Chapter 03

Kachirho, Kashyyyk/ 19 BBY/ 12 hours before Contingency Order: 66

The Deltas felt the vibration of the explosions through the cable of their grapples. Being heavier, Boss and Keilbourn reached the inside first. The area was vast and open, save the large sculpture placed in the very center of the room. The metal networking and tiny globes was a replica of space. Boss however had no time to admire art. As the rest of Delta touched the ground, the flame and smoke of the smoldering doorway was beginning to clear. Fixer and Scorch scrambled for cover.

"Sir?" Fixer asked.

"Shoot first," Boss advised. He leveled his DC-17 and fired away at the Super Battle Droids emerging eerily from the black smoke. Fixer, Scorch and Keilbourn too shot at the mass of smoke. In retaliation, red bolts were shot back at them. The Squad hadn't even noticed in the rush of their entry, the Wookiees of the Caaltuvac Guild, retreating back inside the sealed room between the main chamber and the vault. Few however, failed to dodge the Droids' blaster fire, dropping in pained growls. Scorch ducked back behind the root of a large pillar where he struggled for cover. Without a sign or notice, Scorch sprinted from the pillar and charged up the stairs, taking cover behind the curving banister. Fixer kept a constant rate of fire on the advancing Droids. In between the push of the tall, broad SBDs, the smaller, skeletal B-1 Battle Droids, rushed into the chamber Boss was growing tired of being helplessly pinned down.

"Frag this!" Fixer growled as he dived out of the radius of a thrown thermal detonator. One of the SBDs took the opportunity of an open line of fire.

"Scorch, cover me!" Boss called out.

"Gotcha covered," the commando replied as he laid down a stream of blaster fire. Boss charged out into the open dodging the suppressive fire, drawing the battle droids' aim away from Fixer as he scrambled to a new spot. Scorch grabbed a grenade from his belt and primed it. "Frag out!" he called as he lobbed it to the feet of the droids. The explosion seemed only like another layer of noise over the constant ring of blaster fire.

"Sir we need a strategy or this defensive is going to fail fast." Keilbourn spoke in his com. Boss dropped to a knee and fired away knocking down another Droid. One of the SBDs that received damage from Scorch's grenade sparked and smoked then collapsed to the floor.

"Advisor," Boss called in the comms. "ETA on relief forces," the Delta inquired. All Deltas continued they're suppressive fire yet kept their ears open for Tyval's answer; though for a while, no reply came from the other end.

"ETA is ten mikes, Deltas."

"Five mikes of this and we're farkled," Fixer shouted as he exchanged his spent clip with a fresh one. Boss quickly scanned the vast chamber. Looking behind them, he saw Scorch's position behind the banister. He wasn't sure how he got there, but the commando had the right idea.

"Okay Squad listen up," he called out calmly. "One at a time on my mark we'll fall back to the rear balcony. From there we'll stage a more strategic hold. That is it, men. That line will not be broken, clear?" While in the midst of the battle, Boss heard their replies.

"Roger that."

"Scorch you've got gun, cover ARC-51 on his retreat," Boss called out. He fired off his DC-17 suppressing back the CIS forces. "Go now!" Boss shouted. Keilbourn ceased firing his DC-15s. He spun around and charged down the chamber. He paused behind the mantle which supported the exquisite metal sculpture. After a brief pause of cover, he hopped back to his feet and climbed the stairs three steps at a time.

"51, take a sniping position," Boss commanded.

"Aye Sir," the ARC replied, dropping his DC-15s and shouldering his sniper. With the added precise shots, the Super Battle Droids tougher alloy was weakened.

"40, your next, go!" Boss shouted over the com. As Fixer fired while backing away, the Delta commander lobbed an Electro Magnetic Pulse grenade, sending a wave of electricity within its blast radius. As the grenade went off, Super Battle Droids shuddered and were nearly paralyzed by the streaks of electricity. Boss took the advantage and focused his aim on one of the larger droids. By the time the last charge in his clip was fired, the hulking mech dropped.

"Nice takedown 38," Fixer jeered. "We got you covered." Boss too continued to fire as he backed away, slamming another clip into the port on the side of his DC-17. As he approached the sculpture, the Commando recognized a terror to all Republic forces; the distinct rattle of rolling metal, sailing to the battlefront, followed by the sudden stop and clicking of unfolding and locking into place.

"Oh Feirfek," Boss swore. The Droidekas' duo laser cannon fire pinned him behind the mantel of the sculpture. Bits of stone chipped and rained down on him by the impact of the powerful cannons. Their relentless rain of laser fire only infuriated him.

"Scorch!" he yelled out.
"Don't worry Boss; I got 'em." The grey and yellow detailed commando swiftly removed the clip and snub-barrel from his blaster and locked the anti-armor grenade launcher into place. The lob arced over Boss and the sculpture, landing squarely in between two of the shielded Droid nightmares. Their shields stood no match for the Delta's blast, throwing bits of droid around the room. The surrounding B-1 Battle Droids squealed in digital voices, as they continued to fire, unable to think for themselves or retreat. Boss took the Droids' hesitation and used the relief of blaster fire to storm up the stairs. The CIS' forces now fired at an incline, as the Deltas rained down precise shots and streaks of blue blaster fire on the poorly positioned Droids. One by one, bits of machine flew in the air as the blaster bolts struck right through their alloy. The Delta's strategy of taking the fight to the high ground was smart and effective, yet was an extreme risk. Moving the line so close to the sealed doors to the Caaltuvac Guild's sacred vault was a vital mistake they hoped they wouldn't pay the price for. Any fault in their defense and the database was lost. Their drop to the back of the chamber allowed the CIS to advance, despite Delta Squad's suppressive fire. Before long, the B-1s were reaching the sculpture. Delta was stationed along the balcony of the second landing which encircled the entire room. Their line was spread thin, two across from each other on both sides, and two manning the bend in the rear of the room. Advisor was right to insist on Delta picking up another man. Without Keilbourn, the line would suffer even more; his help was invaluable. As a droid decided to duck away from Fixer's line of fire by spinning around the sculpture, Boss picked him off effortlessly with a beautiful headshot.

"Dumb mech," the commando sneered. The droid however did not drop to the floor. Instead it stumbled around headless, brainless, on its flimsy little legs. The short circuit of the droid's systems jammed its motor functions, causing it to continue firing. Boss barely saw it happen. He only saw Scorch drop in a spin, landing flat on his stomach. The Delta was unresponsive, not a word nor a movement. Fixer apparently got a better view of the shock.

"Sir, Scorch has taken a round he's down!" Fixer exclaimed over the com.

"Don't 40!" Boss yelled with great difficulty.

"But Sir!"

"That's an order, Fixer!" Scorch's lack of presence was disturbing to him. He wanted nothing more than to go to his aid. But now with only three to man the line, they couldn't spare the set of hands to assess his wounds. With only three rifles now holding the line, the Droids advanced to the staircase with ease. The Super Battle Droids hung in the rear with the persistent rain of fire from the Droidekas. B-1 Battle Droids however surged forward, firing away as they climbed up the stairs. Before long they breached the balcony. Keilbourn crouched across from Scorch's empty position on the left wing of the bend. Seeing the persistence of the Droids, he abandoned his rifle.

"Frag this." The ARC leapt from the balcony, into the body of machine on the staircase. With the momentum of his launch, he punched a B-1 squarely in its long snouted face. The head popped clean off. As the Droids around him tried to pick him off with a shot of blaster fire, he was either too quick with his strikes or dodged them, allowing a Droid behind him to be hailed with friendly fire. Boss couldn't fight the grin that slightly took hold.

"That ARC has balls," he mused. Keilbourn's takeover of the staircase allowed Boss and Fixer to redirect focus on the forces hanging in the back. Boss was then interrupted by Tyval's voice in his com.

"Delta 38, I'm reading dangerously low vitals on 62. What's his status?"

"Critical, Advisor! What the frag is the status on reinforcements?" Boss growled into the com. Delta 38 was known for keeping his cool, staying smooth and calm even while in the heat of battle. But as he boarded the LAAT Gunship hours ago from Kachirho, blatantly leaving Sev behind while in crisis, a part of him was left behind too. He was afraid. In all four years of the War, and the hundreds of missions he had operated, he felt a certain invulnerability. His Squad though close to it, had not once been killed or even severely injured. He always had the knowledge that his men were professionals, and they wouldn't fail. Then they lost Sev. Now that safety in his mind had been compromised. The net of reassurance he always fell back into, now had a large hole in it, it was compromised. Now with Scorch's critical condition, the hole in the net had expanded. He was sinking into fear.

"Delta 38, reinforcements are inbound. ETA is three mike," Tyval said calmly.

"Roger that," Boss replied. He quickly glanced over at Scorch, lifelessly sprawled on the floor. "Sir I'm requesting med-evac for Delta 62," the commando said. He tried to regain his smooth cool control over his voice.

"Roger that, there's a Larty on the inbound," Tyval replied. "But Deltas, you need to clear out that room." The Clone Advisor spoke with a stiff sound, laced with desperation.

"Got it handled Advisor," Keilbourn jeered gruffly as he smashed two Droids into each other with his bare hands. Boss admired the ARC's ability. Between the three of them, the Deltas handled the room with difficulty yet, the Droids failed to gain anymore ground on them. Boss and Fixer continued to rain down suppressive fire on the count of four leftover SBDs. Keilbourn finished smashing the B-1s into bits, leaving entrails of metal and wires sparking on the steps of the staircase. The ARC reached back up for his DC-15x and leveled it before squeezing off a round. The bolt struck the Droid dead in the chest, knocking it down into a crumple of metal.

"Grenade out!" Fixer called over the comms as he lobed a thermal detonator. The grenade exploded behind the SBDs in their weaker regions. The Droids stumbled yet continued firing. Fixer from inside his helmet's Heads up display checked on Scorch's health vitals. "Boss, Scorch's vitals are dangerously low. We need to act now!" Boss glanced over again at the fallen Commando.

"Cover me!" Boss yelled out. He ducked lower behind the balcony as he sidestepped his way to his pod-brother. He reached the armored Commando, rolling him on his side. To Boss' horror, he saw on the left side of Scorch's chest plate, a black, sizzling, gaping hole the size of a large coin. Boss didn't need any medical experience, though he had basic commando knowledge, to tell that the wound was dangerously close to the Delta's heart. Boss quickly reached into his pack for a device the commandos called, the Kicker. All commandos were issued biogenic implants which hastened the healing process of Bacta, the galaxy's medical treatment for just about all injuries. All that was required to enable the implant was a jumpstart on the body which was provided by the Kicker. Boss held out the device in his hand. Two flaps opened in a 'V' opening out to Scorch's lifeless form. Again Boss' fear was realized. A wound such as this could and probably will kill him. As the meter facing Boss finally reached 100%, he felt the surge of energy jolt in his hand and strike Scorch. The commando jumped in his lifeless state by the sudden jolt and force of the Kicker. "Come on Scorch get up!" Boss cried out gruffly. The commando made no further move. Boss leveled the Kicker over Scorch again and waited for the device to charge. As it reached 100% the second time, Boss squeezed the trigger even harder than before. The sudden jolt pulsed again through the panels and into the commando. Again Scorch shuddered on the floor. Boss dropped the device and reached for the commando's helmet. He unlocked the seal and pulled it from his pod-brother's scarred face. The commando's hair had been bleached blonde. Accompanied where hair grew no more, was a large scar streaking from his right temple down past his closed eye, stopping around the bridge of his nose. The terrible burns he received from his accident in training was forever imprinted on his face, a testament to what his rashness was capable of and the cost that he carried along with it. Boss placed his fingers on Scorch's neck. There was a pulse. The commando sighed deeply. All was suddenly quiet, the battle was over.