in and out of facilities, living quarters, and all variations of other chambers, seeing more and more of his fellow Geonosians murdered-their broken, mangled bodies strewn haphazardly across the floors; worker drones carefully dragging them out of the way. His wings buzzing with anger, he stalked over to one of the worker drones about to move a body, grabbing its head and turning it towards him so that he would have its full attention.
"Who did this, drone? What they look like? Your Queen commands you to speak!" He clicked furiously, making sure to speak in short bursts to keep the simple drone's attention.
The drone looked in either direction, trying to turn its knobby head, but found that the warrior's grasp was immovable. It grasped at Oorvo's arms as it spoke in its short high pitched utterances, looking everywhere but in the warrior's eyes, "Men. All white shells. Some stripes of color. Four of them," it looked around nervously again, "They shoot anything that moves. We wait. Then perform tasks given by great hive Queen. Then another came. Yellow patches on white shell. We hid again. This one stop a lot. Emits short speaking with talk box. Speak to 'Forward Command Center'."
The drone began to stutter, looking at some messes on the floor that he was obviously commanded to clean. Oorvo did not bother acknowledging it, shoving the drone to the floor. He would kill these clones and feed their corpses to the creatures of the Petranaki Arena.
Taking a quick pause, Oorvo relayed this information to his Queen. What he got back was his Queen's refinement of the information; the four clones were commandos of the Republic sent to sabotage further production of droids, and assassinate key leaders. The other clone was an engineer, sent after the commandos to relay information back to the Republic leaders.
She ordered him to continue, to close the gap and kill any clones he found. Oorvo clicked his acknowledgement more to himself than to anyone in particular, and continued. It wasn't long at all before he heard a voice echoing in the hallway ahead. Oorvo climbed onto the ceiling, ready to catch the clone off guard. Slowly, methodically, he continued forward, hungry for revenge.

CT-9967, or Amp as his brothers called him, stopped to unpack the mobile communications spike for his regular check-in. "Intel never gets us the right kit for the job," he mumbled as he set up the spike. "'Armor comms will work fine in the catacombs, soldier. Just get on with your work as ordered, soldier.' Heh. If I was in with Intelligence I'd actually do my job and issue the right kit starting out. None of this bulky 'add-on kit'. I'd perform to expected parameters." He set up the last leg of the tripod, and plugged the array into his helmet's comm unit. With a final sigh, he removed his helmet, taking out the comlink from his helmet package, and began his report, "CT-9967 to FCP Gamma. CT-9967 to FCP Gamma, Forward Command Post do you read?"
There was a pause filled with white noise from the comm before a reply burst from the earpiece, somewhat distorted by static, but still understandable, "This is FCP Gamma. What is the progress of Shen Squad?"
"The commandos are doing fine," Amp replied, somewhat sullen, "Leaving quite a mess wherever they go…as usual."
"Don't worry trooper, you'll get your chance to squash some bugs. Now what do you have for us about that hive's layout?"

The clone was having a conversation through a communications unit. The Queen's voice urged; now was the time to strike, before any valuable secrets were revealed. Slowly, a pair of chitinous arms extended from the ceiling. The bony hands at the end began to form around the human's neck. Only when it was too late did the clone notice. Oorvo gripped the clone's neck in his hands, pulling him, gasping, towards the ceiling. Then, with a quick jerk to the side and a sickening snap, the struggle ceased, and the clone's body fell in a heap of armor on the floor.
Disgusting. Oorvo would not let such abominations steal sacred Geonosian secrets. He dropped from the ceiling, brushing off his hands the human's perspiration. He would find the four other clones, and end them. Oorvo clicked to himself, listening to the fading sounds of the communication unit's repeating call of "Trooper! Respond!" as he pressed onward.