Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Orbit/Savari LZ
Day 11/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]
Darkness. After being herded into the main cabins of the LAATs at record speed, we were left in utter darkness. It didn't matter what unit that you were affiliated to. As long as you had your gear, you were shoved into a gunship. I found myself in the larty gunship, making my way towards the surface of Felucia.
"Hey Sarge," the trooper next to me whispered, "Did you hear?" I turned my head to face the only clone on the LAAT that was in my squad, CT-32/11-5435. I couldn't see him but I could hear him. Though, by now, we were all used to just calling him Drexl. He'd been around almost as long as I was.
"What? About the Separatist Fleet?" I asked. Of course it would be our luck that the Separatists would muster up a rather large fleet to try to reclaim the offensive, and that their entire counterattack across the galaxy would start right here. I guess I've always been this lucky. Oh, and when I said rather large fleet, I meant massive fleet that probably could've occupied a whole system if it wanted to.
"Yeah, I've never seen one that big." Drexl replied. "Do you think we can beat it?"
"With the Venators' new upgrades and the Acclamators' improved shielding and weapons systems, I'm sure we'll be able to decimate their fleet." I lied. The Venators and the Acclamator-IIs could dish out some serious damage, but even they could get overwhelmed when dealing with the shear overwhelming force of the Vulture Droids. They would be sent in swarms. And once they had our fighters away from the fleet, their bombers would go in and take out the shields of any poor ship in their way. In my experiences, the CIS fleets would tend to knock our ships out one by one, every gun from every ship firing at one target. "But that's not our problem now, is it?"
"No, sir, we get the fun part, fighting down there." Drexl gestured downward towards Felucia's surface. He was right. Sure, the pilots could go on and brag about their "exciting, adrenaline-pumping" dogfights in orbit, but I always am kind enough to remind them that I'd take a foxhole any day. Foxholes don't crash.
"Exactly, we let the flyboys do their job and we do ours." It was quiet for a few seconds as the larty shuttered. We were entering the atmosphere.
Red. No more were we encased in darkness, but a dingy red glowed over the hangar of the gunship. The red light warned us of our last few seconds before touching down. It pretty much meant, "Hey, check your gear."
The sounds of weapons being cocked and troopers checking their various pieces of equipment reverberated off the hull. I checked my DC-15a Blaster Rifle. Many troopers shifted towards the comparatively light DC-15s Blaster Carbine, but I was loyal to my 9.5 pound DC-15a. Then, I made sure all armor plates were strapped on right before checking my helmet. All my armor was good and it looked pretty damn badass, too. The entire 412th Legion was equipped with our tan, orange, and brown camouflaged armor, with our trademark glowing red visors. When the Confederates saw the red visor, they knew that they were in big trouble.
From here on, the hangar was silent. We may have been a little nervous but it certainly didn't show. There seemed to be a couple new guys in there that I knew had to be scared. Hell, I was. But, that wasn't going to stop me from doing my job. My determination to come back alive always took over when the adrenaline started pumping.
Then, I heard the anti-aircraft rounds exploding usually fired upon us during aerial landings. The larty lurched a bit but we continued onward, straight on through the Confederate defenses. But, then the larty shook as a rather loud explosion strained even the hearing amplifiers in my helmet.
"Hey, pilot! We hit?!" I shouted, not that he could even hear me.
"We're hit but not too bad!" replied the co-pilot in his traditional tone when he lies. "Everything's fine!"
"Bad is a matter of perspective, Pack Mule!" I countered. "I know how these things like to drop like rocks when they're hit!"
"Be thankful me and Cabbie know what we're doing, Deacon," Pack Mule chided, "Otherwise we would've gone splat about 50 meters back!"
"I know Cabbie knows what he's doing, Pack Mule," another clone jumped in, "But you're the one I don't trust." That's when I started thinking how weird it would be for anyone not Fett-pure listening to our conversations in the dark. It would sound like one crazy man arguing with himself but for us, we could tell each other's voices apart from the tiniest changes in pitch and tone.
The friendly banter was then cut off as Pack Mule put his game face on. "Thirty seconds! We're goin' in hot!" Another close explosion threw quite a few clones off their feet. "Not us, but we lost a bird!" Damn, not even on the ground and we've got KIAs. I patted Drexl on the shoulder and nodded to the clone on my other side. I gripped my rifle and set it to the burst fire rate.
The LAAT came to near abrupt halt as we began to descend. The blast doors protecting us were mere seconds from opening. Blaster fire was quite prominent from what I could hear. My hearing amplifiers were still a little hazy from before. Then, Cabbie's bird held in place and the doors hissed.
Green. The doors opened on both sides and with blasters in hand, the thirty or so of clones piled out of the larty. I charged forward but didn't get too far before the droids had started firing. The clone I had nodded to earlier was picked off near instantly by a heavy duty plasma turret. A couple others went down but the rest began to duck behind various things for cover. I leaped into cover behind the charred remnants of an AAT. Drexl as well as two more clones crouched right next to me. We all squatted behind our cover as numerous blaster shots flew over our heads.
"So what's the plan, sir?" Drexl asked, his rifle itching for something to shoot. I actually hadn't gotten to that part yet. Step one was always get out of the gunship and not die. Check.
"Alright, well, we need to take out those turrets. Looks like they've been chewing up our brothers pretty bad all day." Too bad my plan for taking them out involved rockets, lots of them. "Anybody got any rockets?"
"You're in good luck sir," the clone taking cover by Drexl replied. He pointed towards our landing zone. Sure enough, there was a rocket launcher lying next to a dead trooper.
"Okay, you three cover me while I go grab the launcher." As they nodded, I put down my rifle and got into a position that resembled a predator ready to pounce. We waited until the turrets sounded like they were slowing down. Sure enough, their rate of fire slowed as they began to overheat. Confederate turrets tended to make a specific noise when they overheat, much like a hiss or a release of oxygen from a vacuum. A mere second or two later, I heard the hiss.
"Now!" And like that the three troopers popped out of cover and laid down some serious suppressing fire on the battle droids, super battle droids no less. I flew towards where the launcher laid, a distance which would be considered short if not under a ton of fire. I dropped to the ground to minimize the areas they could shoot me and grabbed the launcher. It was primed and loaded, so all I did was lock on. The rocket shot out with a massive cloud of smoke. It took a few seconds of waiting for an explosion but the wait was well worth it. The explosion had neutralized three turrets plus their dozen or so guardians. All were gone in an instant.
I dove for the cover as droids from another building began open fire on me. Drexl and the clone next to him gave me some covering fire.
"Only one rocket left. Anymore turrets?"
"Nah, just a couple stragglers," the trooper said, "Good job, Sergeant."
"That's nothing, just wait 'till he gets pissed off," Drexl told him.
"Hey, where's the other trooper?" I didn't see him die, so I presumed he was still alive.
"I'm in the tank, sir." It sounded like he was rewiring something.
"Private, that tank is fried. No one's driving it anywhere." I really hated to break the poor little shiny's heart, but that tank wasn't going nowhere.
Then, the AAT started and I felt like an idiot. He popped out of the tank. "I'm an engineer, sir. Fixing broken tanks is my specialty." But, before I could warn him to get back inside for cover, his head slouched forward and the distinct panging of a dead body could be heard as it hit the floor of the tank.
"Dammit." I whispered it to myself. There goes another one.
"Sarge, let's take it." Drexl hopped onto the AAT and into the main hatchway in one swift motion. "I'll drive."
"After you," I gestured towards the trooper next to me. I looked at him quizzically, searching for a name.
"Tropic, sir, my friends call me Tropic." He gave me a quick salute as he climbed aboard.
"Well, Tropic, my friends call me Deacon. Or Sarge if you prefer." I climbed atop the AAT before entering the top hatch. "Drexl, drive." And we were off. Drexl piloted the tank while I worked the main gun and Tropic worked the secondary blasters, though it was hard because it was normally a job meant for two. I looked at the ammo count. 31 of the 55 shells for the chain-fed projectile launchers had been spent. I swiveled the turret to find some targets. With the remaining ammunition the tank had, we knocked out all of the droids' anti-air defenses as well as their communication equipment.
"Just give me a second, Sarge. Controls are a little sluggish." The tank lurched forward slightly before stopping a mere two meters from where we were before. Then, as another addition to my bad luck, the AAT seemed to shut down. The lights in the cabin flickered before going out. That's when I heard the sound of another tank.
"What's going on?" Tropic asked.
"Targeting's shot but we're still in business." Drexl started pressing all sorts of switches and gears. "You guys need to aim manually."
"Drexl," I said, dragging out his name, warning him of my frustration. I poked my head out and noticed, not one but, two tanks. "Drive."
Drexl was talking to himself as I engaged the auto-reload systems. Tropic was shooting at a couple B2s that came around the corner of a nearby building. I swiveled the turret towards the two advancing AATs. I poked my head out again to confirm that the cannon was properly aligned. Both tanks aimed at us, but one was distracted by a squad of clones giving us suppressing fire. The other tank, however, was not as deterred and fired a round. I fired my mine as I closed my eyes and braced for impact. Game over…
Only to hear a loud shriek of metal. The round was only a glancing blow. My shell, on the other hand, had hit directly into the AAT's lower hull, where all of its ammunition was held. Its entire payload had exploded and the incinerated the droid crew. The entire vehicle was engulfed in flame. The hatch popped open. One B-1 exited the tank. It was aflame, flailing around slightly before collapsing into a molten, glowing state. If only they could feel pain.
I began swiveling the heavy cannon towards the second enemy tank, either blind to its friend's utter destruction or unwavering in its task of destroying the squad that was covering us. I popped my head out again to observe the cannon's alignment. As I was I fired the shot, I watched one of the troopers in the squad get hit by the AAT's antipersonnel blasters. Then, I saw that the shot had missed but I pushed the trigger for the launch tubes for the six projectile launchers. All six slammed into the bottom of the tank, knocking out its repulsorlifts before the rest of the tank exploded. The AAT blew up into a beautiful ball of flame, its heavy cannon flying up into the air.
"Thanks, trooper," the squad leader shouted into his comm, "We owe you one."
"No probl-"
"Get down!" He yelled it so loud that I collapsed down into the seat, just as a plasma bolt from a sniper rifle hit the top hatch. "All clear!"
I popped out yet again to thank him. How could I have forgotten the Assassin Droid that killed one of my troopers barely a few moments ago? "Well, I guess we're even. Thanks, sergeant."
"You're welcome!" Again with the ear-piercing screech from the comm. "I'd get out of here! I heard some boys from Zabrak Company need some support over by Victor LZ!"
"We're on it. Good luck out there."
"You, too!" The sergeant tended to his wounded as we drove on our way to the other landing zone. As we drove through the base, various close quarters engagements between clones and droids were taking place. Drexl, Tropic and I rose up quite the storm as we miraculously surged past the Confederacy's faltering lines. No droid reinforcements had neared the base. It was surprising, but who was I to complain.
"Adjusting elevation! Firing!" I fired the cannon at a group of B2s firing down on two injured clones. The shot missed but hit directly below the droids. The ensuing explosion melted the supports to the platform and the whole thing came crashing down. Not bad.
"You ever think about being a tanker, Sarge?" Tropic asked me, astonished at my ability to cause such destruction.
"And leave me? No. Never."
"I was a tanker for a bit. It's just not my thing."
"And when was this?!" Drexl's voice was one of total confusion. I took off the helmet and gave him THE look. His confusion turned towards one of understanding after the realization hit him. "Oh yeah, I remember. Never mind."
Tropic just blew it off with a shrug. Good thing. "Well, you're pretty good, Sarge. I'd get in a tank with you any day."
We pushed onward, knocking out tanks and enemy positions as we went. One sneaky little droid managed to deliver a nice little blow that took out Tropic's secondary blasters. The droid was quickly dispatched by the hands of my heavy cannon.
The base's Confederate presence was slowly dwindling. We began to encircle various buildings considered Separatist strongholds. One by one, we supported the other troopers as they cleared them out.
"Firing my last round!" I shouted over the various machine parts that were making noises due their strain. We had worked this tank to the breaking point, and then pushed it beyond. We were out of ammo and the smell of the trooper's burnt skin was making the tank that much more cramped. I wanted out but not until we finished the last remnants of Confederates. For our first day of the Outer Rim Sieges, we seemed to be winning. Then again, we could wake up tomorrow to find the fleet in orbit had been blown away.
I watched the final round of the projectile launcher strike the last droid holdout directly on the hatchway. Let's just say that the when the smoke cleared, there were no more doors. Better yet, there was no more holdout. It turns out that it was a weapon cache, with many, many things that could explode. So, when the smoke cleared, there was just nothing left. The Separatists were wiped out and the base had been secured.
Then, we began the slow process of cleaning up and organizing the separated units of the 412th. I wandered through the crowd of our troops with Tropic and Drexl. Tropic was in the same battalion as us, except he was in Ripper Company. We began listening to officers shouting out, identifying where various units were to go. As the three of continued to search, the mob of disorganized units finally began to spread out, organizing at the regimental level at least.
"856th! Where's the 856th?!"
"73rd over here!" At least that one was the same regiment, so we headed that way.
"548th?!"
"115th! 115th!"
"167th! We're over here!" I wanted to know whose idea it was to create this whole mess. The admiral that wanted to get us on the surface so quickly was probably the culprit. He could use a reprimand. I'd give him one of mine. I've got plenty to spare.
"626th, over here!" The major kept repeating, hoping to get on the move as soon as possible. We made our way over towards our battalion. The major kept on yelling. "626th, we're mobilizing! Get to the landing pads!"
That one confused quite a few clones. Leaving already? But, we just got here? What the hell?
"Why are we leaving so soon, sir?" a private, a shiny, asked.
"Not my orders, soldier. The whole regiment's being picked up. Command needs us at a whole new FOB. The other regiments are moving out, too. 501st needed a landing zone."
Of the 3,000 troops in the initial wave, we had lost 456 lives, 778 casualties in total. 778 of my brothers. It was a steep price just to get our feet on the ground, but that's just how war goes. Some were lucky, others weren't. I'd lost many clones under my command.
Far too many.
For me, the worst thing is that moment when they look up at you and look for some sort of answer, some explanation. Every time, I grip their arm and tell them that they're fine. Then, the medic takes me aside and says that it's not looking good. That we were too late. I go straight back to the trooper and tell him that he's going to be up and able within a couple of weeks. I tell him that he's fought bravely and that the Republic thanks him. I assure him that the Senate and the higher-ups appreciate his sacrifice in the face of danger. But, any trooper knows that we're just cannon fodder for the Republic. Then, he's gone and I'm left to wonder:
Was what I said to assure him or myself?