Name: Orion Alias: The Hunter Planet of Origin: Kamino Race: Human Age: 36 Height: 6'2" Weight: 260 lbs Occupation: Mercenary Family: N/A
"Would a successful project of genetic science on the scale and number of the clone legions that brought rise to the Empire itself be halted for the end of its need? Could such a success be filed away prim and proper when there was so much more that could be done... that needed to be done? No, it could not, and as the perpetrators of our planets occupation sit comfortably in their seats of power, we will continue to press on in our research... What once serviced them will now service us...."
-Unsigned Note to the office of Lama Su
Not long after the Clone Wars and the creation of The Galactic Empire, Kamino found itself pressed under the heel of Imperial oppression along with the rest of the galaxy. Their work to aid in the creation of the Empire with the use of their cloning technologies and Genetic sciences matter for not in the eyes of a human biased galaxy, and with the fires of a new Rebellion burning across many planets the introverted Kaminoans continued their research into human physiology and cloning techniques. So it came to pass that as the Kaminoans worked in secret to create a new Clone army for the rising rebellion, they actively sought to improve on the biological model they had used as a base for so many years. Concentrating primarily on those aspects which would improve their clones ability to fight and survive, they attempted to further enhance the human ability to consciously control their body and mental conditioning.
Born in a cloning tube in the inner recesses of Tipoca City, Orion grew at an accelerated rate, viewing the outside world through the murky bluish hue of his birthing vat. His body was grown to perfectly proportioned statistics, drawn and redrawn over many many times with previous clone models, his outward appearance similar but not the photocopy of so many other clone troopers of previous eras. As he grew, so did his understanding of what he was and with that, the abilities he had been created with. As he floated his first few days of creation away in suspension, he was feed long series of information directly into his mind, training for the fighting he would see on the battlefields of distant worlds and the space above them. He found he had not only an instant, if not subconscious, recollection of things he had seen, heard, felt and learned but could learn things with a frightening speed. His brain chemistry had been altered radically, allowing him to use both hemispheres of his brain simultaneously, a feat of which no mere human would be able to master, yet he did so with ease.
It was not until the discovery of the insurgency developing on Kamino itself was discovered that he truly felt the berth of the gifts that had been designed within him. As the 501st stormed the faculties, led by one of the projects own birthrights, the fledgling clone army was released from its stores of cloning tanks, and Orion breathed his first breath of real air. Fully alert and aware of what was occurring around him, he fought to first survive, then to defend what was left. Unfortunately he was one of the last tubes to be released as the Kaminoans retreated back to the inner sanctums of the complex. Left without weapons or armor, naked on the cold durasteel floor and cut off from outside contact, he ran his real first test as a the next step of the clone project, a step that would turn out to be its last.
Quickly moving to the terminal station below his tube of birth, he accessed the communications systems, a single hand playing over the controls as he tapped into the video monitoring system controls on the outer doors. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the progressing troops slowly make their way into the compound. His left hand moved to a completely different display console as he used his genetically given talents to activate lock down systems to bar as many doors in the labs as possible to try and spare some time. As the doors closed around the room he was in a pair of blue striped, white armored Stormtroopers squeezed in at the last moment, their blasters already aimed at their perceived threat.
Gripping the consoles edge, he hurled himself over it, watching as they opened fire. Sparks flew from the terminal as spray and pray fire lashed out at him as he landed on his feet on the other side. Biting down, he held back a cry of pain as he felt the heat of a blaster bolt burn away at the skin of his hand, gritting his teeth he mentally clamped down on those nerves leading up his wrist, dulling out the pain and clearing his head of it. As the Troopers made their approach, sliding from either side of the panel in an attempt to flank him, he quickly lept out to his right, shoulder bashing the trooper in his outwardly extended blaster, the discharge firing wildly into the ceiling.
As the release of adrenaline poured through him, he watched events unfold as if in slow motion. The other trooper, still moving around the side of the station, leveled his own blaster rifle against him. Griping the troopers arm, he used his own weight to swing him around his side, positioning him between the rifle and himself as the blaster went off. The muffled scream ripped through the helmet as the heated gases burned their way through his suit and into his back, the damage done to his spine would be life threatening at the least.
Wasting little of the time afforded to him by this surprise, he kicked the man back against his companion, the blaster falling from his grip as the weight of a fully armored stormtrooper fell upon him. Leaping over the pile of bodies, he landed foot first against the helmet of the flail trooper, snapping his neck to the side as he reached over for the loose firearm. Now armed, but completely nude, he looked down at the terminal, still scorched by the stray fire that had rendered it useless. Though itself ruined, the monitor still displayed video feed from a few of the doors that had not been blasted apart by the sudden lock down.
Troops were pouring in from every conceivable angle, and by the sounds of detonations coming from rooms not so far away, he could tell that the battle had been lost and the enemy was thus far penetrating the innards of the cloning faculty itself. If the faculty had already been lost then there was little need to die in a worthless battle this day. Stealing the time it would take for the nearby troopers to blast their way through an unknown number of doors separating him from them, he striped the armor of the trooper he had so casually snapped the neck of. Donning his unmarred uniform, he placed its former host across the blasted terminal remains, firing a shot into his back, at range to make the scene look more convincing.
Moving along the base of the wall, he slipped into a corner of the room closest to the entrance the two men had slipped into. Faintly he could hear the clang of more armoured feet on the other side of the wall, undoubtedly the approach of their comrades. Within minutes the doorway burst apart in a wall of flame, more troops spilling in through their newly created hole. Falsely saluting the first to enter he ran back through the hole in the hopes that the view left for those inside would be enough... it was not. He knew they were chasing him, if not for the fact he could feel it in his gut, then for the sound of footsteps that only seemed to grow strong from behind him.
Running at full sprint, he knew he was making distance between them but for every troop he passed he knew another trooper would be just as quickly on his heels. He knew not where he was going for certain, but his path was to lead him outside, and if at all possible, to a transport on one of the cargo pads so that he could make his ultimate escape. As he wound from passage to passage he tried not to commit to any single path, sometimes winding back into the complex to throw off his would be pursuers. As hallways criss crossed themselves he would gain occasional glimpses of doors leading to the outside, some blown open, some hanging ajar, but all of them had a few armed guards holding them secure. He would have to, at some point, attempt an escape by one of these doors.
Knowing that as time progressed the teams of men trailing him would slowly circle and entrap him, he would have to make a choice and go with it before the noose of time strung him up forever. Ahead a pair of doors hung loosely from their sliding frame, a pair of troopers standing guard, one hidden behind the frame of the door, his blaster plainly visible poking out the side of the frame, and another looking out towards the ravaging seas defensively. Barreling down the corridor he feel flat on his back, using his forward momentum to come sliding down the last few feet towards the door, crashing into the out turned guard as he kicked his foot up to slam him just behind the knee. As he came crashing down, he tilted his own blaster to fire a shot off into the abdomen of the other guard who immediately doubled over, clutching his chest from the shock of the blast as he fell to his knees.
Pressing himself up from the ground, he made for another dash as the sounds of boots on metal grow only closer. Yet no sooner had he gotten to his feet than a paralyzing blow caught him well in the mid back. Rifle dangling from his fingers he fell forwards as if in slow motion. Behind him a trooper pulled back the butt of his rifle and smashed him behind the head once more. Hidden behind the other side of the door frame, he had seen the first man go down and watched the blaster bolt flare into his other companions stomach. He had raised his rifle in a quickly defensive posture, but as Orion moved swiftly to continue running, not realizing he was there, turning his rifle quickly by his waist, all he could do was to pistol whip him until he could turn the barrel on him as he had witnessed him do so unceremoniously to his compatriot.
Stumbling over his own feet in a daze, he watched as the trooper grabbed his rifle in correct firing posture and leveled it directly at him. Wincing for the coming shot that would end his life, he hardly noticed his vision turning skyward as the stormtrooper fell farther away from sight. In reality it was him that fell away, the blows knocking him from his sprint, right off balance and over the edge of the railing separating them from nothing. Shaking his head quickly, he regained semblance of affable thought as he breathed out his last breath before impacting the water. If he got the wind knocked out of him on impact there would be no chance of surviving the rough tumbling waters of the storm surged world.
Gasping a quick breath of air as he sank below the waves, he clamped down on every cell in his body, drawing out the molecules of air contained within. He would have to stay down a very long time to convince them he had died on impact, and then only if they didn't come down to look for him. He closed his eyes as the murky blackness surrounded him, sinking lower and lower into the cold depths. Counting slowly in his head, he felt the warmth ebb from himself as the water temperature sunk the faster he did. If he didn't move quickly he would die of hypothermia long before he drowned. Opening his eyes proved to be a futile effort, unable to even see the hand before his face. Thinking as clearly as he could through the cold that chilled him to the bone, he recalled his last visions as he fell backwards into the water.
The troop had been watching him go, looking over the edge of the railing, he could see him clearly in his minds eye, confirming his death most likely. The impact had jarred him badly, nearly chipping a tooth against another tooth as his jaw smashed shut on impact. He remembered a pole, one of many that held the facility up, directly positioned between his legs about a meter ahead of him. Pushing his legs down into the water, he began to tread his arms and feet in opposite directions, working up a rhythm which to allow him to stop losing ground between him and the oceans depths.
Spreading his arms wide as if opening an old fashioned door, he slowly closed the distance between himself and the direction he believed the pole had been in. His lungs began to burn with the need of replenishment as it took a full minute to reach the massive pole that had looked much closer on the way down than it actually had been. Consciously squeezing what air he could from his body, he had to be careful not to push too much lest he might deprive his brain the vital fuel that it needed and cause himself undue brain damage for it. He had to hurry.
Wrapping his arms as wide as he could about the pole, he griped tightly and pushed himself up, propelling himself through the water like a vertical game of leapfrog, every meter or so gripping the pliant metal base and shoving himself up by another foot. Feeling the outline of something unusual through the thick glove tips of the Stormtrooper armor he was still wearing, he let his hand trail around it. It was pressed up from the surface of the pole, like a frame, as his hand continued to trail around it he quickly came to realize it was a small airlock of sorts, obviously built at intervals down the length of the pole when repairs might become necessary.
Sliding his body up tight to the doorway, he placed either boot into the frame of the door and lifted up against the wheel of the doorway, anchoring himself in place. Slowly he cranked the wheel, the lock audibly squealing even through the water as its hinges moved in time with his turning. His mind screamed for air, his body burned for it even as he squeezed through the gap he had left in the door frame, barely wide enough for him to fit through, but as much time as it had taken him to get it that far he couldn't waste a second more to get in. Luckily the inner mechanism of the airlock was a bit more modern than its hatch counterpart. Slapping a button on the inner door, the outer door swung back shut, the wheel auto spinning back into place as the room slowly re-pressurized around him.