Blood on the Stars

by MoKidd

They've been selected for the missions that no one else can do. They're the toughest, meanest, most experienced soldiers that the Rebel Alliance has to offer. For twenty years they've been fighting for the cause. Now they've been brought together for one reason and one reason only, bring the Empire to its knees. Rogue Squadron rules the stars, these men rule the ground.

1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1 Until Lambs Become Lions

Command: "Rancor One, this is Mission Command. You are go for insertion, repeat, you are go for insertion. How copy?"

Rancor One: "Solid copy, Command, we are wheels out and inbound to target area. Please advise as to conditions in the AO."

Command: "Copy that, Rancor One. Expect heavy resistance in the AO. We have intel on large numbers of enemy infantry and possible light armor in the vicinity, Bothan assets are currently working to secure the package for extraction. Be advised, air and ground forces are inbound to the target area and will provide support once within range."

Rancor One: "Copy that, Command. Birds are out and inbound."

Command: "Solid copy, Rancor One. May the Force be with you."

May the Force be with us? That was a load of shit. I'd seen enough to know that faith in the Force doesn't always count for much in this galaxy. I've seen men praying for courage and strength from the Force and spouting ideals from the old Jedi ways go down bloody and screaming just like the rest of us heathen unbelievers. Growing up on Jedha, I learned that there are only two things that give you a chance in this life: a good blaster and the balls to use it. All I could remember of my life was war, from my earliest memories to the day that they called me into Yavin headquarters to see Mon Mothma and the rest of the Command Council. I'd been waist deep in mud and blood on some shithole planet on the ass-end of the Outer Rim when I got the call and had to leave behind a unit that I had served with for nearly a year and come to HQ to a bunch of gawks and shocked faces. I hated being famous even when I was among people who didn't give a shit. Being in this place was even worse.

"Okay, boys," I said to the men in the transport shuttle before me, "here's the situation: the LZ is hot and we're looking at heavy resistance, possible light armor. No intel yet on walkers of any kind, but expect tanks and heavy speeders. Rahot, you keep that heavy locked and loaded and be ready to lay down some cover fire as soon as we clear the bird. Jareen, you and Santos are with me. Galen, I want you to find an elevated position in those buildings and provide overwatch. Govina, you and Jinn cover the ship and secure the LZ. Everybody do a gear check and police up your ammo and therms. Let's do it!"

All: "Let's do it!"

I'll say one thing for the team they gave me, every man jack of them was a first class fighting man. Govina and Jareen were both ex bounty hunters with dozens of kills and captures to their names, Galen was a twelve year veteran of the Rebel cause, and Rahot was the toughest Rodian I had ever seen. I'd heard a story about him climbing into a AT-ST and take out the whole crew alone, then take out two squads of Stormtroopers with it. Rahot was quiet for a Wookie, but he was all warrior. His black fur was curled in braids around his face and beard and that scar and milky eye made him look like a monster out of some kid's story. Nobody knew how old he was. There were stories about him fighting in the Clone Wars and the Wookie Rebellion. Jinn was the wild card of the group. He was young and cocky and full of piss and vinegar, but he was supposed to be one of the best hackers in the Alliance. Then there was Decker Antilles, our shuttle pilot, whose cousin was supposed to be some big shot fighter pilot in the Navy. We gave him shit about that all the time, but it was all in good fun. He could fly a shuttle into any weather and any terrain and still set her down like a mother putting her child down for a nap.

We checked our gear and our weapons, threw on our packs and cinched up our vests, piled into the shuttle and were in the air within two minutes. Antilles lifted off and left the cruiser with all the skill that I had been led to expect from him and within a minute or two we were in atmosphere and heading toward the surface. It was a bumpy ride and we all held tight to the handrails and rings that were there for the purpose, each of us with our weapons slung and holding on for dear life. All of us were veterans of several drops, dozens in the case of myself, Rahot, and Galen, but Jinn had only done a couple orbitals and right away I saw his face going green.

Lassiter: "Jinn, if you're gonna lose your lunch then do us all a favor and go to the corner."

Jinn: "I'm fine, sir."

Lassiter: "Don't call me sir, boy, I work for a living. This new bar doesn't mean a damn thing."

Galen: "It does to us, LT. You're our commanding officer, sir. Better get used to it."

Lassiter: "We'll see about that. I've been a grunt too long to be anything else."

Govina: "We still love you, sir."

Lassiter: "Lock that shit down, Govina. Don't think that I won't smack you just because you're a girl."

Govina: "With all due respect, sir, give it your best shot."

Lassiter: "Flirt with me later, sergeant. Right now we've got a job to do."

The air was choppy and we went through atmo in few seconds. The difference in the ride was immediate. One minute we were bouncing around the shuttle and barely staying on our feet, the next we were gliding along smooth and steady. For a moment it was quiet until the anti-air fire started popping all around us. The shuttle pitched and jumped as the shells and contact made contact with the shields, alarms sounded, and we heard Antilles shouting into the radio up in the pilot's seat. I heard the ack-ack outside the hull as we went lower and lower, then the distinctive sound of ultrasonic artillery raining down from the ships in orbit. They were raining holy hell down on the poor souls down there in the base. One could almost feel sorry for them. Almost.

Antilles: We're one minute out. LZ looks hot. Lowering the drop door.

The rear hatch came down and the wind roared around us, almost pulling us out of the shuttle and nearly drowning out the explosions and the constant fire. There were two other craft within sight and I knew there was one other somewhere in the formation, each carrying another team bound for another insertion point. This was a well planned op and on paper it all looked like it would go off without a hitch, but I knew better than to trust to plans. One thing that I had always been taught about warfare and that I had seen played out time and again was that plans seldom survive contact with the enemy. We were well armed and well equipped, more so than any unit that I had ever served in, and I was confident that we could do what was needed when the time came to improvise.

I could hardly believe it when they told me just how well equipped my team would be, back when I was still wrapping my mind around the idea of it being "my" team. All of us wore a special vest with pouches that carried five thermal detonators, communicators, a fighting knife, and ten power packs for our rifles. That was enough for a thousand shots each. Back on Jedha, that would have been enough to outfit an entire platoon and then some. We had water bladders built into the backs of the vests as well, an improvement over the old canteens that I was used to. For armament we each carried the knives, a pistol in a thigh or belt holster, and most of us were armed with the new the MARS rifle that was being cranked out of the armories on Corellia. MARS stood for Multi-Adaptive Rifle System, which it certainly was. The weapon had a 16" barrel, a variable zoom optic that could go from 0x-5x and everything in between with the turn of a dial, and the reticle automatically adjusted itself for varying ranges by virtue of a built-in computer. She had a maximum range of about four hundred meters. It also used the same power packs that were used by the Imperial Stormtroopers in their E-11 blaster rifles. It was a damn fine weapon, for certain, although too expensive to be issued to the front line troops. Mon Mothma herself had told me that the weapon had been designed and built specifically for our team and teams like it. As yet, it was largely untested in the field. We all carried pistols, with Jareen carrying two on each hip, and it was our preference as to what kind. I preferred my old DL-44 that had ridden my hip for years and saved my life more times than I could count.

Antilles: "Here we go!"

The base came into view, a vast concrete and metal circle that covered an easy five kilometers diameter and was bristling with defenses. Turret guns were mounted at regular intervals on the outer ring walls and the citadel, many of which were in flames but several of which were aimed at the approaching shuttles. Or, more specifically, at us. Green turbolasers zipped past us and I flipped the safety off on my MARS, heard the others do the same, and then the sky erupted in fire and the shuttle banked hard to one side.

Antilles: "Rancor Three is down! Rancor Three is down!"

Lassiter: "Stay on course, Deck! Take is in!"

Blaster bolts came in a red haze from the courtyards below and I lifted my rifle to my shoulder, found Stormtrooper with his weapons raised, and I squeezed the trigger. Sparks flew from his armor and he staggered, then I shit into him again and saw him go down. Galen was beside me with his MARS in the sniper configuration and he started picking off targets as fast as he could find them in his scope. Rahot and the others were to my left and right and Rahot cut loose with that cable-fed heavy blasters and mowed down the first wave of troopers that came to stop us. I dropped a man in the back of the yard near the wall, shifted to another who was diving for cover and caught him mid-stride, then shifted targets again just in time to see a trooper taking aim at me. I was looking straight down the barrel of his E-11 when I squeezed the trigger and saw his helmet's right lens shatter in a shower of sparks as his bolt whizzed by within inches of my head. It came close enough to singe the cloth covering my helmet.

Decker cut loose with the shuttle's cannons and took out at least a dozen troopers before they broke and ran. He flew us down to within a few feet of the ground and we all jumped out and spread into the standard holing formation. The men deployed just as I had ordered, each moving with the ease and speed that I had come to expect. Each of them were well experienced and well trained over the past few months and they knew their business better than anyone alive. Rahot took up a position behind a low wall that allowed him to cover the two entrances of the courtyard and the ramparts where reinforcements might try to fire down on us while Galen ran for the nearest building, some kind of office structure, and started his ascent to the roof. Once he was in position, I pitied anyone who tried to sneak up on us. Govina and Jinn fanned out on flanking positions near Rahot while Santos and Jareen fell in behind me. We made for the main door that would lead us into the citadel, I blasted the lock, and we were in.

The hallway inside was eerily quiet after the carnage outside. The cannons and small arms fire were muffled by the thick walls and we could feel the occasional vibration from the massive shells that were being sent down on the base, hoping that none of them came into a section close to us, but for the most part the sound was almost drowned out. We moved with our weapons up and our eyes peeled for trouble, which we were sure to find. Santos brought up the rear while Jareen kept to the right to clear the halls and rooms as we went past them, calling out "clear" once he had swept them. We went down the long hallway to a service elevator, moved in, and I hit the call button. We spread out and hugged the walls of the elevator in case someone threw in a thermal detonator when we got to where we were going. I covered the door and waited for the chime, and when it dinged and the door slid open we moved through it and covered the hallway beyond. The sounds of battle were completely gone now, merely a faint rumble every now and then, and the only sounds were those of our boots on the metal floor.

Lassiter: "Objective is just ahead, get ready."

Jareen: "I got left."

Santos: "I got right."

We were getting close to the target location, too damn close to have encountered no resistance. I had expected heavy enemy presence once we got into the citadel, but so far we had seen no one at all. No Stormtroopers, no officers, not even any noncombatant personnel. I was starting to sweat, and that was something that I rarely did. I'd been through enough to make me trust my instincts, and right then my instincts told me that we were walking into a trap. I hate it when I'm right.

Santos: "Contact front!"

We were almost into the main chamber of the citadel when they sprang their trap, at least twenty Stormtroopers hidden in the sharp turns of the halls. They came in a charge that would have taken us by complete surprise were it not for Santos' keen hearing. He brought his weapon up and fired twice before I could think, dropping two troopers in their tracks and inviting fire from the others. The hallway was filled with the whine of blasters and the red streaks of red-hot bolts zipping through the air, tearing flesh and shattering bone and armor or careening off of the walls and bouncing off into space. Luckily for us the Empire had built this place with its usual flair and had provided with cover in the form of support struts every few meters. I ducked behind one of these and fired into the nearest trooper, dropped him, and shot into another one as a half dozen others cut loose at me.

They were still thirty or forty feet from us and they were coming along at a careful pace, which was the only thing that saved us. They were being cautious, probably thinking that there were more of us than we actually had, and they came forward in a standard line formation while laying down a withering suppressive fire. I couldn't move without nearly getting hit, and it was the same with Jareen and Santos. Santos switched hands and fired without aiming around the edge of the strut. Jareen was behind me and hiding behind his strut and firing when he could, but the enemy fire was too strong. I slipped a thermal from a pouch and pushed the activation button, then called out:

Lassiter: "Hey Jareen, it's getting hot in here, ain't it?"

Jareen: "It sure is, sir."

He would know what that meant. We had worked in several code words like that during training for situations just like this. I knew he was doing the same thing and after I counted to a quick three I tossed the thermal down the hall. Jareen threw his at the same instant, immediately followed by Santos' as well. I heard officers yell, "Thermals! Fall back!", but I knew it was too late. I braced myself and heard the deafening explosions come in tandem accompanied by the screams and cries of the wounded and dying. Men shouted orders and curses and debris flew past us in all directions, flames jumped for moment and left a cloud of smoke and fumes. I left the cover of the hall strut and looked through my optic at the men that were still standing. There were bodies scattered all over the floor, broken and bleeding, and there was blood and pieces of men and broken armor on the walls that made for a grisly sight. Of the twenty or so men that had come around that corner at us, less than half were left now and most of them were walking around in a daze or looking to the wounded men. I shot two troopers who were stumbling down the hall and then another who turned to fire at me, dropping him with a neck shot. Jareen and Santos took out the other four. We finished off the wounded on the floor as well. Like it said in our motto; "No Quarter. None Asked, None Given."

We went down the hall and through the main chamber, hugging the wall and engaging targets as they appeared. The chamber itself was massive, three stories tall and eighty meters wide, with hallways branching off from the chamber and leading into the various areas of the base. It was one of these that we took to a corridor in the bowels of the citadel that appeared to be some sort of control room. I led the way into the room with my gun up and saw four Stormtroopers and an officer walking toward us with weapons out.

Lassiter: "Target front!"

Officer: "Rebels!"

I shot the officer and saw two of the troopers drop at the same time, killed by Santos and Jareen, then shot into the man to my right and saw him drop with two holes in chest plate from my shot and Jareen's. The last man fell back behind a large console and fired at us from cover while we sought cover ourselves. He was in a good position the consoles allowed him a good field of fire over the entire room. We had to find a way to get to him, and fast. We were burning time and we were on a strict timeline. Jareen and I laid down a heavy suppressive fire while Santos crept off to the side to flank him. There were some shots from behind the console and his fire ceased, and when we went in to secure his position we found him dead.

Lassiter: "Targets down."

Jareen: "Sir, who shot that guy?"

Lassiter: "I think I know who. Jedi! I say again, Jedi!"

A voice somewhere in the room called out "saber", and I felt instantly relieved. We had been told that there would be assets in the base and I had been briefed that they would be answering to the challenge "Jedi" with the countersign "saber". We looked around the large room for the owner of the voice, but there was no one in sight. We secured the room and Jareen patched into the main computer for an update. We saw security feeds of our other two teams in different parts of the base, each securing an objective and encountering heavy resistance. We saw the courtyard where we had left Rahot, Govina, and Galen, with Rahot and Govina behind cover laying down fire in front of the shuttle. Galen was out of sight, but I knew he was doing some damage wherever he was. The voice spoke again, this time much closer, and when I turned to look back toward the dead Stormtrooper I saw two figures that hadn't been there before. They were strange looking at first, but then I had never seen a Bothan up close.

They each stood about five and a half feet tall, both had the long faces and braided beards that their race was known to have, and they wore the uniforms of Rebel soldiers. They carried no rifles, but each of them had a pistol and some kind of knife at his belt and both of them carried packs and vests full of gear. They looked awkward on their backward legs, but when they moved it was with a certain grace and delicacy that I would not have expected. Both men were strong and well built and were obviously tough men. These would be the spies I had been briefed about.

Lassiter: "Are you our inside assets?"

Maj. Jorec: "Lieutenant Lassiter? We've been expecting you. This way, please."

We followed them into the next room, cleared it, then through a sealed blast door that had obviously been intended to fend off a hell of an explosion. Jorec punched in a code and the door slid open, revealing a huge storage area on the other side that was filled with crates and pallets of metal boxes. The room was easily a whole kilometer long and fifty meters wide, with most of the floor covered in heaps of the same crates and pallets of black containers marked "Munitions". I allowed myself a smile. This was what we had come for.

Lassiter: "Command, this is Rancor One, the package is secure. I repeat, the package is secure and ready for exfil. How copy?"

Command: "Command copies, Rancor One. Excellent work, lieutenant. Extraction birds are inbound to your location."

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies. All teams, this is Lassiter. Sitrep, over."

Rancor Two: "This is Rancor Two, charges armed and set."

Rancor Four: "This is Rancor Four, we have secured the objective."

Lassiter: "Solid copy. Sitrep on Rancor Three's objective."

Rancor Two: "Objective secured, sir. We've secured secondary objective and are go for exfil."

Lassiter: "Copy that. Good job, men. Drinks are on me once we're back at base."

Jareen: "Sir, is this shit what I think it is?"

Lassiter: "It certainly is, sergeant. Every one of these crates is full of power packs, thermal detonators, weapons, gear, just about anything you can think of. This base was supplied to outfit six legions at any given time, and now it's all ours. We just bought the Rebellion another year at least. Cover the doors and secure the hangar for exfil birds."
Jareen: "Yes, sir. Hell yeah!"

Jorec: "Lieutenant, you had better come in here."

I went back to the control room and found Jorec and the other Bothan looking over the screens, and what we saw was disconcerting. There was footage from the exterior cameras that showed our ground forces advancing over the broken terrain and at least a full legion of Stormtroopers doing their best to hold them back. Our men were having a hard time of it, but they were slogging onward. Those were some tough sons of bitches, but they weren't tough enough to stand against the two companies and two AT-ST walkers that were heading their way. We watched as two large landing crafts touched down a few kilometers from the combat zone, saw the troops fall into formation and then march toward our area of operations.

Lassiter: "Command, we have a situation down here. I have eyes on two full companies of enemy reinforcements with walker support. Two chicken walkers and at least two hundred tangos are en route to the combat zone. Do you have a visual on their position?"

Command: "Negative, Rancor One. Enemy fighters are making the airspace too hot for our scout ships to operate. We need a confirmed location on enemy reinforcements so that our bombers can provide support. Redirect your teams to their location and laze the targets for the strike, over."

Lassiter: "Copy that, Command. Rancor One is wheels out and en route. Jorec, do you have things under control here?"

Jorec: "I believe so, lieutenant. You go do what you have to do."

Lassiter: "You take care, major. Jareen, Santos, let's get back to the bird and go give our boys a hand. All teams, this is Rancor One. Fall back to your shuttles and RV on my location. We're inbound in three mikes."

Rancor Two: "Copy that."

Rancor Four: "Solid copy, boss."

We ran full bore for the courtyard and found Rahot and Govina hunkered down behind two ruined barricades surrounded by the bodies of dozens of Stormtroopers. They turned as we raced past them and we piled into the shuttle, then covered Galen as he came down from his perch and hopped on just as Antilles was lifting off. I directed him to the coordinates we had taken from the base computer and he let the engine roar into the horizon. I saw the bigger shuttles coming down toward the base as we flew away and I knew that the munitions we had come for were as good as in our pocket.

The other two shuttles fell in behind us and we flew low and fast to avoid enemy anti-air fire. We buzzed over the combat zone and saw the fierce fighting that was raging there. I saw men shooting over ditches that were barely a few meters apart, men charging and falling and fighting and dying. We caught few bolts and one rocket came at us, but Antilles dodged it expertly and we went on unscathed. It took mere minutes for us to reach our objective, a ridgeline that overlooked the shallow valley in which the Imperial reinforcements were marching. They were going at double time and would reach our men before long, and then it would be a massacre.

Decker and the other pilots offloaded us on the ridge and then lifted off and hovered close by to provide close support if such was needed. I deployed my men along the ridge and set up Rahot and the other heavy gunners where they could do the most damage, as well as Galen and the other two snipers in the rocks where they would have good cover and a fine field of fire. The Imperials saw us right away and I saw four platoons pull away from the main body and come toward our position, along with one of the walkers. I tapped the panel on my wrist computer and flipped down the eyepiece on my helmet, bringing up the HUD in my left eye. The reticle came up and I used it to mark the locations of the infantry column and the walkers. I punched the panel again and transmitted the location to the command ships in orbit. The screen acknowledged that the transmission was sent and received, and then the shooting started.

Galen started the ball, picking off an officer in the front line. Two more shots came from the other snipers and two more officers in grey uniforms went down. The troopers in the front line cut loose with a barrage of return fire, sending a red wave against the hillside we hid behind. Some of the men shot back, but I ordered them to cease fire. We had to make every shot count, or else none of us would make it out of here alive. They would be coming soon enough.

Command: "Rancor One, we have received your visual. Y-wing bombers have been tasked and are inbound to your location."

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies, Command. Tell your boys to get the lead outta their ass."

Command: "Copy that, Rancor One. Stay frosty."

Lassiter: "Birds are inbound, boys! Let's give 'em hell until they get here."

All: "None asked, none given!"

We held our fire, letting the troopers advance. They couldn't know our numbers, only that there were Rebels on this ridge and that they were presented a danger to their advance. They had to get us off that ridge if they were to carry out their attack and two companies of Imperial Stormtroopers were more than enough to get it done.

The troopers advanced in a staggered line, firing as they went. They were disciplined and well trained, and they were damn fine shots. None of us could so much as lift our heads without drawing fire. I leveled my MARS over the stand of rocks that gave me cover and took a bead on the first man I saw, a trooper who was having a hard time climbing over the broken ground and the loose rock in his armor. He had no idea that I held his life in my hands, or how quickly and easily I would have taken it. I had a special hatred for those bastards down there. If I could kill every last one of them I most certainly would. They were coming to within a hundred meters of us, easy range for our weapons. Just a little closer, just a little closer . . .

Lassiter: "Rancors, give 'em hell!"

Our line erupted in a volley that decimated the first line of troopers. Rahot and his gunners cut loose and sent down enough fire to put a regiment to shame, dropping a dozen men in the process. The first troopers fell back over the bodies of their comrades , regrouping for a second assault. The walker came up to the front and I knew we were in trouble. Those twin cannons opened fire and blew away chunks of rock the size of a Sullustan from the side of the hill. My men were wounded and dying, but they kept fighting. These were fighting men! Outnumbered ten to one and with armor breathing down their necks, and not one of them showed an ounce of give. These were my kind of men.

I fired my rifle until it ran dry, dropped the dead pack and slapped in another as fast as I could grab one out of the pouch. I hit the charge button heard the MARS power up again, then looked over my little stone wall and saw a squad of troopers coming on the slope on our right flank. I took aim and squeezed the trigger, dropping one with a shot to the chest and bringing another to his knees clutching at his neck and bleeding a red torrent all over his pretty white armor. The others dove for cover and disappeared from view. They were moving in on us. We didn't have enough men to secure the whole ridge, and they were getting wise. If they got men into position to cover our flank . . .

Jinn: "Heads up, fighters coming in!"

I heard that wheezing whine of a TIE fighter's ion engine coming in hot overhead, joined by another and another. I looked up and saw the little black dots in the overcast sky swoop down in just a couple seconds and quickly become three H-shaped black and grey fighters. Their blasters shrieked and green explosive bolts carved a pair of destructive lines across our line before they swooped over us and sped off into the horizon. I saw four of my men go flying in the air screaming and bloody, one of them missing a leg and another landing a few feet from me with his lifeless eyes wide open. The walkers rumbled closer down the hill and their cannons spoke over and over again, blowing away more and more chunks of the hillside. The TIEs were coming around for another pass and I saw more units moving in from the landing site. The majority of their forces were still moving towards our ground units, but they were focused on us for the moment and we had to keep it that way.

Lassiter: "Command, this is Rancor One. We are heavily engaged and highly outnumbered, in danger of being overrun! Requesting immediate close air support now!"

Command: "Rancor One, this is Command, Y-wings are inbound to your location but there is heavy enemy presence in the airspace. Just give them a minute to get there."

Lassiter: "We don't have a minute! Tell those flyboys to haul ass!"

Command: "Copy that, Rancor One. Hold on, Las, help is on the way."

Lassiter: "Rancor One copies. Hang on, boys! The flyboys are on their way!"

The walkers and infantry were laying down a murderous fire and the TIEs made another pass over our position, but we weren't giving any ground. We gave as good as we got. By now the hillside below us were littered with dozens of dead and dying Stormtroopers with nearly a hundred more moving up the ridge. Both walkers were hanging back because of the rugged terrain, which was the only that saved us. If they had been able to come up on us, that would have been that.

By now the air was a red haze of blaster bolts and dancing heat fumes. Whenever one of us peeked out from cover or a Stormtrooper tried to advance it invited fire, and we were certainly accounting for more than our share. They must have thought we were a battalion rather than just a couple dozen. They were getting closer by the minute, close enough for a few of them to toss thermal detonators over our heads and for us to throw them down on them in return. I shot at every trooper that showed himself, firing with the smooth and easy motions that all my years of training and experience had drilled into me. A Stormtrooper darted from one boulder to the next and I led him a bit before firing into his chest. He stopped midstride and went down and I shot him twice more until he stopped moving. Another shot at me from the cover of a rock slide and just barely missed my head and I followed his bolt back to him and squeezed the trigger twice in the same motion. The first shot knocked away the loose sand he was leaning on, while the second hit him in the head and sent him reeling backward. A few seconds later a foolish officer stood up on a hummock of dark sand, firing his pistol at us and shouting orders to his men, and I put my sight on his chest and squeezed off my shot. His nice grey uniform burst into flames when my bolt hit him just to the right of his rank insignia and he went down like a sack of old fruit. He was a brave man. Brave, but stupid.

A thermal detonator clinked to the rocky ground almost at my feet. After a swear and a shout, I picked it up and tossed it back down the slope. The blinking red light arced over the slight grade and disappeared behind the rocks, exploding in a burst of flames and sparks. A man shouted off to my right and did the same, the grenade exploding in midair. Someone needed to teach those Imperial boys how to back their detonators before throwing them. A trooper stood up and took a shot at me, missing by inches, and two blaster bolts took him in the chest at the same time. Another stood up to throw a thermal and I shot him just as he was winding up the throw. His grenade fell from his hand and I expected it to go off right there, but one of his friends picked it up and hurled it from somewhere behind cover. I looked away to track another target and almost didn't see it as it came sailing toward me.

Just as I looked up and saw the thermal coming at me, I jumped to my feet and started to run. I didn't have a destination in mind, I was just running to get away from the threat of the grenade. I shouted "Thermal!" at the top of my lungs and took three running steps before an explosion barked almost at my back. Shrapnel stung my back and the intense heat felt like the fires of a young sun even through my pack and fatigues. The force of the blast knocked me off my feet and I must have flown a few feet because when I hit the ground I went down hard and rolled over twice. I lost hold of my rifle and stopped face down in the black dirt, gasping for air and wincing at the pain. My ears were ringing. The world around me swan in a blurred haze. All around me the men ran from cover to cover and fired at everything that moved, barking orders and calling out targets. I saw the TIE fighters coming back around, three little dots on the far horizon screaming down on us, and more chunks were blown out of the hill by the AT-STs and their cannons. Was this it? Is this how it all ends? How the fuck did I get myself into this?

Actually, I remembered exactly how I got into this. I couldn't speak for the others, but my introduction into this little adventure had been absolutely nothing in the vicinity of my idea. It all started when a big Twi'lek with a missing tendril and scar across his cheek had come into my camp on Septis 3, where I was fighting with Harek's Hellraisers against an Imperial siege that had lasted for nearly a year, and told me that I was needed at the Rebel headquarters on Yavin. I'd never been to Yavin and had no intention of going, but the big man had an order from Mon Mothma herself and the late Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan asking for me by name and he had my commanding officer, Colonel Deke Harek himself, come down and order me to go along. I didn't think much of the Twi'lek in his pressed uniform and his shiny new pistol in an oiled holster, but I had too much respect for the Colonel to refuse his order. I got on transport ship and a day later I was on Yavin and stepping off into the largest Rebel base I had ever seen.

The base itself was a real piece of work. It was built into the ruins of an ancient temple that had been built by some forgotten race in a time so ancient that no one even knew who they were or when they had existed. They had vanished into the mists of history like so many others, victims of war, famine, disease, or just the passing of years and the eventual decline and death of all cultures. The walls were covered with arcane scribblings and carvings of magnificent beasts and ancient battles, both in space and on land, and I looked at them in awe as I was led down the vast halls toward the main command center. Whoever those builders had been, they had been warriors. I could respect that. Some said that we had made a mockery of their temples or palaces or whatever this place had been, but something told me that they would not have begrudged our use of their facilities. In fact, I had no doubt that they would have invited us in. Centuries, even millennia might pass, but wars and the warriors who fight them rarely change.

I had seen bases and staging areas before, but never anything as large or elaborate as this place. There were huge barracks that would easily sleep hundreds or thousands of men each, a motor pool that housed hundreds of armored and unarmored vehicles, and on the way to the CC we passed at least four hangars that seemed to have specialized fighters and spacecraft in each one. There were X-wings, Y-wings, A-wings, and other craft that I didn't recognize. I asked Mr. Twi'lek about them and he said they were called B-wings, a new experimental fighter that was still in the prototype stage.

The command center was the biggest and most advanced I'd ever seen. Dozens of operators and analysts and communications people flipped through screens and chattered away on their headsets and readouts. I saw placards and displays of bases on Septis, Akkadia, Hoth, and several other systems scattered across the galaxy, as well as places marking the comms centers of the Alliance's many fleets that were operating in various sectors. It was hard to believe that the whole Rebel Alliance was being run from this room. I was just a grunt from the trenches, accustomed to taking orders and carrying them out. I'd fought on six systems and killed more Imperials than I could ever count, but it had always been in the field and operating in small groups and small commands. I have to admit that it was a little overwhelming.

I was led to a sort of conference room just off the main command center, a small circular room with a pedestal in the center that looked like a holographic display and five concentric rows of seats where commanders and officers would sit during briefings. A tall woman with short red hair and dressed in white robes stood at the pedestal when I was shown in, her back to me as she spoke to a Corellian on the holographic display. He had admiral's insignia on his uniform and had a boom of command in his voice. A few feet away stood a tall man with broad shoulders, a green uniform, and a well tended red mustache and beard. I knew him at once. Every soldier on the front lines knew General Madine.

Mon Mothma: "Thank you for the report, Admiral Ackbar. Deploy your ships as necessary and keep me appraised of enemy movements."

Admiral Ackbar: "Affirmative, Senator. Be safe and may the Force be with you."

Mon Mothma: "And with you, admiral."

Admiral Ackbar: "Ackbar out."

Mon Mothma: "Sergeant Lassiter, do you know who I am?"

Lassiter: "I do, ma'am. Hardly anyone in the Alliance doesn't."

Mon Mothma: "So it would appear. Please, have a seat. Do you know why you have been brought here? Did Sather give you the details?"

Lassiter: "No, he didn't. He's been pretty tight-lipped about all this. Quite frankly, ma'am, I'm only interested in finding out why I was pulled off the front lines to come here and be asked a bunch of stupid questions. I'm a soldier and there's a war to fight out there."

General Madine: "You will show the senator the respect she is due, soldier, or you will answer to me personally."

Mon Mothma: "That's perfectly alright, Madine. I was told that you were the gruff sort. The general and I were just discussing your record, master sergeant. I understand that you fought with Saw Guerrera on Jedha for several years?"

Lassiter: "I did, ma'am. I joined his cadre when I was seven and fought with him until he was killed by the Death Star, along with most of the others that served under him. He was a good man. I was on a raid off-world, or I would have died with him, too."

Mon Mothma: "And after the destruction of the Holy City, you joined the Rebel Alliance and served first with the 82nd Infantry on Saccaris, then after their decimation you were transferred to the 2nd Division under General Tallis, then to the Mechanized Infantry under Colonel Harek. I believe they call themselves "Harek's Hellraisers", is that correct?"

Lassiter: "Damn right, ma'am. Give the word, we give 'em hell."

Mon Mothma: "How charming. How old are you, master sergeant?"

Lassiter: "I turned twenty-nine last month."

Mon Mothma: "And you have been fighting since you were seven?"

Lassiter: "Yes, ma'am."

Mon Mothma: "Then you have had a combined twenty-two years of combat service against the Empire and its varied forces? That's almost the entire life of the Empire itself. There are commanding officers who haven't had as much active combat experience as you have. I have reviewed your list of commendations and I must say that I am very impressed. Six citations for meritorious valor, three for wounds sustained in the field, one that would earn you our highest honor if we had such a thing to give. There are some, General Madine included, who say that you are quite possibly the most capable fighter in the entire Alliance. It's interesting that you never received a commission."

Lassiter: "I've been offered them before, ma'am, but I'm not an officer. I'm just a soldier. I was trained to fight and to kill Imperials, so that's what I do. Saw Guerrera once told me that soldiers are remembered for the victories they win and the battles they fight, not the medals that decorate their uniforms. A medal is a useless trinket that I have no need for."

Mon Mothma: "Well, you the time has come for you to become more than just a common soldier, Sergeant Lassiter. The late Bail Organa and I once discussed the formation of an elite unit of soldiers like yourself, men that have fought and bled for the Alliance and have shown that they can get things done no matter the cost. You have proven that already, many times over, and now we have a proposition for you. We would like you to be the commander of this unit."

Lassiter: "What would this unit's mission statement be?"

Mon Mothma: "You would carry out operations in both space and on land in conjunction with the Fleet and Army forces. You would be given assignments deemed too dangerous or too risky for the average soldier, covert operations where secrecy and discretion will be paramount. You would secure assets, rescue hostages, and destroy targets and installations that would be crucial to the war effort. You would have full autonomy, you would operate under your own discretion, and you would be allowed to choose which missions you would or would not take."

Lassiter: "So what's the catch?"

Mon Mothma: "The catch? I suppose it would be that you and your men would be outside the generally accepted rules of war. You would be a guerilla force and would have no official identity if you are captured. You will have the best equipment, the best weapons, and the best operatives available. We are already forming a similar unit in the Fleet under Commander Luke Skywalker, Rogue Squadron, and now we would like to have such a unit for ground operations. What do you say, Sergeant Lassiter?"

Lassiter: "I'll join your little team and I'll help train them, sure, but I don't want to be an officer. Get someone else for that job."

Mon Mothma: "No good, sergeant. We want you for the lieutenant's position and we would not consider anyone else. You have all the qualifications that we are looking for and more combat experience than most of our generals, with perhaps the exception of General Madine. You are the man we want for this job, Sergeant Lassiter, because you're one of the few that can get it done."

Lassiter: "And what exactly is in it for me?"

General Madine: "Hard days, long battles, scars, blood, and probably certain death, but you would be fighting for the Rebellion and for the galaxy. You've been fighting your whole life, Lassiter, but now you would be fighting for something bigger than yourself. The things you would be doing would make a difference beyond moving lines on the map. Saw Guerrara fought on his own, but he fought for something better and he never asked for anything in return. He was your mentor, wasn't he? Would you hold out for something for yourself when he did all that just to make the galaxy safer?"

Now, what could I say to that? It was true that I had fought for years alongside Saw Guerrera and had known him better than anyone else ever had, except maybe for Jin Erso, and I knew that old Saw had fought for the simple reason that he hated the Empire and that he liked to fight. Saw was a born warrior and he would have dried up and died without a war to fight, but it was true that he had never asked for anything in return either for himself or his men. He had even broken away from the Rebellion because he believed they weren't doing enough and took all of his followers, myself included, and fought his own war. Now that same Rebellion was offering me the shot to do the same thing with a blank check to do it. It's funny how things turn out sometimes.

The next eight months were a blur of selecting the best candidates, setting up a training ground, and then six months of training for every possible situation. We trained for hot, cold, desert, jungle, mountain, and zero gravity combat, practiced orbital jumps, climbing, amphibious landings, and every other form of warfare that we could think of. We even got an old cruiser and did ship clearing and boarding operations. We were trained by the best of the best that the Rebel Alliance had to offer, some of the training done by myself and some of my old colleagues from the Guerrera days. Mac Jenson was there training us for boarding ops, Jarro Oretz trained us for jungle warfare (which made sense, considering his home planet), a few others that I didn't know personally or knew only by reputation. We scored high honors, had a few dropouts and washouts, and by the end of it we were a solid unit of thirty pure-dee badasses ready for a fight. We were barely a week out of training when we got our first op: hit the Ortenian Munitions Base and assist in capturing weapons and ammunition.

We were ready for action and the payoff would be huge. Even if we got just a few dozen crates of what we had in mind, we would be able to supply the Rebellion for several months at the least. The ground units landed a few clicks from the base and commenced the attack, air support and orbital bombardment softened the base up, and then we went in. It was supposed to be smooth and simple. In, out, back on board the cruiser before the Empire even knew we were there. It was supposed to be simple. Yeah, right. It was like old Saw used to say, "Everyone has a plan until the first shot is fired, then it all goes to shit."

Jinn: "Sir? Sir, you alright?! LT, are you okay?!"

Lassiter: "Fine, fine, damn it. Give me a sitrep."

Jinn: "Walkers are closing in and the Stormies are almost on us. We need backup now!"

Lassiter: "No shit! Get Command on the horn and get those fucking bombers –"

Govina: "TIEs making another pass!"

I moved to the line again, slapping in a fresh power pack as I ran, and I saw the fighters coming in again. That eerie sound of the ion engines, the shriek of their cannons, it was all getting really annoying. I wished that I had some kind of anti-air weaponry, but we hadn't been outfitted for that kind of threat. We were supposed to be operating in the base and only the base, but as usual in combat circumstances had dictated that we take another role. They could take as many passes at us as they wanted and we couldn't do shit about it. If only I could get a good shot at one of those pilots, just one good shot!

The three little dots came screaming down on us and we took what cover we could, hiding behind boulders and mounds of dirt and slag rock or whatever else we could find that would keep us out of harm's way. They were coming around the high hills, lining up their strafing run, and I was waiting for the bolts to come down on my head. A red blaster shot zipped past my head and I rolled behind cover, just in time to see the first of the fighters line up for a run and start to dip down. I cursed him and dared him to take a shot at me. I was pissed off and wanted to get a shot at that fucker. As if in answer to my challenges, a line of red bolts came out of nowhere and blew away the first TIE's right panel, sending it into a tumble. More bolts came down and blew away the second fighter, the third pulling away and making a line for the upper atmosphere. The one with the missing panel tumbled wing over wing in a fiery ball and came crashing into the ground about half a click from our position and erupted into a ball of flames and black smoke. Two X-wings went overhead at breakneck speed, followed by a flight of Y-wings coming down from atmo.

Gold Leader: "Rancor One Actual, this is Gold Leader. We're starting our attack run."

Lassiter: "Copy, Gold Leader. It's damn good to see you boys!"

Gold Leader: "Sorry about the delay. We had a few friends to take care of, but we're all yours now. What have you got for us, LT?"

Lassiter: "I've got two enemy companies in the valley between landing craft and my strobes. Jinn, pop strobe now!"

The kid didn't waste a second. He dropped his weapon to the sling and took the IR strobe from his pouch and pulled the pin. I could just barely hear the high-pitched beeping when he tossed the device near our line. There was no visible light, but to an infrared lens that thing would be lit up like a nightclub on Coruscant. Two other men from the other teams did the same, marking the positions of each our teams to the birds coming in.

Lassiter: "Do you have a visual, Gold Leader?"

Gold Leader: "Copy that, I have your positions and I have the targets. We're inbound and hot. Time to tuck your shit, Rancor One."

Lassiter: "Solid copy. Danger close. Everybody down, now! Ordinance inbound!"

We hit the dirt and made ourselves as small as possible. The Stormtroopers were coming up the hill hard and heavy and were laying down a murderous fire, but we didn't dare stand up to return fire. The Y-wings came roaring down and flew over the little valley so fast that I could barely even seen them when I looked up to see where they were, and the little blue balls that they dropped were falling just as fast. I barely saw them at all before they hit terra firma and exploded in a blinding white light and a cloud of dust and fire. The explosions were deafening, my ears rang even more, the ground shook as if a massive earthquake were going on, and the sudden wind that swept over us carried a wall of dirt and dust that covered us and the hillside in a black and grey blanket. There were at least six flashes, but I ducked my head immediately after the first barrage hit and didn't see the rest. For a few seconds the world was on fire, then the rumble died away and the wind calmed down a bit. I let the dust settle before I crawled forward and looked down at that cursed valley again, and I had to admit that I smiled a little.

The entire valley floor was a scene of complete devastation. Ten or twelve craters, each a dozen yards or more across and at least ten feet deep, littered the valley floor, the landing craft at the far side were in flaming ruins, and the two companies of Imperial Stormtroopers were gone. I saw a hundred or so bodies littering the ground, pieces of the two walkers that had been breathing down our necks, but for the most part they had been practically vaporized. The only whole bodies that were visible were the ones we had killed ourselves or the ones who were on the periphery of the carnage.

Lassiter: "Hell of a job, Gold Leader. Thanks for the assist."

Gold Leader: "Roger that, Rancor One, anytime. We're moving out to provide additional assistance to ground units."

Lassiter: "Copy, Rancor One out. Decker, prepare for dustoff. We're gonna need immediate evac."

Antilles: "Copy, LT. Coming in for the pickup."

We gathered our dead and wounded, policed our power packs for later recharging, and filed into the shuttles as they flew in and touched down. Ten seconds flat and we were back on board and rising into the overcast sky. We flew over the base and the battlefield where our men had been fighting. Our little skirmish had made a big difference. Our boys had turned the tide and sent the Imperials into retreat, the white-clad companies down on the ground fleeing back toward the safety of their base with their tails between their legs. We let them go and watched our men pull back to their staging area for extraction, saw the transports start to lift off, and then we hung back to watch the fireworks.

Lassiter: "Rancor One to Rancor Two, did you boys set those charges in the reactor?"

Rancor Two: "That's an affirmative, sir."

Lassiter: "Light 'em up, Tavot."

Rancor Two: "With pleasure, sir. Fire in the hole in three, two, one."

The base was diminishing into the distance, now at least twenty clicks away, but the bright light and huge fireball that rose from the landscape with it were clearly visible. A rushing wind swept over the shuttle and we all held on tight, then we felt the heat. It was a searing heat that made me blink a few times to save my eyes and made me sweat under my uniform. I felt the grime and dirt mix with the sweat and the blood and the ash that had caked my face and neck. I felt myself relax a little. We were on our way back to base, our mission had been a success, and we were all in one piece. Everyone in my team, anyway. We had lost good men today, but they knew what they were getting into when they joined the Rancor teams. We would drink to their memory back at the mess and write their names on the memorial wall at headquarters. They would be remembered.

Command: "Rancor One Actual, this is Command. Good work down there, son, damn good work. We saw that explosion from up here."

Lassiter: "Thanks, Command. We lost some good people down there. Are the assets secure?"

Command: "Copy that. Five transport ships full to the brim. We got it all."

Lassiter: "Outstanding, Command. Rancors are wheels up and RTB. It'll be good get back to Yavin, sir."

Command: "We're not going back, LT. Yavin base has been compromised. We're moving to the secondary HQ."

Lassiter: "And where would that be, Command?"

Command: "I hope you don't mind snow, LT. We're goin' to Hoth."