Betuu was laying waste to backwater scum left and right, finally back in his element. The rouges were nothing like the highly trained clone of his day. The clones were brave and almost worthy of his respect. Bioengineered machines of war. The perfect foil to glory of The Confederacy. These idiots were cowards, cowering behind cover like rats. Betuu was happy to exterminate them. Betuu planted himself behind a civilian speeder and unleashed the fury of his blasters on any fool who rose from cover.

"Advise," Betuu suggested over the comms, "the opposing forces here are being reactionary and do not seem to have set up any official plan-of-attack for this engagement. Recommend complete elimination of current ground forces before the arrival of reinforcement. No witnesses. Will allow surviving rebels time to escape off world."

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Toland was already at the speeder when alarms began to sound from the spaceport. Looks like someone had woken up from his nap. He grabbed his pistol, which he had snuck into the glove compartment of the stolen ride. [I]This is it,[/I] he thought.

"We should probably get out of here and meet with the others," Toland thought aloud, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his opinion wasn't worth a credit to them.