Both youngling shrieked as blaster fire erupted in the cargo bay, harkening back to memories of their Clan being cut down in the hallway as the Mon Calamari and Thisspiasian instructors fell to the clones. The Temple Guardians were the first to wade into the fray, with the Jedi Knights close behind. The Nautolan and the Anzati both braced themselves as they peered around the the opening into the room, their eyes wide and mouths agape as the fighting quickly consumed the room. For what they could see, neither would have believed their eyes. A Jedi who absorbed blaster bolts without injury. Clones that came in waves, an army of the same face standing shoulder to shoulder with one another. One by one, the troopers went down under the valiant efforts of the Jedi only to be replaced by another just like the one before it, or the one before it, or the one before it...

It was madness.

A Jedi fell into the sea of clones, followed shortly after by a padawan boy who seemed all to eager to jump into the fighting. But then, what choice did any of them have? Sor-Jan and Zak would have to as well, because standing there was not an option afforded either of them. Propelled forward, pressed toward the LAATs, the two younglings felt themselves thrown into the midst of the cargo bay, their feet pounding against the floor as both boys raced toward the transports as though it were some goal post in a game of theirs. Blaster bolts sailed by their heads as they ran - pulling, pushing, dragging one another along.

They could see a Jedi fall from a catwalk above, striking the roof of a LAAT as a clone pilot was boarding it. The two younglings lost sight of both the enemy and the Jedi, but heard the echo of a blaster shot from inside of the troop transport. The Nautolan leapt up from the floor, his bare feet hitting the interior deck of the LAAT as its engine could be heard to come on-line. Turning, the green-skinned youngling reached a hand down to help pull the Anzati aboard. Turning their heads to get their bearings, Zak grabbed SJ by the arm and tugged as he pointed to the cockpit.

The young Anzat started toward the front of the craft, when he realized there was something strange about the body of the clone trooper lying on the deck. A cauterized stump smoldered with the sickening sweet odor of charred flesh noticeable in the air. The clone was headless.

"Ew!" Zak complained aloud, shrinking back.

Reaching down, the raven-haired SJ picked up the clone pilot's helmet, and was surprised by the weight. "What happened to his head?" the young Anzati inquired.

The answer to his question dropped from out of the bottom of the helmet, hitting him on the leg as the man's severed cranium hit the deck and rolled, face up, to stare at the younglings with vacant eyes.

Zak screamed, a high-pitched sound that echoed sharply as it was amplified by the acoustics of the LAATs open interior. Sor-Jan would have as well, but for the fact that he was instantly overcome by nausea. Vomiting onto deck of the LAAT, the young Anzat let go of the helmet as he doubled over as he choked on his own bile. The clone armor clanged loudly against the metal of the interior, as it went bouncing outside of the carrier.

A pair of hands grabbed him then, as the Nautolan youngling took hold of the Anzati's shoulders and pulled him toward the cockpit of the craft. To their relief, a Jedi was there at the controls. 

The relief was short-lived, as the two boys saw the evidence of the wound on the Jedi's left side. The young Anzati was rooted in place for a moment, frozen in fear as large water drops formed at the corners of his eyes.

Seeing a Jedi injured like that was like finding out super heroes weren't really real.

The young Anzati tugged at the edges of his tunic for comfort, before something came to mind. Something he could do. Something he could do to help. Taking hold of the sleeve that had been partially severed from the shoulder seam by the earlier shot that had burned his shoulder, the youngling was able to tug and tear the sleeve completely free of the garment. Folding it up in his hands, the boy pressed against the Jedi Master, using the cloth as a bandage as he held it firm against the wound to try and stay the bleeding.