Chapter 3: A New Job

Upon joining the Alliance, Ben was pressed into immediate service with little training. The Empire's expansionist ambitions were increasing, and many worlds were coming under their control. As a result, the Alliance to Restore the Republic was giving only the minimum amount of training necessary to raw recruits, instructing them on the basics of their duties. Ben's training lasted less than a standard week before he was shipped out to a planet whose name he neither had heard of or remembered.

As the frigate they were on came out of hyperspace, Ben smiled.

Calling this terrestrial body a "planet" was much too generous.

As he stared out the medium-sized viewport, he began to see flashes of red and blue light contrasted against the darkness of space. As the ship drew ever closer, he made out the faint silhouettes of battlecruisers and destroyers firing their guns: a space battle.

"All troops report to bay number 5." A static-filled voice boomed over the ships comm system.

Ben took one last glance at the scene unfolding before him before he made his way down to the designated area.

Upon entering he found the large, cavernous space bustling with activity. X-Wing fighters were being readied by mechanics, orange-suited fighter pilots ran around on the polished black flooring, alarms sounded, and officers shouted orders. Ben moved towards a large queue of soldiers who were being lined up, ordered, and put on landing craft.

It appeared that this battle was not only going to be fought in the vacuum of space but on the planet below. Ben mentally groaned. While he knew what he was getting into when he signed up, he was not looking forward to seeing combat once again. He had already seen so much violence and death on Odisar.

After he was ordered into a line, he awaited his group's opportunity to board the latest transport.

"Group 35, you're up!" A mustached man in a tan uniform shouted over the cacophony of noise.

Ben hesitated for a moment, cleared his thoughts, and took a deep breath before stepping onto the small, cramped ship.

As the repulsors and engines fired up and the ship left the hanger, Ben's worry grew exponentially. Fighters—both Rebel X and Y-Wings and Imperial TIE—buzzed around the planet's atmosphere. More than a few times their transport had near misses with blaster bolts or out-of-control ships. Ben witnessed a transport that was returning to a frigate being blown to pieces as a result of inadvertent friendly fire. He had always thought that if he were to die in battle, it was not going to be on a transport heading into combat.

They tore through the atmosphere, buffeted by high-level winds, and soon the terrain below became clear: forests, many kilometers of dense forest.

Even as they descended, Ben could still not make out much below. He could not tell where the fighting was or what direction the enemy was coming from.

This is going to be a crapshoot. He thought as the ship landed with a thump and the doors opened. The darkness of the troop bay was suddenly awash in bright light; he and his fellow soldiers—many of them fresh recruits— said their final words and exchanged their final thoughts before they charged their blaster rifles and ran into the bright daylight beyond.


They were instantly met with a barrage of blaster fire at their front. Men and women were knocked down by the dozens. Ben ran into the fray, his trigger finger squeezing as fast as he possibly could. He tried to aim at specific targets, but in the heat of battle he simply fired into the underbrush when he saw a glimpse of white plastoid or movement in the trees.

Soon, the firing became too intense. In the dense growth, it seemed that the bolts came seemingly from everywhere: his front, back, and sides.

After witnessing more of his fellow Rebels fall in the dense brush—whether from enemy fire or that of their own friends—he decided to take cover.

He ran towards a fallen log where he thought he could find some protection.

As he ran he heard a voice scream out above the hellish noise.

"Get down!"

A guided rocket shrieked over the Rebel's heads, the noise loud and disorienting. It impacted a rock face behind them and exploded, showing them with hard shards of stone.

It was pure chaos.

He didn't know what was going on, the combination of the sounds and sights was causing major sensory overload. Another rocket impacted one of their troop transports near him, causing a huge explosion and throwing debris many meters into the sky.

The impact knocked him off of his feet.

He slowly returned to a standing position, his eyes scanning the environment around him, their movement rapid and confusing.

He was so caught up in getting his bearings that he didn't notice the white armored soldiers storming out of the trees in front of him, and he barely had time to dodge a red blaster bolt screaming towards his chest.

He ducked out of the way and finally took cover behind the fallen tree. Two of his squad mates took cover next to him.

"Kriff! What do we do!? There's so many of them!" The platoon sergeant shouted over the roar of battle.

He peered over the log and saw the white stormtroopers had likewise taken cover behind dips in the ground, stones, and trees. He had a moment to peer into one of the lifeless masks that belonged to one of the individuals shooting at him.

What if he is my father, my brother?

He didn't know what had happened to his family after they had abandoned him on their forsaken home planet. He had long thought that perhaps they had settled on a peaceful world, like Naboo. Or perhaps they took their chances and joined one of the sides in this civil war. After all, he had a lot of time to think this point over.

He raised his blaster carbine and fired.

He knew there was a distant possibility that the individual under the helmet could share the same blood with him; however, he didn't really care. He had felt and still felt abandoned by those who he thought loved him, by those he thought he could trust the most. They had promised to keep him safe. They made such a promise when they brought him into this world. He needed them to protect him when he couldn't do so himself. Yet, they broke that unspoken promise when they left him to rot. Then they hadn't come to rescue him as he toiled away in those mines for two years, two years constantly shadowed by the possibility of death. It was hell. Yet they never came.

Never.

To Ben, that was the line. His family stopped being family when they broke their promises and left him to die. His mother and father were no longer his parents, his family, or people he loved. His love for them had transformed into loathing as he slaved away in the hot mines on Odisar. Even if they were still alive, he would not, could not, accept them back into his heart and soul after they so ungraciously destroyed his. They were dead to him, and if they weren't, they ought to be.

The bolt was sent through the foliage and hit the trooper he had looked at right in the chest. The impact threw the man off his feet and produced a visible scorch mark.

"Fire! For kriff's sake fire!" The platoon sergeant bellowed. The stormtroopers were growing ever closer, slowly advancing on their position.

His fellow troops began falling in increasing numbers. The young boy next to the sergeant fell dead with a blaster bolt put through his mouth.

He knew they couldn't hold this position for long. It was growing untenable. If they could not hold this position, the Rebellion could not retain control over this small, unnamed planet.

It would be a major blow, but in his experience so far with the Rebellion, losses seemed to be commonplace.

He squeezed his trigger ever faster. The muzzle of his blaster belching bolts in a blinding light.

No matter how many times he seemed to aim and fire the enemy kept on coming.

"Fall back! Save yourselves!" The sergeant screamed.

He didn't need to be told a second time.

He bolted towards their lines and never looked back. He had seen his fair share of death when he fought in the resistance against the genocidal cartel on his planet, yet the cartel didn't have guided rockets, battle tanks, or walkers.

He ran through the thick, green foliage. He would've stopped and stared in awe at the natural beauty around him, if he weren't running for his life. As he ran, blaster bolts impacted the ground and plants around him; huge piles of dirt were flung skyward as the large blasts from the mobile walkers impacted the soft soil.

Up ahead he saw the transports that had brought them here. Scanning over them he found some were damaged or outright destroyed. But some remained untouched but were rapidly filling up with fleeing Rebels.

He reached one of the last undamaged transports and hurried on board.

The rest of the platoon, or at least what remained, boarded along with him.

The repulsors activated and the transport slowly lifted off of the ground just as the enemy troopers reached the landing zone. The stormtroopers tried in vain to shoot down the transports with their blaster rifles. Soon the last of the Rebel transports had lifted into the sky.

The ship launched into the atmosphere, dodging debris and TIE fighters, and rendezvoused with the remaining Rebel cruisers that were battling Imperial star destroyers.

They barely managed to enter the hanger of one of the cruisers before it abruptly jumped to lightspeed.

As soon as the chaos had ended, the ramp lowered, and the platoon slowly exited the vehicle.

The soldiers were covered in dust, mud, blood, and tears. Ben realized that he needed to take a shower, something to get off the grime off of him.

He walked away from his platoon wordlessly, not giving any of them as much as a second glance.

He knew many of them were glaring at him as he walked away. He knew he wasn't liked or wanted by his fellow soldiers.

He didn't care. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to care. He joined the Alliance to Restore the Republic to fight against the injustice he saw on his planet.

That is why he fought.

He took his shower and entered the temporary barracks. With his thoughts on past family experiences fresh in his mind, it took him a long time to fall asleep that night.


He was shaking. It felt like a horrible nightmare, one that he hadn't experienced before.

He eyes snapped open.

"Mandrik! Wake up!" He heard a voice whispering.

"I'm up," he said groggily.

He stared into the face of his platoon sergeant.

"Who wants to see me?" He asked as he sat up and wiped his eyes of sleep.

"I dunno," the man replied. "Just get up and moving so I can go back to sleep."

The sergeant got out of his way and he slowly got to his feet. He stumbled when the sergeant pushed him towards the door. It appeared that the man was more eager to get to sleep than he thought.

The barrack door slid open to reveal two soldiers in uniforms he instantly recognized: Special Operations.

What do they want with me? He thought in confusion.

"Benjamin Mandrik?" One of the SpecOps soldiers asked.

"Yes," he replied with a slight air of confusion.

"Come with us," the man sternly ordered and began walking down the hallway.

The other SpecOps soldier remained standing behind him motionless, waiting for Benjamin to move.

Once he began to walk, the thoughts came pouring into his mind.

Where were they taking him?

Was he in trouble?

He was so panicked that he traveled along the halls and corridors in a haze. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly bumped into the SpecOps soldier in front of him; the man had halted in front of an inconspicuous door.

He pressed a code into the keypad, and a chime sounded. Suddenly, the durasteel door slid open. The soldier then motioned for Ben to step inside.

Benjamin did so and was met with a sparsely furnished room. There seemed to be only a single seat in the room and sitting in the seat was an individual he did not recognize.

"Benjamin Madrik?" The man asked him with an accent. He had sleek black hair and wore a tan Rebel tunic.

Ben thought he sort of resembled his father, as the man also had dark hair, although brown in color.

"Yes, that's me." He replied.

"My name is Cassian Andor, and I'm an officer with Rebel Intelligence." The man leaned towards Ben.

The air nearly left his lungs and he took a deep breath. Rebel Intelligence? What did they want with him?

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked.

Andor laughed, "No, you did no such thing. I'm not here to apprehend you."

"Then what are you here for?" Ben was growing suspicious.

"I'm here to recruit you."

Ben was beginning to feel weak in the legs. "For what?"

"We're putting together a new team, and I've been instructed to take you under my wing for a probationary period to see what you know and to teach you some valuable tools," Andor replied with a small smile.

"We? Who is this we? And who instructed you to train me?" Ben asked once more in suspicion.

"Mon Mothma."