Chapter Text
Balmorra, 21 BBY
Doctor Valaris D’Petra had a very happy childhood. Her father’s success on Hosnian Prime as a podracer had earned him fame beyond measure, and it seemed he spent the corresponding wealth solely on his daughter. The girl grew up with an interest in her father’s work, a venture that proved just as exciting to her as it was lucrative. By age 12, Valaris had already built her first working repulsorcraft, and by age 15, her engine designs had won her more than a few awards. Valaris went on to found her own starship manufacturing company, D’Petra Industries, only a few years before graduating with her doctorate in astromechanical engineering at a renowned Coruscanti university. From there, her company went on to design top of the line racercraft, luxury starcruisers, and even several military grade starship engines. Valaris’s work earned her many a tax break and Republic grant over her years of self-employment, but she was always eager to attribute her success to the financial support of her father. Indeed, Valaris’s career was nearly inseparable from her father’s fortune. But wasn't that the case for most affluent CEOs?
It was hard to be justifiably angry at Doctor D’Petra’s achievements. After all, rich young ladies shouldn't be blamed for their parents’ wealth. And yet, that didn’t stop that little bit of vomit from rising in Vixus’s throat when she first read Doctor D’Petra’s file. She would have to keep any disgruntled remarks about the Doctor to herself if she wanted the mission to go smoothly today.
Vixus stepped into the gaping hull of the armored transport, pulling the metal handle of the door shut as she entered. Her hand jerked, checking the door a second time. Secure. “Let him know we’re good,” the Umbaran said, nodding to her squadmate. The larger of the two, Shrapnel, nodded back and reached a hand behind her head, knocking on the thick glass at the front of the compartment. Through the window, the group saw the faint silhouette of a gloved hand giving a thumbs up. The engine rumbled below them, pulling them forward slowly.
With a quiet exhale, Vixus sat down beside the Doctor, the soldier’s eyes trained on the door rather than the woman next to her. Vixus’s mind ran through the plan over and over, envisioning the events leading towards their destination. Their estimated arrival was just short of three hours from now, and their path was relatively straight. It was a simple drop off, just bring the Doctor and her plans to the checkpoint, but despite the journey happening solely on a Separatist-aligned planet, having only two escort vehicles still felt too lax. Blue Squad’s mere presence on this mission implied some sort of impending threat, and Vixus was not eager to explore just how unequipped their entourage was to handle such a threat if complications did arise. Vixus’s personal anxieties were multiplied exponentially by the uneasiness she sensed in her squadmates, but regardless of the obvious feeling of concern circulating around the transport, none of them complained. A mission was a mission.
Pinch’s sharp voice cut through the silence and Vixus’s anxious train of thought. “So, like, what’s the deal with moving you?” The smaller of the two helmeted beings across from her tilted their head, motioning with the data pad in their hand towards the Doctor.
“Hey,” the taller one warned, nudging them, “you know the rules, Pinch.”
“It’s fine.”
Vixus’s eyes flicked to the woman beside her. Doctor D’Petra sat up straight while she spoke, brushing her brown bangs away from her eyes. Other than the slight frizz in her hair, everything else about this human was perfect. From her well manicured nails all the way down to her crisply ironed trousers, the woman looked like she had walked straight out of Galaxy’s Weekly. It seemed her current status as a prisoner of the Confederacy had not altered her appearance at all.
“It’s better than the alternative,” D’Petra continued. “Most of the time, the other engineers pretend like I’m not there until they have a question, and the droids are atrocious when it comes to small talk.” She frowned.
“Technically, we were ordered not to speak to you,” Vixus said levelly, glaring at the Doctor from behind her helmet.
“Yeah, well I’m not sitting in silence for three hours,” Pinch interrupted. “And I wanna know why Doctor D’Petra needs an escort to drive a couple of klicks North on the same weird factory planet she was on before.”
Vixus stifled a rather unprofessional groan and leaned back in her seat. It was going to be a long ride. “Next time I’m putting you in the front seat with Banshee,” Vixus muttered.
“Nooo! Not Banshee! Let me sit with Shrapnel instead!” Pinch linked his free arm around the soldier beside him. Shrapnel gave an audible scoff in response. “Banshee always listens to slow, boring music, and it makes me want to fall asleep.”
“Good,” Shrapnel replied, shrugging Pinch off.
“I’m finishing up a new project,” D’Petra responded, answering Pinch’s earlier question. “My latest ship design was approved, and they want me to oversee the construction of the first model. As for why they sent you,” the Doctor paused, “I don’t really know. But it’s not like they tell me anything anyways.” The response sparked another anxious sensation in the pit of Vixus’s stomach. The Confederacy was anticipating some kind of intervention. They just didn’t know what.
D’Petra continued on, “Speaking of, who exactly are you people? It isn’t every day that the CIS hires organic recruits.”
Vixus glared again. “That’s—”
“Classified,” the Doctor finished with a sigh. “Of course. I should’ve guessed.”
Vixus rolled her eyes at the smartass remark, but allowed Pinch to carry on their unauthorized conversation with the prisoner.
“You know I once got a look at the engine you designed for the P4X Spindrift, and the craftsmanship was really—”
A distant rumble cut through the conversation. Shrapnel and Pinch snapped to attention. A loud screech followed as the vehicle came to a sudden halt, jostling the crew in their seats. Vixus stood up sharply, the blood from her face draining as she moved. She tapped her comms. “Banshee, Luster. Report now.”
The response came almost instantly as a soft but intense voice buzzed inside of her helmet. “Escort 1 is down. Completely overturned, no word from the crew.”
“Understood, Luster,” She called back just as quickly. “Banshee, do not go around. Pull over. I’ll touch base on E2.” She nudged a dial on her wrist, switching bands. “Escort 2, check in.”
A long pause hung in the air. Finally, the robotic voice of a battle droid crackled into the airwaves. “Escort 2, checking in. All is well. Do you want us to pull over, Package 1?”
“Affirmative, Escort 2. Pull over directly behind us.”
Vixus waited for the familiar ‘roger roger,’ but another pause floated across the speakers. “Escort 2, confirm.” Radio static. Her fingers tingled. She nudged the dial back to the first channel. “Banshee, Luster, cut the engine and get down. Everyone, Whalesong.” Whalesong, the code to switch to encrypted radio communication.
Luster’s voice returned to Vixus’s helmet, the jumble of sounds quickly translating into something intelligible, though this time in Umbaran rather than Basic. “Roger that. I have eyes on one assailant approaching from the right. Looks like a clone.” The voice was interrupted by a second screeching of brakes, this one just behind the compartment door. Someone had moved Escort 2, and it probably wasn’t the crew.
A third sound, a thump on the roof of the vehicle, echoed in the space. Then, silence.
“Shit,” she heard Shrapnel whisper.
They were all thinking it. The transport was pinned between both escorts, and now they had enemies from above too. Vixus keyed back into comms. “Great news. Looks like we’re surrounded. Shrap, gonna need a door in the floor as soon as possible. Banshee, on my signal, back up. I wanna hear E2 crunch. Luster, you’re our eyes. Take care of the clone if you can, but first priority is getting everyone to a more secure location. Pinch, you’re in charge of the Doctor. When we’re clear, everyone head for the plant West of the vehicle. Is that clear?”
“Roger.”
“Roger.”
“Roger.”
“Roger.”
Vixus looked over at D’Petra. Her stiff muscles told her she was gearing up to run, but whether that would be with Blue Squad or away from them would soon be decided.
Vixus exhaled one last shuddery breath. If the Republic wanted a fight, they would get a damn good one. “I’ll meet you all outside. Have fun, everybody.”
Like clockwork, Shrapnel got down on a knee and procured a small fusion cutter from her pack. The buzzing of the cutter into the floor was met by a similar sound coming from the roof, a clone no doubt doing the same thing to try and break in. Vixus’s assumptions about their enemies gave her a tiny flicker of hope: she had been correct about their plan, which meant her counter measures would be effective.
The three bystanders stared at the glowing fissure in the floor as the compartment filled with the smell of overheating metal. They waited and waited, seconds stretching endlessly as Shrapnel cut through the floor panel with steady hands and unwavering focus. Doctor D’Petra looked up to see a similar shape forming in the roof. Her eyes widened at the white-hot half circle above them, which seemed like it was moving just as fast, if not faster, than Shrapnel’s. The Doctor looked back down at the floor just in time for the buzzing sound of Shrapnel’s cutter to change pitch abruptly.
Vixus’s rapid heart rate slowed at the sound of success. The sizzling from the floor concluded with a metallic thud, their newly made trap door dropping onto the gravel outside. Shrapnel slid the cutter back into her pack and powered on her energy shield, its humming growing faint as she herself dropped out of the vehicle into the open air. Within seconds, Pinch was right behind her. He disappeared into the shadow below, his arm briefly emerging out of the hole in order to steady the frazzled Doctor D’Petra through her descent. Vixus saw the Doctor disappear last, the sleeve of her jacket briefly catching on the jagged hole as she awkwardly lowered herself down. Aw, there goes the outfit, Vixus thought.
Vixus’s time alone in the dark was short-lived, and her attention quickly returned to the golden sparks that were now illuminating the space from above. Whoever was up there was almost through, which meant it was now officially time to go.
Vixus took one last look at the ring of light above her before hopping down through the hole. The unsteady gravel shifted and crunched beneath her, but it still didn’t leave her much room to move. The space between the undercarriage of the transport and the road was smaller than she thought it would be given the hulking size of the vehicle, but it was still enough for her to maneuver her way out. Vixus crawled left, elbows digging into stone until she finally found herself out of the shadow of the transport. She looked ahead and recognized the shape of Shrapnel, Pinch, and D’Petra, already on their feet and moving. They were making good time. Vixus then turned back towards the transport, eyed the treads to make sure she was clear, and gave the signal.
“Banshee, now.”
The massive treads thundered by, inches away from Vixus’s head. From above the violent screech of the vehicle, she could barely make out the sound of a scream. One clone down.
She shot up, sprinting towards the others. The looming shadow of the nearby plant swallowed up her squadmates, then Vixus, the cover of darkness comforting her only slightly in the heat of battle. From the shadow, Vixus glanced back, her eyes scanning the field for movement. A figure she recognized as Banshee emerged from the driver’s seat of the transport, taking a stumbling step into the light before immediately reaching for the blaster at his hip. He spun around to face the transport, his head turned up to face the roof.
Vixus recognized what he was staring at only after he fired two shots at it. The clone who had been trying to break in from the top of the vehicle had already regained his bearings, and now had eyes on Banshee. Almost immediately, laser bolts of red and blue flashed through the road dust, some whizzing past Banshee’s head, others colliding with the hull of the vehicle.
Vixus’s adrenaline spiked at the sight of Banshee surrounded by blasterfire. She took a step back and snatched the blaster carbine from off of her pack, aiming towards the figure on the roof and unloading several shots in his direction. The clone was too far and too covered by the grey cloud of dust for her to get a decent shot in, but she hoped the cover fire would give her teammate enough time to rejoin the rest of the squad.
Her support seemed to do the trick. Vixus watched out of her peripherals as Banshee neared her location, stepping into the shadow of the building alongside her. The clone on the roof continued to fire towards the two of them, his position unwavering despite how in the open he was.
Banshee seemed to have the same thought about this unusual tactic, his helmet cocking slightly towards her as he spoke, “These clones are dumber than usual, right?”
Vixus continued to back towards the building, her eyes never leaving the assailant. “You know, I was just about to say—”
Two blue blaster bolts zoomed between the two of them, forcing the soldiers to flinch out of the way. Vixus’s eyes darted towards the flicker of movement towards the front end of the vehicle. It was the glint of a helmet, a signal of another clone concealed in the still unsettled dust. Vixus ducked down and refocused her aim towards him. “Ten o’clock.” The stock of her rifle dug into her shoulder as she shot towards him, one of her bolts clipping off the side of his shoulder plate.
Vixus and Banshee had nearly made it to the entrance now, but a sudden thought drew Vixus away from her target. If this clone was by the driver’s seat, that meant he was covering Luster’s exit. Actually, Luster should have come around the vehicle alongside Banshee. The fact that Banshee came separately wasn’t just unusual, it was alarming. Where was Luster?
“Sniper!” Another blaster bolt zoomed between them seconds before Banshee elbowed her, bumping her back into the doorway just behind them. The movement jolted Vixus, spurring her to dart behind the thick metal frame of the door. She crouched down, taking cover and a few seconds to breathe as she looked back behind her.
Shrapnel, Pinch, and D’Petra had all made it safely into the building. D’Petra sat huddled behind a large metal vat, tucked not nearly out of sight enough for her to actually be hidden. Shrapnel stood guard beside her, her blaster raised in the event that one of their attackers breached the building, and Pinch sat just a few feet away, wrestling with a roll of electrical tape and a thick black cable that connected with the wall. Pinch tugged at the tape, ripping it from the roll and tossing it to the ground, swapping it out for the bulky control pad that was now wired into the wall’s panel. Their finger hovered over one of the many switches dotting its dusty surface, then retracted. “Where’s Luster?” Pinch looked up towards Banshee.
“He's been shot.” Banshee didn't look back at Pinch. He crouched on the opposite side of the door frame, ducking quickly out of the way of another blaster bolt. After a moment of silence, he finally met Pinch’s gaze. “Sniper caught him in the shoulder on his way out.”
Vixus held her breath. Luster had to exit out of the passenger side, which meant he was wide open to the sniper on the other side of the road, as well as the other clone who came around the vehicle earlier. There was no way to get to him without getting shot in the process.
“We have to go back for him,” Shrapnel urged, taking a few steps towards the door.
“No,” Vixus said. She glanced back out to see the figure of the second clone, sprinting to another position closer than before. “Shut the door.”
“What!?” Shrapnel gasped.
Pinch looked between the two of them, the sound of blasterfire accenting the growing tension.
“Shut it,” Vixus repeated. Her steely glare was all the confirmation Pinch needed.
Pinch pressed down on the button. The aged metallic door screeched in response to its first demand in years. The window of light leaking into the room shrank as the door pulled shut, diminishing into a sharp sliver until it extinguished completely. The blasterfire stopped. The room went dark. They were safe, at least for the next minute or two.
“We don't just leave our friends behind, Vix,” Shrapnel snapped.
Before Vixus could formulate a calm enough response, Banshee stepped in. “She made the right call,” he said. “There’s no way to get to him, not the way we came. Even if we did manage to take down the other two clones, the sniper would pick us off before we made it to the other side.” Banshee clipped his blaster back into his holster. “Our top priority is still protecting the Doctor.”
The group all looked back towards D’Petra– or at least, where D’Petra was supposed to be. The space behind the metal vat was clearly vacant. A resounding groan echoed through the room.
“Humans can't see in the dark. She’s not far,” Vixus assured. “Pinch?”
“Already on it!” Pinch replied. They had already made it halfway across the wide concrete room by the time Vixus spoke, peeking behind crates of tools, I-beam pillars, and dilapidated machinery in search of D’Petra. The room itself was some sort of high bay, a dusty space with distant ceilings and full of skeletal metal structures, likely half-built components for ancient and unfinished starcruisers. It seemed like a waste to leave so many valuable materials behind, but then again, the entirety of Balmorra was a factory planet. It was probably cheaper to purchase more items from elsewhere than to tear down a preexisting factory.
Shrapnel crossed the room, and tapped one of the vats with her finger, watching a trickle of black ooze leak from a seam in the container. “This is fuel.” She said, rubbing some of the half dried fuel off with her thumb and staring at it. She laughed a dry, empty kind of chuckle that Vixus recognized as the ‘impending doom’ laugh. “This place is a kriffing powder keg.”
“Noted,” Vixus replied, giving her a sharp nod. “Keep the explosions to a minimum then, if you can.” She turned to face Banshee, who had pulled his own datapad out of his pack and began scrolling through hologram after hologram. He poked a spot on one of the pictures, studying it, then hummed an affirming note.
“What’ve you got?” Vixus asked him.
“I found a garage nearby, about a kilometer away. If the photo is accurate, there should still be some half decent speeders we can use to get out of here, as long as we have something to power them.” He waved the datapad in the air. “Bad news is that it's on the other side of the road, which means going through those guys again.”
Banshee paused for a second, then took a few steps closer to Vixus. He pressed one of the buttons on his wrist controller, shutting off radio transmission, and spoke quietly to her through his helmet. “I hope you have a plan to get Luster back.” He glanced over at Shrapnel, who had walked over to one of the room's many exits to greet Pinch and a restrained Doctor D’Petra. Their conversation was too far to make out, but Pinch seemed to have a handle on the situation. Banshee turned back to face Vixus. “You know they’ll try it anyway, even if you don’t.”
Vixus sighed. Their passion was the reason the team was so deadly, but it also meant they could be incredibly irrational sometimes. Those moments always made Vixus’s job as team leader that much harder.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said. “I have an idea, but I’ll need to contact Luster first for it to work. Well that, and to make sure he’s still alive. You do think he’s still alive, don’t you?”
“I do,” Banshee replied, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. She desperately needed it. “I watched him go down, but he was covered, and all three of the clones went after me when the shooting started. They probably think he’s already dead.”
Vixus nodded. “I only saw four of them: the sniper, the one we hit with the transport, the one on the roof, and the one near the front. That’s weird, right? Shouldn't there be more of them?”
“Their armor was weird too. Must be some kind of special ops team,” Banshee agreed. “But we’ll worry about that later. For now, let’s take this one problem at a time.” He gestured to the three arguing characters at the edge of the high bay. “The floor is yours, fearless leader.” Banshee always knew what to say. He was always friendly, always confident, and always there when Vixus needed him. It made her wonder why the team chose her as their leader instead of her brother.
Vixus sighed again. Whatever the reason was, she was going to look out for all of them, even if it got her killed. “Ok. Let’s get this done.”