"Kriff! There's no end to them!"

Def, a clone trooper clad in orange armor with white lozanges, made a leaping spin into a super battle droid, bringing it down to the floor and sending it spinning off the edge of the observation balcony.

"That's kind of the idea of a factory." BT-422-12, similarly equipped, dealt a super battle droid a kick in the face and sent it toppling into its neighbor. "If you need to, we'll retreat."

"No. Just complaining." Def fired a shot into the hip joint of another B2 super battle droid, causing its magnetic connections to short. The droid's legs fell off and it fell to the floor, helpless. "Charge said we give them as much time as possible to blow the place. That means we don't retreat unless we absolutely have to."

"We are outnumbered. What do you intend to do?"

Def glanced up and saw a huge beam supporting the roof. He did some quick calculations, ending with the result that the support system was multiply redundant and would not collapse from the destruction of any one beam. He grabbed a magnetic thermal detonator from his belt, armed it, and hurled it at the beam, shouting to his companion. "Jump!"

The two leapt off the balcony, falling into the factory below. They landed on an SRT's pallet as the detonator exploded, bringing the beam crashing down on the balcony. Not having been designed to support such weight, the balcony buckled and fell, pulling out the floor of the adjoining room. A few B2s fell with the balcony and floor, and the factory, ever blind to its destruction, regularly dropped B2s through the hole in the floor to their destruction.

BT-422-12 exhaled. He could feel his adrenaline draining away. The hard part was over. He felt his armor jerk forward a moment before he was lifted from the pallet by the droid's arm. He grabbed on and managed to keep from falling for a few seconds. He looked around desperately. He was losing his grip as the droid shook him more violently.

Def leapt onto the droid's arm and grabbed his friend's hand. Pulling him loose, he blasted the droid's wrist joint, shutting down the hand. The two clones scrambled up the droid's arm and onto its back, where they dodged behind its neck to avoid the irritated droid's swipes.

As the droid proceeded on its preprogrammed route, it got close to a part of the conveyor belt. The two clones leapt in unison, both landing on a welding arm. Their momentum caused it to disconnect from the suspended belt and fall to the floor of the factory, almost 40 meters below.

The arm's buckling shell provided sufficient cushioning for them to survive, but they were shaken and stunned when they landed. Another clone approached, also wearing the ordnance specialists' orange armor. "You all right?"

BT-422-12 picked himself up and sat down on the arm. "Yeah. How's the mission going?"

Radian extended his hand to Def, helping him up. "I finished my calculations. The rest is up to Triplet and Roll. Charge told me to get you back to him for forced exit. When you're ready."

Def dropped his blaster back in its holster. "Let's go."

Triplet reached out, a large magnetic explosive in his hand. A moment before the mine touched the beam he was reaching toward, its magnet activated and it leapt from Triplet's hand, gluing itself to the metal. After carefully adjusting several dials, he pushed a button and stepped away. "That's all of them, sir," he said. "We'd best get going when Def and Twelve get here. I don't like staying here."

"Is there something wrong with the mines?" Charge paused, considering possibilities. "Are they unstable?"

"No, sir." Triplet knew he looked as grim as usual with his helmet's frowning breath filter, but he was smiling. He was always happy when he was needed. "The B2s are poor hosts."

"Very true!" Def shouted as he approached. "So we won't regret leaving them behind."

Charge turned to BT-422-12, who walked next to Def. "Report."

"Sir. We blew a roof support beam and destroyed the balcony where we were fighting the droids. The activation room's floor was torn out by the beam and the droids are being released at the top of the building and drop to the bottom."

Roll chuckled. "These places don't even have sensors!"

Def turned to him. "I disconnected them before we entered, remember?"

Radian stepped forward. "All right. Let's get out of here before our hosts ask us to stay."

• § •

Triplet stood two paces in front of his teammates, cradling a small remote in his hand. They had walked about a quarter kilometer away from the almost-subterranean factory. Hraka was a harsh world with no water and no life, but it was rich in natural resources, making it ideal for automated factories. This B2 factory was brand new, and ungarrisoned – it was standard CIS policy to guard battle droid factories with a portion of their own output. Pity this one never got to finish making its garrison.

Charge inhaled slowly, and half-whispered. "Now."

Triplet thumbed the button. For a second, his heart stopped. The mines hadn't exploded. He would have to go back and execute manual detonation, which was suicide when the entrance was on the top floor and the mines on the bottom.

A soft creak reverberated through the rocky desert, then a muffled snapping sound as overtaxed beams bent and cracked. One corner of the factory caved in, then the entire roof dropped into the factory's excavated crater. This facility was no more.

Charge was the first to turn around, calling the others from the underwhelming destruction to their gunship. The pilots and the two clone troopers sent to bring them back had also watched, and turned back to board the LAAT.

The gunner was the first to see them. Two destroyer droids unfolded between them and the gunship. The pilots and the escort instinctively leapt for cover, but the bomb squad just drew their weapons. Roll was the first to act, and being the grenade specialist, was well-equipped to do so. He threw a tactical EMP grenade between the two droids. The resulting pulse was strong enough to puncture the droidekas' shields and short them out. Def ran up to them and blasted each one in the head.

Roll exhaled, looking back at his teammates over his shoulder. "Never outpaced a droid before. I was sure one of them was going to shoot me before that grenade exploded."

Charge looked around for a moment, locating his forces and determining if there were any other droids in the area. He turned to Roll. "Well done."

The pilots, visibly frightened, stood up from the ground and dusted their armor off. They quickly got into the LAAT and powered it up. The escort and the bomb squad got inside, with Roll holding his head a little bit higher than the others. The escorts got into the ball turrets, and the gunship took off. The bomb squad, numbering only six and having no company in the gunship, had the luxury of sitting until they reached Sector C's base of operations, run out of the adapted assembly hall of an Acclamator-class assault ship.

• § •

The squad disembarked from the gunship, Charge leading the way. When the bomb squad entered the hall, the clone commander, Neyo, stood. "Welcome back, BC Twenty-two-four." Charge winced under his duraplast frown. He hated being called by number. It was too much like being a droid. He was painfully aware that anyone outside the army or any military officers who didn't participate in combat directly didn't see him as much more than a battle droid.

Neyo turned to Charge. "You may remove your helmet, BC-22-4."

"With respect, sir," Charge bowed his head slightly. "I'd prefer to keep it on."

"Suit yourself. How did your raid go?"

"We destroyed the factory completely. It has collapsed on itself and most of its machinery should be crushed."

"Losses?"

"None, sir."

"Resistance?" Charge was displeased with his commander's lack of appreciation for his soldiers' lives.

"Just a few B2s. The factory hadn't finished her garrison. Besides that, two droidekas, taken out by Ro – by BT-323-41. A most excellent man, sir. I would like to commend him."

"Very well. You and your squad may take a gunship to receive your orders from General Koon. He's at Sector B field HQ. Good luck."

"Sir."

• § •

Bomb Squad L5 boarded the same LAAT again. The pilot glanced back at them. "Where shall I take you, sir?"

Charge looked up. "Sector B field headquarters. No hurry, keep us safe."

The pilot said nothing. He took off as a response, guiding the gunship out from under the assault ship. Charge relaxed as the ship leveled out.

"Sir?" Radian cocked his head, as he always did when he had a question. "What's our mission?"

Charge sighed. "I don't know, Radian. That's why we're going to the field HQ. General Koon will give us our new orders there."

"They should create a better communication holo-network so we wouldn't have to fly all over just to get another mission." BT-422-12 shook his head. "Stupid."

"If this were a normal mission, they would have transmitted it by hologram and Commander Neyo would know. You know that. This is obviously a special mission." Triplet playfully knocked on BT-422-12's helmet. "Stupid."

"That should be your name," Roll chuckled. "Report, private Stupid."

"No." BT-422-12 shook his head, laughing. "That's… no."

"By the flames, what are you looking for?" Def looked at BT-422-12. "Finding a name isn't that hard. You've been nameless for nine years now. We can't continue calling you Four-Twenty-Two Twelve."

Suddenly the gunship jerked violently. A curse sprang unbidden from Roll's comlink. "Watch it!"

The gunner leaned back, glancing over his shoulder momentarily. "Sir," he sounded stressed. "We're under fire. We need gunners for the ball turrets!"

Charge spun to Radian. "Radian, you and Roll get in those turrets. Def, stand by in case we need repairs. Triplet, make a full inventory of our arsenal. Twelve, set up some gun emplacements and make the speeders ready." Charge paused to catch his breath. "And somebody tell me what the blazes is going on."

The gunners, having the best field of view and having nothing to distract them, were the first to decipher the situation. "Sir!" Radian called over his comlink. "Three Vulture Droids tailing us. We haven't taken damage yet, but we can only bring the rear cannon to bear."

Charge noticed they were flying through a short tunnel in a long cavern wall. "Pilot," he said, his voice calmer as he figured out what the situation was, "as soon as you get out of this tunnel, go straight up and back over the wall. We'll bounce them."

The pilot did not respond, but carried out the maneuver perfectly. The gunship dropped in behind the Vulture Droids just as they came out of the tunnel, slowing down to try to locate the gunship. The LAAT's heavy frontal firepower came to bear, and within two seconds, all three droids were gone.

"Ha!" Radian exclaimed in triumph as he got out of the starboard ball turret. "Never mess with a LAAT in its home territory."

• § •

As the LAAT arrived at field headquarters, Charge noticed the General himself waiting to meet them. He jumped down just before the gunship touched the ground. General Plo Koon stepped toward him. "Welcome, Corporal…"

Charge smiled under his helmet. Jedi always valued lives, even of the replaceable clones. "Charge, sir."

"Ah. I have a special mission for you and your squad. Have them all report to me at the building."

"Sir." Charge turned back to his squad. "There's nothing to do here. Everyone follow me."

The squad marched in single file up to the temporary building set up in the headquarters. Charge opened the door and entered.

Def glanced around. There were a few clones in the building, monitoring radar and other input screens, and the Jedi and his Padawan, but there were two people distinctly out of place. A clone reconnaissance trooper, known as an ARF trooper, stood near a corner. Next to him stood a man in full Mandalorian battle armor. The armor was crimson and blue, and the man stood absolutely still and straight. If not for the breathing sounds he heard, he would have sworn that the armor was empty.

Plo Koon turned to greet the squad. "Welcome. As you know, I have a special mission for you. You are to take these two men to assist you –" he gestured to the ARF trooper and the Mandalorian "– and proceed to the coordinates on this datapad." Plo Koon handed Charge a datapad, currently turned off. "Further instructions are also on that pad. Be cautious, and good luck."

Charge stepped outside of the building, followed by his squad and the two others. He turned away from them and turned the datapad on. It was manually disconnected from the HoloNet, and was on internal memory only. Charge read the following:

To Commander BC-22-4

Proceed to coordinates 93-88-B. You are to destroy the Core Ship located there, which houses the Command Computer for this sector. Take a LAAT/i and do not fail.

Plo Koon, Commanding Officer, Force D

Charge activated his comlink, talking to the LAAT pilot. "Pilot, this is Charge, leader of the bomb squad you transported earlier. Do you need some rest?"

Being so close, the pilot's voice was clear. "Yes, sir, if you don't mind."

"Well, take a half-hour and then report to me. I'll be outside the building."

"Right, sir."

Charge turned to Radian, his second-in-command. "Think I gave him enough time?"

"Well, sir," Radian looked up. "I've never piloted a LAAT in a firefight before. I wouldn't know."

The Mandalorian looked at Charge. "I think that's perfect. He'll need a chewstim to keep his energy up, but no significant loss of performance. He'll have to do watches with the gunner when we get there."

Charge stared up at the Mandalorian. The man's voice was young, but had little enthusiasm; it was replaced by flat certainty born of experience. The clone spoke. "Who are you?"

"Vakir Sula'e. I'm a freelance warrior."

Radian looked up, puzzled. "The Republic hires Mandalorians?"

"No. I'm a… I was a Mandalorian once, but I didn't like the company. Too sullen."

"That's saying a lot." Triplet wished he could express his amusement on his helmet. BT-422-12 turned towards him. He couldn't tell directly, but from the speed with which he turned his head, Triplet guessed he had received a cold glance.

"Perhaps." Vakir smiled. This clone was the first man to joke about him since he'd finished his Mandalorian training. It was good that these men were not afraid of him. This mission required flawless teamwork. "Who are you?"

"BT-333-9. Nicknamed Triplet. Minelayer."

"Since we'll be working together, I suggest we all introduce ourselves. Let's start with you." Vakir gestured at Charge with a slight nod.

"BC-22-4. Charge. Squad Leader, Bomb Squad L5."

"BT-323-41. Roll. Grenadier."

"BT-465-87. Def. Defuser."

"BT-422-12. Gas expert."

"No name?" the ARF trooper seemed surprised.

"Haven't found anything suitable."

"BT-341-73. Radian. Ballistics Expert."

"ARF-32-5. Darmek. Advanced Recon Force Trooper."

"Right." Vakir glanced around. "Let's make the situation clear. I will be your commander – I've got a note from Plo Koon. Charge, you'll be second. Darmek, you'll scout out an entrance to the ship."

Triplet turned to Radian. "Come on, let's go look up the schematics for that ball."

Vakir turned to follow them. "I'd better join you. Everyone else, get some rest. I'll bring a pack of chewstim to share."

• § •

A BARC speeder, piloted by Darmek, pulled up beside the LAAT Charge was boarding. Behind it, a maintenance skid slowly stopped. Vakir stepped out of the skid. It was dragging a trailer, which was sealed. As the Mandalorian went to open it, Triplet leaned out, calling, "We really need that much chewstim?"

"No, just thought the droids would be jealous." Vakir opened the trailer and unloaded a missile tube. "Whoever wants this can take it."

Roll dashed out from the LAAT and grabbed the portable missile launcher. Triplet walked over and took two large boxes from the trailer. Vakir reached into the trailer, pulling out a folded tripod. "Can anyone help me get this E-Web into the ship?"

Charge looked at Vakir. "Anything else coming out of there?"

"No, that's it."

The clone pilot looked back in mock disappointment. "Nothing for me?"

"Sorry." The Mandalorian shrugged.

Radian and Def carried the E-Web on board the gunship. The pilot got out of the cockpit, removing his helmet. He turned to look at Charge. "I've got a feeling we might be seeing each other a lot. I thought it might be a good idea to get to know each other."

"Certainly." Charge returned the pilot's gaze. "You're a first-class pilot. This is the best bomb squad in the division. We'll be almost inseparable."

"Well, I'm CP-2378-121. Weave for short."

"Hello. I'm Charge, the squad leader, and these are my squad members." He proceeded to introduce his squad, noting that BT-422-12 lacked a name.

Vakir leaned against the side of the ship. "Pity, isn't it?" he turned to Weave. "Greetings. I'm Vakir Sula'e."

• § •

Darmek braked his BARC speeder. This was a good hiding place at about the right distance. He turned the speeder off and slipped it into a narrow crack, disguising it as some fallen rubble. As Vakir had advised, he laid down and rolled in the dust, masking his scent with that of his surroundings. He then carefully walked towards the core ship, a giant gray wart on the tan-red desert rocks of Hraka.

"We've got to infiltrate that monster." Darmek subdued a rising curse, substituting, "Tough." He resumed his march, watching carefully for patrols. Suddenly, he spotted a group of B1 battle droids marching on patrol about 45 meters ahead of him. He dropped to the ground as silently as possible, hiding behind a large rock. Two minutes later, the patrol passed, and Darmek proceeded, this time always staying near a good cover point.

Darmek finally arrived at the base of the ship. It had been heavily patrolled, at least three rings of five patrols each, counter-circulating. The shell of the core ship doubtless had sensors, which would detect any attempt to blast or cut in, and there only seemed to be one entrance, which was guarded heavily. After one more careful search, Darmek determined that there was nothing more he could do. He turned back and walked carefully towards his speeder.

As Darmek arrived at the hiding place of his speeder, he saw a patrol passing it. He froze. "Blast!" he murmured to himself. "How'd they get this far?" He saw one of the patrol of six looking at his speeder as the patrol approached it. The others turned to follow its gaze. Darmek knew that he had to act now. His only way out of here was about to be destroyed.

Taking careful aim with his blaster rifle, the ARF blasted the droid corporal leading the patrol. He leapt up, blasting another droid with his standard blaster before rolling behind another rock. The droids split up. Two investigated the speeder, one gave covering fire, and the other came around to attack. Using his rifle to destroy the one giving covering fire, he leapt to the other side of the rock as the droid came around, and quickly blasted the two near his speeder. He spun around and blasted the last droid as it came back around the rock, then secured his speeder. He was sure the droids had sent a call for help. His best option was to run.

Darmek got on his speeder and sped off towards headquarters, along the specified route in order to find the gunship if it had already left. He watched the horizon carefully for the gunship or any enemies. He saw nothing. He began to relax. He'd escaped.

A blast of energy barely missed Darmek's speeder. The sound made him swerve by reflex. He glanced back, spotting a pair of Single Trooper Aerial Platforms following him. He ducked and braked as a second volley shot over his head. "Stang! I hate STAPs!"

Darmek swung his speeder around, and the two STAPs swerved in opposite directions. Tracking one of them, the ARF trooper opened fire with his speeder's blaster cannons. The blasts hit behind the STAP, approaching it. The sixth blaster bolt hit the bottom of the vehicle, blowing its repulsor off and sending it crashing into the rock. Darmek swerved again as a blaster bolt from the other droid hit where he had been.

Darmek leapt off his speeder, taking aim with his sniper rifle and blasting the droid off its perch, dropping down behind a rock just as his enemy fired its last shot. He ran back to his BARC speeder and flew off. He knew very well that he had barely escaped.

• § •

Vakir Sula'e gestured to Weave. "Stop. Let's set down here and pick up our friend Darmek."

The LAAT slowly descended, finally hovering over the ground. A BARC speeder sped towards them. As it pulled up. Darmek slid off. "Kriffing closest-run mission I've ever made." The ARF trooper pulled off his helmet. His hair was matted with sweat. "Four patrol rings, five squads each. Squads of six. Two droidekas on full alert at the only door. Sensors on the ship's shell, of course. STAPs on call."

"Stang." Charge leapt off the gunship. "That's tough."

"Yep. I'm pretty sure they know we're coming."

Vakir stepped down. "Did you get the recording?"

Darmek pulled a small dome off the side of his helmet, handing it to Vakir. "See for yourself."

Vakir pulled out a datapad, and plugged the dome into it. He sat down and watched, skipping past parts that were unneeded. The clones watched in silence. He finished, and stood up. "Well. This is going to be hard."

• § • § •