Arnham strode through the medical ward, stopping at beds and tanks to examine the condition of his injured personnel. The casualties were thankfully limited to the gun's crew, the engineers had designed the batteries to be self-contained if they were destroyed. It was unforgiving to the beings that manned the weapons, but it prevented the battery's destruction from destroying surrounding facilities. He stopped at one bed with a Rodia, the gunnery chief of the battery. The chief opened his one remaining eye and said something in his own language; Arnham nodded and put his hand on the chief's arm.
"Don't worry, it wasn't your fault."
The chief said more, he sounded bitter this time, Arnham gave a grim smile.
"We'll make sure they do, you get some rest. The Alliance will need you once you're recovered."
The Rodian nodded and closed his eye without another word, Arnham turned to leave the ward, exchanging a nod with the ward's head doctor.
"How many will be able to fight again?"
She shook her head uncertainly.
"I don't know sir; it's too early to tell right now. I'm just glad we have enough bacta to treat them all. If not for that I would say most of them would be dead." She gave him a hesitant smile. "The gunnery chief doesn't want to have a prosthetic put in."
Arnham snorted, "It's his choice. Keep me informed."
He turned to leave, "Sir, we're going to get through this right?"
Arnham felt an old smile he'd worn before past battles fill his face.
"We'll crush them."
She recoiled slightly and he turned to go, so that hadn't been the most tactful way to put it, but he meant it. It did not matter that his goal was to evacuate; the Imperials were here for a fight, and he'd give it to them. He could wish for a more interesting opponent, but honestly it just meant he could keep his people alive. The landspeeder was waiting for him; his driver hopped off the hood and into his seat as Arnham sat down in the back.
"Where to sir?"
"Back to the command center." He would have liked to finish his tour of the base but with the Imperials on their way he wanted to be where he could see the entire field of battle. He also had a few ideas about how to deal with the Imperials once they landed. They had to land somewhere after all and they could hardly be ready the moment their ramps dropped; at least not to the extent he could. It would be interesting to see how these Imperials reacted when it was their side taking the beating. So far their commander had been uncreative at best.
He picked up his comlink, "Captain, has Hal'cro returned yet?"
"He just reverted to realspace sir; he's evading the Imperial warships. He'll be here in ten minutes."
"Good, I want our T-47s and Saber tanks moved to Post Seven."
"What do you have in mind sir?"
"The Imperials will need to land and assemble before they attack. I want our people hitting them as soon as they're on the ground."
"That could prove difficult sir, if they have aerospace cover."
"That's why Hal'cro will be there," Arnham didn't like the idea of relying on the Bothan for anything, but what choice did he have? Ultimately he did have to use the annoying Major since it was his unit and people that Arnham needed. You took what you could.
"I'll be sure to inform him that he'll be leading the attack. It should help ease his ego."
"I'm sure it will," Arnham agreed tersely not really caring how the Bothan reacted, "The Y-wings will be staying behind; I want them saved until later. The rest of his unit is welcome to participate."
"Wouldn't it be more prudent to use them in the initial assault? Their bombs would make a significant difference."
"No, remember our goal here is to buy time. If we beat their initial landings too severely they may call for reinforcements. We need to draw them in, not frighten them off."
Ymira paused for a moment, "Yes sir. I'd like to point out that I feel this is not a good idea."
"Noted," Arnham said with a smile, "and thank you for being honest. Carry out your orders Captain."
"Yes sir."
Dranton blinked, "You want us where?"
The captain glared at him, "Orders are for all Sabers and T-47s to form at OPSev You got dung in your ears pilot?"
"No sir," Dranton responded with an annoyed scowl. Just wondered what for he thought to himself.
"Wesa gonna be hittin' dem first den?"
The captain looked at Nasume before nodding, "That's the idea. The Colonel wants us on them the moment they touch down. So our speeders and fighter tanks are being positioned as far out as we can safely put you."
Nasume smiled giddily. "Wesa ready to do oursa part, yousa no worryin' 'bout dat."
"Uh," the captain looked to Dranton who just shrugged. "Right, well you have your orders, get your vehicles in the air."
As the captain left, shaking his head in bewilderment the other Saber pilots exchanged amused glances and quiet chuckles. None of them really liked the captain, and all of them enjoyed watching his bewilderment whenever Nasume used his heavily accented basic.
"You really should stop doing that to him," Dranton said with a smirk as they returned to their tank. "One of these days he's going to realize you enjoy it."
Nasume grinned and clicked his tongue in a wet chuckle, "Hesa no dat smart. So long as mesa careful hesa no gettin' dat."
Dranton shook his head and hopped up onto the tank, dropping down his hatch as Nasume clambered into his seat above and behind him.
"Alright, all systems green."
The tank hummed to life, and Dranton gave the accelerator a squeeze and the tank sailed out of its berth and onto the motorpool floor, joined by other Saber tanks. The captain's tank took the lead as they left the hangar and proceeded through the base. As they went they joined with other Saber units and by the time they'd reached the outermost perimeter of the base they had thirty-three tanks in their formation. They passed the inner outposts and reached the sloping plain between the two mountain arms that flanked the base. Here the Sabers could really show their colors. Dranton and about a dozen other pilots opened their throttles and rocketed ahead of their comrades. One of the reasons the Saber was classified as a fighter tank was because it was significantly faster and much more maneuverable than its counterparts. The T model tanks that made up the bulk of the Alliance armor could obtain speeds of fifty to eighty kilometers. The Saber tanks could go in excess of three hundred kilometers if pushed and passing a hundred klicks an hour was easy.
That was why Dranton had fought so hard to make sure he'd been given one of the TX tanks, they were amazing machines and could easily dance around the battlefield. On the opening plain before the base he got a good reminder of why he loved his tank, now nearly the entire formation was going at full throttle and the outposts flew past as they covered the kilometers between the base and OPSev
"Wesa have company," Nasume called over the roar of the engine.
Dranton looked down; some thirty additional blips were coming up fast from the rear, aerial targets according to the sensors. A moment later the T-47s swooped past, easily outpacing the tanks and coming in to land at OPSev.
"Dem fly boys showin' off dere speedas again. Desa tinkin' dey so hot, couldn't be takin' a hittin' from Imp mesa tinks."
Dranton grinned, "Hang on."
"Oh no," muttered Nasume. "Yousa openin' her up?"
"Engaging afterburner," was Dranton's only reply as he squeezed the trigger mechanism for the afterburner and the tank roared ahead of their squad mates.
"Fife six what are you doing?"
"Just having some fun sir, can't let the speeders have all the fun."
"Get back in formation."
"Sorry sir, that last message wasn't clear; I think we've knocked our receiver loose."
Nasume let out a deep sigh and clucked at Dranton as the tank leapt over the ground, eating up the remaining distance to their destination.
"Wesa in for it now, ouch time!"
"Fighter tanks and air speeders have assembled at Post Seven ma'am."
"Thank you, make sure they camouflage themselves. If we're going to do this we may as well do it right."
"Issuing the order now ma'am."
Ymira bit her lip, her teeth digging into her skin as she considered the Colonel's orders. She understood the logic of hitting the Imperials when they landed, they'd be most vulnerable then; what she did not grasp was why hold back the bombers? Yes if they completely smashed the landing force the ships would probably call for reinforcements, but killing more Imperials now seemed like the better of the two options. After all, who knew how long it would take for the reinforcements to arrive? The Imperials could have to wait days or weeks before additional forces arrived.
"Ma'am, Major Hal'cro is on the com."
She put a finger to her headset and purred seductively, "Major, I'm happy you've made it back unharmed."
"I am unscathed my dear, however we paid a price for our victory. Nine of my fighters have been destroyed; their crews dead or captured."
She heard the anger in his voice and moved to assuage it, doing so from a distance was much more challenging than with her pheromones.
"I'm sorry for your losses Major, but think of it, because you stayed, you will be able to rescue those comrades who have been captured by the Imperials. Won't that glory be worth their sacrifice?"
There was an extended pause as Hal'cro let out an annoyed growl.
"Yes…yes my dear you are right. I shall have the honor of rescuing my comrades and grinding my boot heel into the face of the Imperial commander."
"You shall Major, I can guarantee it." Ymira gestured to an aerospace controller who nodded. "I am feeding you landing coordinates now."
"My dear," Hal'cro growled. "What is this; you are diverting my Y-wings to a different landing pad."
"Yes Major, the Colonel has ordered that your bombers be put under his command for the duration of this operation."
The expected outburst was not long in coming and Ymira had to turn the volume down on her headset as Hal'cro exploded in a flurry of insults ranging from the base to the eloquent. He certainly swore like a Bothan Ymira mused to herself, it sounded like some of the oaths she'd heard from her own people as a matter of fact. When he finished, she turned the volume up again and went to work.
"I know my dearest Major I know, he truly has acted disgracefully, but he is the sector commander, and you must answer to his orders while you operate in his command zone. I managed to gain a gift for you; I thought it might ease the shame of what the Colonel has done to you."
She told him what Arnham wanted him to do and she heard the excitement in his voice as he bubbled over with fanciful ideas of glory and other silly ideas. How he'd ever managed to make Major was beyond her; though considering the quality of the overall Alliance, where their recruits came from rather, she supposed it wasn't all that surprising that an egotist could do so well. At least the Major wasn't objecting to providing cover for the speeder and tank assault on the landing force, and was even allowing his bombers to be diverted from his command. She looked around and saw a few of the command officers giving her odd looks. She glared, they could think whatever they wanted of her, so long as she made sure the Colonel's orders were executed she didn't care.
Dantels passed through the hatch and raised a hand to silence the fleet intelligence officer.
"No pleasantries, just tell me what you have."
The officer shrugged, "These aren't pirates. They're Rebels. They've been operating in this sector for over a year and they have a heavily fortified base commanded by a veteran from the Clone Wars. Beyond that," he gestured to the corpse strapped to the chair, "I'm afraid they're unit is simply on rotation in the area and knows nothing of the operations of the base itself."
"And the other two," Dantels pressed, ignoring the pooling blood beneath the chair.
Again the offhand shrug, the officer picked up a towel and began cleaning off his hands, Dantels didn't want to know what he'd been doing to the prisoner. He wanted answers and then he could get back to beating these Rebels to a pulp.
"I haven't worked them over yet, but I have no reason to believe that any of them will have any further information to provide."
Dantels sighed and looked at the dead pilot disdainfully. "Very good, continue your work. Let me know if anything comes up that I should be made aware of."
He turned and left the interrogator to his work, scowling, after all the damage they'd done he'd hoped that the Rebels would have the decency to provide him with additional intelligence on their facilities, but no, the force that had attacked him wasn't even permanently attached to this base! Just his rotten luck; sometimes it seemed that the galaxy conspired against him, as if it was trying to make his rise to prominence as challenging as possible. Well it wouldn't work; he was no weakling to be cowed by the twists that fate threw his way. He'd rise above this and to the greatness that was rightfully his. Stepping into the turbolift gave him a moment to compose himself before he would arrive at the bridge and have to deal with the gaze of all his subordinates. It also gave him a moment to consider his plan of attack, he'd glanced over the layout of the enemy position and the best option seemed to be a landing beyond the mountains on the plains before the city followed by a direct assault by his heavy armor.
He wished that he had more AT-ATs but being a rear-line unit simply tasked with pirate suppression meant it had not been deemed that the big walkers would be needed for his forces. Which left him with a force comprised largely of the older Juggernaught assault vehicles and lighter walkers; it was no matter though. He doubted that the Rebels would have anything that could stand against even the handful of AT-ATs he had at his disposal. They would be crushed swiftly and his star would rise. He stepped onto the bridge to a welcome sight; the Acclamators hung in space before him.
"We've rejoined the assault ships sir; your orders?"
He looked to navigation with a hunter's smile, "What else? Proceed at once to the Rebel base."
Gaige turned to look at him, his face grim but he made no objection as the ships reformed and leapt to hyperspace.
"So we know they're Rebels now," Toren said offhandedly. "At least they're not calling them pirates anymore."
"Yeah that was pretty kriffing bad, calling a base like that a pirate facility. Command is a bunch of idiots."
Vigus looked between Grev and Toren without saying anything, he didn't share their relief that command had acknowledged that they were facing a proper military force. Or at least as proper as you could expect from Rebels. It still meant more of a fight.
"What's so good about knowing they're Rebels," he muttered mostly to himself.
"Simple bucket-head," Grev responded tersely. "Command might actually allocate sufficient forces to the landing force now that they know there's a real threat."
"Which means more targets for the Rebels and less likelihood that we'll be the ones getting shot," Toren supplied offhandedly.
Vigus joined in the uneasy laughter that drew from the rest of the platoon within earshot. It didn't sound very reassuring to him, and it sounded like both Grev and Toren expected they'd be landing into a real mess. Great, he thought to himself, just great. He looked over at Jinx who was examining her rifle methodically. He stood and walked over to her, taking a seat on the bench across from her.
"What do you think?"
She looked up at him her expression unreadable, "I think we're going to lose some people, and then we'll come back and forget about it before we move on to the next fight."
Vigus had been growing used to Jinx's direct manner and pressed, "I mean about the Rebels."
She sighed and looked at him, "I've been up against Rebels before Vi. They tend to be two things: untrained and unpredictable. These Rebels have built an extensive base in the Inner Rim and have been operating out of it for at least a year now." She paused as she found something that didn't meet with her approval on her rifle. She continued a moment later as she tinkered with the barrel. "That means that these Rebels might be untrained and are definitely unpredictable as they've proven; but they're also going to be smart. And a smart enemy is an enemy that can kill you."
Vigus ignored the growing sense of doom creeping around in his stomach and managed a smile. "Hey, you didn't call me Greenie."
She swung the muzzle of her rifle around and looked down the sights at him, pulling the trigger with a hollow click.
"Call it a preamble for what's next."
