(Star Wars FanFic)
Resources were scarce. The Republic, in its dying moments, strained every bit of funding from the scorched earth they would leave in our wake. They thought they could starve us off, cut our supply lines from behind, eliminate the option of tactical retreat. They thought wrong.
Where we lacked in training, armour, and weapons, we made up for in numbers. We are dispensable. We compensated for the 1-in-50 chance of hitting our target, as burdened by our improvised armour, by increasing the size of our platoons. Where ten soldiers were pitted against us, our defence maintained one hundred. With each round of fire, we killed two of them. We are disposable.
At first, our numbers were made of clones, perfect killing machines, loyal to a fault. Their loyalty was the fault. Now we are taken from every planet sustaining life, our blood spread across the galaxy and converging in its centre to bring us back from the grave. Race, sex, age; it did not matter. We do not matter. If it serves the Empire, it will be done. Loyalty? We have no such concept. There is only the Empire. We are insignificant as individuals.
We are Stormtroopers.