Chapitre 20: Training the Clones Part 1
"So, did you understand everything, Ahsoka?" Anakin asked as they walked forward.
"Yes, Master, this sounds amazing," Ahsoka replied, her face lighting up with excitement. "Training with the UNSC... we're going to learn completely new tactics."
Anakin smiled, seeing the spark of enthusiasm in his Padawan. "I hope so, Ahsoka. If there's one thing Spartans and UNSC soldiers know how to do, it's fight the Covenant. This will be a chance for our clones to learn the best of them. And speaking of clones..."
He stopped and turned to look at Rex, Echo, and Fives. "I've decided to make a change to the roster. Instead of sending three of the newly assigned soldiers, I want you three to join the training."
The three clones exchanged surprised glances. Rex was the first to speak. "Us, General? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely sure," Anakin confirmed. "I trust you three more than any other soldiers. If we're going to test this advanced combat training, I need experienced soldiers to lead the rest."
Echo smirked, nodding. "It would be an honor, General."
Fives, however, couldn't help but make a comment in a joking tone. "So we'll have to compete with those Spartans? Well, that sounds like quite the challenge."
Anakin let out a short laugh. "Exactly, Fives. And I trust you'll learn quickly. This won't be like anything you've seen before, but I know you'll be up to the task."
Ahsoka, watching the clones, added, "If we can adapt to their tactics, we'll have an advantage on the battlefield."
Rex nodded firmly. "We'll do everything in our power, General."
"Good," Anakin concluded. "Get ready, because we're going to start this as soon as possible. We'll meet with Admiral Arnet and his team tomorrow. This will be intense, but we all know that this war depends on our ability to adapt and improve."
-x.X.x-
Sergeant Johnson, his everlasting cigar in his mouth, looked around the new training camp for the clones with a mixture of surprise and resignation. "What's this? I thought they were building a strip club for us," he remarked sarcastically, shrugging, while Arnet and Sergeant Forge watched him in silence.
Forge, frowning, muttered to his partner, "Brother, the Admiral is right here. Maybe I should keep those comments to myself..."
Johnson laughed out loud, ignoring Forge's advice. "Oh, come on, Forge. I was born in Chicago. Any decent man needs a place to watch some pretty ladies shake their asses, don't they?"
Arnet, amused, let out a laugh before answering. "Well, Sergeant, I regret to inform you that this will not be that kind of entertainment. You and Forge will be in charge of training the clones. So you better focus those energies on getting these boys ready for real combat."
Johnson nodded with a half-smile, clapping Forge on the shoulder. "Hear that, Forge? We're going to turn these clones into real soldiers. No more joking around."
Delta, the AI, appeared in a hologram in front of Johnson and Forge on the training field. His digital figure projected a meticulous calm as he began to explain the training plan.
"Gentlemen," Delta began, "I have designed an intensive training regimen that simulates combat conditions against the Covenant. This program is going to demand a lot from the clones: physical endurance, quick reactions, and, above all, adaptability. The goal is to prepare them so that the real battlefield feels like a rest."
Johnson let out a throaty laugh, puffing on his eternal cigar. "That's it, Delta? Come on, do you really think they're going to hold out? We'll need more than a couple of bandages and maybe a good excuse to explain away some casualties if this goes the way I think it will."
Delta ignored Johnson's sarcasm and continued, "This training is divided into several phases. We'll begin with simulated ambush exercises and combat strategies in hostile terrain. Each group will be assigned objectives to complete under conditions that will limit their vision and mobility, simulating the onslaught of a real field."
Forge nodded, looking at the holograms Delta was projecting of the exercises. "Perfect, Delta. I wouldn't expect anything less. The clones will begin to see combat as second nature."
Just as Delta finished his explanation, the sound of engines echoed through the training camp. A convoy of Republic transports descended, opening the ramps and letting out the clones that had been assigned to this mission. Each of them looked a bit uneasy, though they were steady and disciplined as ever. Standing out among them were Rex, Echo, and Fives, who looked around the UNSC base with curiosity and some skepticism.
Johnson looked at Forge with a smirk. "Here come our rookies. Time to make them earn their team, huh, Forge?"
Forge smiled back, adjusting his helmet. "Time to start the show, Johnson."
Delta projected a welcome hologram, which quickly faded away to make room for the details of the first exercise. The clones gathered in formation, not knowing exactly what to expect.
Johnson, with his trademark sarcastic humor and a voice that echoed across the training field, looked at the newly arrived clones. Without beating around the bush, he began to give orders.
"Listen up, little girls! I want you to line up like your miserable lives depended on it," Johnson shouted, advancing among the clones, who quickly fell into line with discipline, if somewhat bewildered.
The sergeant walked slowly, looking at each of them with a smirk as he held his cigar to his lips. "The boot camp here is for survivors only, not guys who come to take a walk. They're going to sweat, bleed, and learn what a true hell on Earth—or in this case, Naboo—is like. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" the clones replied in unison.
Johnson nodded. "You better understand, because we—Sergeant Forge and I—are not going to show any mercy. Here, if you're not on the verge of passing out, you're resting. This week has phases, and you're not going to forget any of them."
The Delta AI projected itself to one side of Johnson, displaying a series of holograms of the training phases. Johnson seized the moment and pointed firmly at the first hologram.
"Phase One: Adaptation. We're going to see how you guys perform in combat so we can gauge what you've got to spare and what you're lacking. There's no room for mistakes or haphazard improvisation here. And I want you all to get your heads around it right now. This base is not a place for gentle learning. It's a goddamn battlefield! If you think you're ready, go ahead and try your luck."
Forge, who had been watching silently, stepped up. "In combat, whining and complaining are useless, clones. Here we're going to see who among you can stand up when everything goes to hell. Because that's what awaits you if you take on the Covenant for real."
Johnson smiled with his characteristic dry humor. "So get ready to earn your colors. Because I promise you, when we're done with you, the real battlefield will feel like a day at the beach."
The clones exchanged glances, knowing they were in for an intense week. Rex, Echo, and Fives, though veterans of combat, seemed to understand that this training would be something completely different.
-x.X.x-
Arnet watched from the window as Johnson screamed and sent the clones running as if their lives depended on it. There was something about the scene that struck him as nostalgic. Beside him, Aayla Secura and Anakin Skywalker also watched the scene with some surprise.
Anakin, with a raised eyebrow, commented, "They just arrived... Isn't that instructor being a little harsh on them?"
Arnet let out a short laugh before answering, not taking his eyes off the clones on the field. "Soldiers train for something different, Skywalker. Unlike Jedi, they don't rely on the Force or are taught from a young age to protect the peace. They train for one thing: war. And in that war, they are death, the hand of God. The Marines, the Spartans, the ODSTs... they are all sent to the places where demons fear to tread, and where conventional soldiers don't stand a chance."
Aayla Secura watched Arnet with a mix of curiosity and respect. "It's an intense approach, Admiral… but it seems effective."
Arnet nodded, remembering what it meant to be a soldier in her universe. "Effective, yes. And necessary. UNSC training is not to form protectors, but enforcers. Each of these men—if they survive the training—will be ready to bear the weight of that decision, so that others don't have to."
Anakin looked at the running clones, some already exhausted from the pace Johnson was pushing them at. "So they… are like a last line? Those who go when no one else can."
Arnet nodded. "Exactly. They're the ones who send the damned out for God to judge." He looked at the clones with a serious look. "It's not a light fate, but it's one they're choosing. And, in this case, one they must face if they hope to survive the Covenant."
Within fifteen minutes, most of the clones were lying on the ground, panting and limp, save for Rex, Echo, and Fives, who were still standing, though visibly exhausted. Johnson and Forge looked at each other, a mix of surprise and disappointment in their expressions.
Johnson clicked his tongue and muttered sarcastically, "Were these guys really made to be soldiers? Because right now they look more like tourists on their first day of training."
Forge shook his head and let out a wry laugh. "If these are the Republic's elite warriors, the Covenant must be laughing their heads off."
Without much patience, Johnson leaned over some of the clones lying on the ground. "What is this, nap time? Get up! Do you expect the enemy to wait for you while you rest? If you're this exhausted in basic training, what will you do when you actually face the Covenant? Come on, get up!"
Forge, arms crossed, added in a serious tone, "If you think this is hard, you better brace yourselves. What comes next is no walk in the park. We're going to teach you what it means to be a real soldier. And if you want to survive, you better keep up."
Rex, seeing the disappointment on both instructors' faces, spoke up in defense of his fellow soldiers. "With all due respect, gentlemen... this is new to them. They haven't had such... intense training. But give them time and they'll adjust."
Johnson glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, letting out a slight smile before answering. "I hope you're right, Captain. Because if not, they'll be the first to fall."
Forge and Johnson led them into the War Zone, a controlled space for high-risk combat simulations. It was a sprawling field of ruined buildings, obstacles, and trenches, designed to replicate an urban environment devastated by the Covenant.
Johnson ruthlessly divided the clones into three teams. "Listen up, little girls: Red Team, your mission is to hold this position at all costs. Blue Team, your job is to take the target building and secure the top floor. Green Team, you cover the retreat and respond to anything that tries to flank. Got it?"
The clones nodded quickly, though some muttered nervously amongst themselves. For Rex, Echo, and Fives, this was just another day on the battlefield, but for the rest of the clones, the situation already felt desperate.
Johnson and Forge watched from the command room, with the screens displaying each team's action in real time. The War Zone projectors lit up, displaying holograms of Elites, Jackals, and Grunts, all simulating a Covenant advance, and combat quickly began.
Red Team As soon as the first wave of Covenant made contact with Red Team, chaos erupted. The clones, scattered and without adequate cover, began firing without thinking. The Elites advanced, and before the clones realized it, the enemy shields repelled almost all of their shots. A Jackal threw a plasma grenade that landed right in their midst, and instead of scattering or looking for an exit, the clones simply froze.
"Get your asses up!" Johnson shouted from the speaker, but it was too late. The grenade exploded, and three clones fell to the ground, "dead" in the simulation. The Elite holograms took advantage of the confusion and finished off the rest of the soldiers in a few seconds.
Blue Team Blue Team, tasked with taking the building, was also not much luckier. As they began to climb the stairs, several Jackals positioned themselves at the entrance, using their shields to block access. The clones attempted to attack head-on, but the Jackals returned fire with precision. One by one, the clones fell.
"Flank, you fucking idiots! It's like talking to rocks!" Forge exclaimed, watching as the soldiers tried to advance without a plan.
Finally, an Elite appeared and, with a few precise shots, wiped out the team completely.
Green Team Green Team, in their attempt to cover the rear, were quickly ambushed. At the first sound of gunfire, the clones began to fall back without cover, firing blindly as they piled up at the exit. A well-positioned Jackal began firing at them from above, and within seconds, Green Team fell into complete disarray.
Exception: Rex, Echo, and Fives On the other hand, Rex, Echo, and Fives managed to keep their composure. They took advantage of cover, communicated effectively, and despite the brutal simulation, took out several targets with little to no damage. They moved in perfect sync, employing flanking tactics and securing their positions as if they were on a real mission.
As the simulation ended, Forge and Johnson looked out at the mess. Most of the clones lay on the ground, "dead" in the simulation, while Rex, Echo, and Fives stood, sweaty and exhausted, but not losing their composure.
"Well, that was a tragedy," Johnson said, crossing his arms and looking at the group of fallen clones. "If this were a real battle, they'd all be in body bags."
Forge, frowning, addressed the clones with a chilling coldness. "You're not soldiers. You're moving targets. Tomorrow, your training will be ten times harder. Until you understand what it means to survive."
The rest of the day was hell for the clones. Between combat simulations, grueling marches, and endurance exercises, they ended up exhausted, their uniforms stained with dust and sweat. When the training finally concluded, they barely had the strength to move to the mess hall assigned to them, which looked more like a makeshift casino with metal seats and worn tables.
The menu was nothing special: standard UNSC combat rations, a mix of functional food, but without much flavor. As the clones ate in silence, the murmur of complaints filled the air.
"Is this training or punishment?" one of the clones muttered, stirring his food without much interest.
"I've seen better simulations on Kamino! And here we barely got a break," another added, dropping his fork.
"We were supposed to be elite soldiers," another commented, rubbing his sore shoulder. "But those instructors... they treat us like rookies."
At another table, sitting together, Rex, Echo, and Fives listened silently to the complaints, sharing a worried look with each other.
"They're very poorly trained," Echo admitted, arms crossed as he looked at his fellow clones. "These guys don't know what a real battle is."
"Sure," Fives added, looking at his empty plate. "The three of us function in combat because we have the experience. We've seen death up close, and we know how to improvise under pressure."
Rex nodded, his gaze lost. "That's it. Most here are used to following orders to the letter. The Clone Wars has molded them that way. But the Covenant doesn't play by the same rules."
Fives sighed and rested an arm on the back of his seat. "If they want to survive out there, they can't be so rigid anymore. They have to adapt or they'll fall. Remember what it was like with the B1s? Nothing like this. And those instructors, Forge and Johnson... they're not here to play."
Rex pursed his lips and, after a few seconds, spoke quietly, "If we can get at least half of them to grasp what these guys are teaching, we might make a difference. But it's going to be a long week."
The exhausted clones headed for the showers after dinner. The cold water on their aching muscles was a brief relief, though the looks on many of them reflected exhaustion and discontent. When they finished, Johnson and Forge were waiting outside, ready to guide them to their barracks.
Johnson, with his characteristic humor, briefly but sharply explained how they should keep their equipment in order, how to make their beds accurately, and how they should be ready for anything. Forge remained silent, watching with a critical eye as the clones tried to follow instructions quickly. The two instructors seemed attentive to every move, evaluating even the smallest detail.
When they were finally left alone, some of the clones let out nervous laughs, and most of them flopped down on their bunks without missing a beat. Others, less pleased, murmured amongst themselves, comparing training to Kamino and suggesting, half jokingly, half seriously, that perhaps deserting was not such a crazy idea.
On the other hand, Rex, Echo, and Fives did not join in the impromptu celebrations. Their instincts told them that things would not be so simple. Fives looked at the ceiling, uneasy, while his companions exchanged distrustful glances. After a while, Echo spoke quietly:
"This doesn't feel right... Not after everything we've been through today. Do you think you'll actually give us a night's rest?"
Rex sighed, looking at the other clones, already dozing off. "It could be another test, another way to wear us down or make us let our guard down."
Despite the initial vigilance, fatigue was getting the better of the three of them. Rex, Echo, and Fives remained awake for a while, listening for any sign, but the camp remained silent. Eventually, they fell into a deep sleep, the tension of the day slowly fading away.
The barracks were filled with chaos and confusion in a matter of seconds. Just a few hours after falling into a deep sleep, the clones woke up to a sea of screams, bursts of blanks bouncing off the metal walls, and the echo of Johnson and Forge's orders resonating throughout the place.
Johnson, cigar in mouth and sadistic look on his face, roared over the roar of gunfire, "Wake up, princesses! This isn't a luxury bed on Coruscant, it's a UNSC training camp!"
Forge, walking between the bunks, pointed his assault rifle at the still-dazed clones, yelling in their faces. "Up, you lazy bums! Is that all you've got?! This is hell, and we're the fire that's going to harden you!"
The clones, many of them still half-asleep and disoriented, were throwing themselves out of their beds and stumbling over each other in an attempt to find cover. However, there was nowhere to go. Blanks continued to hit around them, and the sound was deafening. Some clones tried to shout instructions to each other, but the confusion was total. Rex, Echo, and Fives, much more trained and with better instincts, reacted first, quickly standing up and beginning to order their companions to form a line.
"Formation! Form up, right now!" Rex shouted, trying to be heard over the din.
But Johnson had no intention of letting things be that easy. He approached the group and fired a burst of blanks near Rex's feet. "Who gave you permission to give orders, soldier? Here, what I say is done!"
The marines, enjoying the spectacle, fired mercilessly at the beds and walls, creating an environment as realistic as a fight. Forge, seeing that some clones were beginning to organize, changed tactics and began to throw small smoke grenades, filling the space with a thick fog that worsened visibility.
"This is a combat simulation! I want to see every single one of you sweating, suffering, and pushed to the limit! So get up and prove that you're not just plastic dolls!" Johnson shouted as he continued firing.
The clones, forced to improvise amidst the chaos, began to react. With the leadership of Rex, Echo, and Fives, some managed to stand up, albeit unsteadily. The training had gone from physical hell to psychological torment, and they were just beginning to understand what Forge and Johnson wanted from them: that on the battlefield, the only constant was uncertainty, and they had to be prepared for the unexpected.
Rex, Echo, and Fives, keeping calm amidst the chaos, took advantage of their superior training to sneak through the shadows and look for a way out. Moving quickly, they crouched, dodging marines and avoiding the salvos that still echoed throughout the compound. The smoke made it difficult to see, but their instincts and experience allowed them to move forward without losing their way.
"This way," Rex whispered, pointing to a less guarded corner as Johnson continued to scream at the top of his lungs in the center of the barracks. "Don't stop for anything."
The three clones moved silently, covering each other and taking advantage of any shadow to go unnoticed. They didn't stop until they reached a side exit, where they could take a breath. There, finally, they thought the hell was over... but an instant later, Johnson's last scream was heard from the center of the barracks.
"Simulation over! I hope you enjoyed the awakening, princesses!" Johnson shouted, clearly enjoying the scene. "Because this is just the beginning."
Silence gradually returned to the barracks, but the echoes of screams and volleys of gunfire still seemed to vibrate in the air. The clones, exhausted and disoriented, looked at Rex, Echo, and Fives, who exchanged looks of resignation and exhaustion. Johnson, without stopping shouting for a second, gave them one last instruction:
"To your position! Five-minute break, and prepare for the next round! This is what it means to be on the battlefield, and you better get used to living it!"
End of Chapter 20.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone