This is it.
The past ten hours have been a blur. First thing I know is that rumors were going around that a Jedi, not the one from a few days ago, had set down on Kamino. Next, I've got my armor on, and the squad is boarding individual gunships (they separated us so the entire squad wouldn't be killed if the gunship got hit). A few flashes of time were spent waiting aboard a Republic Assault Ship. Now I'm watching atmospheric burn fade into the yellow haze that is the sky of the planet Geonosis.
There's com chatter coming from the cockpit, as well as some nervous pre-battle chatter among my non-Commando brothers sharing the troop cabin with me. Just like in the exercises, the pilot announces that we're coming up on our drop coordinates, and everyone gets busy. I slip my helmet on, newly-painted in the blue and grey color scheme devised by Icer, and give my Deece a quick check. All nominal. I blink at the little red light in the corner of my helmet, and my HUD appears as it always has, a rush of glowing information.
The troopers in the cabin are slapping each other on the back and checking their weapons, and the door gunners snap their harnesses in. The sides of the cabin slide open, and air rushes in. I see my first glimpse of a real war. It's wonderful and frightening at the same time. I see the most blaster fire than any being has any right to see, solid walls of blue plasma bolts from our troops meeting a hail of red from the opposition.
One of the troopers pounds my shoulder plate. "Good luck, sir."
Sir. That's right – as a sergeant of the Grand Army, I outrank anyone else in the gunship. It's odd hearing it from someone I don't know, despite the fact that he looks exactly like me under his armor. I'll get his designation later; right now, we're only four meters above the ground. The gunship next to us takes heavy fire and simply splinters, probably killing all aboard. My first witnessed casualties of the war; as much as I cherish their memories, Rack, Dunno, Jammer, and Slapper don't count.
We drop to two meters; that'll have to be enough, because the door gunners are screaming at us to go. I pull a ring out of the plating at my feet and jump over the edge; the durasteel cable attached to it slows my descent enough so I just barely feel the impact. The second my feet touch dirt – real dirt, none of the simulated stuff back on Kamino – I let go and dive for the nearest cover. The troops do the same, and after a quick headcount they move off to their assigned area. I wish I could go with them, but I need to rendezvous with my true brothers in Cryo.
Two-Two (he hates Deuce) is already on the ground. He calls in and tells me that he's on the way to RV Alpha. I start trotting off in that direction when Icer calls in, then Oath the moment he's done. So far, so good.
The hike to the RV was uneventful, though I did spot a company of droids and call some artillery on them. Reportedly, Deuce ran into some droid trouble of his own and scored the squad's first kills of the war. Good for him.
Everyone's picked up some of the local dust, but the vibrant blue that Icer chose for the squad color scheme shows up strong. A quick check to make sure everyone has everything, and we're off on our mission: cut off Geonosian air support, then swing back to help out Theta with their objective.
The rocket jocks dropped us fairly close to one of the biggest hangars in the combat zone. We could have just blown it up with artillery, but we need to be sure that when it goes, everything goes.
The approach wasn't half bad. We waxed a few more droids on the way. C&C called in and told us that Theta was incapacitated and that Delta was taking care of their objective. Good, less work for us.
There's about forty droids down in front of the spire entrance. Cryo Squad sets up. Icer and I are at forty-five degree angles to the entrance with Deece snipers, Oath is packing the anti-armor, and Deuce – sorry, Two-Two – is setting up a grenade position. Once he's in place, I begin to count down the squad as I sight down at the nearest droid.
On one I pull the trigger, hitting the droid at such an angle that it spins around – the kind of shot that got Slapper his name – and Icer cores another pair with his rifle. Meanwhile, Oath blows six of them to the scrap heap and Deuce lobs an ECM. It goes off, taking ten with it, while Icer, Oath, and I line up our next shots.
All forty or so are down in a few seconds. Icer switches back to rifle and does a quick recce. All clear. One by one, starting with Oath, we abandon our positions and move to the base of the hangar spire. On my signal, a gunship swings by overhead and drops a crate of charges that we drag inside.