Lannah Creel had stayed quiet and listened, tinkering with her helmets audio. It sounded odd.
"Lannah Creel...uhh, JK-0577.
And I'd just as soon be out there fighting the real war, as well." She said, trying to sound confident.
She certainly wasn't a clone, but had spent many years fighting all the same. It seemed to her you couldn't exactly earn any respect from the 'old guard' however-it was a large part of why she never seemed to rise in rank, she believed. She had seen the holos of the old days, like everyone-the heroic clones charging hordes of skeletal robots (scenes or even references to any jedi carefully edited out, of course) with blasters in hands. It was why she became a stormtrooper in the first place. The job wasn't how she imagined it would be...but, one learned to cope.
She had been in the first generation of enlisted non-clone troopers, and was proud of it.
Stormtroopers were not really allowed to personalize armor, like the clones had once, but Lannah had taken their cue and done it anyway-there was an image of a playing card on her left shoulder, a dancing female joker. A harlequin. A relic, even of this age. She sometimes wondered if even this small act of self identity had been enough to deny her promotion.
"Aye, sounds like an easy job. Intel say the natives don't really have any technology to speak of...but, intels usually bantha-piss anyway.
...One thing I can say, the natives do always know the land. Spent a tour on Felucia-fought in the 76' Twilek uprising there. They knew every hole in that planet. Depends how hard they wanna hold out...we might be here for awhile."Lannah frowned behind her helmet, remembering three years battling disease, giant alien bugs and stormtrooper-eating plantlife. Not to mention the Twileks-she remembered their snipers firing shots over their camp at night to keep them from sleeping. Ugly little war. They had won though, in the end. Or command said they had won. same thing.
Caiteriona groaned at Jevan's query. "Un-kriffing-fortunately, this'll be my first real mission. They kept sticking me on guard duty or stuff for the most safe locations. However... Your strangely depressive mood aside, this is probably a better first combat assignment than most."
"At least you're on a nice planet for your first op. I reckon you take off your helmet, the air smells nice and clean-instead of burning out your lungs or catching you a friendly fungus.
Anyway, just keep an eye out, right? Don't get cocky-remember your training and try not to die-they cut our death benefits again this month. Might as well live till the Empire can afford a proper coffin for you." She said, laughing-though, through the filter of her mask, her laughter was mechanical and mirthless.