21 BBY, Confederacy Tavern, Seperatist Army Base 1138, Hoth
Beater was having a hard time breathing. He had succesfully infiltrated the Confederate base, and everyone in it thought he was General Farr Kinkiniss. He had money, luxury cars, girls, everything.
Now all I need is a way to get out. he thought.
He was in the only tavern for organics in the base. It was a place where many of the Confederate general, officers, and other officials hung out. "Scum", as he called them.
He was drinking some Serenno Ale when another officer in a gray uniform bumped into him. The ale spilled into him, landing on him. Luckily, it didn't land on his skin; if it did, the certain toxins in it would have affected the nanites so that they would return to normal form and he woud be revealed. Trying to stay in character, he copied the stereotypical response a Confederate officer would make.
"Hey, loon, you just spilled ale all over my clothes. I'd like an apology. Now."
The officer looked familiar to him in a way, but he didn't figure it out. "Well you're not going to get your apology." With those words, the tavern was silenced.
"You want to have at it?" growled Beater, still trying to imitate a Confederate officer.
"I don't see why not." Then, before you could say Aqualish! (Which somebody actually did, not noticing the standoff and having a fight of his own), blaster bolts whizzed across the room, hitting random bystanders. Beater ducked behind a table, while the other officer remained in the open. He kept firing, until he ran out of charges.
"Blast!" he exclaimed. Then he saw his Serenno Ale bottle. It was still a little bit full. At a last ditch attempt he threw it at the officer, and the bottle broke into smithereens. The Ale landed all on the officer. He smirked, until he saw what was happening. The officer was completly reforming into another person. His voice was beginning to change too. He was beginning to look familiar. Very familiar.
Then he realized his mistake.
He had exposed Deadeye.
"It's a clone!" yelled somebody.
"Get 'him!"
The people in the tavern immediately started shooting at Deadeye. One, named Kal, was about to shoot Deadeye right in his temples. Then Beater made a life-risking descision. He shot Kal first.
The Tavern was again silenced. Droids stationed outside ran inside, blasters ablaze. One scanned Beater.
"DNA: REPUBLIC LIEUTENANT 112205 6210- Wait, he's a clone too!"
The patrons of the tavern turned their heads to look at him.
"Um, guys, you know if you could just let me explain this, I'm sure we could-Run Deadeye!"
Blasters blazed on the walls as the two clones made their escape. They ran as fast as they could through the corridors of the base.
"How do we get to the admiral?" yelled Beater over the Blaster Fire.
"How do I know? You have the manual."
Beater froze. He felt his pocket. It was empty.
I probably just left on the ship. he thought. Now all we have to-
A ship rose over the tall towers of the base. It was Beater's ship. Deadeye took out his gun.
"No don't-"
Too late. he thought. The ship exploded in a brilliant explosion. A burnt and destroyed holoprojector labeled Special Forces Manual 2213. Property of CL-112205 fell on his head.
It's all my fault. he thought, as he lost conciousness.