Disclaimer: I own neither Goblin Slayer nor Star Wars, though I wish I did.

Deathtrooper

Chapter 1

Motivations

DT-227, that has been his designation for as long as he could remember. He had no name beyond the walls of fortresses and starships, just another black helmet among the seas of white armored Stormtroopers and the grey of the officer corps.

He was what they called a 'Deathtrooper', an elite and genetically altered soldier trained nearly from birth by the Special Forces Bureau. A mere 300 of them existed, protecting high-level moffs, administrators, and officers. They were feared by all, most contenders believing them not to even be human. That was wrong, but they, the Deathtroopers, may as well not be. They were monsters, attack dogs kept on a tight leash by their officers and commanders.

That didn't bother DT-227, for he was trained and raised for one purpose; serving the Empire. He did that job without pride and killed without prejudice in any engagement he was sent out on.

Deathtroopers did not feel, they did not laugh nor cry. They were droids, but more vicious, they were clones but without personality. Twas the sad existence of their kind, but they did their job without complaint or regret.

DT-227 was out on one such job with his commanding officer and a squad of their three other brothers, DT-109, DT-53, and DT-201. They were headed to some primarily jungle outer rim planet where it was believed the daughter of the regional governor was being held by pirates and mutineers from her security detail.

None of them spoke, they never did unless it was necessary. After all, there was nothing to talk about among them. Their plan was embedded in their minds like an insect in the skin, the entirety of their existence focused on that idea.

The officer directing them, or more precisely acting as their handler, addressed the group.

"The daughter is to be saved at all costs, alive and unharmed. Anyone between you and her is to be killed, do not worry about killing them all. The fleet will finish whatever is left after she is secured and extracted," The officer, with his posh, high-class tone of voice, addressed their commander. The man spoke without a hint of fear, and a sign of how much he dealt with their sort. Most saw a Deathtrooper and felt a twinge of terror or fear. After all, they towered over the average human thanks to their augmented bodies. The jet black armor and voice scramblers certainly didn't make them any more approachable. People like the officer, however, knew the Deathtroopers would never harm them. Not only that, but they physically couldn't unless other orders or directives countermanded that. It would have been humorous to DT-227, the fact that the officer's continued survival was balanced entirely upon a preprogramming the Deathtroopers received, had, in fact, had a sense of humor to speak of.

"Yes, sir," Responded their commander, though it was probably more the nod he gave the officer that gave his confirmation, as the man couldn't understand a word they were saying. The officer studied the face of the commander's helmet for a few more moments before giving a sharp nod a returning to the cockpit of the shuttle.

"Arrival is in five minutes, be ready," Were his final words to them before the doors closed. The moment they did, the commander nodded to his men. They all rose to their feet, having been seated on the seats arrayed on opposite sides of the shuttle's bay.

A few minutes passed before the shuttle landed with a hefty rock, signaling their arrival. The ramp leading out of the shuttle opened soon after, bathing the black armored soldiers and their dark compartment with light. The commander signaled forwards for the squad to move, and they didn't waste a moment, spilling out with blasters raised. The group created a semi-circle about the shuttle's ramp. The pilots, evidently not looking to wait around, took off the moment the commander stepped off. The squad watched as their transport left, leaving them with a jungle filled with traitors and brigands.

Without a word, the squad prowled forwards. They all had their blasters raised, scanning the trees from hostiles. The commander wordlessly indicated left with his off hand, one of the men turning and slipping that direction. DT-53, the squad marksman, was soon gone and out of both visual and auditory range.

The rest prowled onwards, headed where their sensors pointed the compound to be. The only resistance met was a couple of guards, one a traitor adorned in Stormtrooper armor.

DT-227 made quick work of one with his combat knife, the pirate dispatched by the snapping of his neck, the handy work of their commander. With those two dispatched, the group made their way forwards with little worry about being caught unawares by another patrol. After all, the officers inside likely doubted Deathtroopers would be deployed. A belief that would cost them dearly, rare though Deathtroopers might be.

The squad came to the clearing that housed the base, estimated to hold around two-hundred hostiles armed to the tooth.

Light resistance.

"Take down the sentries at the front gate," Ordered the commander over the radio. In response, the two sentries in their towers dropped from some unseen force.

"Down," Responded the marksman, his gruff voice muffle somewhat by the hiss of his rifle. The commander indicated towards the wall with one hand before creeping forwards himself. The squad slinked after their commander, stopping at the wall and extending their wrists. On each of their identical suits of armor, a small hole opened to reveal a small, metal hook. They all aimed up, firing. The grappling hooks landed, entrenching themselves into the wall above.

The squad climbed, reaching the top in a matter of moments. This was all in spite of the fact that the wall was, at the very least, seven meters tall with not clear grips.

"Sweep and clear," Ordered the commander before vaulting over what little of the wall remained and falling to the dusting earth below. The rest followed, landing hard and loud. Every eye in the courtyard turned to them, shock and even a little fear written in those many faces.

Not a word was spoken by the Deathtroopers, they were not here for prisoners. Their blasters roared to life, cutting down pirate and traitor alike in mere seconds. Their precision fire put the Stormtroopers to shame and made short work of the poorly trained pirates.

DT-227 broke off, cutting across the courtyard while putting down a few more of the hostiles. It wasn't a fight, the traitors and hostiles were ill-prepared for such a vicious and decisive assault, likely too distracted to notice the sniper support.

Within seconds, two dozen men lay dead in the courtyard.

"Clear," Chorused the squad, marksman included. The commander indicated towards the compound with one hand and the squad moved silently towards its side door. Alarms had already started blaring, not that it would even slow the Deathtroopers down.

A slice later and the door was open, allowing them easy access to the interior of the compound. Silent as the great hunters of Felucia, the squad of intimidating and massive Deathtroopers slunk through the flashing hallways of the treasonous compound.

The squad carved through any and all hostiles like a hot knife through butter, suffering no casualties as they went.

"Three hostiles and the target," Announced the engineer of the squad, a small device in hand that he had slipped under the door to the final room. The commander nodded, grabbing a grenade from his belt.

"227, stun grenade on my mark," Ordered the commander, giving his own grenade a small toss as if testing its weight. DT-227 complied, grabbing his own grenade and twisting the top, eliciting a low beep. The commander nodded to the engineer, who was in the middle of retracting his odd device. The soldier quickly sliced the panel but stopped from opening the door outright. The engineer looked to the commander, awaiting the order.

"Now," Ordered the commander in a conversational tone, as if they weren't here to butcher cowardly traitors and the like.

The door slid open, not even fulling coming to a stop before two grenades bounced in.

"STUN-" Cried one of the guards before the two grenades went off. The Deathtroopers poured in, cutting down those who remained with the vicious efficiency expected of them.

"Clear," Came the chorus of voices as they spilled in. The girl, their intended target, was curled on the ground, desperately rubbing her eyes. The commander knelt down and, none too nicely, grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"We are here to rescue you, ma'am," Said the commander, briefly deactivating his voice scrambler. The girl blinked the tears from her eyes, coming face-to-face with the intimidating face of the commander's helmet. She screamed, naturally, and tried to pry her arm from his iron grip. This would never work, of course, as the man barely reacted as he rose.

"We need evac," The commander said into the comms.

"Copy, moving to the extraction point," Responded one of the pilots on their shuttle. The commander nodded to his men, still ignoring the sobbing and struggling girl. No one even looked at her as they made their way back out of the compound. Naturally, a few more helpless cases tried to stop the squadron of Deathtroopers. They were of no concern.

The squad made it out in record time, but they reached a problem. It seemed half the remaining guards were outside, waiting for the squad. The commander pushed the girl towards DT-227, who took her without a word even as she gave a shocked cry at the abrasive shove.

"Stay here," The commander told him as he and the rest of the squad dove outside.

"Yes, sir," DT-227 responded simply, standing unmoving as the sounds of fighting outside reached their ears. The girl, still sobbing albeit a little quieter now stared up at him. The fear in her eyes should never have moved the Deathtrooper, he had seen the look before on targets moments before he pulled the trigger. Yet there was something in their bright, watery depths that touched his iron heard.

It felt… Wrong, this feeling. Was it pity? He couldn't remember…

"It's okay, you're safe now," He spoke before he could stop himself, the words slipping from his mouth. The voice scrambler had been turned off, an action he didn't remember taking. He silently admonished himself as the girl flinched but seemed to stop her crying. She gave a slight nod, seemingly believing DT-227. He opened his mouth to say more but was cut off by voices coming in over the radio.

"Clear!" He reactivated his scrambler and walked out, pulling the girl along behind him. He loosened his grip as she stopped struggling.

"It's 400 meters to the evac site, 227, carry the girl," Ordered the commander. DT-227 responded by sweeping the girl up in his arms, eliciting a cry of shock from her. The front gate opened, the guards who had been there previously laying about the defenses, dead. The squad dropped into dead sprints, sailing across the ground as if they were hovering, not running.

They reached the evac site in record time, the shuttle already waiting for them. Their handler and one of the pilots stood outside, blasters raised and searching the landing zone. Upon spotting the Deathtroopers, the pilot slipped back inside as the officer stood off to one side, granting them room inside. The Deathtroopers slowed to a near stop as they reached the ramp, entering the shuttle wordlessly. The officer nodded to the squad, a critical eye passing over them, before hitting a button on a nearby console. The ramp barely started closing when the pilots took off, clearly in a hurry to get off the planet.

"Command, LZ clear, you are clear, over," The officer said to his wrist communicator.

"Copy, Major Jeron, preparing for orbital bombardment." Came the cultured tone of the communication operator aboard the Star Destroyers above the planet's surface.

Another five seconds passed before the roar of explosions came from behind the shuttle. DT-227 knelt down and set the girl back on her own feet, indicating to one of the seats. With a sniff, she took it and buckled her self in, purposely avoiding DT-227's gaze. 227, briefly, looked at her before shaking his head and rising, whatever this sentimentality was it needed to go.

"227, keep an eye on the girl," His commander ordered as he and the other Deathtroopers unloaded themselves and replaced their blasters on the holding bays.

"Shuttle I-15, report to extraction point Delta-1, over," Came the voice of the commanding officer aboard one of the three ISDs that had provided the barrage.

"Copy, Supremacy, Major Jeron, out," The officer lowered his wrist and sat at a console located at the front of the bay. Silence reigned, save the quiet conversation between their commander and the officer, the others all still unloading themselves. DT-227 took the moment to look back down at the girl, blaster held loosely at his side.

The fear in her eyes had been replaced by apprehension. The unasked question she had lingered in the air for a few moments before he spoke.

"We're taking you back to your father, don't worry," DT-227 spoke softly, feeling a slight amount of shame at being so… human. He was anything but, he was a weapon, not some compassionate soul.

She visibly flinched at the word 'father', something not lost on the Deathtrooper. He didn't have a moment to ask, however, as the shuttle suddenly lurched due to some unseen force. DT-227 nearly lost his footing, catching himself on one of the girl's armrests. The officer in command of the Deathtroopers cursed before turning his seat and yelling up to the cockpit.

"Pilot, what was that?!"

"T-The hyperdrive, sir, something-" the pilot's next words was lost to the occupants of the holding area, as the ship suddenly lurched forwards again. This time, it didn't stop. All Deathtroopers, DT-227 included, were thrown back towards the entrance ramp. Unlike the others, however, DT-227 was saved by the fact that he was holding the armrest of the girl. The sudden force still hurt like all hell and bent the durasteel armrest, but it saved DT-227 the fate suffered by his squad. The rest of the Deathtroopers hurtled backward and into the closed ramp behind, their collision combined with a number of audible cracks. The girl, apparently in some vain hope of helping him, grabbed DT-227's hand and pulled. It did literally nothing to help him, but DT-227 appreciate the sentiment. The sounds of the shuttle's shields struggling to keep the hull together filling his ears, DT-227 tried to pull himself forwards. He managed to get his foot onto the armrest of a chair closer to the ramp, giving him some leverage to pull. It was a pain, a force several times that than anything they were put through during training fighting him every step of the way.

His grip grew weaker, the push too much even for his augmented body. DT-227 began slipping, fingers slowly losing all feeling as they lost more ground on the armrest.

Then, something clicked in his mind.

The mission, protect the governor's daughter.

A small voice, sounding distinctly like that of Governor Tarkin, spoke quietly. A sudden boost of adrenaline and purpose forced him forwards like someone had just injected him with enough bacta to kill a Rancor.

With a forearm, he forced the girl to a sitting position as he climbed. The force, which was once so overwhelming, became nothing more than a minor nuisance. He climbed into the seat on her immediate right, buckling himself in and thanking whatever force it was that gave him the much-needed push. She yelled something, but even the helmet's heightened hearing capabilities failed to pick it up.

DT-227 put a hand on her back and forced her to lean down. He then quickly put both of her hands on the back of her head, giving a slight push to indicate they should stay this way. He tried to do the same, but the thrice-damned chestplate blocked him.

Their travel lasted another five minutes before the ship shook violently and came to a sudden, and equally painful, stop. The girl screamed, the officer yelled, and DT-227 grunted as his head was thrown sideways, sending sharp pain up his neck.

The girl tried to sit up but was stopped by DT-227's hand. They were still flying or perhaps falling if the rattling was anything to go by.

The question lasted no more than half a second as, suddenly, the collided with… Something. The ship rolled, throwing DT-227's head into the wall of the shuttle.

Everything went dark and he knew no more.

"... Sir?! Can you hear me?" A voice cried, and DT-227 wondered why it wouldn't leave him alone. He had a raging headache and what felt like a detonator-sized lump on the back of his head.

"Please, wake up!"

"Girl, leave him! He's probably in a coma, no use to us!" DT-227 wanted to agree with the voice and go back into his peaceful and pain-free slumber, but another voice joined them.

One that was in his head.

Rise, the mission isn't over, yet.

It was Tarkin's voice once again, compelling DT-227 to open his eyes. His HUD was still on, several warnings about his health popping up. Past that all was the tear-stained face of the girl they had just saved, her delicate hands shaking his shoulders. Naturally, her machinations did little to move him but seemed to appease her.

"Status?" He asked, eliciting a gasp from the girl and a swear from the officer, somewhere to his left.

"You're still alive?!" The officer demanded from wherever he was.

"Barely optimal, but yes, I am alive," The trooper sat up, forcing the girl to stumble back and sit next to him.

"A lot more hardy than your team, then," The officer muttered. DT-227 turned, spotting the man still at the console he had been sitting at prior to their unintended jump.

"What is their status?"

"Dead, their bones were shattered when they were thrown against the ramp," He pointed out the now open ramp, at the bodies littering the bottom. Their armor had crushed and crumpled, if the men had survived the initial hit, then they likely wouldn't have survived the armor collapsing in on them.

"Status of the ship?" Not a hint of sadness or pity rose in DT-227's heart as he turned to face the officer.

"Totalled, only the comms survived."

"The pilots?"

"Dead, the entire cockpit was crushed."

"What is the status of the comms relay?" The officer let out an irritated sigh, rubbing the sides of his face.

"They're working, but there isn't a connection. Not Imperial, not civilian, hell, not even rebel."

"Have you checked the array?"

"Yes, completely intact, it's as if we exit the entire bloody comm zone. The Imperial comm zone reaches out over 3,000 lightyears, and smuggler line go out even further to do some of their business." The officer groaned, staring balefully at the console before him.

"Are we on a friendly planet?" Asked DT-227, a new order appeared in his mind.

"No, what is this, twenty questions? We are lost in space!" DT-227 slowly rose to his feet before wincing, the pain in his back forcing him to a knee.

"Mister, you aren't-" The girl started, but was silenced by the Deathtrooper grabbing a blaster pistol that had fallen at his feet. Her face paled instantly, but this was either not seen or ignored by the Deathtrooper. He prowled up to the officer, blaster hanging at his side.

"We are without support, communications, or any clear sign of assistance?" Asked DT-227 with some finality.

"No, I just fucking told you, trooper! What is with all these questions-" The man spun in his seat and recoiled, finding a blaster shoved in his face.

Directive 31; Should a Deathtrooper or a Deathtrooper squadron find themselves lost in unknown or hostile territory with no clear or easily accessible help or escape route, then they are to execute any and all Imperial personnel among them that are incapable of keeping pace with the Deathtrooper(s) to ensure Imperial information and supplies do not fall into the hands of the hostile force.

They are to destroy the transport they arrived in and vacate the area immediately.

The officer didn't even have time to yell. DT-227 pulled the trigger, his black armor briefly illuminated by a flash of red. He lowered the gun, watching the officer's body slump forwards and fall from his seat.

DT-227 then turned to the girl, the horrified realization that she was next spilling into the girl's face and eyes. She tried to scramble back, tears starting anew. DT-227 briskly walked up to her, staring down at the girl. He raised the pistol, aiming it directly at her head.

His finger looped around the trigger, silence falling as she seemed to be too shocked and terrified to make a sound. The only noise now was his slow, methodic breathing.

His directive was clear, kill any and all Imperial personnel that would be incapable of keeping pace with him, and yet…

He hand started shaking as he tried to force himself to pull the trigger, but no matter how much he tried to, nothing happened.

Follow your orders through, trooper. She cannot fall into enemy hands.

Came Tarkin's voice, compelling him further. DT-227's breathing picked up, grabbing his hand with the other and trying, with all his might, to fire. Nothing, he couldn't do it.

Now, trooper!

Damn-it-all, he tried, but he couldn't bring himself to fire. Both his hands were shaking, but he couldn't bring himself to execute her.

NOW, TROOPER!

He started panting, the mental strain growing too be unbearable. His hands shook so much now that he could barely even keep the blaster lined up with her head.

Finally, he broke, dropping the gun and falling on his knees. He started coughing, something wet and warm coming and splattering the inside of his mouth.

"W-what-" The girl started, clearly still confused as well as terrified.

"Out!" DT-227 snapped, pointing outside of the ship, into whatever forest they seemed to have landed in. She obliged without question, scrambling out and down the ramp, out of his sight.

He ripped his helmet off, coughing again. Unsurprisingly, the liquid was blood. More splattered onto the floor, his vision becoming blurred as the same voice of the Grand Moff screamed in his head.

He banged his forehead on the floor, the pain alleviating that which was ailing him so. It lasted for only a moment before the raging headache returned full-force. It was paralyzing, he couldn't think straight.

A sharp pain erupted in his head, compelling him to vomit up the ration bars he had eaten a few hours earlier.

The voices finally fell silent, leaving him in the blissful sounds of the forest outside… and her sobbing near the bottom of the ramp.

In spite of it all, in spite of her clear fear, and his roaring pain, DT-227 laughed. The screaming, the worst of the pain, it was gone…

He felt… free? Whatever it was, it felt amazing.

Shakily, he forced himself to his feet, noticing that her cries were silenced by his insane laughter. DT-227 pulled his helmet back on, stumbling towards the ramp. Unsurprisingly, he left the blaster behind him.

The girl was seated at the bottom of the ramp, her legs pulled up to her chest as she seemed to await his next actions. The trooper, gripping his burning stomach, stumbled down the ramp. His plastic boots, which made quite a lot of noise, drew her attention and reignited her shaking. He came to rest next to her before collapsing backward, laying on the ramp.

Silence reigned between the two of them for a few moments as DT-227 fought to reign in the wave of emotions crashing about in his mind like a raging ocean.

"I'm sorry," He spoke, finally. She nodded in response, not looking at him.

An hour later, and a couple bacta injections, DT-227 was back on his feet and fulfilling part of his directive. The bodies of the other Deathtroopers were loaded onto the shuttle. He quickly placed the commander's blaster rifle on his back, one of the modified standard issue blaster rifles that survived the crash, and a pistol on his person. These were joined by several grenades and stunners on his now many bandoliers.

Two duffle bags held all the medical supplies, food, and miscellaneous supplies he could find. Loaded up, he primed the shuttle to detonate in five minutes.

DT-227 rose and walked down to the ramp, where the girl was waiting. She looked up at him as he walked down, bearing the load of half an Imperial company. He stopped at the foot, both staring at the other. While she couldn't see his eyes. DT-227 felt as if she were reading him. A few moments passed before he jerked his head left, in the direction where the forest seemed thinnest.

She looked in the direction he nodded in before looking back up at his helmet. A small nod and she ran over to his side. They began walking, not a word shared between them as they went.

He, the towering Deathtrooper, loaded up with enough equipment to destroy a battle station and the skill to know how to, and her, a girl, though perhaps young woman would be fairer, who should have been enjoying what remained of her childhood instead of being dragged into the chess game that was politics and adulthood.

What an unlikely duo, but their adventure was only just beginning. For, while it may have been an accident that brought them here, fate was rewritten by their very presence.