Chapter Text
“We are approaching General Plo Koon’s fleet,” Tech announced, looking over his shoulder into the cabin of the Marauder.
Wrecker was exercising with Gonky, the squad’s GNK power droid, using the unfortunate gonk droid as a weight. Crosshair was polishing his reflector discs, but at Tech’s announcement he reached behind himself and clipped them onto the magnetic patch on his belt where he stored them. Echo and Hunter were already in the cockpit, Echo acting as co-pilot, and Hunter leaned over the instruments to look out the viewports.
Jedi General Plo Koon’s 104th Battalion utilised a medium-sized but varied fleet consisting of two Acclamator-class assault ships, an Arquitens-class light cruiser, and three Pelta-class frigates. The 104th consisted of the famed Wolfpack, a squad led by the commander, who specialised in relief and rescue operations. The 104th were primarily a rescue and recovery squad, providing relief to planets or backing up ground forces and they used a varied fleet. The Wolfpack primarily operated off one of the Acclamator-class cruiser.
“Tech, contact the flagship.” Hunter recognised Plo Koon’s flagship, the Acclamator-class assault ship Liberator, near the front of the fleet, with the light cruiser in front and slightly below it. Tech nodded and opened a comm channel to the Liberator.
“This is the Havoc Marauder, carrying Clone Force 99, requesting permission to dock with the Liberator,” he rattled off. Regulations and protocol came easily to his enhanced mind, but he regularly disregarded them along with his squad.
“Havoc Marauder, transmit clearance codes,” a clone officer crisply ordered.
Tech quickly typed in the code and transmitted it.
“Codes accepted. You’re clear to land. Proceed to landing pad 1-tag-5.”
Tech maneuvered the Havoc Marauder to the only possible entry for shuttles, fightercraft and gunships – a large opening in the bottom of the craft which led directly into the spacecraft bay. This bay took over nearly the entire lower level of the Acclamator, and as Tech folded their wings and brought them up into it, Hunter could see all manner of craft and vehicles, with clone troopers in the grey livery of the 104th Battalion running all over the bay. Clone mechanics, identifiable by their lack of armour and wearing dark blue maintenance suits with yellow jackets and cloth helmets, tinkered with the vehicles landed and parked neatly around them. Gunships, painted in Republic livery but with dark blue instead of the usual red, were neatly settled on their pads which were marked out with paint. Hunter recognised Y-wing bombers, V-wings, and ARC-170s, along with a Jedi fighter, which would belong to the General. Walkers and AT-RTs, along with their dropships, had servos adjusted and oil changed.
It was a bustling scene of activity, and as he studied the busy scene, Tech brought the ship to land. Hunter turned away from the viewports, snatched his helmet up from where it lay on a chair, pulled it on, and hit the hatch controls. The ramp folded down with a hiss of pressurised steam and a series of steps sprung up along it. Hunter marched down these, followed by Echo, Wrecker, and Crosshair. Tech followed shortly after.
They were met by a clone who introduced himself as Sinker. The reg had removed his helmet, and his hair was dyed white. “General Plo will brief you on the bridge,” he informed them.
“Alright then,” Hunter said, his gravelly voice matching his rough appearance.
A siren rang out, loud, incessant, and unmistakable. “Hyperspace alert,” Tech said. As he spoke, Hunter could sense the ion engines charging up to prepare for lightspeed.
The clones made their way to the command bridge of the Liberator, a bustling scene of activity with clone officers bustling to and fro across the deck. Hunter glanced out the large transparisteel viewports at the unending lines of white and blue that marked hyperspace and saw a grey-haired non-clone human facing the viewport, presumably the Admiral. In the midst of it all, General Plo Koon stood with his commander at a holotable which was currently displaying what looked like the planet Felucia.
“General!” the Wolfpack reg (his name was Sinker, wasn’t it?) called.
“Ah, Sinker,” General Plo looked up. So it was Sinker.
“The special commando unit’s arrived.”
“Excellent,” General Plo said, stroking his mask. As he stood to attention, Hunter studied the Kel Dor Jedi. Hunter vaguely recalled Tech mentioning that Kel Dors were unable to breath normal oxygen and as such had to wear special breath masks. General Plo’s mask covered his eyes, nose/mouth, and some kind of horns at the bottom of his face. The general wore clone armour greaves on his forearms decorated with the grey patterns of the 104th, with a wolfhead on each hand piece. It was a nice touch, Hunter thought, showing that this general was dedicated to his troops, unlike some other Jedi Hunter had come across.
His commander wore a black kama with a thin grey lining along the edges. His left shoulder piece had an antenna identical to the one worn by Cody, and the commander was missing an eye? Where his right eye should have been, a long scar ran vertically, and his eye had been replaced with a cybernetic implant. It gave him a rough, battle-scarred appearance. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly-er than most clones.
“This is my commander, Wolffe,” General Plo introduced the clone. “You are probably aware that I am General Plo Koon, not that I make much fuss over my rank.”
“The name’s Hunter, sir,” Hunter introduced himself. “This is Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker, and Tech.”
Tech perked up. “I have heard many things about the exploits of the Wolfpack,” he declared cheerfully. “This, as a matter of fact, is not your first tour on Felucia. You were responsible for the evacuation of the 501st Legion during the First Battle of Felucia. After this you returned, again with the 501st, during the Second Battle of Felucia, in which Master Skywalker’s Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, was kidnapped by a Trandoshan named Dar. Dar was later killed along with his father during her escape with a group of captured Padawans from the planet Wasskah.”
Hunter studied the faces of the two commanding officers as Tech rambled on. If a Kel Dor could be said to chuckle behind their mask, then General Koon certainly seemed to be. Wolffe’s permanent frown seemed to deepen, if that was even possible. Hunter held up a fist in warning to stop Tech from continuing. If he just happened to almost bump Tech in the nose, that was purely by accident. Obviously.
“That would be correct, Tech,” General Koon said, and this time Hunter was sure he was smiling. “However, I am afraid that that is irrelevant right now. I will brief you on our plan of attack. For the time being your squad is merely extra manpower during the descent, but we will be on the ground for at least a week and you will be sent on many missions more suited for to your skills during that time period.”
“Our ships were pulled from hyperspace in order to rendezvous with your squad. We have one more jump to make, which will place us immediately in front of the blockade. As we speak, a company of the 327th Star Corps are in pitched battle with the enemy at these coordinates. They have no backup and their retreat to their base camp has been cut off.
Even with Master Secura leading them they are in critical need of backup. We are their reinforcements. I will lead the fighters to break a hole in the blockade for the Wolfpack’s gunships and five bombers to reach the surface. Your squad will join them. The rest of the 104th will stay with the fleet and continue the offensive. Warthog will command the aerial assault as we try to bring the rest of the fleet through the blockade. Right now our top priority is getting the gunships and bombers through the blockade. The bombers and gunships will fly directly to General Secura’s forces. The bombers will provide covering fire while the gunships will deploy the Wolfpack and yourselves to open a path to the rear of the 327th and help them evacuate to Base Camp.”
Hunter decided not to mention that he saw the Wolfpack as excess weight when they could do all the work. “I hope your men can keep up,” was all he said in the end.
“Why d’you want them to retreat? Can’t they fight?” Wrecker asked.
Tech answered for the General. “Statistically speaking, they are severely outnumbered. Let me remind you that they are simply regs, and not the same as us. We are, after all, enhanced and more efficient in combat.”
Wolffe’s face became a mask of anger at Tech’s apparent dismissal of the regs’ abilities, but as he moved forward to snarl at Tech, the Jedi placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a single shake of his head. Hunter recognised the expression as one he often gave to Crosshair, which meant ‘not worth it’.
“We will be exiting hyperspace in seven minutes. Admiral Coburn,” General Koon called, turning to face the human standing at the viewports. “Ready our forces for deployment. Clone Force 99, you will be flying with Wolffe. Wolffe, you will be in command of the ground assault. Dismissed.”
Wolffe nodded tersely and pulled his helmet on. The Bad Batch copied him, and walked out, with Hunter half-turning to face the general and give him a two-fingered salute. The party moved to the hangar, and Wolffe turned to face them. “You’re flying with me and a couple other men. We’re taking less than normal since we have an AT-RT in the back.
Tech bumped Wrecker with his elbow. “This will be interesting. I have heard much of this battalion and flying with them will give me an opportunity to conduct first-hand research into their somewhat unorthodox methods. Of course, they are not as unorthodox as the 501st Legion under General Skywalker, whom we worked with on Anaxes and Skako Minor.”
“You went to Skako?” Wolffe asked, somewhat surprised.
“Yes, home of the Techno Union,” Tech replied.
Wolffe motioned for them to enter a waiting gunship. They found that is was already occupied by four regs, who were introduced as Comet, Boost, Sinker, and Bounce. Bounce was an ARF trooper, clearly the one who would be piloting the AT-RT, while the rest were standard regs. As the clones readied themselves for the turbulent journey to the planet’s surface, Sinker looked over the enhanced members of the Bad Batch and whistled. “Lookin’ sharp, boys,” he said cheerfully.
“Look here, Boost, we got some 99s. Not bad, eh?” Comet said, elbowing his squadmate. ‘99’ was slang for CT-99, which was the official term for defective clones. Hunter and his squad considered themselves more deviant than defective.
“Looks like it, Comet. You boys any good?” he asked in a friendly manner.
Wrecker laughed. “Good? We’d beat any reg squad when it comes to bashin’ droids!”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Boost told him, grinning.
Hunter was relieved to see that the regs seemed friendly, and he glanced at Crosshair. Hunter could tell Crosshair was glaring at the regs from behind his visor. Echo tapped the sniper on the chest with his scomp link. “Don’t be rude, Crosshair.”
Before Crosshair could reply, the hyperspace siren rang out. “Attention all personnel,” a mechanized voice droned from the PA speakers. “Prepare to exit hyperspace. All fightercraft, standby for deployment.”
“Get ready boys, this is it,” Wolffe told the clones assembled in the gunship. Hunter glanced around and could see other clones in the Wolfpack livery boarding gunships. In the back of each of the ten gunships ready for deployment, Hunter could see AT-RTs crouched on the rear ramp of each one, and an ARF trooper to go with it. Around them, ARC-170s were hovering on repulsorlifts. Hunter closed his eyes and could sense the massive hyperdrive preparing to disengage and drop the ship out of hyperspace, which it did in a matter of seconds.
The clones felt a lurch as the huge assault ship dropped out of lightspeed. The gunship’s doors suddenly swung shut and sealed, cutting off most of the light that illuminated the hangar bay. The cabin was filled with a murky red light. Little streams of artificial light from the spacecraft bay’s glaring spotlights sliced through the gloomy red light through the window slits in the doors. These were always fitted with transparisteel, and while they limited visibility to troops, they offered greater protection from enemy fire. Of course, once in the atmosphere, many gunships flew with their doors open, but in the vacuum of space that would spell instant death for its occupants.
Exiting the assault ship was always adrenaline-inducing, Hunter thought, as the gunship followed the fighters down the entrance. He tried to peer through the viewports but was almost blinded by a sudden explosion next to them. A gunship had been destroyed. Sure enough, Hunter could sense electrical currents from tri-droid fighters around them, their cannons incessantly shooting at the ARC-170s, bombers, and gunships who were trying to reach the surface.
It took a full seven minutes for the fighters to punch a hole through the blockade. Seppie resistance was strong. Hunter looked over his squad, who were looking unperturbed under their helmets, as did the regs. Wolffe had his finger over the helmet comms, presumably listening to comm chatter from the pilots. He glanced up and looked at the others.
“We’ve lost three gunships and six fighters. Bombers are all accounted for,” he announced grimly.
Out of the original fifteen gunships and twenty-five fighters that had been deployed, that meant their forces stood at twelve gunships and nineteen fighters. No dropships or tanks had been launched as they were too easy a target at this stage.
Now that they were through the blockade, they still had to navigate droid fighters who would follow them, and eventually anti-aircraft fire. More than one gunship which had survived the descent into the atmosphere would be easily eliminated by a single shot from the many droid cannons or spider droids on the ground.
As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. The Vulture droids which had followed them down were responsible for the loss of another five gunships and one bomber. On top of that, six fighters had also been taken out. To a reg, those odds would look grim, but to the Bad Batch, who’s primary tasks were black ops missions with no backup, just the five of them, seven gunships, fourteen fighters, and four bombers seemed a lot.
By this point they were approximately three minutes out from General Secura’s forces, and enemy fire was increasing. Homing spider droids, a large, more heavily armed variant of the dwarf spider droids the Bad Batch regularly faced, had added their impressive laser cannons to the fray and knocked out a gunship.
The air around them was thick with explosions and laserfire. One more gunship was taken out by an HMP gunship, and a bomber was also shot down in flames.
“Get ready for landing,” Wolffe told them, drawing his two blaster pistols.
Hunter, Tech and Echo drew their own blaster pistols, while Wrecker unclipped his hefty blaster and Crosshair adjusted his sniper rifle. Bounce moved to the back of the gunship and climbed onto his AT-RT, giving the controls an experimental twist, while Comet, Boost and Sinker turned the safety off on their blaster carbines.
“Opening rear hatch. Bounce, get ready to roll,” the pilot announced over the intercom.
The ARF trooper gave an affirmative, and the rear hatch of the LAAT/i swung open. Bounce extended the legs, propelling him off the ramp. Hunter followed his descent and watched as the AT-RT hit the ground and began running, the mechanical legs giving the small vehicle impressive speed and coverage.
It took another thirty seconds to have a clear visual on the battlefield, and when they did, Hunter could see why they needed reinforcements. The 327th company was taking cover behind the wreckage of two AT-TEs, and they were severely outnumbered. From their aerial position, he observed a combined force of B1 and B2 droids, dwarf spider droids, and crab droids, backed up by a force of AATs and MTTs. Hunter had to squint to make out the darting form of the General herself, Aayla Secura, her blue lightsaber a blur as she deflected the red blaster bolts of the Separatist droids.
The gunship dropped down towards the scene of destruction, taking the landing in a swooping curve that brought it neatly above the ground. The pilots elected not to land, instead they hovered low above the ground, and the doors slid open. Hunter clicked the safety off on the blaster, holding it in his right hand, and leaped lightly onto the solid ground to cries of Wolffe. “Go! Go! Go!” the commander ordered, following Hunter out of the gunship, and onto the field of combat.