Clone Senki or The Cloneya Wars (Open Round Robin) (Star Wars x Youjo Senki)

This post is for Round Robin information, skip it to get right to the first Tanya-line.

Established with the help and advice of Readhead, L4 of the WEST and Starstruck91

The origin of this madness started with the simple musing "What if there was more then one Tanya?"

This will be an open round robin anthology set within the Star Wars universe during the clone wars with Tanya from the Youjo Senki universe taking the place of the clones.

In this universe all the Jengo Fett clones are replaced with clones of Tanya, most of these clones have memories of her first and second life before being reincarnated in a Kaminoan clone chamber. However, every clone is very slightly different and might have different perspectives on things as per the writer's prerogative.

All of the Tanya that remember past lives will attempt to keep any mention of said past lives secret from the other clones.

Each Tanya will have a code, ie "CT-7567" and a nickname.

Clone trooper commanders received the designation CC-(number) or CRC (for clone regimental commander).

Null-class Advanced Recon Commando were designated N- or Null-.

Alpha-class Advanced Recon Commando were identified with an A- or Alpha- designation, and clone commandos the RC- (for Republic Commando) designation.

Clone trooper captains and Clone trooper lieutenants were designated CC- or CL-, respectively.

The CT- designation was for Clone trooper sergeants and rank-and-file clone troopers.

The practice of CC or CL being given was phased out during the war as later on CT clones were promoted to fill such roles and new clones were largely given CT designation.

And thus, tens of thousands of Tanyas have to deal with the utter brilliance of Jedi leadership while they look with envy at the few Tanya who manage to get peaceful postings in the rear. By the end of the war there are over four hundred million Tanya, how much can you handle?

For ease of following and threadmarking clone storylines please at the start of your story post your Tanya's clone ID at the top of the post as well as a nickname if she has one, thank you.

CT – 0216 'Blinker'

"Settle in girls. Just got word that we are shipping out." The Gunnery Sargent at the front of the cramped troop transport called out. Her helmet was held at her side so her face could be seen by everyone in the craft's hold. Short cropped blonde hair, blue eyes and even the lips. Being X was such a hack, there was no way a reasonable cloning organisation would choose a soldier platform that resembled a five-foot nothing girl. After lying about the last life, he threw me into this one where I had to pretend to be a mindless biological drone to survive.

Every day was spent talking to, training with and having to live with minute variations on my face. Or more accurately, the face he gave me. Surrounded by combat maniacs quite happy to have been born into the servitude of a clone soldier. Of course I had to play the part, I was under no illusions that the Kemanoens would think twice about 'decommissioning' a 'defective' clone. Quite frankly it was a miracle that they allowed the even mildly divergent.

I still have nightmares about that batch without 20/20 vision.

"Shipping out? The buyers finally decided to deploy us?" The girl to my right inquired. CT-8935 or 'Shorty' she was one of the mildly divergent compared to the standard genetic makeup of the rest of us as she stood a whole head taller than most everyone else. Except the Kamanoens of course. Her mutation meant that some of her equipment had to be custom fit to her.

"That's all I was told trooper, no parade for us today."

There was a sort of nervous, restless energy displayed on behalf of my sisters, it was understandable given the context. I had only heard hours ago that a small Republic fleet had jumped into the system and were currently in low orbit waiting for any clone divisions that could be scrambled on such short notice.

Years of training and simulations only to be thrust into a refitted Republic cruiser with thousands of my fellow clones. I had held onto some small measure of hope that I would never be activated and that I could have a peaceful life but of course that was just me being delusional. I steeled myself, we had to make a good impression in order to justify the cost and our continued employment. There was no way that ant sane Galactic Republic would allow any other power to buy a discount clone army after all.

The Jedi Order, the monastic cult responsible for funding our formation, served the galactic republic as a peacekeeping and diplomatic branch of government. It also had access to an understanding of this universe's magic and utilised it to remain an important political entity. Strangely from what I had read in the Kemanoan archives the powers to raise an army, or purchase one in this case, was not a legal right of the Jedi Order. I highly doubted that the Kemanoans were contracted without the Republic Senate knowing however.

"Coming in for landing." The clone in the cockpit of the transport craft called over the intercom system and the few clones that had taken off their helmets quickly donned them and braced for the soft lurch that indicated that the craft had settled on a platform. A moment later the side door on one side of the craft slid open.

I turned to look out at the huge hangar bay. The transport had landed in an area with force field generators on all sides to keep an atmosphere inside each ship's berth. I honestly felt a little bit sick as I glanced up and saw the black void of space. The clean white armour we were outfitted with had only very minor environmental protections installed.

"Eyes front Blinker!" My head snapped down as the Sargent had us form a square, the transport that had carried us up quickly taking off and breaching the forcefield without any noticeable disturbance in the air with the pilot returning to the ground for more clones. I grimaced at the use of that annoying nickname I was saddled with almost a decade ago. It was not like I was the only clone to blink when shooting a blaster!

The Sergeant for her part had a hand to the side of her helmet as no doubt someone tried to relay information to her in this chaotic mess. I did feel some sympathy for Lefty, deploying an army with less then a day's notice was an insane proposition and no doubt our command structure was an overworked mess.

"General, good to see you sir." At the Sargent's words every clone including myself made an effort to stand up straighter. From behind the square walked a young man in an earth tone loose robe and what I suspected was a laser sword at his hip.

"Greetings Sargent." The teenager replied as he looked over at the rest of us. He frowned as if he did not quite like what he saw and I was glad to have my helmet on. General? Don't tell me the damn monks wanted to get involved in the fighting? The sensible thing to do was promote competent commanders from within the clone core into strategic positions. Of course, that had the added benefit of opening up positions all the way down the line. There might even be a spot open for me to move into the officer's track. A little enlightened self interest never hurt anyone but incompetent leadership hurt everyone.

I was still a bit sore that I was denied access to the officers track because they printed "CT" on the glass tube I was grown in. Still a dozen or so clones had moved into officers training over the years to fill gaps left in training accidents and 'training accidents'.

My concerns could be unfounded of course but I doubted that a religious order that had seen a thousand years of peace was going to be a competent leadership element. But then who cared what I thought? If I complained then I was likely going to find myself looking at a plasteel wall with my dear sisters holding blasters to my back.

"I understand we will be dropping with you sir?" Sarge inquired, seemingly sending the Jedi out of his daydream.

"Ah yes, we are going to be joining an active rescue mission as an… exit?" My heart sank as the so-called 'General' looked around for help.

"Uh, an extraction sir?" Sarge offered.

"Ah yes that, I don't expect we will be needed, there are hundreds of Jedi down there. At the sight of that many lightsabers igniting as one, anyone would surrender."

"Of course sir." The diplomatic words seemed to satisfy the man as another LAAT landed in the berth and a squad marched out into their own square just as the ship's large hangar door section slid closed with enough force to shake the entire ship. A voice over the ship's intercom informed us that we were now in hyperspace.

"Get ready for a hot insertion girls. Our job is to deploy and secure an area while extracting all VIP's. Let's show the Republic what they paid for! Am I understood!?"

"Yes Sargent!" Came the shoutback reply. Such things had been drilled into me over the ten long years of this life. In my second life I had in hindsight barely been trained at all. In this one Training was all I knew, if the bloodthirsty and unrestrained behaviour of some of my sisters was any indication a lifetime with nothing but training left something to be desired.

I let such thoughts leave me as the girls and I filed out and began to check over our equipment again as the Jedi meandered around to make awkward smalltalk with clones who had much better things to do.

This was going to be a long day. I dearly hoped I was just being paranoid and this situation was a lot more stable than things appeared.

I would be finding out in less than an hour regardless. I offered a short curse to Being X and rechecked the power cell on my carbine.

CT - 1982 "Skinny":

(AN: None of Skinny's thoughts are necessarily canon to A Young Girl's Guerilla War. Consider her a version of Hajime Tanya where all the breaks went the wrong way for her.)


The Kaminoans who decanted me from my vat designated me CT-1982, but my crechemates stuck me with the name "Skinny" before I'd hit my first year. By some quirk of genetics, my baby fat slid off my bones without leaving the same level of muscle density enjoyed by the rest of my cohort. This terrified me from my first day in this strange new world, as I knew that defective clones were disposed of by the Kaminoan clone-masters who constantly observed us with cold, alien eyes, endlessly taking notes on our performance. Terror was nothing new to me, of course, as I was now beginning my fourth life. My first had been reasonably long and comfortable, the second and third less so.


Once again, I had been thrust into a life of war and struggle by that evil thing that haunted my nightmares, that thing that denied me any security, any peace. Being X had once plucked me from my untimely death for my defiance, and for my doubt of its claims to godhood. Since that time, my opinion that its claim was spurious had only firmed as petty evil piled upon petty evil, culminating in the incompetence that had led to my second death by artillery.


Once, merely recalling the horror of that moment of thunder and incandescent light would have been enough to make my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat, but the sharp edges of that bleeding moment had been worn down by the passage of time and fresh suffering. Born again to a doomed nation, I'd struggled to survive in a ruined city, where every attempt to find a way to safety and prosperity was thwarted, and my people and I were made to suffer endlessly for the petty amusement and gratification of our oppressors. By this point, that was a sadly familiar state of affairs for me, as that alleged god continued to plague me, urging me on to faith and submission.


I was proud that I hadn't broken when I'd died the third time, as I had the second. Perhaps it was the simple understanding that Being X hadn't saved me before, and the speculation that perhaps it in fact couldn't save me, even if it wanted to, that had let me maintain my composure as I died. My second death had been bad, as the Britannians dealt harshly with traitors, and I'd been happy to leave the pulped thing that had once been my body when I finally breathed my last. Being X hadn't made so much as an appearance the third time, and I'd hoped that I was finally dead.


Sadly, while that force for incompetence and tyranny hadn't shown up to mock me in my last moments, I still labored under its yoke. Much to my anger, and somewhat to my despair, I'd woken up again, in another blonde girl's body. Being X certainly didn't let go of an idea once it latched on, but this time it had decided to endow my second life's body with the childhood starvation of my third life as well. And so, surrounded in a sea of identical copies, with the same face and the same eyes, I was still marked out as lesser by my thin limbs.


Foolishly, I hadn't simply laid down and died. I'd fought Being X and its attempts to break my will for three lifetimes, and many other tyrants, bullies, and foes along the way. I couldn't find it in myself to simply give up and die. Perhaps I should. Perhaps I would see Visha, Kallen, Naoto, and even that bastard Lelouch again, though I doubt it.


But I continued on. I made up for my thin limbs by throwing myself into every exercise, every test, to prove that I was still worth it, that I wasn't garbage, that I had utility. Happily, like the Germanian Empire of my second life and unlike the Britannian Empire of my third, the Kaminoans seemed to have a concept of meritocracy, and I wasn't disposed of. Day after day, year after year, I fought on, doing my best to cultivate my relations with first my crechemates, and then my squadmates and platoon and company.


And finally, I received a degree of safety as I was promoted to Sergeant, and given control over my squad, nine other clones responding to my orders. I did my best to summon up memories of Naoto and Ohgi, their caring charisma and attention to the needs of each member of their teams more fitting for small unit leadership than Lelouch's theatrical gambits. I did my best to bond with each member of my unit, while supporting my Lieutenant as best I could. The girl was haughty, but she had just as good of a grasp on the tactics taught to us by the Kaminoan neural educators as I did, and I'd be relying on her when the moment finally came to see combat.


That moment came on Geonosis, a sepia ball of a planet, and homeworld of a species that had risen up in rebellion against our Master Chancellor Palpatine. An entire species, driven into rebellion... I wondered how that could be. Not every Japanese had supported Prime Minister Kururugi in doomed struggle against the Britannians, and very few Elevens had ultimately supported the attempt to retake Area 11. Did every Geonosian support war? Were they all diehard rebels?


Or was I now on the side of the Britannians, the technologically superior power from afar, sailing in to inflict an unjust agenda upon a helpless population in the name of self-declared righteousness and a common good that only benefited the same rich parasites that always benefited?


Doesn't matter, I supposed, the Kaminoans don't allow conscientious objectors. I'd tried to convince our Lieutenant to petition for our unit to be attached to the Quartermaster Corps, or to the Maintenance Corps, or even to the Medical Corps, but unfortunately she'd been unable to change our designated Operational Specialty. 72nd​ Legion, 3rd​ Regiment, 1st​ Battalion, 3rd​ Company, 4th​ Platoon was designated as infantry, and there was nothing I could do about it.


And so we boarded our LAAT, and began the descent from the orbiting spacecraft, the Bestower, down to the surface of Geonosis. From my spot in the enclosed drop bay, with its heavy doors shut and sealed, I couldn't even see the planet we were headed towards, much less the stars, and so I instead took the opportunity to check each of my squad members, and confer with the junior sergeant in change of the second fireteam. Together, we went over our soldier's equipment and checked in with each of the eight clones entrusted to our care, making sure everybody was in the right headspace before the battle began.


Our unit had eight standard infantry equips, complete with a repeating blaster rifle and sidearm, one heavy unit with a shoulder-fired light anti-vehicle missile launcher and sidearm, and one long-range anti-personnel sniper rifle and sidearm. I was the designated marksman of our unit, due to the shooting skills cultivated on the battlefields of Europe and in the shattered cities of Japan, which suited my still somewhat spindly frame just fine.


Fortunately, our girls' knew their business, and knew that we'd trained for this. I hoped each of them also knew that there was an excellent chance we wouldn't all be returning to our berths on Bestower, but kept that thought to myself; no need to dampen morale right before our first battle.


I wondered if I'd see Being X again today. In some ways, it would almost be a relief. He was, after all, the only one who remembered that I'd ever been a man, or called Tanya Degurchaff and Hajime Tanya. In a very real way, he was my only link to my old lives, and the people I'd cared for during them. I hated him, with every fiber of my body, and everything he stood for, but that hatred was as old and familiar as a treasured blanket. During the hours upon hours of neural education, and the hours upon hours of training, I'd almost wondered if I'd imagined everything before my most recent birth as some desperate dream to give my life meaning and flavor beyond the grinding, numbing, dull exertion of constant training. Perhaps the neural educator had messed up, and programmed me with stories or dreams, and had overwritten my memories with random fantasy?


I shoved that disquieting thought away as the engine of the LAAT began to whine with exertion, entering Geonosis's atmosphere. No computer could make up Visha! I ferociously told myself, trying to reassure myself that my fading memories of brown hair and brown eyes were my own. And why would a neural educator implant memories of Kallen's fire or Naoto's last stand? Nonsense!


None of the sought-for comfort rang true, though, and as I sank through the atmosphere towards the planet below I found myself almost hoping I'd see that old bastard Being X again. Anyone, anything... Just to make sure I'm not insane, that I didn't crack like Nagata did when he found his wife... Anyone, anything...


And then the ship shuddered, and the doors sprang open, and the world was full of swirling brown dust and a bright orange sun.

CT-4514

CT-4514 took a deep breath in, enjoying the recycled air of the LAAT, she knew that it would not last long. Soon they would be landing and she would have to deal with terrible air quality only a desert planet could give a person the pleasures of enjoying. This little planet called Geonosis would be her first real scrap in this life, hell considering her memoirs were hazy about her second life this might be her first fight in totality.

She wished she could hurt that damnable Being X for this travesty, she assumed that if she got another life, she would at least have the pleasure of actually getting another life. No, being X in his malevolence, had decided to tie her soul to universes where human building blocks of DNA were a comedy, and, as such, they could be used to produce her existences.

She was ten years old by the time scale of this universe, but she looked maybe 20 her 5'2 foot frame looking a little short to be a soldier, but then again when you're carrying around a semi-auto plasma musket, you didn't need to be a barbarian who could punch man to death with one strike. This was not an anime, or first of north star, this sci-fi novel. Though considering how easy the muscles she did have could be maintained, with training regimenting she was on, the cloners on Kamino had most likely done something beyond just making her and her… sister grow up faster.

Looking around she saw girls wearing her face, Blond and blue-eyed with some having shads leaning tower grey, some had a tan, others were so pale she would hold it against people if they thought they were NEETs, who never got out of the room, she fell into the category actually, she even tended to burn faster in the sun faster than most of her sisters. Looking up toward the front of the craft, she saw some of the 30 girls starting to get their helmets on as a blue-painted officer walked down the center of the transport giving a speech.

Oddly the officer's speech sounded vaguely familiar but she could not place it, "This is Geonosis Girls, A bug planet, watch for holes and blow the hell out of them if you even think something might come out of it, they are separatist bugs, they will use them to come up behind us if we're not careful and that means be on the lookout for ambushes if it has more than 4 limbs you better shoot it." the blond commander said as looked over the Clone troopers.

"Get your helmets on blaster ready will be landing in 10, the little green Jedi is having us do a little rescue mission before we start the real fun of knocking this droid making bugs Termite mound over, so be on your best behavior and kill the enemy for the republic!"

"FOR THE REPUBLIC!" came the courses of her voices, before her sisters began to put on the white helmets that matched white armor. She didn't bother to though, this was a job after all they were here to kill for their slave master, for that was what this republic and the Jedi really were, and hope when the war was over, they could either get out of the military, get high enough that they would not be on the front lines of the next conflict. Didn't matter this republic had had 1000 years of peace, it now had an army, and once a government had something like that it tended to use violence to solve problems when diplomacy failed.

Looking down at herself she reflected on how the armor plates reminded her a bit of samurai armor in its arrangements than anything that was truly meant to stop the blaster fire. But then again perhaps she was under-valuing the lightweight plastoid-alloy composite plates, sure they were a bit uncomfortable, but the Kaminos wouldn't send a soldier out into combat if the armor did nothing. That would just guarantee the armor would be dropped the first time the trooper needed to make a long march. Though, there were plenty of stories of armies doing just that in history.

Shaking her head she picked up her helmet from the ground and shoved on onto her head watching the world thru the t shaped vizor. With helmet secured she watched as the commander made all the way to the back of the LAAT standing by her holding on to the overhead handhold before asking.

"Trooper 4514, why didn't you cheer for the republic." the blue armored LT asked as she severed her own helmet to her head and ready her blaster.

"See no reason to waste my breath on unnecessary words" She responded matter of factly.

"Is it not necessary sister? Does it not show comradery between us, a sign of our fellowship is this great undertaking, not necessary to maintain morale and inspires us to a greater height of victory?" the blue-coated Lt said, sounding like religious zealot more than a commanding officer in 4514s mind.

However though it was rather tripe, there was some sense in what the commander said, even if she sounded like a commissar about to give her glorious news about the revolution, they needed those moments of commonality between the ranks, so they could all have a better chance of surviving.

"I can see your point, that must be why you officers get the extra training," she said nodding her head along a small childish part of her wishing the ride of the valkyries was a thing in this universe.

"Of course I make sense sister," the blue-coated officer said, patting her hand on her shoulder, before she said "It is my duty to make sense of these situations so we can get out alive, now make sure to do yours, when we land sister.

She then faced to her right, probably getting a radio transmission from the pilot. "SADDLE UP GIRLS! We're landing at the arena in a minute and will be under fire." She called as the LAAT began to slow down.

4514 held on to the over top hand rain as the craft took a steep dive before it came to stop the door fully opening on to pandemonium of a chaotic fight as droid marched in column towered the little circle of transports, the standing Jedi with their lightsaber were doing there best fall back to transports.

Giving a shake of her shoulder to loosen them up she started to step off the LAAT to do her duty, yealing "FOR THE REPUBLIC!" as she went.

Only to be riddled by blaster fire from a super battle droid with impressive aim. She fell back, her side of her chest burning from the impact zone, parts of her helmet must be fused to the right side of her face from a glace shot as she could not see out of that eye. Looking up at the roof, her legs hanging out of the LAAT she was able to watch her sister step out of the craft to fight for the republic, but as her conciseness faded she didn't think she counted the same number getting back on.

Calo Zaron had been a Jedi since he could walk. He had grown up with a group of younglings, served as a padawan to Jas Tyrell, a Jedi Knight who specialised in travelling the remoter parts of the Outer Rim and had finally attained his knighthood about five years ago.

In that time, he had met every species imaginable, be they bipedal oxygen breathers (damn common) or multi-tentacled plants that lived on the side of Tibanna gas vents in the outer crust of Taris (not so common). He had thought that he'd come to understand sapient species the world over thanks to his diligent studies and regular meditation on the whims of the Force.

Up until today.

Because today, he'd found himself on Geonosis again, this time as a fighter rather than as an attache to a Senatorial Investigation committee like last time. That much he understood. The Geonosians had always been a bit of a ticking time bomb.

What he didn't understand was who he was fighting with and half of what they were asking him to do.

"You're asking me to fly?"

"Ja, of course I am. Aren't you a Knight possessing mystic powers? Just power up your flight formula und provide us with targeting data already." The clone Captain told him impatiently.

"I... I can't fly." Calo said.

"But zat... Vot can you do?" She asked in an accent he had never heard of before.

"Well, I can use the Force..."

"To fly?" The Captain asked.

"No"

"To fire explosive spells?"

"Hmm... No"

"To strengthen yourself and others?" The Captain finished in an exasperated tone.

"Myself only, really." He shrugged, hitting the side of the trench the Captain and her outfit had taken cover in.

"Was fuer ein nutzlosen idiot..." She muttered. "Und vhy vere you about to charge ze enemy over open ground? Vere you trying to get yourself killed? Ve just saved you!"

"I was kind of counting on you following me." He pointed out. "I was given temporary command after all."

"Ja, und you just got relieved of zat command Herr knight. Hauptfrau!"

"Jawohl!" One of the helmeted troopers said, springing to attention.

"Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid! Radio, I vant a message broadcast to all units in ze field. It seems our mystic friends are as suicidal as we first thought after all. I recommend zeir removal from command as a top priority."

"Already done Kapitaen."

"Liaison, inform Orbital elements zat ze Jedi in our group need to be secured and escorted off vorld immediately before zey lose us ze fight. Targeting ze forward Maschinen as cover for ze evac craft is recommended."

"Kapitaen, ze Kommandos are in position."

"Perfect. Tell zem to set ze photon charges and get out. Ze Queen must be roasted if ve are to stand a chance against zeir disruption weapons."

"Sorry, what?" Calo asked.

"Ve are breaking zeir chain of command Herr knight. Vith any luck such action vill prove sufficient to grant us ze upper hand in ze battle ahead."

" It will also result in their extinction."

"Immediate extinction, Herr knight?"

" Umm... No?" He said hesitantly."

"Pity. Guess ve have to fight zem after all. Radio, status on ze artillery!"

"On ze hill and depressed enough to hit ze enemy!"

"Transmit ze following-Fuer die Republik! Feuer frei!"

"Jawohl, transmission sent."

"Gut. Now we wait for Herr knight's transport." The Captain stated. "Take five ladies. After ze transport, ve must secure ze foothills. Ve haven't lost yet, but ve have yet to vin!"

"Kapitaen, are ve getting grav-panzer support?"

"Leider nicht, ve left zem on Kamino."

"... Scheiss."