Chapter Text
STAR WARS
Tales of the 213 TH
Episode I: Saving Point Rain
21 BBY, SECOND YEAR OF THE CLONE WARS
The second invasion of Geonosis is a disaster! Jedi Generals Ki-Adi-Mundi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luminara Unduli, and Anakin Skywalker have been shot down and are under heavy fire. Pinned down without air support, the Admiralty has learned of a droid factory that could spell doom for the primary assault.
The heroic 213 th Clone Battalion has arrived with a vital purpose; thwart the impending droid ambush and allow the four Jedi Generals to complete their mission. Three gunships fly to meet a new General and her Padawan already on the surface…
The stuttering hum of the LAAT/i almost drowned out the concussive blasts of the sonic cannons on the ground below. That was until the heavy-winged troop carrier finally sunk deep enough in the atmosphere for the pilot to open the vertical view slats in the doors. Even with their helm’s noise suppression, most of Turnover squadron couldn’t help but flinch..
“Weather’s bad outside, Patches,” Blink said, his shiny white armor immediately dirtied by a blast of sandy Geonosian air. The desert planet was hot and dry, made doubly uncomfortable considering they had all been raised on an ocean world.
Patches was one of the few new transfers with paint on his armor, the medic sigil on his shoulder half obscured by a wide eyed cartoon bacta-tank sticker. Even concealed within his helmet his stoicism was evident. “Not as bad as Kamino,”
“That was just a little rain,” Major Grain said. Unlike half of the clones in the ship, the leader of the 213 th Battalion had armor crisscrossed with tiny black sketches, each of them a miniature clone visor, “this, boys, is a storm.” As if to emphasize his words, flak-shot burst uncomfortably close to their transport.
“Um, when are we landing?” Hobby white knuckled his DC-15 blaster, just like always.
“Hell if I know,” said Blink, “ask the pilot.”
Putting his finger to his comlink, Hobby asked, “When are we landing?”
A terse reply crackled back into their comms, “Keep the lines clear back there, I’m coordinating with Nightmare Company!”
“Hopefully those glorious bastards keep the bugs off us!” Shouted Mumble.
“They will. They always do.” Corporal Mother said assuringly. As the boys settled back, he switched to the Major’s private frequency, “you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
After waiting a moment for him to elaborate, Mother continued, “I’m worried about you being on the ground-”
“We’re not losing any more.” he bit, his head motionless except for the swaying of the transport. “Especially not on this mission.”
Sighing, Mother cut the transmission. He knew better than to argue, especially before a battle as momentous as this. But he couldn’t help but worry. It was what he was known for after all, why the squad had named him Mother. ‘Closest thing we have,’ they said. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t right to be worried, or that his near obsessive checking of their gear hadn’t saved their lives multiple times.
He knew why he was like this, not that he could help it. His fussing and Grain’s personal involvement in a major invasion force stemmed from the same debacle that had earned their squadron its name. And neither of them could stop themselves from feeling personally responsible for the squad’s safety, even if no amount of maternal care or personal presence could prevent their squad from having one of the highest casualty rates in the Grand Army of the Republic.
Similarly concerned, Hobby tuned his comlink to Nightmare Company’s frequency, careful to keep himself muted this time.
“Nantex on your 6, pull left… got it.” the geonosian starfighters, that one Hobby knew. Dual bladed nasty things with only a single mid mounted cannon, but that was all they needed.
“Thanks Jabber. We are trying to lead them off you, Static-2, but they just ain’t budging.”
“You’re handling them fine, I’m more worried about the ground cannons,” Hobby recognized that voice, their pilot. He had been a little mean when they had boarded, but it could’ve just been nerves. Hobby didn’t blame him. Those cannons down there, the ones they were supposed to be destroying, were giving him the willies too.
“Five clicks to drop point,” came a voice through their headsets. Must’ve been the co-pilot, Hobby thought. They were running this mission with a light complement, only a single squad in each LAAT/i tasked with taking out the ground defenses so they could load their heavy machinery in. The ship felt uncomfortably empty as the members of Turnover Squad began checking their gear.
Patches holstered his DC-17 pistol and tightened the straps on his pack. Mumble bounced on the soles of his feet, letting his rifle dangle as he loosened himself up, the demo charges on his belt bounced erratically along. Corporal Mother was looking each man up and down, ensuring they were ready. The major was as cool as ever, tuning settings on his blaster carbine, his kama and pauldron bleached a mottled gray. Hobby bet that the Major was humming, he hadn’t known him very long but that just seemed like the kind of thing cool commanders like him would do.
Then there were the other veterans of Turnover squad Hobby hadn’t gotten to meet yet. Their armor, unlike his, were scored with some of the same markings that the major had covering his, although none had quite as many as he did. No matter how many they had, they still looked damn intimidating, even more so than the ARC-troopers he had seen on Kamino. Maybe it was just because he was closer? These men just felt more… real somehow.
Two of them stood huddled around a data pad, not bothering to hold onto the straps above them, conversing quietly about the landing zone and the mission ahead. When he had been introduced hours before aboard the Venator Elchee, he had barely been given their names before they had gone to check inventory.
The rightmost of the pair had markings arranged in the shape of a b1 battledroid head on his helm and was called Crum. Who knew what that meant. His conversation partner was half slumped against the wall and half slumped against his DC-15x sniper rifle. It didn’t look comfortable, but Jak seemed to be too engrossed in the datapad to notice.
The final veteran had a spill of the visor markings across his right breast and hefted a z-6 rotary cannon while staring intently out the window. Tik also gave Hobby the willies and he preferred to avoid him.
Nudging his shoulder, Blink gave him a nod. It had seemed that no matter how long the war dragged on they were always still training on Kamino. Now, finally, they were on the front. Hobby gave him a slap on the back, damn glad that they would be doing this together. He could tell Blink was glad too.
Without warning, a blast from a sonic cannon ripped through the front of the ship.
Gravity lost meaning, bodies colliding. The engine stalled almost immediately with a sickening chunk . Mother careened into Patches, slamming them both into the doors which mercifully held. Almost instantly it was impossible to see, smoke pouring into the hold from the cockpit, bars of light illuminated the ash from the doors, strobing past as they tumbled.
“Everyone BRACE!” Major Grain yelled, clinging desperately to the door. Who knew who had survived the blast. He could barely see his arms. Luckily he had been standing near the rear, which allowed him to barely glimpse the brutal tangle of metal that had replaced the cockpit access hatch. ‘Not again,’ he thought.
They hit the ground and he felt nothing.
…
Then Grain’s whole body throbbed. Time was unstuck, coming and going as it pleased. With a moan, he shoved the weight on top of him to the side, only belatedly realizing it was a body. Gingerly he moved over to the man he had moments ago discarded and checked his vitals. It was one of the new recruits, Hobby.
“You still breathing brother?” a steady beat pulsed into his finger but the man wasn’t moving, no response either. He would have to wait.
“Report!”
Patches was somehow already moving, shaking his head as he stood up from a crouch beside someone covered in wreckage. “We lost Mumble.” The other shiny was awake at least, leaned up against the wall of the tilted craft, his helmet in his hands staring off into space.
“Finally quiet,” Tik groaned from the floor. The butt of a rifle struck him in the stomach, doubling him over in pain.
“Shut your mouth and have some respect.” Jak helped Crum up, leaving Tik to moan.
Grain sighed. He half thought about disciplining one or both of them but couldn't bear to do it now. “Mother?”
From outside the ruined transport came a muffled “here,” barely audible over the still constant flak fire and howling winds. Well, that was everyone. He’d had worse landings. Now to try to salvage this.
Keying his com, “Static 2, Static 3, sitrep.”
“Below the cannon’s effective range, Major, almost to the drop point. Need us to send one of the Gang to pick you up?”
“Negative,” his holocom flared to life in his hand, projecting a map of the area in wavering blue light. “The Larty crashed at the base of the western cliff, the one with our targeted emplacements. I’m reading a cave system nearby, or we might just grapple up. Will rendezvous when mission is complete. Over.”
“Roger,” The line went dead and Grain jabbed a thumb back at Hobby, “Patches, check the other shiny. Jak, come help me check the pilots. Crum you get Mumble’s gear.” they sprang into action, moving as smoothly as they could considering their injuries. Until the medic got a look at them all, he couldn’t know for sure if they were combat ready, but it was surprising any of them were still walking. Thank goodness for their armor.
The LAAT/i had come to rest against the cliff bottom, sand and then three hundred meters of red stone spiraling into the sky. Kriffing desert planets.
“You alright Mother?” Jak called. Jak could tell he wasn’t. Mother was trying to stand but his leg wouldn’t support his weight. The sand tripped him as he tried to amble towards the wreck, helm off and blood trickling down his forehead.
“I’m gonna slow you down,” He apologized.
“Ahh, no you ain’t,” Jak looked to Grain for approval before jogging to Mother to support the injured man. “We’ll strap you on a pair of hover skates and just push you along.” Mother chuckled painfully, leaning into Jak hard. “Besides, it's high time we took care of you, yeah?’
Grain left them, jamming his foot atop the bent fore-gun and levering himself to the cockpit. It wasn’t hard to find purchase; the sonic cannon had crumpled the front of the vehicle beyond recognition. They needed to evacuate soon in case the fuel cells had been damaged.
He didn’t bother checking the first cockpit. The glass was shattered and there was no longer enough room to fit a human inside. Surprisingly however, the second was intact. Grain knocked on the glass, “You okay in there?” The pilot couldn’t nod, just swung his head limply back and forth. “Hold on,” Hurriedly, Grain checked the emergency release, flipping the non-functional handle up and down before growling.
“Don’t let this get in your armor,” Grain shouted. The man inside didn’t respond so Grain yelled “Okay?” From his lap, the pilot gave a weak thumbs up. It would have to do. Preparing himself, Grain bashed his elbow into the transparisteel, stifling a curse when it didn’t break. That hurt like hell. Bracing himself again, he swung into the material with his full weight, shattering it. The pilot weakly raised an arm to shield himself from the rain of shards and then looked up at his saviors proffered hand.
“C’mon soldier, up and at ‘em.” Grain’s throat tightened as the pilot dumbly offered a bleeding stump instead of an arm. “Other arm, there ya go,” He wrapped him over his shoulder and looked down to find Tik and Crum waiting with open arms. Gingerly, they brought him down to ground level.
“What’s your name trooper?”
“Twinkle.”
“Alright then Twinkle, this is Tik and Crum here, they are gonna take you over to our medic and he’s gonna getcha patched up. That sound good?”
“Mmm hmm…”
“Get his helmet off Crum, alright, there you go. Just take it easy.” They slumped him down next to the Mother and the two shinies. Hobby was rousing, slowly, but Blink was still staring blankly at the empty desert.
Patches hated this part, not that any part of his job was particularly pleasant. “Alright, you, um… Crum, you hold his right side. Other one,” he waved his hand vaguely towards Tik, “Hold the site of the injury-”
“The arm?”
“Yes, the arm,” he snapped. If this squad was all this dense he might as well have transferred back to Ryloth. “Twinkle, right? This is gonna hurt like hell, but you’re a soldier and I’m gonna get you through this. Do you trust me? Hey! Stay awake and answer.” The pilot blinked tears away for a moment before nodding. Brave man. Then Patches pulled out his laser cauterizer and the work began.
Major Grain loomed over him as he worked, “Tik, get something in his mouth, we need to keep him quiet. These cliffs have ears.” He didn’t say it unkindly, smooth and low, clear enough to be heard over the occasional yelps and screams. A rag somehow ended up in Twinkle’s mouth and his cries turned into low muffled sobs. He tried to ignore that the rag was made from a tatter of someone else's body-glove. The air was still but far away, distant even from the crescent of the mesa, a sandstorm brewed. Hopefully it would pass them by.
Patches felt himself go far away, just like he was trained, letting his hands do what they knew best; tracing the lines and ridges of newly exposed land. Like painting, he thought. If command ever gave them any canvas, he bet it would feel a lot like this. Soon enough, he snapped back to himself, “All finished. Let me put some bacta on this and dress it, then you boys can let him go.”
Hobby was glad he hadn’t taken his helm off. It gave him an excuse to turn the volume suppression to maximum and squeeze his eyes shut tight without the squad knowing. This was nothing like the clean training rooms, the strategy he loved perfecting with his batch-mates. This… this was war. Not glorious like the holos made it seem, just brutal and quick. He hadn’t even seen combat yet. The well polished blaster in his hands now felt stupid and inadequate. How was he supposed to protect them?
“Hey,” a voice said into his thoughts. He turned to find Blink staring at him glassy eyed yet still somehow concerned and comforting, “You okay?” some sand was caked onto the side of his neck, clinging to blood.
A shaky breath, masked as best he could. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need to get moving again, that's all. You alright?”
“Eh,” Blink shrugged in a way that looked painful, “bucket took a beating but I’ll be fine. We’re gonna make it through this, right? Glory and honor?”
He paused, “Yeah… Glory and honor.,” and began to stand before the medic bustled over and shoved him back to the ground.
“Helmet.”
“Wha-?”
“Off. Helmet off.” He followed the directions only to cringe away as Patches shined a bright light into both of his eyes. “You’re fine. Next.” the hot air churned into his lungs like exhaust. Patches moved over to Blink, repeating the procedure. “Light concussion, you’re fine. Next.”
After he had been inspected, Mother limped over to Grain. “So, plan?”
“That really depends. Crum?”
“Sir!”
“The grapples were up by Mumble. They survive?”
“I doubt it, sir. I can try to burn in though, if you like.”
“Don’t bother. Thanks trooper.” He turned back to Mother, “We’ll need to take the caves. The helmet flashes were with the grapples in storage, so we’ll need to use the weapon mounted ones. Unfortunately there are some pretty interesting inclines in there, so it's going to be difficult on the casualties. Think you can make it?”
“It’s a pretty bad sprain sir, but I can try. It might be best if I stay behind and look after the pilot. He’s going into shock back there.”
“No, not leaving you behind,” he ground his teeth, “besides, the bugs like to ‘scavenge…’ I’m not letting that happen to you. Troopers! Form up! We move out in five!”
…
Commercial Break
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…
The cave mouth yawned open a meter above the canyon floor. It seemed large, but Hobby could see that it narrowed as it wormed up into the cliff.
“We’re really going in there, huh?”
“Relax, rookie,” Tik hefted his cannon up and into the hole, knocking shoulders with Hobby as he did so, “Only monsters in the dark is us.”
“And the geonosians,” Mother lectured, “while this doesn’t look like a warren system, we should still be cautious.”
Already in the entrance, Major Grain surveyed his troops, “Listen to Mother. There are some tight corners in there. Take care of the casualties; this whole squad is getting to the top of the mesa.”
“Way to jinx it,” Blink whispered jokingly. Nudging him, Hobby pulled himself into the hole.
The climb was difficult, especially since they had to awkwardly hold their weapons out in front of them to use their lights. They began half climbing-half sliding up an incline of packed earth into a chamber that echoed with dust. Bones and discarded carapace littered the corners.
“No wonder the geonosians don’t come in here; it's an animal den.”
“Doesn’t look like it's been used in a while,” Crum replied to Jak.
“Lucky for us,”
An ever narrowing passage led up into the dark, unforgiving. The walls pressed in first, then the ceiling, cracking and layered stone scraping against their armor. In what little light there was, Hobby could see white streaks left trailing back from where the wall had clawed at them. He was bringing up the rear with Blink, the casualties walking and hobbling in front of them assisted by Patches. Every so often, he couldn’t help but look back at the emptiness behind him. Of course there was nothing back there; he would hear if someone was following him. But still, he was more comfortable looking at the fading lights ahead than the certain darkness behind.
His eyes caught on something; deep clawed scratches in the stone below him. It would have been difficult not to notice, his face was being pressed closer to the ground every step he took. Hesitating, he called ahead, “Um, guys?”
The tunnel curved ahead of him, only allowing him to see Blink turn back to him, but he heard several affirming crackles on the coms as mics switched off. “I think we might not be alone in here.”
A snort, “Shove off, shiny, gonna have to do better than that to get us riled up.” The derision in the voice sounded like Tik.
“Stow it. Why, Hobby?” That was Major Grain, voice sure and steady. It made him want to yelp.
“Well sir, I-”
“Hobby knows things, sir,” Blink interrupted, giving him a nod in the dark, “Studies all the holos and data cards he can get his hands on.”
“Thank you, trooper. Next time let him answer. What’s the worry?”
“Well,” he steadied himself, “These claw marks, on the floors, they look fresh, just like the scratches our armor is leaving. And the spacing… It matches reports General Kenobi wrote about a beast the Geonosians brought to the planet.”
“Probably not the six legged reptile thing-” Crum chimed in.
“Acklay,” Jak finished, “Couldn’t fit one of those things in here, Reek neither. So that leaves-”
“Cut the chatter,” Mother sighed, pain evident in his voice. “We all read that report and know the stories. Still, it's unlikely that that cat thing, the nexu, is still lurking around. We’re on the other side of the planet! Keep your heads.”
Grain gave a thoughtful hum. “Thank you Hobby. Input noted. Keep your heads on a swivel. Only a hundred meters to go. Clear coms.” Despite being under thousands of tonnes of stone Hobby felt like he was floating. Major Grain had listened to him!
“Easy for him to say…” Blink said, off coms. He was levering himself over a hump of sticky red clay, struggling against the smearing slipperiness to fit through an opening only half a meter wide.
“With all that red on your armor you look like a Coruscant shock trooper!”
“Heh! We had dreams, huh Hobby?”
“Well, Geonosis, Coruscant? All the same really.” Blink had made the opening
look almost easy. It wasn’t the most difficult thing Hobby had done, but after he was finished he hoped he wouldn’t have to do it again. If only that were the case.
The tunnels were brutal. Steep slopes and even steeper inclines gave way to a series of steadily widening chambers, a small comfort.
Twinkle was just beginning to come back to himself, not only staggering, but now continually badgering Patches.
“Do you have a pistol I could use? Lost mine in the crash.” Patches only sighed in response. It was just supposed to be his job to put these men back together, not tend to them like- “Ask your mother,” he grunted. That got a few chuckles. Unfortunately they echoed ominously off the walls, joy curdling into unease.
“Well then, what do ya say Momma?”
“Mother, not momma. I don’t do nicknames. I only have my carbine. Medic, do you have spare hardware?” He was leaning heavily on Patches. Either this clone was a pansy, or it was something worse than a sprain, maybe even a torn tendon. Whatever it was, it was out of his purview. Still, the man was his superior, he had to respond.
“In my pack,” he grumbled.
“Now that's what I’m talking about. Least you could do, really. Only reason we’re alive is because of my flying.”
“You mean your crashing?” Crum joked.
“Yeah, har har-”
“Hold!” Grain called, ending the chatter. The chamber they had entered was mostly flat excepting the boulders cratering the floor, either good cover or a good place to take a load off. “Everyone rest, check your gear, and be sure to hydrate.” As he took off his helm the others followed suit.
“I’ve never been in a drier cave,” Tik smacked parched lips. Much like outside, the cavern carried the almost acrid smell of sand. The men broke off into small groups, chatting amongst themselves, all of them instinctually picking an entrance or exit to watch. There weren’t many, only the tunnel they had come through, two adjacent holes on the eastern wall leading up and down respectively, and a final passage on the roof of an alcove, reaching vertically up.
Mother hobbled to Major Grain.
“Didn’t I say you should be resting? Aren’t you supposed to follow orders?”
“Old habit,” grateful for the chance, Mother collapsed on a rock. “Figuring out which way we should go?”
He hadn’t even pulled out his holoprojector yet. “Is it that easy? To tell I mean.”
“Yeah. You have a thinking stance. It's the one time your posture isn’t perfect.”
Grain straightened, clearing his throat. “Well,” he keyed the projector. “We’re here. It looks like there are two routes that can take us to the surface. Either that vertical climb that will be rough on the casualties,” his eyes flicked to Mother, “or that route, the incline,” he pointed to the twin passages.
“Hmm,” Said Mother, unhelpfully. While he had thoughts, he couldn’t help but observe the new Turnover squad. Hobby and Blink clustered together, forcing quiet laughter and sharing a ration pack, quicking allowing Twinkle into their fold. Patches observed Twinkle and Mother from a distance, lurking silently with Tik. Crum and Jak, as always, were in their own little world, half keeping watch and half examining a damaged datapad. It was a rare moment of peace, one which a single word could shatter. Of course, something did.
Rumbling up from the bowels of the twin passage came a gurgling growl. Instantly, the squad sprung to readiness. “Over to the vertical climb, casualties first, move, MOVE!” Grain shouted. It didn’t sound close, still, that was no reason not to hurry. Turning down his helmet's auditory suppression, he thought he could barely hear the scratching of claws. Linking his hands together, he hoisted Mother up. When he reached the top Mother fell to his belly, reaching a hand down to Twinkle.
“Glad I still have one,” he grunted, grabbing Mother and allowing himself to be pulled up.
Hobby’s hands were stone steady, just like they always were when he was terrified. The thin beam of his flash never seemed to illuminate enough, always leaving dark corners and casting shadows. His squadmate’s lights swarmed, lashing like creeping tendrils, alighting on nothing.
One by one, the clones clambered up into the hole, the motion rehearsed in hundreds of drills back on Kamino. It was almost calming, Hobby reflected, repeating one of the only non combat practices. Of course it was pitch black and now the scraping of claws was growing louder, nails slipping and audibly gouging into the soft rock. Less calming
“Major! We need you up here!” Mother’s voice was distorted by the tunnel, giving it a ghostly quality as it reached him.
“Copy,” Grain gave Hobby a nod as he accepted his boost. Hobby would’ve been overjoyed if that hadn’t left him and Tik alone in the dark. He wondered what could be happening up above that required Grain’s attention. It would have to be very important, he thought the Major would want to be the last one up, especially with a man-eating beast quickly approaching.
“Hoist me, shiny,” Tik grumbled. Hobby had no choice but to comply, but he couldn’t help but turn his head and see four glittering black eyes galloping into the chamber. “It's coming!!!” he bellowed. Instantly there were cries from above, arms yanking Tik up and a forest of hands reaching down to him.
He was already leaping when someone yelled “Jump!” his brothers grabbing his wrists and pulling him past a familiar and rapidly beeping dome suckered to the tunnel wall. They pulled him up quickly, half throwing him atop Twinkle who caught him as best he could with one arm. Blasters fired into the hole, flashes of blue ricocheting off glimpses of fur.
“Pull back, I planted a charge!” Tik yelled, the squad moving almost inhumanly fast in response, running or diving back from the pit before it erupted with flame and soot, a single clawed foot weighed back down by an avalanche of rubble. Its shreek was almost as loud as the blast.
Everything was silent for a moment as they collected themselves, displaced red dust still settling in a film across their armor and visors.
“Check in. Casualties?” Grain called, listening as his men recited their names, grunting as they stood. All still accounted for, all still alive, although Blink was now nursing an injured shoulder he was trying to hide. A deep anger roiled through him, tempered only by the relief that everyone was okay.
“Tik,” he did his best to keep his voice level, “these caverns are unstable,” that was why Mother had called him up here, to show him the spiderweb of cracks in the roof that had now expanded by a centimeter or more, “You are to check with me before you plant thermal detonators, is that understood?”
“Sir, yes sir!” His voice was hoarse, but Grain heard the understanding in it. “I would’ve, sir, but I didn’t know how else to make sure it didn’t get Hobby.”
The rookie looked dumbstruck, “he is right, sir. If it hadn’t blown… that claw was a half meter from my leg.” Grain could see Hobby’s newfound respect for Tik, that would certainly make things easier. He had been worried how those two would get along.
“You got lucky this time. You didn’t have the full picture and you could’ve gotten us killed. The squad comes first,” he said with finality. There was more he wanted to say, a rare occurrence, but he was too focused on their passage to the surface. “No time to recover, let's move!” A fissure had opened in the meter high tunnel, sand rapidly draining into their only escape. They had to be close to the surface, otherwise it would’ve been more stone, but the threat of suffocation muted his hope.
Grain projected the map again. The squad was crouched, moving as quickly and smoothly as they could with the wounded. They were almost there, so close, but he knew as soon as they emerged back into the beating sun there would just be more battle, more terror. He couldn’t allow himself to think. If he did, he would begin to wonder how many of the men would die, how many of them he could have saved. But it was hard to distract himself in the pitted bowels of the planet when all he could see were the men under his care staggering in front of him.
“Light! Light up ahead!” Twinkle pointed with his pistol. “Fina-kriffing-ly. I’m meant to be in the skies, not down here.”
“Then you should’ve flown better.” Grumbled Patches.
“Hey, why are you complaining? I lost my arm to that crash,”
“Do you think he’s always like that?” Blink whispered back to Hobby.
“If his current condition is any indication, yeah. Doesn’t seem like much could keep him down.”
“Because he's ‘meant to be in the skies?’” he said sardonically.
“I don’t know where we’re meant to be, but it's not down here.” The shock of the landing was slowly wearing off. Now Hobby just wanted combat. Not to kill or to win, but for things to make sense. Crashing to the ground was random, disorganized. Executing maneuvers with his brothers, following orders, improvising, that was all patterns, something he was trained for.
“Heard.”
At the back of the pack, Major Grain could finally see the dull throb of sunlight. The planet was so frequently overcast, only diffused, watery light spilling onto its deserts. Now only its dregs were reaching them.
Finally, they reached the small opening he had seen on the scan, just enough room for a briefing. “Circle up!” Tossing the holocom on the ground, he gathered the squad. The plateau they were about to assault was projected before them.
“We will emerge here,” he pointed to the small mound of a cave at the edge of the mesa. “As you can see, there is not much cover from here to the cannon emplacements. We are going to have to improvise. Bugs and clankers most likely have some supplies scattered around, so do your best.” The boys weren’t nervous, but he watched as they all tensed like loth-cats preparing to jump. His own little herd. Grain wished he could tell them how much he hated it too.
Beyond their target zone curved the crescent of the plateau, another row of guns on its other arm and a droid factory nestled right in the middle. The red dome of its ray shield prevented them from bombing it from orbit, forcing them down and into this dangerous and desperate mission.
The commander had hoped for the air interference to be more successful, allow them to drop closer to the factory, allow them to work their way through the rubble towards the guns, but, he thought, if wishes were wampas, we’d all be eating steak.
“Recon showed two j-1 flak cannons, the four legged ones, flanking a sonic cannon.”
“Nasty.” Tik graveled.
“I think intel is accurate, near as I could spy on scopes at least,” put in Twinkle.
Mother leaned heavily against the wall. “So, what's the plan, Major? I’m seeing a lot of space between each emplacement, 50 meters at least.”
“Still have those poppers Tik?”
“Five.”
“Give two each to Hobby and Blink. Droids are programmed to avoid collateral, and I doubt they have a Tac Droid up there. We pop the closest cannon, clear its personnel, then turn it on the other two. Tik, you advance with them. Crum, you cover us from the rear. Jak,” Grain pointed to a slope that rose up behind the cannons, “I want you to see if you can get on top of this ridge to give us covering fire and scope out potential threats.” Jak wasn’t as good a shot as Crum, but he was faster.
“Roger.”
“Very funny.”
“Um,” Twinkle raised his mutilated stump, gesturing to Patches and Mother, “What about us, Sir?”
“Advance when you can, but take your time. I want Patches to be able to get to casualties without worrying about you. If you can, Twinkle you support Mother until you get into cover-”
“But I can fight!”
‘You will support Mother until you can get into cover, then hunker down. If you see an opportunity, take it, but the squad can’t be worrying about you. Sorry to be blunt. Copy?”
“Sir… yes sir.” Twinkle said, dejected. The plan had been derailed, but Grain hoped this would at least give them a chance. If they failed so many more would die. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Does anyone have any questions? Good. Soon as we exit the cave, we radio for reinforcements. I want to start this quiet. Get as far as you can before we start shooting.”
Weapons clicked as safeties were released and cartridges charged. He saw them all around him, their weapons bounding beams of light against the ground and back up to their faces, making them haunted. He hefted his own rifle against his shoulder and said “let's go.”
They were so quiet as they marched quickly up the incline, out into the sunlight. Hobby realized the Major had not been exaggerating. The rocky shale ahead of them was empty of cover and sent terror spiking through him. A boom echoed across the stone and he flinched. It was so loud it must’ve been coming right for him, but no. The four legged cannon droid was firing up into the sky, hoping to hit one of the Y-wings zipping by to more important drop zones. In a flash of red light the port nascell exploded, sending the ship spinning to its destruction. Hobby felt his resolve tighten, bolstered by a need for revenge for a brother he would never meet.
They were in rare form, Grain pleased at their restraint. Jak quickly climbed the incline to the small mound to their left. Even Tik hadn’t fired a shot yet. Luckily the droids were distracted, the cannon fire masking all noise of their approach. A b1 commander droid stood with spindly arms behind its back, watching as its subordinates scanned the sky with macrobinoculars. They may have been armed, but they certainly were not aware. Draped over Twinkles good arm, Mother made the call for reinforcements on his arm com. They had covered almost the entire distance, they were almost to the first cannon, when the shot rang out behind them. Startled, the droid ahead of them dropped the macrobinoculars, pointing at them in panic. Instantly its compatriots began to fire. The commander too began shouting orders they could barely hear. More worryingly, the cannon began its slow turn towards them, its red eyes coming into view.
“Damn it, Jak! He didn’t call the shot yet!” Tik’s Z-6 rotary cannon spun up quickly, sending a spray into the droids. There weren’t as many as Grain had feared, each cannon only having a crew of ten or so. Unfortunately, each emplacement was surrounded by boxes of equipment and ammunition. Even though the droids weren’t programmed to take cover, for each shot their squad sent into the chassis of a droid another ten spun into space or hammered into durasteel.
Grain hadn’t called the shot. And he hadn’t seen Jak’s blaster bolt hammer home, as it almost always did. Without hesitation he wheeled about. Jak was dead. He knew that even before he turned. Sure enough, atop the hill was not Jak, but a commando droid with its blaster raised high and deadly. “Get to cover! Ambush!” Even with its improved targeting systems, the droid had an inferior weapon and over 40 meters between itself and his squad. Its shots burned into the ground around them. Grain squeezed off his own shots but he was running backwards into fire. They went wide, not even making the droid flinch. Instead it squatted down and catapulted itself into the air, landing in a roll and running towards them with mechanical precision.
“Poppers! Now!” Hobby complied and made the toss towards the cannon, delighting in the characteristic chime and explosion of electricity. The few droids left standing collapsed, including the gunner in the j-1 cannon’s pilot seat. With a wheeze, the emplacement shuttered downward. But it was only momentary. Poppers couldn’t penetrate its armor. Its eyes flickered to life, its onboard intelligence compensating, and it continued its ponderous waddle. Turning to sight them.
Footsteps clattered behind. “Let me go!” shouted Mother, trying to push Twinkle off him, to make the man run. They were so far behind the squad now and the commando droid was gaining.
“Shut up!” Twinkle gripped him tightly, basically carrying him. Mother had no choice but to keep up or resign the man to death. Running alongside them, Patches fired backwards with his pistol. Luckily his aim was true. The droid’s armor blackened and it flinched back. But it wasn’t enough, it merely turned on them once again with grim white eyes. A hand reached to its back, pulling out a blade.
Then, there was a gurgling roar.
Hobby vaulted behind the droid’s improvised cover. Now the other emplacement’s crews had noticed them. The cannons themselves were not moving, but blaster fire and sonic blasts blazed across the desert. Not only were there droids, but geonosians manning that sonic cannon. The insectoid warriors' wings would no doubt carry them to their position frighteningly quickly.
Crum was not far behind Hobby but he was faster. “Cover me!” he yelled, holstering his carbine and clambering into the cannon’s control seat. Hobby did what he could against the living gun, blasting at its eyes, hoping to distract it.
Behind them Grain’s eyes widened. A cloud of dust exploded outward from the cave followed shortly after by a lightning quick feline form. “The nexu…” spotting running prey, it gave chase, hissing and whooping as it went. Running automatic threat assessment algorithms, the commando droid turned and began blasting into its fur. Resistance didn’t matter, the organic matting was too thick and merely absorbed the blasts. With terrifying efficiency the nexu fell on the droid, but it wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Keep running boys!” Grain yelled to the three stragglers.
Several dial twists and lever pulls later the gun stopped moving. Crum gave a cheer “Thanks shiny!”
“Yeah!” Hobby was unsure his shots had done anything meaningful but turned to fire at the droids across the mesa regardless. Blink thunked down beside him, blasting away. It was good to fight beside his brothers, new and old. But there were still so many of the droids, and dotting the sky were half a dozen insectoid geonosians approaching their position. Green rings of plasma and sound rained down. How were they supposed to find cover from the sky?
Dutifully, Crum began to follow the plan, slowly wrenching the gun around to turn it on its allies.
“No!” Shouted Grain, “turn it back!” instantly Crum obeyed, continuing the gun’s old rotation, this time, not aiming at clones, but at a tonne of mammalian death.
The commando droid swung its blade into the nexu’s chest, sinking it deep into the meat. It lodged there and stuck but the nexu was undeterred, its smiling mouth ripping one of the droid’s arms off and sending it flying off into the sand. Another moment and its head was gone, the droid’s body sparking feebly. Slowly, the nexu turned its eyes upward, crunching the metal between its teeth and searching for more prey.
Mother panted. The droid had bought them valuable time, they were mere meters from the emplacement where their brother’s waited. But it wouldn’t be enough. The geonosian warriors were closing in from above, and there was no cover from their blasts. There simply were not enough of them to survive the onslaught. The only thing that Mother had, sticking like hardened steel in his throat, was hope. Hope that-
A chugging engine, strained to its limits, screamed from the edge of the cliff. The interrupting LAAT/i, their salvation, flew directly up into the sky parallel to the cliffside. Its rear hatch was already open and disgorged four BARC speeder bikes, somehow already carrying riders. Even as they fell, a form clad in black lept from the back of a bike. A golden yellow lightsaber awakened, thrumming as it tore through the wings of not one but two geonosian warriors, sending them plummeting to their crunching deaths on the mesa below. Its wielder did not slow their own descent, instead grabbing the J-1 cannon barrel and swinging out their momentum, landing in a quiet cloud of dust.
The vehicles slammed into the ground, repulsors protesting as their cannons opened up on the droids ahead of them. Two of the speeders were equipped with sidecars, their occupants firing blasters up at the remaining geonosians with fury.
At the same moment Crum finally sighted the nexu. The beast launched itself forward only to be hammered into a meaty pulp by a red bolt of cannon plasma. Shards of dust peppered his back, but Mother couldn’t bring himself to care. He slumped down behind cover, exhausted, and gave a loud cry of celebration. The Gang was here. It was hard not to love the clones riding the BARC speeders, given how often they and their commander saved the day.
Without so much as a word, the Jedi brushed past Hobby, rounded features fixed in a mask of focus and calculation. They wore no armor and were measurably shorter than a clone. Even with their billowing robes, he could tell they had a powerful physique. “Is that our general?” Hobby said, in awe.
“General’s dead,” shouted Crum, wrenching the droid cannon back around to face the front lines. “That’s Commander Till,”
“Oh.” Hobby watched as they positioned themselves between boxes, sending droid fire ricocheting back with expertly timed swings of their saber. Each line looked like a clean cut through the fabric of the galaxy, and more shots than not found a droid and sent it clattering to the ground. He had never seen a jedi before, other than master Shaak-Ti on Kamino, and certainly not one in action. And the one before him was not even a knight or a master but a padawan . As he watched, almost too transfixed to fire, they bounced off a crate with a kick and slashed through a geonosian flying above them. How had the Republic not won the war already?
The answer was clear. In the distance the droid cannon had repositioned itself and sent a shot streaking towards them. No, not towards them, above them, where the LAAT/i was floundering, trying desperately to escape the hot zone. It struck home, bursting a fuel tank. The ship’s momentum carried it a few more meters before it dropped like a stone, tumbling into an explosive death far below. Their salvation, and reinforcement, had been costly.
“What took you so long, sir?” Grain had propped himself against a box next to Alisast Till, firing at the few remaining droids manning the sonic cannon. The geonosians there sputtered angrily at their droids, trying to get them to reposition, but it was too late. Crum took the shot, sending the emplacement up in a fire of green flame.
His commander smiled tightly, not losing focus. “Had to figure out how the kriff to save your sorry asses.” They watched as the BARC speeders closed the last distance between themselves and the final cannon. It was difficult to see how they did it, but the resulting explosion of the remaining droids and cannon was quite visible.
Grain put a hand to his com, “Thanks, Sideswipe squad.” relief coursed through him. Only one dead. Devastating, a world destroyed, but still better than he had hoped.
“You owe us a drink,” rasped Major Rasp over coms. Till’s squad was all special ops, their armor marked with dark gray and black stripes, helms bearing the improved com bulbs on either side. Things had been tense between the two squads since General Minne’s death so it was nice to have a victory to break the ice between them.
Both Alisast and Grain relaxed slightly, looking over the vast gulf of space towards the other side of the crescent mesa. There, too, explosions bloomed. The last Confederacy emplacements and troops shattered.
Then their attention moved to the red rayshield dome in the center of the mesa where the bubbly spires of a geonosian factory waited. Till raised their wrist-com to their mouth, “The cannons have been destroyed. Collision Company, go for artillery. We are now in phase II of the assault. Repeat, now in phase II. And would someone please tell me where the kriff my new Master is?”
…
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