Bring them Home
It all starts with the quiet but insistent chirping of my com unit. I roll out of bed, and go to the wall station to answer. My wife shifts in her sleep, pulling the covers all to her side. I smile, and press the control.
The blue and gray helmet of my Executive Officer, A'den, fills the screen. I feel my smile fade.
"Sir, it's time. Jea just got intel that says we need to launch, now."
"The strike on Kra'tin IV?"
"Yes sir."
I pause for moment, thinking. So it's here. The turning point of the war, if all goes well. Or, if it goes badly, the beginning of the end. We can't fail this one. It's our one chance to push back the Sith, and save ourselves.
I close my eyes, dismissing my thoughts. We have a mission, and it needs to get done. That's all that matters now.
"Gather the men, A'den. I'll be there soon."
"Oya manda."
"Oya, ner vod."
I sign off, and turn to my armor stand. The black and red plates of my bes'kar'gam wait for me, ready to do what they've always done: carry me out, and bring me home. I know the noise will wake Pira, but I'll need to say goodbye anyway.
"Cyar'ika, I got the call."
"Hmmgh? Don't you know to let a pregnant woman sleep?"
"Pira," I reply gently, but firmly, "I'm being called out. Now."
Her blue-gray eyes snap open, fully awake. "Now?"
"Launch is in one hour. Briefing is in half," I reply, already starting to slide on the body glove that my bes'kar'gam attach to. The glove feels like a familiar friend as I finally get it fitted correctly. Pira absentmindedly closes the seal on my back. I start clamping in the front and arm plates of my armor, while Pira takes care of my back and legs.
"So this is really it?" she whispers, nerves making her voice tremble.
"Yes. The strike on Kra'tin IV. We got new information from Jea's network: it's now or never," I grunt as I turn to face her, helmet in hand.
Her soft brown hair is mussed from bed, and her beautiful eyes shine with unshed tears. "I don't want you to go."
"I know, Cyar'ika. I know. But I have to do what I can. For everyone. For Khalen. For you. For her," I point at her barely distended abdomen as I finish.
"It… it's a girl?" Pira breathes. "When did you…?" she asks, eyes wide.
"I sensed it when you fell asleep. Your presence got quiet, and hers stayed strong enough to sense. I was going to tell you in the morning, but…" I trail off.
"Buir!" my 5 year old son, Khalen runs into the room. "I had a bad dream," he says, as he clutches at his mother's nightgown.
"What happened Khal'ika?"
"You went away. And mama was sad," he finishes, looking up at her with his light green eyes.
So he is starting to feel it, I think to myself. It's no surprise my son would be Force Sensitive, but recently he'd started to show more signs, and I hadn't been sure before now.
"Well, I am going away, son. And I need to you be good for Mama while I'm gone, ok?"
The boy nods, pulling a little closer to his mother.
"Listen to her, and keep her happy, until the Force brings me home."
"Tracyn," Pira begins, stopped by a catch in her throat.
I step towards her, and kiss her on the forehead. "I know, Pira. Tell me when I get back, right?"
She nods, shaking the first tear loose from her eyes. She presses forward as she hugs me.
"Bring them home," she whispers. "Bring everyone home."
Everyone includes YOU. I don't know or care if it's telepathy through the Force, or just knowing the love of my life, but I hear the unspoken plea all the same.
I look her in the eyes, and nod.
I step outside my door, and as it seals shut again, I hear Pira whisper a simple "Please."
. . .
. . .
Ten minutes later, I'm in the launch hanger for the mission. The Rami'kade, our elite, have gathered.
"They've been briefed?" I ask A'den over the private command channel in our helmet coms.
"Aye. Just waiting on any final instructions from you."
"I'll address them."
I walk to a makeshift podium of ammo crates, and step up.
"Men. My brothers and sisters. Ner vode. Why are we here?"
"TODAY WE FIGHT!" the traditional response echoes back at me.
Rather than continue the usual call and response, I pause. I sense the confusion of my troops. They stir uneasily, waiting for me to give them something to react to. Normally, I'd continue the chant, working everyone up, getting the juices flowing, and everyone ready for action, but this mission is different. Our very survival depends on it. Our Enemy has no mercy; they seek only our destruction. As they have for 50 years. Hunting us, chasing us. This mission will make or break us. If it fails, there will not be a home to go back to. After a few moments, I pop my helmet seal, and remove it.
"Buckets," I order calmly.
"Buy'ce!" The amplified voice of A'den bellows through the hanger. I can always count on his trust and support. After a short delay, each soldier follows my lead, removing his or her helmet.
I speak clearly, letting my voice carry without shouting.
"Today we fight. But today we fight not for glory, not for honor, but for the future. Today we fight for our brothers and sisters who have fallen. Today we fight for our fathers and mothers who fought for us. Today we fight for our families, our spouses, our children."
I look out over the troops, my voice softening, "Today, we fight for those who have gone before."
I feel my heart beat, as a vision flashes through my eyes. My daughter.
The steel returns to my tone. "And we fight," I continue, my voice rising like thunder, "for those yet to come!"
A great cheer breaks out.
"Stand with me," I finish, "and I will bring you home."
The clamor of voices, claps, stomps, and armor clatters swells.
I jam my bucket back on my head, and flip the amplifier on.
"Oya!" I roar.
"Oya manda!" The response comes, a tidal wave of voices and emotions, broiling outward through the atmosphere and the Force.
As one, the troops replace their buy'ce.
"Oya!" I call again.
"Oya ner vode!" we all thunder.
"To the ships," I conclude, giving the official word to begin the operation.
I'll bring them home. No matter what.
. . .
"Two minutes 'till drop, sir," the ship's pilot announces over my helmet com.
"Alright boys, two minutes out. Start final checks."
What am I going to do? I can't, I can't, I can't. Why am I here?
I hear those thoughts as the troops on my carrier launch into action. I spend a moment locating the source through the Force. While my mind searches, my body goes through the familiar routine of a gear check. I isolate the feelings source as a young man in green and blue armor.
I flip over to a command channel that includes the sergeants.
"Who is the new kid? PC-221?" I ask.
"He's mine, sir," replies Ioito, one of my most trusted NCOs. "Ruck Torr. Just got put in the rami'kade a week ago. We needed the men."
"Alright. I'll take him with me, reassign Jekk to your squad."
"Sir, are you sure?"
A reassignment like this is unusual, but I've done it before. I usually do it to help bolster the confidence of a rookie, and to let me keep an eye on them. Also, I'd rather their inexperience endanger myself than my men. I've never done it on a mission this critical though, but I think the kid needs it.
"Completely. Now let's play a little 'Who's Scared?'"
The command channel breaks into quiet chuckles; they know what's coming.
"So," I say out loud, "Who's scared? Raise your hand."
Quickly, every hand in the transport goes up, except Ruck's. The kid just looks around surprised.
"You're not scared, kid?" I ask him.
Oh no, oh no, oh no. Say no, or he'll think you're a hutt'unne. "No, sir."
"Well then. I could use someone who's not scared. Welcome to the big leagues, son. You're in my squad now," I say.
He looks at his sergeant, clearly looking for permission.
Ioito laughs, "Don't argue with the Colonel, kid. Change your coms over: Channel Delta 1."
"Jekk," I say, "Your hand went up pretty quick, why don't you hand over the charges to Ruck here, and go join Ioito?"
Jekk silently nods, understanding my decision. I move him most often. He's versatile and fits in any role we need.
After the equipment has changed hands, I open a private channel to Ruck, "Don't worry, Ruck. You stick with me, and I'll bring you home. Got it?"
I can feel his relief. "Aye, sir."
"Oh, and Ruck?"
"Sir?"
"Remember to bend your knees."
I smile as the floor of the transport opens, dropping us into our high-altitude insertion.
. . .
Two minutes of falling. No sound penetrates our helmets in dive mode, so it's eerily quiet, other than the armor's vibrations. I watch the red-brown ground come closer and closer. I feel the gravity belt start to do its job, slowing me down until the impact will be within the shock tolerance of my armor. This is when I finally start to worry. It builds like a ball of hot lead in my gut. I breathe through it, and picture the metal spreading to my arms and becoming part of my armor. The tension eases, and I start to watch the countdown on my HUD.
10
9
"Stealth advance to targets. Maximum efficiency," I order, prepping the squads for our landing.
4
3
2
1
We hit dirt, and everyone is moving. Squads have formed up. We jog from cover to cover, hiding behind rocky spires as we close the distance between us and the anti-air batteries.
"Hard contact!" Comes Ioito's voice over the command channel, "Four guards, neutralized. Advancing to stage two of approach."
"Acknowledged. Everyone, drop the stealth and double-time," I order. We advance rapidly towards our target location, prioritizing speed.
"Contact, dead ahead. Looks like a whole company of stormies," says Kodse.
"Alright, prep to engage. Standard engagement formation until I say otherwise," I instruct them.
A chorus of agreement comes back from the platoon.
"Take take take!" I send the order to engage.
We all leap from cover, standing brazenly in the open, and open fire on the enemy. I feel my limbs fall into the old rhythm: Sight. Tap-tap. Sight. Tap-tap.
Trooper after trooper falls to our onslaught. I hear 3 calls of "Pinged!" from troops whose armor is hit, but not penetrated. In moments, it's all over. The stormies are dead, and we're all still standing.
I'm about to order the advance when I feel a surge of emotion from our left flank, and catch a shimmer in my helmet's peripheral vision.
"Blade barrier, left!" I call. I and the force wielder from our sister squad leap to the left side, guns forgotten, igniting our sabers with a snap-hiss.
A storm of blaster bolts comes at us from a previously cloaked firing position. Easily another entire company of troopers sits there. This time, they have heavy tripod-mounted autoblasters. Lito, the other saber-user, and I deflect every bolt that comes into our reach. Our allies open fire past our flashing blades, trying to cull the numbers firing at us.
"Move! Get to the batteries." This is from A'den, who commands the second squad. Everyone begins to run, taking shots as they move. The calls of "Pinged!" come too quickly to count. There are a few of the hated "Hit!" calls, indicating that someone's armor didn't completely stop the bolt. Thankfully, none of the fateful "Man down!" we all so dread.
"Fire in the hole," comes A'den's calm voice as he hurls a thermal detonator towards the enemy position. It's not going to reach. We both know that, but I take a portion of my concentration to propel it there with the Force. I grit my teeth as two more calls of "Hit!" come in, but it can't be helped. Stopping the guns is a necessity.
The detonator flares. Then silence prevails again.
"Ruck! Get those charges set," I pant. "Now."
"Sir!" The boy runs over to the base of our assigned battery, frantically spacing the charges around it.
"Fierfek." I hear A'den's voice come over the com. "We've got…" he grunts, "Sith."
I turn and see him standing, sword drawn, over the body of a Sith Acolyte. The head lies a few feet away, along with a chunk of A'den's armor.
"Tracyn." I hear a voice call my name outside the com system. I turn and see a pale man robed in the accoutrements of a full Darth. "I have come to put an end to your scheme. If this battery stands, you cannot destroy the shields. If they remain, all your other bombing runs will be useless."
He dives into our midst, laughing.
"Everyone out. I'll take care of him," I order my men, leaping forward to engage the Darth in saber combat.
As we clash back and forth, sabers flashing, I notice that Ruck is still laying the charges and hooking up the detonators.
"I told you to get out of here, kid."
"I… I have to finish this, sir, or he wins."
I wanted to tell him to leave, to run, to get home, but the mission depended on our success. That's why I took it on myself and my squad to take this one. I hated it, but the kid was right. We needed this battery dead.
I return my full attention to the duel. Our sabers flash back and forth, up and down. I catch a fork of Force Lightning on my blade. He closes distance, and I punch him in the gut during a parry. He tries to go after Ruck, stopping him from setting the charges, but I use the Force to sweep his feet out from under him. After two minutes of occupying the Sith, my HUD blinks with the words ARMED. The charges are set, and it's time to go.
"Commence countdown, 30 seconds," I command the automatic detonator via my comlink. "Run kid!" I yell as I Force Slam the Sith into a wall, and turn to run myself. "A'den, signal the airstrike," I order over the com. I see Ruck right beside me, keeping pace. I hear the Darth howl in anger, and my HUD shows a fork of purple Force Lightning crackling towards us from behind. Trusting in the electrical mesh bes'kar'gam contains, I keep running.
Sure enough, I don't even feel it as the lightning hits me, but I do feel the Sith pass out from the effort and the beating I gave him. As I reach the ridge everyone is taking shelter behind, I hear and feel the charges go off. The roar engulfs everything, and as it dies down, everyone cheers to see the battery is nothing put a plume of smoke now.
"Status?" I inquire.
"5 wounded, but everyone is accounted for… Osik, where's Ruck?"
"He was right beside me!" I shout in fear and anger. Immediately, I reach out in the Force looking for him. I find him quickly, in great pain, and frail, but alive.
I stand up to go for him, but A'den grabs my arm, "Where are you going? We'll have proton bombs blanketing this area in a minute."
"I'm bringing him home," I spit.
"He's probably not even alive!"
"I can sense him!"
"Ner vod…" A'den warns me. "The mission has to succeed."
"Delay the airstrike by one minute."
"You know I can't. They're already inbound, if we wait any longer, they'll be able to scramble interceptors."
He's right. The mission has to succeed. But that kid…
"Then leave it. I'll go get him."
"And you have to get back to Pira."
I freeze. I want to scream at him for that. I promised her I'd come back. If I go after that kid, there's no guarantee I will. I set my jaw as I remember our last moments before I left.
"Tracyn," Pira begins, stopped by a catch in her throat.
I step towards her, and kiss her on the forehead. "I know, Pira. Tell me when I get back, right?"
She nods, shaking the first tear loose from her eyes. She presses forward as she hugs me.
"Bring them home," she whispers. "Bring everyone home."
I snap back to the present.
Bring them home.
"I have to bring them home, A'den. All of them. And that includes HIM! Keep the airstrike on schedule, and get everyone out. I'm going in."
"Tracyn, please."
I know what he's thinking. If we fail this mission, we all die; so the bombers will keep coming. But we can't we leave a comrade any more than we can fail the mission; so I'm going in.
"I'm going in," I insist. "I'm your CO, and your older brother dammit; now get these people moving!" I shout as I turn back and begin to run towards Ruck.
"Oya, ner vod," I hear in my ear as I go. Good luck, my brother.
. . .
I finally reach him. The explosion battered and blackened his armor, but he should be fine. Then I notice it. The darker burn spot in the center of his back. The lightning. Poor chakaare didn't have electrical hardening mesh. Must've been old armor, or he was just poor, or someone in supply failed to check. It didn't matter. He was lucky to be alive at all after that and the detonation.
"Ruck, can you hear me?" I ask over the com.
Static.
"Can you hear me?" I bellow over my helmets amplifier.
"Hgghhh…"
"Kid! Can you stand?"
Nothing.
"Do you remember what I promised you?"
"Home…." he groans.
"That's right. I'm gonna bring you home. Now up we go." I struggle to lift him to his feet.
That's when the first bomb hit.
It tore through everything, blasting us both to the ground. I started crawling towards Ruck, screaming wordlessly.
I will not leave him here!
I reach him and wrap myself around him. I use the Force to pull some scraps of the turret's armor into a shell to protect us, and I make a bubble of Force energy around us.
. . .
For what feels like hours, I pour my very life into keeping that barrier up. I lose all sense of time, of everything; nothing exists except me, the kid, and our shield.
"We're going home, kid, just you watch," I say as another blast shakes the world.
Then with a jolt, something rips away our armor shell.
This is it. I can't block a proton bomb with just my energy.
"Over here! I found them!" I hear in my ear.
"I can't reach them," the voice says, "He's got some sort of barrier up."
"Tracyn? Sir? Colonel?" another voice asks. "We need you to let us in. We're here to bring you two home."
Home.
I give into my exhaustion and release the barrier. Suddenly, I'm being lifted into a transport, and my armor is being removed. My head turns as they remove my helmet, and I see Ruck in a bed next to me, covered in medical equipment.
Good. He's hurt. Needs medicine.
"Alright, ner vod, let's bring them home."
Home… I think.
"You did good, vod." My brother, A'den says from somewhere I can't see. "No casualties. You brought us all home."
Good.
Things start to blur. I see my brother. I see my son, Khalen, grown tall and strong, holding my saber. I see a girl who looks like my Pira, just as beautiful, but with dark green eyes. A vision of my children. I see Pira, my lovely wife, against a bright white background. Is she a vision too? She's crying. Don't cry. I push the thought at her. I see her turn towards me, eyes wide.
Don't cry. I brought them home.
Everything grows dark.
I brought us all home…