"They're a rough bunch, don't like taking instruction. They're stubborn and standoffish, and don't play well with others. But they're also highly organized amongst themselves, showing more coordination and cooperation as a group than I've ever seen. In the wrong hands, they'll always be a disaster waiting to happen. But they're far from unpredictable or unstable. On the other hand, they don't have much respect for the GAR, and none at all for the Republic. They're not even especially impressed by Jedi," Rex reported solemnly

"They sound like my kind of troopers," Anakin remarked.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Rex sighed.

"We're short of manpower," Anakin excused himself, "They're unattached. We could always use another good squad, right?" he didn't wait for an answer, "So I'll have them assigned permanently to you," which in turn meant they were assigned to Anakin himself, "So go give them the good news."

"Yes sir," Rex said.

"Oh, and Rex-"

"Sir?"

"Good work."

Rex dipped his head, acknowledging the praise. Anakin did not offer praise lightly. It dawned on Rex only now that Anakin might have had his doubts about Fortune Actual's rehabilitation.

The danger signals from the squad were all but gone now, and Rex felt fine with leaving Volk in charge, under clear instructions as to how he was expected to conduct himself and how the squad as a whole were meant to behave. Rex had noticed that much of the tension Volk had been expressing had disappeared, though Rex didn't know why that was and could only assume it had something to do with Volk's new found trust in Rex as his leader.

The only question that now remained was that of Tavis. And that was something Rex had no say in. He'd visited Tavis earlier today, to thank him for his help, but Tavis had not even looked at him. His eyes had been open, but he hadn't appeared to see or hear Rex.

It had been explained to Rex that Tavis had inhaled something toxic on Onithera, but it wasn't clear to him what it had been, or what it was doing or if it was fatal. He got the impression that the medical droids he spoke with hadn't a clue either, and that was disturbing to him.

What was clear, however, was that Tavis had been operating with sheer willpower and, his goal having been completed, he had nothing left to fight for. He was spent, and seemed to be fading.

It didn't seem right somehow, that Tavis would die after having succeeded in what he was sent out to do. And Rex would prefer to have Tavis at the head of Fortune Actual rather than Volk. Volk was edgier than Tavis, more inclined to fight, to lash out. Besides, if Tavis didn't return to the squad, they would be a man short. And who could possibly be put with the squad as it was now?

Things were improving with the squad, but any ordinary clone would be ripped to shreds by the end of the week if they were forced to actually work and live with them. The pack was too unpredictable, too aggressive. They might be able to behave in a social setting where they were given their own personal space bubble. But an odd one in their midst would be like giving a lamb to a pack of wolves.

It wouldn't be fair to the squad, or the unfortunate sheep. Nor was it fair to the army or even any squads who might be around Fortune Actual in future. Really, they needed Tavis at the helm, to settle them and to fill out the ranks. Either that, or Rex was going to have to go to an extensive amount of trouble to find a compatible personality for the squad. He couldn't do that. There was a war on, after all, and he had his regular job too. He couldn't spend his life babysitting.

Only time would tell if Tavis would survive and be returned to the squad. For now, they would have to do without him. More important, they would have to do without Rex's personal attention. It was time for him to return to his regular duties, to let Volk manage the squad on his own. If they needed him, he'd be there, but he didn't believe they did need his direct guidance. Not anymore.

It was their first mission since Onithera. The planet below was swarming with Separatists, whose native government had reached out to the Republic before being totally suppressed. It was now the job of the GAR to go down and take that planet back.

Fortune Actual didn't need to worry about the whole planet, just their small hundred square mile piece of real estate. It was the job of General Skywalker to establish a foothold on the surface, and then deploy his troops to spread out and take the planet inch by inch.

For the initial assault, Fortune Actual would be side by side with other squads. After that, they would spread out, losing visual contact with their lieutenant, but staying in radio contact so that they could report any activity and be told whether or not to engage, if they should wait for another squad first, that kind of thing. But they would mostly be on their own, just the way they liked it.

Recently promoted Corporal Volk was acting as squad sergeant, and wearing a second hat as the head of fireteam Actual, which consisted of Privates Doc, Garm and Damyu. Now PFC Caden was heading up fireteam Fortune, composed of Privates Onoff and Phisher and unranked member Theran.

They were short one man, and had a rookie in their midst. Their medic was actually a mechanic with field experience, and the closest thing they had to a sniper was Phisher, who was actually more skilled at getting in close without being noticed. They had a man whose orders you had to be careful of, because recall was a virtual impossibility. And they had a leader who lived by instinct rather than regulations. This was Fortune Actual.

Bean was their pilot, and they shared the airship with multiple squads. With the shields down, they couldn't see out. Shots fired around them, and they knew any one of those shots could end this thing before it even began. The airship lurched, taking a light hit, jolting but harmless. Closer in, the airship gunners responded by attacking right back now they were in range.

Tension filled the air, but not fear. Never fear. GAR troopers weren't afraid to fight, or to die. If they were afraid of anything, it was that they might die without ever getting the chance to fight. There had been some trepidation from other squads about climbing in with the Onitheran, some thought it might attack them, others wondered if it might become upset in the closed, dark place with shots flying all around. If it panicked, it could do them a lot of harm.

But Theran was quiet, leaning his weight against Caden to help him balance with each buck of the airship, his luminous eyes glowing in the near darkness. And then the lights came on.

"Shields go in thirty," Bean called out.

Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds and the airships ahead of them would be cleared out, the shields would go up, and they would open fire at any threat, clearing the way for both their ship and the ships behind them. They weren't doing that now because there was too great a risk that they might hit their own ships. They had to wait for those to clear out, just as those ships had waited for the ones before them.

Volk turned to Caden, who nodded curtly. His men were ready.

"Fortune goes with us," Caden said.

"Actual survives," Volk replied.

"Shields go in ten," Bean announced, and then counted down unnecessarily.

The moment he'd said 'thirty' every man aboard had been counting down the seconds in his head. Of course, it didn't matter what their count was, since he was the one opening the doors. But it made no difference. They were all in synch. A final verbal warning and the shields were gone.

As the lieutenant had told them before they left, squads lined off, arranging themselves so that they were not in each other's way, and so that the majority of them were nearly impossible targets to hit. Theran flattened to the floor, he hadn't learned to shoot. Yet.

A blast hit right at the lip of the flooring, and one clone was knocked from his perch. He fell the fifteen feet to the ground, bounced, rolled, disappeared from view. But he was not dead, as bright flashes coming from his position indicated. He was up and firing and on his way to meet up with the airship when it dropped. That was the advantage of knowing the coordinates where everything was supposed to happen before you dropped.

Theran became agitated. It had been Caden who dropped. But he didn't even require a quiet word to keep him from jumping out after Caden. His superior sense of smell and hearing told him where Caden was, which way he was going. The distance between them was closing, and that was fine.

The airship hovered just above the ground and the troops unloaded. Without word or greeting, Caden rejoined his squad. He exchanged a brief glance with Volk. The lieutenant was in charge of how the squad as a whole was deployed, but Volk and Caden were responsible for what they did and which man went where. Sure they were still in synch, they moved out towards the minimally available cover of what had been a city but was now a ruins thanks to the Separatist droids and their tanks.

Speaking of tanks... Volk glanced up towards the next oncoming ship. This one was bringing a walker and its troops. Fortune Actual was meant to secure a place to drop the tank. Tanks were heavy and powerful once they landed, but in the air they were virtually helpless, and so were their crews.

The squad spread out, Volk and Caden occasionally calling out corrections or aiming their men towards a specifically troublesome bunch of droids. There were no Separatist tanks at this location, which was part of why it had been chosen. It was a soft spot in their defenses, or so scouts had reported.

For the most part, the soldiers didn't require further instructions. They knew their job, had been told the part of the plan that concerned them, and they went out with zeal to claim the patch of ground they had been told was their own. They moved in less like invaders, and more like owners, here to run off the intruders in their territory. This, far as they were concerned, was Republic soil. Every square inch they were meant to be taking rightfully belonged to their masters.

This small difference in thinking didn't alter the plan any, merely its execution. Some brilliant mind had noticed that possessive instincts provoke a more aggressive response. There's nothing like a little 'this land is ours' to make one willing to go to any lengths. Defending a position is typically easier than attacking it, but not only because of the physical differences. Being already dug in, having the best vantage points, things like that give advantage. But the biggest one is that of the mind. The confidence of belonging is hugely different from the desire to belong.

To the clones, this piece of ground was theirs. That they had never seen it before in their lives made no difference. It was something no one had to teach Theran, he picked up on it from the energies of those around him. And his own attacks were ferocious enough to match.

The droids had never seen anything like Theran, and were not programmed to recognize him as a threat inherently. Brazenly, Theran dashed across the ground and tackled the first droid he came to, leaping high and grasping it with his hind toes, raking through the armor plating with his front claws and then sliding his narrow beak in and pulling out cables and wires with squeaks of glee.

The droid didn't have time to process what hit it. And Theran had jumped the second one almost before it realized he was there at all, much less a threat. Theran had advantage of total surprise, but he was also fast, and growing more powerful by the day. He attacked with vigor, but it was more game to him than anything. To him, everything was still a game.

He understood that it could have deadly consequences, that those blasters were dangerous, but his youthful arrogance forbade him to be fearful, and he threw himself bodily into the danger and tore it to pieces like a destructive gremlin.

The walker was down now, and had taken its first step forward. The clones darted out of the way, knowing they were invisible to the driver when they were right underneath the walker. The large canon muzzle of the walker turned, found its very first target of the day, and fired.

Theran unleashed a roar of triumph, knowing full well that the first task had been completed. The walker was down, another was just arriving under another squad's protection, and soon the site would only need mopping up. And then the clones would set out to take smaller outposts, eliminate any survivors they came across, and finish claiming their space.

Across the battlefield, Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex were making good progress towards their objective, and gave no thought to what went on behind them. They couldn't afford it, as any distraction could prove fatal. Likewise, Fortune Actual gave them not so much as a glance, trusting fully that they were where they were supposed to be, doing what they were supposed to do.

Here, in this violent setting, where any of them could be maimed or killed in an instant if they took a wrong step, or if any of their brothers took that same misstep, where killing and fighting were the only way to survive, Fortune Actual was, at long last, home.

They had won their lives on the plains of Onithera, earned their right to survive in its rivers and marshes, claimed their place among their kind on board ships, and at last come to the place every clone knew was his birthright, the place where they would fight, and perhaps die, for the greater good, for the Republic, or (for some of them) just for their own kind.

The battlefield was a place of cruelty, sudden violence and inescapable death. But it was also the place for survivors, for those who loved a good fight more than anything, for those who were calm and accepting of both death's reality and fiction. Few would find their home in such a setting.

But Fortune Actual did just that. Because fortune was with them, they survived. And found their way... Home.

The End... or maybe just The Beginning

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it and see you next time. For those of you interested in the further adventures of Fortune, the sequel to Lost Fortune is now uploaded. It is titled Survivors of Fortune. Goodnight everybody, hope to see you next time.