Chapter 1
"Some assignment," said Delta Trooper 185, known better to us as Manny.
He said it, but we were all thinking it. Three years ago, the Grand Army of the Republic had instated a new team of elite clones known as Team Delta. Inside this team, there were three divisions and three squadrons. Six members of Team Delta's sniper squadron, known as Scouts, had been sent by Team Delta's leader, Helm, to Mygeeto on a reconnaissance mission: Troopers 02 Matt, 36 Alex, 88 Ryan, 96 Rex, 185 Manny, and 909 Zan. Matt, Zan, and I were the three leads of the Scouts with Zan as the head, me second in command, and Matt in third. Helm had his orders to order us to bunker down on Mygeeto. He said it was important to the overall war. The other Scouts had other assignments elsewhere, probably actually seeing some combat. We never knew what we were supposed to do exactly, but Helm's orders sounded urgent. We had been sitting on that God-forsaken rock for 62 days (I counted) local time. Waiting. Waiting for something that never came. Most of the time we could barely see through the thick planetary fog. Matt had gone scouting ahead of us, but that was about 40 days ago. We listed him as missing instead of dead, not having completely lost hope in him. Now the only two men in charge were me and Zan. We knew the other three were getting restless, but try as we might to get reassigned, Helm insisted our location was crucial to defeat the Confederacy of Independent Systems and bring order to the Republic. So we waited. We never saw what was coming until it hit us.
From day to day we heard explosions from the far off Battle of Mygeeto. After 62 days of waiting, the hells of combat were starting to sound like paradise. However, this day was different. We heard another explosion, but this one shook the ground. It happened again. The sounds started to get louder, closer. "Be ready to move," Zan quietly told the troops, "this could get ugly." We were all on the edge. I double-checked my ammo count. Fifty-six shots. Just like yesterday. Just like the past 62 days. It was the most my sniper rifle would carry. BOOM! A final explosion knocked us to our feet. It was an AAT, the Confederacy's favorite tank. But this one was different. Instead of the normal laser cannon mount, this one had a strange grenade launcher on top. But it didn't fire grenades. Grenades couldn't create explosions like that. "SEPARATE!" I ordered. During the beginning of the mission, we had assigned each other partners just in case something like this happened.
We knew that mere snipers could not take down an entire tank. The only thing we could do was find better cover. The pairs were assigned as follows. I was with Alex, Manny was with Rex, and Zan was supposed to be with Matt. Seeing as Matt was missing, Zan was on his own, which was fine since he was the head of the Scouts. We rushed out of our makeshift camp and ran in all directions, hoping to stay out of the tank's line of fire. Another round from the tank knocked us down again and we all scrambled to our feet. We needed a plan, and fast."Who's closest to the tank?" I yelled into my helmet's comm. Zan saw where I was going with this idea and he raced towards the rear panel of the AAT. Making sure he avoided the small laser cannons on the side, he scrambled up into the tank, blaster pistol in hand. He opened the hatch and fired two quick shots into each of the droid pilots. He was too late. One of them punched in the self-destruct code when it saw Zan climbing the side. "EVERYBODY GET SOME DISTANCE!" he frantically shouted as he jumped off the tank and ran. The tank still had rounds in it, and in thirty seconds they were all going to simultaneously explode.
With a bright flash, the entire AAT went up in an earth-shattering explosion. Literally. A crater the size of a Star Destroyer was left in place of the AAT. It looked like an earthquake had hit the surrounding area. Sections of the ground jutted skyward about 15 meters and boulders were piled on top of each other. Thirty-six and I landed relatively close to each other. I did a quick physical self-scan and I was relieved to find the worst injuries I had were a few scrapes and bruises in places my light, sharpshooter armor did not cover. Manny appeared to be coming to the same conclusion and sat up with his sniper rifle across his lap.
"Remember that time I said there was nothing worse than flying with you?" he asked me.
"Yeah."
"I stand corrected."
"Thanks for that, 36."
"It's what I'm here for."
I couldn't tell, but I was pretty sure he had a sarcastic grin underneath that helmet of his. We all had separate training besides Scout sniper training. Well, all of us except 02. He dedicated his skills purely on the art of sniping and reconnaissance, which is why he volunteered to go ahead. My greatest focus besides sniping was on space combat. I was the only soldier with more than basic pilot training, and every time I flew with them, they never let me forget it. I wasn't a bad pilot, I was just the only man they could tease about flying poorly, seeing as none of them actually had intense flying combat experience. But that flight experience wouldn't help us survive an explosion of that magnitude. I had to make sure everyone else was OK.
I couldn't see anyone else because all the debris was obscuring my view. I quickly commed in to the rest of them, "Scouts, report!"
A pause. That wasn't good. Then, static.
"96 here."
Thank God, a response.
"36, reporting."
"185, ready for action."
There was a long pause after that. I knew 02 wasn't going to comm in, but there was still one more Delta out there. Then I heard it.
"*cough* *cough* Ryan, next time, YOU'RE attacking the self-destructing tank."
It was 909. He made it. We hadn't lost another.
