SWRPF Archive Mirage Squad: Tales of the ARC

Elite. Best of the best. Top of the line, the cream of the crop.

These phrases were all used when associated with a certain type soldier in the Grand Army of the Republic.

The ARC?s

Advanced Recon Commando?s.

Clones that were genetically different from their common brothers. They trained separately, worked separately. Even the Clone Commando Squads looked up to the ARC troopers. The ARC?s were just a different breed.

A platoon of normal Clones, approximately 24 men, could be roughly associated with the amount of high performance work that a Commando squad of four would pull off. A single Commando Squad of four could typically pull off what a single ARC could do in the same amount of time. If there were more than one ARC in an operation? The Commando?s couldn?t hold a flame to the results that were produced.

ARC troopers were simply?. The best there was.

Front line combat, shadow ops, scout missions, battlefield planning and unit placement, hacking, demolitions, marksmanship. ARC?s did it all.

They were smart.

They were fast.

And they were effective.

Rarely was a full unit of ARC?s assembled for missions. Because of their value to the Republic, the ARC troopers were ordinarily separated from one another to achieve maximum effect on the galactic battlegrounds. However, certain times call for certain measures. The CIS forces were getting stronger, and much larger. The GAR simply couldn?t hatch enough clones to compensate for their losses. Something had to be done quickly to quell the situation.

A new unit was being pulled together. Consisting of generally lower ranking ARC Troopers of Captain rank or lower. An entire unit of ARC?s, to fight the war behind the scenes. To stop the CIS by destroying their foundations. Finding and destryong supply routes, stopping secret bank accounts. Anything it took to obliterate the CIS from their core. Sometimes it would be frontline combat, sometimes it would be a shakedown on Coruscant to arrest arms dealers. Whatever it took.

Officially, these ARC?s were recorded as Killed In Action. They no longer existed. They took Orders from encoded messages, sent from a single General. Their methods were unrecorded. They would never get recognition from their handlers. Only a good job and another message with the next mission. Other clone soldiers would not recognize them from their armor markings.

Their call sign was Mirage?..

This is their story?

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BOOM!!!

ARC Trooper B-215 stood with his two companions on the top of a 1500 story building. Flames and smoke billowing out of a crater that used to be a Surface to Space rail gun. The gun had made a landing force for the Republic Army impossible without taking heavy losses.

The three ARCs stood with their arms crossed as the wind blew their Mandalorian Kamas around wildly behind them. B-215 moved his gaze skyward as a mass of Republic cruisers decended from the atmosphere. In the distance, he could hear skirmishes already underway. He nodded as he placed two fingers to the side of his helmet.

?Master Windu, this is Bravo two-one five?.. Mission accomplished. Requesting Evac or new mission priority.?

The comm. crackled with a moment of static before General Mace Windu?s voice responded.

?Well done Captain Wraith. Stand fast at your present location, transport in-bound for pickup.?

?Copy that Sir.?

Bravo 217 looked over at Wraith and lifted his chin in question. 217 was Wraith?s Lieutenant, clad in the blue markings of his ranking.

Wraith acknowledged his trusted second in command with a nod.

?Pickup en-route, check weapons and ammo and prepare for evac.?

Five standard minutes later, the thrumming of a Republic drop ship could be heard. It swooped down next to the edge of the building. Before Wraith and his companions could step forward, Mace Windu hopped out, his robes flapping in the wild wind at the high altitude. All three troopers immediately snapped to attention and gave crisp, precise salutes.

General Windu waved a hand at them.

?At ease?

 

GM Approved

Designation Number: Alpha-24
Nickname: Koda
Rank: Sergeant
Specialties: CQB, Anti-Terrorism, and Guerilla Warfare
Hobbies: Playing cards, Hunting
Quirks: Finds humor in most situations not matter how bad.
Weapons: DC-17m blaster rifle, DC-15s Sidearm, Vibro blade

 

IC: Major Wraith
Central Command

The newly appointed Major looked over his pristine armor in the mirror. He ran his hand idly over the black stripe lining the area that normally indicated his rank. Wraith had been confused at first. This assignment held a general command structure in which he was now in charge. But rank was not evident by color on the armor of the unit. Everyone had the same armor as he did. Everyone in Mirage looked the same, inside their armor and out. Of course all of the clones could distinguish each other as easily as if looking at a twin brother. Other people found this slightly unnerving. Wraith didn?t get their problem. He tried not to worry about trivial things like that though. He was here to do a job, and try to make sure in the process that none of the men in his charge ended up dead.

Mirage had been formed for a simple yet daunting task. When the operating status had been explained to Wraith, it had gone rather easily. But that was the deception.

?Wraith. Your new mission parameters are to destroy the CIS forces.?

Destroy the CIS? Isn?t that what the clones had been brought in for? Is that not what Wraith had been doing for the entirety of his unnatural life? Such a simple notion with such large implications.

He had yet to embark on his first mission. Wraith had been the Commanding officer of Mirage for all of a week so far. He had elected to be here when the rest of his men showed up. In the time he had been waiting, Wraith had explored their new command center. It was run by wounded clones, who were no longer suitable for combat duty. Men who had lost limbs in the line of duty, to be replaced with cybernetic ones. Ugly, crude replacements. But that was what a clone?s life was really worth. They were expendable. It was a sad thing for a clone to have to do, tidying up after their brothers because they couldn?t engage in combat properly. But it was a much better thing than having droids clean up. Being around droids would probably start to make the ARC?s a bit paranoid anyway.

Wraith had to admit though, the facility they had been given was a bit glamorous, by a Clone?s standards anyway. Top of the line tracking equipment, high credit comm. tech. State of the art weapons systems and armament. Since the place was their new home, and being that all of their combat intel came from this facility, the Clones running the building had kept the naming simple.

Central.

Everything in the ARCs? lives revolved around this hidden installation. The hallways actually reminded Wraith of a starship. They were clean, and shining white all of the time. And the facility was huge. The ARC?s each had a personal snub fighter should they find the need for it. Several armored transports had been requisitioned and brought in, and on top of it all, Wraith had been given access codes to the private comm. channel to The Spear of the Republic. An Acclimator class cruiser. Should they need bombardment from space to cover a retreat, the ARC?s had to but make a call. It was a bit surreal. Wraith was in essence? off of the leash. He still worked for the Republic, but he had free reign on how and when he went to complete a mission. It was a strange freedom.

For now, Wraith would suffice with what he had. He no longer existed among his vat brothers. Lieutenant Dem, his second in command, was the only clone that had been born and raised with Wraith. Sergeant Kemp had come later to his command.

Dem gained his nickname due to his specialty. Demolitions. He wanted it to become a real nickname so eventually the title was shortened to Demo. Later still, the shortened version had been cut down again. Wraith sometimes wondered if at some point he would be calling his friend and XO by the title of simply, ?D?.

Kemp on the other hand, just wanted to try and fit in, as if a normal ?non-clone? soldier. He had elected to choose a stereotypical Sergeants name. He had actually taken the time to hack the Republic?s data tables to look back in any army record he could find. Kemp and Johns