"Dleta Squad, this is General Fisto! Come in!"
The words echoed through the rubble within the Seperatist fort. No one answered.
B1-0324-227 clawed himself out of the debris. Directives flickered slowly across his field of vision.
HEAVY STRUCTURAL DAMAGE INFLICTED
BUILDING STATUS: CRIPPLED
ORDERS
ALL REMAINING DROID PERSONNEL: SEEK&DESTR. ALL COST
It was at that moment the droid noticed the body.
Covered in plastoid armor with orange stripes decorating the outside, a Republic Clone's body lay amidst the rubble.
Surely he must be dead.
But the clone groaned quietly. He tried unsuccessfully to push himself onto his back.
The droid remembered his directives. He tried to shoot first, but found that his gun was no longer at his side.
He took one hobbling step towards the clone, and saw his own leg fall off at the knee.
He crashed to the floor, now crawling forward with his two blunt fingers.
He dragged himself forward, fully intending to smash the clone's head with his missing leg.
He drew closer. The clone had fallen down after another unsuccessful attempt to raise himself up.
Closer still. He was close enough to hear the clone's labored breathing.
He raised his club high. He would be long remembered for this! SO LONG YOU REPUBLIC SCU-
A gigantic chunk of rubble had lifted itself off of the floor and had turned 227 into a pancake.
Shaak Ti rose shakily to her feet. Even with the help of a Force push, that rock was hard to move. "Alright, who's not dead? Sound off!"
Several groans emanated from various places in the rubble-filled room.
Shoving the rocks out of the way of the door, Sev emerged from a utility closet which had miraculously survived the structural evisceration of the building. "What the heck was that!" he roared. "I thought that the charge was just supposed to weaken the building!"
"Well, obviously the building was weakened a bit too much," Scorch groaned as he fought to pull his leg out from in between two chunks of rubble. "Make note to self: Use smaller charges."
"We were lucky enough to actually survive long enough to make that mental note," Boss muttered, having finally pushed himself onto his hands and knees. "Where did my gun go?"
"I doubt that we'll find it here," Fixer gestured broadly at the room. "I lost almost everything after the explosion. All I have is my DC-17 pistol. A few jump drives and a couple of auto-hacks survived. Frankly, I'm amazed that none of my grenades went off."
"Speak for yourself," Scorch muttered, searching his anatomy for the droid-popper he felt stinging his nerves.
"I'm amazed that we survived at all," Shaak Ti moaned. "Next time we do that, let's be outside the building."
Boss straightened a gauntlet. His wrist mounted vibro-blades were still working properly at least. He had a flash-bang, two droid poppers, and a ruined thermal detonator. It probably wouldn't work, but he kept it anyway. His gun was missing, but a few droid adversaries would fix that. "Alright Deltas, lets plant those last two charges."
Shaak Ti stepped forward. "No, you plant one. I'll plant the other."
Boss almost jumped for joy, but what felt like a torn muscle in his leg kept him from doing so.
Scorch hesitated in giving the last charge to the Jedi. "Are you sure? Another close call like this could leave you with no back up, or even medical assistance."
The togruta wiped a bit of blood from her forehead. "It is better that at least one of us succeed than none. And besides, I still have my weapon.' She held out a now very dusty lightsaber hilt. She stashed it into her robes and extended a hand. "The charges please."
Almost grudgingly, Scorch handed the Jedi the mass of plastic explosives. She smiled a thank you to him. She moved to Fixer, and obtained a map from him. Then, using the Force, Shaak Ti blew open the door.
She turned her head over her shoulder. "Good luck, and may the Force be with you."
Then the Jedi disappeared in a burst of Force Speed.
Boss, in spite of himself, whispered back: "And with you too."
"What was that Boss?"
"Nothing six-two. Now, let's get moving. We have some charges to plant."