[center][h1]Division Commander Shell[/h1][/center]
[center][h2]120th Heavy Battalion[/h2][/center]
[center][h2]1st Armoured Battalion[/h2][/center]
[center][h3] On-Board an AT-TE Command Walker, Approaching CIS Stronghold[/h3][/center]

Commander Shell stood motionless at the nebula of the command center as the world exploded around him. Cocooned safely inside the leviathan that was his AT-TE, the battle that raged beyond it’s thick metal plating seemed distant and surreal to the Commander, who was more focused on the small display before him. As his fingers flew across the digital interface, comms chatter erupted and swiftly died in his ear. While he could sense the nervousness of his fellow clones in the cramped and dim interior, Shell was in his element, directing and controlling the flow of battle with a simple twitch of his hand. Stumbling slightly as a missile collided with the tank, he allowed a small frown to cross his face as the spotter seated nearby relayed the updated positions of the forces on the field. 

While Shell had been pleased with the performance of his Battalion so far in wrenching control of the stronghold from Separatist forces, he noted with some concern that three AT-TEs had been brought down in the process, along with many of the lighter armoured vehicles; it also appeared that Separatist forces were regrouping, a worrying prospect given that he had trusted the remainder of Republic forces to crush resistance at the nearby city and prevent such a counter-attack from occurring.This would not do. Clones were replaceable, machines and weaponry less so. Turning swiftly to the on board comm station, Shell raised the pilots of the various AT-TEs lumbering towards the gates or over the walls of the now crumbling compound. 

“Attention, this is Commander Shell speaking. By all indications the compound has been secured, due in significant part to the work of our forces on the battlefield. Excellent work.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “However, do not get complacent. Any remaining units still on the exterior of the compound are to turn at once and prepare for further engagements. Those behind the walls will assist in clearing out the remainder of enemy forces, before awaiting further orders.”

Not waiting for a response from the pilots, Shell jabbed at the console, closing one comm link and opening another. Now he spoke directly to his Second-in-Command, Major Legs, with a crisp voice. 

“Major, status report.” 

When no reply was forthcoming, he tutted softly, before attempting to raise the Major again.

“Major Legs, status report.”

The reply this time was a burst of static, followed by a whooping holler that was only barely able to rise above the sounds of the ongoing battle. 

“Reporting in Commander!” There was a break in communication as a volley of blaster fire landed presumably close to the Major’s head. “First Company has lost a few men, and a few AT-RTs are little more than smouldering wrecks. We’re just outside-damn it Corporal, these machines are expensive!-just outside the compound sir, covering the retreat of the last of the ground forces!” 

Shell pursed his lips. “Major, please observe the proper protocols when using military communication channels.” A pause allowed him to hear the growing ferocity of the fight around Legs and his men, and more importantly around their vehicles. A curt glance at the list which detailed the current reported loss of offensive machinery gave Shell his orders in an instant. 

“Major, order your company to retreat into the compound at once. We cannot afford to sacrifice armoured firepower to save the lives of a half a dozen clones. I expect you to relay the same orders to Captain Stone promptly. A counter-attack is imminent, by my reckoning, and the Infantry can’t survive on goodwill alone.”

Once again, no sound could be heard from the Major’s side, except for the telltale rumbling of a nearby detonation. Whether it was the clone’s doing was hard to tell, but the distorted screams of the dying soon told him what he needed to know. Shell knew it was that sound that would make his overly-sentimental Major hesitate, and it was that sound which would wipe out the entire company if his orders were not followed to the letter. 

More forcefully, with a sharp edge to his voice, he repeated the orders.

“Am I understood Major?”

At last the affirmative came, through what sounded like gritted teeth. Shell had no time to speculate as to the cause of the strained tone however, and cut the link before more could be said. Taking a moment to exhale, it was with some satisfaction he received the latest troop positions from the spotter; the lighter armoured forces were retreating behind the walls, while Fourth Company under the command of Captain Tooth were forming defensive positions around the compound in their intimidating AT-TEs, his orders having been relayed to the Captain through the earlier message to the walker pilots. Watching their movements on screen for a time, Shell couldn’t help but feel there was a majesty in the way the small dots aligned perfectly around the compound, ready to bring death to all who dared oppose them. He had faith in the gargantuan walkers. He only hoped Captain Tooth’s men were competent enough not to utterly ruin the machines before the battle was done. 
[hr]
[center][h1]Captain Tooth[/h1][/center]
[center][h2]120th Heavy Battalion[/h2][/center]
[center][h2]1st Armoured Battalion, Fourth Company[/h2][/center]
[center][h3] Exterior Walls of CIS Stronghold[/h3][/center]
Captain Tooth was finishing a speech to the men onboard his walker when the order came, relayed through the distant voice of his pilot in the cockpit. 

Hold the line.

Tooth nodded, more to himself than anyone. This was what his training had been leading up to. This was his chance to prove himself to the men of the Republic. He would not fail. Calling out loudly to his Lieutenant, BG, he grew concerned when the man did not answer. Spinning on his heel, he peered into the gloom of the vessel, searching for the man he relied on to transmit his orders. It was only when one of the clones strapped to the wall jerked a thumb upwards that Tooth understood where his Lieutenant had relocated himself. 

Fiddling with the comm channels, Tooth managed to raise his Lieutenant, and demanded at once to know why he had exposed himself to enemy fire to fire the heavy cannon atop the AT-TE. The reply was, not unexpectedly, brief.

“The gunner was injured, sir. Cannon had to be fired with haste. I took his place.” 

Tooth had to admire the clone’s courage, and his readiness to fight back against the Republic’s enemies. It was certainly one of the traits that endeared Tooth to the man, he had to admit. 

“Very good, Lieutenant. See to it that each platoon understands we are to take defensive measures to protect this stronghold. It seems the Republic is to make it’s stand here. Victory awaits us all.” 

A small click was all the acknowledgement Tooth needed, and at once he turned his attention to the battle at hand. The pulsating thumps of cannon invaded the ears of every clone aboard, as the walkers began to fire at the approaching hostiles. The only sound loud enough to cut through the rhythmic pounding was the sharp sound of the first missile striking the shell of the AT-TE. 

As the missiles exploded harmlessly against the heavy plating, Tooth smiled faintly beneath his helmet. Like the walkers, Tooth and his men would hold. 
[hr]
[center][h1]Division Commander Shell[/h1][/center]
[center][h2]120th Heavy Battalion[/h2][/center]
[center][h2]1st Armoured Battalion[/h2][/center]
As his AT-TE passed through the thick walls of the once impregnable stronghold, Shell maneuvered himself to the cockpit and surveyed the state of affairs inside the Republic’s new Headquarters on the planet. 

Several buildings lay demolished, their once impressive architecture now little more than rubble and dust. Mixed with the rubble were the twisted bodies of droids, their limbs splayed at unnatural angles, and sensors blinking pathetically as they reported critical failures in all systems. This was the work of the 120th, the raw power of the Republic’s armoured forces on display for all to gaze upon in awe and wonder. Shell however would not let himself be taken in by the sight. Fighting raged just beyond the walls, and he would not be taken in by the illusion of victory, not while there was still work to be done. 

Turning from the cockpit, he gave the order for the large bay doors at the back of the tank to be opened. The sound of clones unstrapping themselves from their positions replaced the hum of engines as Shell disembarked. Casting a critical eye over the surface of the planet, seeing it up close reminded him why he preferred the interior of any vehicle of alien planets. With a quick march he distanced himself and his men from the gargantuan tank, before raising his hand to signal that the pilot should proceed to await his return in an open space nearby that had once been some imposing structure, now reduced to nothing. Nearby stood Major Legs and Captain Stone, both taking stock of their remaining forces, with Stone occasionally pausing to bark orders at his Lieutenant. 

Striding towards the two men, Shell noted both had sustained fire, their armor blackened slightly by blaster shots. As Stone finished yet another rant at his Lieutenant, Shell coughed softly. 

“Major, Captain. Status reports if you will.”

Stone was the first to speak, after giving a short salute. “Sir! Lost a good few TX-130s in the field, patching up those we can now!” As he spoke he cast a glance at his Lieutenant, who was currently supervising repairs. “We should have just under a hundred or so ready for combat within the hour.” 

In response, Shell shook his head disapprovingly. “Unacceptable Captain. Those TX-130s will be vital in defending this compound. We will discuss your liberal use of Republic resources at a later date.”

Turning to face his Major, Shell listened as he reported much the same; around a hundred AT-RTs remained. As Shell opened his mouth to reprimand the Major, he was cut off by the sound of approaching footfalls as a clone sprinted up to the Commander.

“Commander Shell, sir! The rest of command is located nearby, you’re needed at once!”

The Commander nodded and followed briskly, curious as to how, as he had reasonably deduced, the other objective had failed to be secured. Approaching those gathered, the Commander paused briefly to salute, as was proper given their rank.

“Commander Shell, of the 120th,  reporting for duty. Am I correct in assuming that plans have been…”modified”..?”