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Stockade, Prefab Imperial Garrison West-4, Target West, Main Continental Mass, Earth
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To call the hole a stockade was an insult to stockades, Dusel thought.
It was a pit, dubbed the "Black Hole of Shanghai" by the prisoners, dug in the central part of the garrison complex and covered in heavy durasteel bars instead of a containment shield. It was just over a meter high so a man couldn't stand upright, and the walls and floor were nothing more than dirt with a few concrete cobblestones. There was one bucket in one of the corners to use as a fresher, and it wasn't exactly changed every day.
The hot. south China sun cut through the overhead cloud cover and kept the temperature of the hole hovering somewhere between sweltering and boiling. And the prison's location next to the complex's landing pads meant that the prisoners got roasted by engine exhaust ports every time a transport landed.
Dusel didn't get to enjoy his accommodations alone. The pit housed twenty-seven prisoners. All of them were accused of loyalty crimes against the Empire and awaiting court-martial hearings, which were supposed to start today, but knowing Imperial timetables they were more likely to roast to death in this pit before they ever stood before the commissars. Not that that would be a horrible thing, Dusel thought as he watched some of the prisoners stick their arms and heads above the bars, hoping for the slightest breeze. Others crammed into the dark corners of the pit in the search of the barest sliver of shade, while those who had served in the Stormtrooper Corps conserved energy and let their body gloves, the only part of their uniforms they were allowed to keep, cool down their body temperatures.
There wasn't a lot of conversation in the hole, not even among the CompForce troopers who patrolled the edges of the pit to insure against escape. The men in the hole were labeled traitors against the Empire and until they proved their innocence and were deemed beneath contempt by true troopers of the Empire.
Dusel wasn't sure how he was going to do that. He wasn't allowed any representation before the tribunal. He had somehow broken Orders 37 through 39 of the Imperial Army's contingency orders and now stood accused of interfering with the lawful suppression of an insurgent population. What he had really done was try to stop CompForce troopers from carrying out a massacre of civilian refugees, but that wasn't how the Commissars saw it. He had been ordered only to attend the court martial hearing to hear the judgment on his case. He doubted they would even allow him to speak on his own behalf.
Since he had most likely already been sentenced to death he wondered why they had bothered to throw him in the stockade for a week. According to the other prisoners the Commissars were waiting for something, something to do with the Theater Commander, Moff Seco. Whatever it was, it had occurred last night.
Sometime before dawn their orbital cover had vanished to the south-west. Shortly thereafter, every spacebourne transport in the complex had been ordered to leave the base and join the Fleet whereever it went. The only overhead cover the five pre-fab garrison complexes had remaining consisted of a few squadrons of TIEs who flew lazy patrol patterns over the ruins of what had once been a major metropolis.
The disappearance of the fleet hadn't gone unnoticed by the abos still living amongst the ruins. Hours ago a rhythmic chant had started outside the walls of the complex. The chant had started softly but had quickly swelled into an entity by itself, and the thrum of its alien words matched the beat of Dusel's nervous heart. Dusel figured there must have been tens of thousands of abos out there.
He watched as the number of sentries doubled, then tripled on the garrison's walls. The entrance guards were recalled and the massive durasteel gates that led out to the city were slammed shut. Later in the morning, officers appeared on the walls as thick, oily plumes of smoke appeared in almost every direction. The officers looked nervous and Dusel noted that some of them started donning stormtrooper armor like their men. The only ones who didn't were the Commissars, who directed weapon crews to emplace E-WEBs along the fortress's bulwarks.
Dusel got up and moved to the center of the pit. He stuck his head out where he could get a view of two of the Garrison's towers and the main gate. He flinched as a firework exploded over the garrison then laughed at his frayed nerves until seconds later, when an improvised mortar shell burst open near Tower 3's mess entrance. The first bomb did little damage but several more burst in short order around the complex. One of them knocked a scout trooper off the north wall.
The guards above threw themselves flat for a moment. Then when it looked clear they started digging fighting pits around the stockade. They didn't care that some of their dirt was flying back into the hole and caking the sweating prisoners with grime.
"Get down, kid." Someone said behind him. "You're liable to get your head blown off by some abo popper if you keep it out there."
Dusel turned to see Major TK-3950, or Knuckles, as he liked to be called. The officer had evacuated his brigade's forward positions in Wuhu during the flooding against orders from their Commissar. The clone officer had actually head-butted the Loyalty Officer that had stood in his brothers' way, knocking him out cold. It had taken six stormtroopers to hold him down before they could slap a pair of stun cuffs on him. Knuckles had taken up a leadership role in the hole ever since his arrival. He took care of the prisoners and made sure everyone got their fair share of whatever meager rations they got from the guards.
Dusel respected the hell out of the man and wondered why the clones would continue serve a system that saw them at their best as a piece of machinery, and at their worst some Hutt sleemo to be thrown in the pit, even now, long after they had served their purpose in the Clone War. "What's going on out there, sir?"
"Sounds to me like the city is rising up. We never did clear all of them out of here when we took the city. I've heard there's up to two or three million of them starving out there." Knuckles said.
That sounded about right to Dusel. He remembered the landspeeder and being bombs that had plagued the army inside the city before the surge attack. In his mind's eye he could still see the hundreds of wrecked souls lining the roadways as the AT-ATs of Monkey Squadron went by. They had been cruelly brought to their knees. And I had helped the Empire do it to them, Dusel finished the thought.
"Why now?" Dusel asked.
"They must have seen the fleet go. They probably figure they can get a couple of us ground pounders if our cruisers aren't watching over us." A nearby explosion made every prisoner in the hole cringe as shrapnel rattled off the sides of the nearest landing dock. "They might be right, too."
"Any idea what they're saying out there?"
"Not really. Hey, FG-2395." Knuckles shouted at another prisoner, a scout trooper.
"Yeah?" FG-2395 responded quietly. So quietly that Dusel wasn't sure the other man had heard Knuckles or not.
"You picked up a little of the local abo gibberish, the not-quite Mando'a?" Knuckles asked.
"Mandarin, not even close, but yeah. Some." The scout wasn't much for words, despite apparently learning an alien tongue.
"What are they saying out there?" Dusel asked.
The scout trooper paused for several seconds. The roar of more explosions rang across the compound, as well as the heavy beat of an E-WEB from somewhere far away. FG-2395 looked Dusel in the eyes and gave him a hard stare. "Rise."
The word shook Dusel to his core. All hope was lost for these beings and yet they continued to resist in the face of impossible odds. Seco and Emperor Yos were wrong about them. The Empire was wrong, Dusel realized, and not for the first time.
The security clamps that held the bars in place were being removed from the far side of the pit. Every prisoner turned and looked in that direction. Power gloves gripped a small section of the cage and lifted it up and away before slamming it down across another section of the bars. The loud clang made Dusel's ears ring.
A pair of CompForce troopers stood above the opening with their E-9 blaster pistols trained on the hole. An unarmored Commissar stood between them glaring at the prisoners.
"Prisoners FG-2395, YY-5629,TK-3950 and DF-1001 step forth." The Commissar ordered.
Dusel did as he was ordered and climbed out of the hole right behind Knuckles.
The scene inside the garrison was vastly different from his previous stays here. The walls were lined with troopers actively engaging targets outside the fortress's walls. The chanting outside had vanished, replaced by the constant din of slug fire and explosions. The sounds of battle echoed from all corners of the city. Artillery pits dug around the central courtyard housed AT7 crews, who sent suppressive, indirect artillery blasts in every direction. Outside the walls the city must be chaos, Dusel thought.
"You four will be the first to stand trial this morning. We are transporting you to Garrison West 2 to face sentencing from the Court of Justice enacted by Seneschal Seco."
So this was it, Dusel thought. There was to be no evidence or witnesses. They would show up and be sentenced. Where was the justice in that? Would he even have a say in whether they put him up against the wall or threw him into the mines?
The two CompForce Troopers secured the cage door to the pit and then took up a position behind the prisoners. The Commissar spoke to the two guards. "Secure the prisoners and follow me."
The guard slapped binders on the prisoners' ankles and wrists before prodding them forward with the muzzles of their blasters. The Commissar led the way to the Garrison's motor pool near the main gate.
A Lieutenant raised his hand to stop them. "Stop! Where do you think you are going?"
"Step aside, Lieutenant. I have been ordered by the Seneschal himself to bring these traitors to the Court of Justice."
"That's wizard, sir. But we have orders from FleetOps that no one is to open the gates to the garrison. The only ones allowed into the city at the moment are forces from the Armored Corps performing sweep and clear missions in the city. I'm afraid the whole city's gone up and it's too hot out there to let you pass. You'll have to take air transport." The Lieutenant informed the Loyalty officer.
"An airspeeder? The shield still keeps their army at bay, does it not? These are merely primitive civilians with slugthrowers. I think you overestimate their chances. Let me tell you what . . ." The Commissar was stopped mid-sentence.
"Katyushas!" Someone screamed from the parapets above them.
The four prisoners dropped to the ground. As did their guards and the Lieutenant. The Commissar looked too dumbfounded to know what to do next and chose to just stand there with his mouth agape.
Dusel had quickly become familiar with the unguided rocket attacks early in the invasion. AT-ATs were a favorite target of the Chinese gunners. Nicknamed after an older model from an Earth War long ago, the Weishi rocket system delivered a terrifying barrage of high explosives over a wide area. AT-ATs had no problem shaking them off but they played chaos with scaring the poodoo out of the infantry, especially since the rockets screamed like beserker wookiees when they rained down on you.
Anti-missile and anti-airspeeder batteries mounted on the walls of the garrison tore into the missile attack. The defenses knocked great swaths of the primitive missiles from the sky but many still made it through. One missile slammed down on top of an AT7 crew catapulting their weapon onto its back. Another missile impacted the garrison's mess hall, while a third blew a huge chunk of duracrete out of one of the landing docks. Each explosion threw dirt and debris into the air to rain down on the prone prisoners. The Commissar was far enough away from the impacts not to be torn apart by their concussions but still close enough to be thrown onto his shebs. Dusel tried not to make his smirk obvious.
The attack ended as abruptly as it began. When the Commissar stood up and brushed off his uniform his face revealed his indignation. He turned to the other officer. "Lieutenant, contact Target West FlightOps and request a MAAT/i for prisoner transport."
"Yes, sir." He put his hand to his bucket's ear to signify he was on a comm call with someone.
One of the guards bent down and lifted Dusel back to his feet, along with the other prisoners. The prisoners and the guards both studied the surrounding vehicles in the motor pool, trying to identify the best piece of cover in case another Chinese rocket attack came roaring in.
"Criminal is what it is." The Commissar complained to no one in particular. "How are they even getting such weapons into the city?"
"Smuggling them down river under the shield would be my guess. Or small two-man submarines out in the bay. Seco never bothered much with security other than the energy shield." Knuckles answered.
The Commissar glared at him.
"Sir," The Lieutenant interrupted, "Transport Kaadu 8 is standing by on Landing Dock 3. They await your arrival." The officer saluted and left.
"Come on, we've already wasted too much time and you've evaded Imperial justice for long enough." The Commissar barreled forward towards the Landing Docks. The guards shoved Dusel forward after the Loyalty Officer.
A heavy MAAT/i with the red and black paint job of a Space Rescue Corps airspeeder hovered a half meter over the landing pad not bothering to come to a full landing. Dusel wondered why they rated such an odd choice of transport. The crew chief jumped out of the cargo bay and waved them forward. "Hurry up! We don't want to be out here if another rocket attack comes in. What in the Force is so kriffing important anyway?"
"Imperial Justice." The Commissar answered and pointed at the prisoners.
"E chu ta! Couldn't this poodoo have waited another day? The whole city is going up in flames." The crew chief said.
"There is always time for loyalty to the Empire. I hope you're not forgetting that, Sergeant." The commissar stared down the NCO.
"No, sir. I serve the Empire," The sergeant replied smartly before muttering, "and whoever's in charge of it today."
"That's more like it. Inform the pilots that we are flying over to West 2. Shouldn't be more than a five minute flight."
"Over in the Pudong District? I don't know, lots of fighting between here and there."
"I'm sure your crew can handle anything the primitives out there throw at you." The Commissar said as he took his seat.
"I'd like to think that as well." Dusel heard the man say before disappearing into the cockpit for a second. He returned a moment later and manned the chaingun E-WEB mounted on the left side of the airspeeder. Another gunner manned the right.
The engines were roaring at full throttle when they took off. Dusel was pressed back into his seat as the inertial dampers tried to compensate for the quick take off.
The pilot banked hard right as soon as they cleared the outer wall. Dusel could hear the MAAT/i's flare dispenser dropping chafe and flares in their wake.
Dusel peered out of the door. As far as he could see, flames swept across the city. Not a single structure still stood as mountains of brick and stone now marked the sites where cloudcutters once stood. Below them the flashes of slugthrowers and blasters showed where Imperial troops struggled with the uprising for control of the ruins.
His heart sang out when he spotted a walker, its heavy chin cannons demolishing a make-shift bunker that had been dug underneath a rubble pile. What he would give to be back aboard Monkey 9 and out of the clutches of the Commissar. He wondered if the Monkey Squadron was somewhere below, called in, perhaps, to reinforce the city's garrisons and to quell the uprising. It certainly was possible, yet it ached to think they would be so close when he needed them the most, and not be able to reach out to them.
He could see dozens of MAATs and LAATs over the city. Every one of them seemed to be blasting at something on the ground. Just as he wondered why they weren't doing the same the two door gunners opened up with their chainguns. So did the two ball-turret gunners attached to the outside of the hull. How hot was the fighting down below, Dusel wondered? Can't we just let these earthlings alone and go home?
"Attention. This is the pilot." A voice cut across the cabin's audicasters. "We're cutting east. Airspace ahead is reserved for multiple bomber squadrons. A strike package is scheduled to be coming out of the south. We'll have to come in at West 2 from over the Pacific."
"Fierfek. A few more moments of respite for you traitors." The Commissar swore.
"Look out!" One of the door gunner's yelled.
The transport suddenly banked hard to the left. Both door gunners clutched their door mounts in a desperate attempt to stay inside the repulsorcraft. Dusel's crash webbing strained to keep him seated.
Multiple strings of red tracer slugs flashed by the right side door like swarms of angry piranha beetles. Dusel's eyes went wide when he spotted the black contrails of a small missile. Doesn't the pilot see it? Or is he too busy dodging the slug fire?
"Missile!" The crew chief's warning was too late.
The projectile slammed into the ship's right power feed generator. Immediately the craft pitched in that direction as if it had been swatted by a Zillo Beast. The loud crunch of metal tearing through metal filled the crew hold. Then the left engine exploded, filling the craft with smoke and flames. The left door gunner vanished, as he was sucked out of the door the second the inertial dampers failed. The MAAT/i seemed to howl as she pitched forward and started heading for the broken ground below.
"We're going in!" The pilot shouted an obvious warning over the intercom.
This is it. This is how I die. Dusel wrapped his wrists in the crash webbing and tried to put his head in his lap. A helmet would have helped, he thought. Scum took my helmet, he thought of the Commissar cowering in his own crash seat across from Dusel. At least he'll die too.
The MAAT/i slammed nose first into a giant pile of bricks and mortar. Its forward momentum caused it to bounce once and swivel to its stricken left side. It hit the ground again and slid for a moment before striking the exposed stump of a utility pole. The impact with the pole caused the craft to completely roll once before connecting with the remains of an underground landspeeder parking lot. The wreckage was instantly hidden in a cloud of concrete, dust and smoke from the engines.
It took Dusel several seconds to realize that he was still alive. Not only that, but besides a few minor scrapes and bruises he seemed to be unhurt.
"Everybody alright? Anyone hurt?" The crew chief's voice came through the dust.
The air was so thick that Dusel coughed several times to clear his lungs before he could answer. "I'm here. I'm astral, I think."
Several more voices cut through the smoke and dust. Dusel recognized Knuckles' voice from across the crew compartment, which was odd since the clone officer had been seated next to him before the crash.
Dusel heard someone talking as the dust settled. His heart sank when he realized the Commissar had been one of the survivors.
"Pilot's dead." The co-pilot announced.
"So is one of the turret gunners. Must have been crushed when the ship rolled over." The crew chief said.
The dust had cleared enough for Dusel to notice FG-2395 still strapped into his seat. His neck bent at an unnatural angle. The other prisoner, DF-1001, had broken free from his crash chair and lay crumpled in a mass of broken bones and twisted limbs on the far side of the cabin.
"I've lost one of my guards and two prisoners to your inept flying, Lieutenant." The Commissar spat furiously as he yelled at the co-pilot. The co-pilot was in no condition to hear the tirade, however, because he had an obviously broken arm and the lenses had been knocked free from his helmet by the crash.
"You and you," The Commissar pointed at the surviving turret gunner and the crew chief, "Take your blasters and scout around our position. Find us the quickest route to the nearest Imperial forces."
"Yes, sir. But wouldn't it be safer to wait here for RescueOps? Surely they've got some other birds over the city?" The crew chief asked. The Commissar just scowled in response. The crew chief popped open a weapons locker and secured a pair of older DC-15 blaster rifles for him and the turret gunner. The two of them carefully made thier way out of the cabin, crouching as they made their way from one piece of cover to the next. Dusel noted there were several more blasters in the unattended locker.
"Why don't you release us and give us some blasters? Every abo in the city had to have seen us go down." Knuckles asked the Commissar. "They'll be on top of us well before RescueOps gets here."
"You are a prisoner of the Empire. You have no right to defend yourself. Are you forgetting that they are nothing more than backwards aboriginals?" The Commissar retorted.
"Are you forgetting they just blasted us down?" Dusel asked.
The Commissar stared vibrodaggers at Dusel. "I am highly anticipating your sentencing, Corporal."
A slug suddenly clanged off the top of the hull. Everyone's attention went to the noise. Dusel unclasped his straps and dropped to the floor of the cabin.
"Where did that come from?" The Commissar shouted.
"I didn't see." The CompForce trooper responded. "I think the abos know we're here. I think maybe we should free these guys until rescue comes."
"Did I hear you correctly, Trooper? The Empire doesn't pay you to think."
Dusel thought that statement was an excellent commentary on the current state of the Empire.
The Commissar became frantic. It was obvious the man didn't like the loss of control that came with being in the field. He turned back to the co-pilot. "How is the hyperwave, Lieutenant?"
"Working, I think."
"Good. Contact West 2 and tell them where we are." The Loyalty Officer ordered.
The co-pilot worked the comm's interface. Several blocks away a large explosion went off causing dirt and dust to rain down from the crumpled ceiling of the cargo hold. "Red Zero. Red Zero. TarWest FlightOps, this is transport Kaadu 8. We have gone down in Zhoupu Sector. We are activating emergency beacon at our location. We require immediate Red Zero."
"Kaadu 8 this is Dog 6." A new voice cut over the hyperwave. "Our walker has you on our scanners and is inbound on your position. How many survivors are at your location?"
"Dog 6 it is wizard to hear your voice. We have seven survivors. Three crew and four passengers." the co-pilot reported.
Dusel was a mixed bag of emotions at the potential for rescue. Even though they were surrounded Dusel hadn't forgotten that he was still under the thumb of the Commissar. At the same time he still yearned for rescue and silently cheered upon hearing the distinctive sound of the crew chief and turret gunner's DC-15s blasting at someone out in the ruins. The sound of slugthrowers was increasing as well. It was evident that they were vastly outnumbered.
"Kaadu 6 what are the operating numbers of the prisoners you were transporting?" Dog 6 asked.
The co-pilot turned to Knuckles and Dusel.
"TK-3950." Knuckles said.
"YY-5629." Dusel responded.
The co-pilot gave the rescue team their operating numbers. Dusel wondered why they didn't ask for the crew's ONs as well. Before he could wonder about it for too long the two errant crew members dove back into the crew compartment.
"Whole mob of abos heading this way!" The crew chief shouted. The way the MAAT/i had come to a rest left her on an incline in a shallow pit on a sloping pile of bricks, which ended up blocking the view of the roadway from the cabin of the MAAT. The turret gunner recovered himself and climbed back to the top of the pile. The Commissar and the CompForce trooper followed him.
Dusel could smell the odor of petrol burning. He could see smoke coming over the top of the brick pile when he leaned his head out the door. A rock bounced off the top of the MAAT/I, followed by several slugs.
The same chanting he had heard outside West 4 started up again. The alien calls raised the hairs on the back of his neck and gave him the chills. Could it really be the will of the Force that I die today, he wondered? And even if the abos out there don't overrun us then the Commissar will surely place my head on the chopping block himself. Why? It's not fair. I never meant to hurt anyone.
"Come on, kid." Knuckles nodded towards the door. "Let's see what there is to see out there, and hopefully we'll see a way to duck out of this mess."
Dusel thought it was depressing that the idea of escape into a city full of uprising abos, every single one of whom would probably kill him the moment they saw him sounded like his best chance. The Commissar was most definitely going to kill him if they made it out of here. At least if he ran he stood a chance.
Knuckles crawled up the brick pile with Dusel in tow. The former AT-AT driver was sweating from the exertion by the time he reached the peak several meters above the crash site. The thick humidity hanging over the city didn't help things.
The two prisoners took up prone positions next to the CompForce guard, who pointed down the block. "Only one way out. We're hoping that rescue walker gets here in time." A slight tremor of fear colored the guard's voice.
A hundred meters down the open pathway stood several hundred abos. Some of them carried large red banners and flags with alien words written on them. Dusel didn't figure they said anything nice about the Empire. Some of the abos carried hand held weapons and make-shift metal and plastic shields. Dusel noted a few slugthrowers in the crowd.
A steady rain of rocks and insults were hurled at the crash site. Dusel, Knuckles and the Commissar were the only ones not wearing helmets. Dusel and Knuckles because they were prisoners and the Commissar, well, Dusel thought, Commissars are just stoopa.
"Heads up!" Knuckles shouted a warning as two bottles broke open in front of their position. Flames leapt up from the points of impact and spread across the roadway.
"Fierfek!" Dusel shouted, at least the burning gas now prevented the abos from charging their position.
"That scum is unworthy of threatening us. Are we not fighting men of the Empire?" The Commissar stood and shouted at the crouching troopers from the crash site. He pointed his blaster pistol down the street and blasted off a couple of bolts into the crowd.
Suddenly a rock hit the Commissar in the shoulder and knocked the baster pistol free.
"Look out." The crew chief jumped up and tackled the Loyalty Officer just as an abo thermal detonator blew up amidst the burning fluid.
The abos saw the officer go down and let out a huge cheer. Several of them grew emboldened by this and rushed up to the edge of the flames. They picked up bricks and blasted poorly aimed slugs at their position. One of the slugs ricocheted harmlessly off the turret gunner's helmet with a loud ping. Dusel swallowed his fear while he wished he was wearing a bucket as well.
"Watch out! They're trying to set up a machine slugthrower!" Knuckles shouted a warning towards the troopers with blasters.
Dusel looked to where his fellow prisoner was indicating. Sure enough, three abos had emerged from a rubble pile on the left side of the crowd. They were frantically setting up a tripod weapon system. One of them shoved a belt of slugs into one side of the weapon while another carefully aimed the barrel towards the pinned troopers.
With a ripping noise that sounded like the tearing of durasteel rivets the weapon began blasting at them. Dusel tried to bury himself in the rubble pile. Slugs zipped angrily overhead to hit the top of the MAAT/i behind him. Their ricochets smashed brick and cement alike. A piece of rubble cut deeply into his cheek with a biting pain. He put his hand up to the wound and wiped at it, leaving a bloody smear.
"Give us a blaster." Knuckles pleaded with the Commissar who turned a deaf ear to the two prisoners.
"Take that you kriffing earworms!" The CompForce trooper rose to one knee and blasted back at the crew-served weapon. It was less than a hundred yards away and the security trooper was able to drop two of the abos in one volley. Immediately more abos joined the survivor, but the weapon's rate of fire was hampered by the new rookies.
Several abos attempted to jump the flames that prevented them from closing with the abos. They made the mistake of trying it one at a time and the crew chief had no trouble picking them off one by one. Soon several bodies lay in the flames, adding the stench of roasting corpses to the furious battle.
Then several things happened at once. A small rocket shot out of the crowd. Dusel had seen rocket propelled grenades by the thousands when he had been an AT-AT driver. He was used to ignoring them. Knuckles, however, was more than accustomed to the danger they presented. The clone trooper forcefully shoved Dusel away from the projectile.
It had been an amazing shot. The rocket missed their rubble pile but was fired low enough not to impact with the roof of the MAAT/i. Instead the device shot into the crew compartment, where it impacted less than a meter above the head of the co-pilot, who was still manning the hyperwave radio. His flight armor was enough to save him from the explosion but not the overpressure wave the explosive sent out. Inside the co-pilot's bucket his brains simply liquified as every centimeter of brain tissue hemorrhaged just milliseconds before the co-pilot's spinal column shattered. His lungs burst like balloons. To the other troopers it looked like he just fell asleep and lay down.
At the same time a large slug smashed into the CompForce trooper's pauldron. The impact staggered the trooper. He dropped his blaster, which rolled down the rubble pile to the feet of the crew chief. The CompForce trooper raised his unaffected arm and checked the damage. Dusel could see blood pouring from a hole in the back of man's armor.
"Sniper!" The crew chief yelled. "Get down you fool!"
Before the CompForce trooper could process the crew chief's warning a second slug tore through the trooper's neck.
He grabbed his neck and fell backwards toward the MAAT/i. As he did so he dropped his hands and a fountain of blood sprayed into the air.
Dusel gagged when some of it fell on his lips. Only an empty stomach and sheer embarrassment kept him from vomiting. Why am I thinking about that, Dusel wondered? Two men just died and I'm next if we don't get out of here.
"AMR-2 over there!" Knuckles pointed to a collapsed building to the right of their position. Sure enough, two abos were repositioning a large anti-material slugthrower into an enfilade position on the troopers.
"Blast them!" The Commissar shouted. The turret gunner opened up with his blaster rifle. One bolt neatly clipped off the top of one of the abo's skull. The sudden death of his partner forced the other abo to drop the heavy sniper slugthrower. He was chased behind a pile of collapsed building material by the turret gunner's bolts. Dusel was sure the abo got away.
Knuckles jumped onto the downed guard. He ripped off the trooper's helmet and flung it towards Dusel. "Put that on."
Dusel stared at the CompForce trooper's face. The man's eyes were rolled back into his head and the right side of his neck was missing a fist-sized chunk. "But he's . . . he's . . ."
"He's dead, so he's not using his bucket anymore, is what he is." Knuckles said.
"Hold up your binders." The crew chief told Knuckles.
Knuckles did so. The crew chief carefully aimed his blaster at the stun cuffs.
"What are you doing?" The Commissar demanded.
"Saving my own shebs." The crew chief responded and blasted the binders off the clone trooper. He handed the CompForce trooper's dropped blaster to Knuckles.
"Stop! These men are prisoners of Moff Seco."
"Moff Seco can go fierfek himself." The crew chief said before he blasted Dusel free. "You can arrest me if we make it through this alive."
"I'll do better than that." The Commissar raised his blaster pistol and squeezed off a single bolt in the crew chief's face.
The crewman dropped lifelessly to the ground.
"Traitor." The Commissar actually spit on the corpse that lay before him.
Dusel saw red. He was furious at the senseless waste of another trooper's life. The crew chief was only trying to do the right thing. He was trying to save lives and the Commissar had robbed him of his own.
Dusel's hands curled into fists and he took a step forward. Knuckles was already starting to raise his blaster.
The Commissar must have read their minds. He swung the pistol towards Knuckles. "Drop it." he demanded.
Knuckles glared at the officer and then threw the blaster to the ground. "Good. Good. I will guard you until rescue comes." The Commissar said.
"I can see the walker." The turret gunner shouted. The man had stayed at the top of the rubble pile, keeping the abos at bay.
The Commissar crawled back to the top as well, with Knuckles and Dusel held at bay by his blaster pistol. A barrage of rocks continued to pelt their position. Dusel noted several more bodies lying by the machine slugthrower. Evidently the turret gunner had been busy.
Dusel felt the walker long before he saw it. Tiny bits of rubble cascaded down the debris pile. Dusel could feel the bricks vibrate beneath him every few seconds. Soon he heard the familiar creak and pop of durasteel joints and the crushing of concrete underneath the walker's footpads. Through the smoke came the wondrous sight of the lumbering machine.
Dusel wished he could recognize it as Dog 6 but the fog of battle obscured any identifying detail on the advancing AT-AT.
Abos at the back of the crowd were the first to notice it. Some of them started to scream, which made the earthlings at the front of the crowd turn to see what the commotion was about. They started in every direction like a flock of belly-birds from an onrushing akk dog.
"Crewman, do you have any flares inside the transport?" The Commissar asked.
"We've got smoke, sir." The turret gunner responded.
"Well go get it and let them know where we are."
The crewman slid down the pile into the MAAT/i. He returned several seconds later with a colored smoke grenade. He activated it and dropped it. Within seconds bright red smoke was rising above the crash site.
The abos manning the machine slugthrower chose to stay. The crew turned their weapon around and started blasting at the approaching walker.
The AT-AT paused for just a second, swung its head towards the nuisance and unleashed a single volley. The two heavy turbolasers burned through the two abos manning the weapon and atomized the slugthrower in a fireball that shot several meters into the air.
Dusel wanted to cheer. He loved walkers but this had been the first time he had seen what they could do from the ground. While it had filled him with the same awe he had felt in Army Pilot school, he was horrified to see the power it had unleashed on powerless beings. "By the Force."
The weapon's destruction was all it took to convince the last Chinese die-hards to scatter. The abos disappeared over every rubble pile in every direction except towards the crash site and the AT-AT.
"We're saved." The turret gunner softly said in total disbelief.
Dusel knew he had only prolonged his own fate. The approaching walker would bring him to his doom in front of a military tribunal. They had only postponed it by several hours and wasted the lives of almost every single crew member of the MAAT/i in the process. Is this what Imperial Justice is all about? Moff Seco's revenge at any cost?
"You two, stand up." The Commissar ordered the prisoners. They did so, knowing the officer scum still had the upper hand.
The walker was within two hundred meters from them now. It was still approaching but there were no more abos for it to chase off. Perhaps the Chinese would be back later and in greater numbers, Dusel thought.
The Commissar waved up at the walker as it passed unharmed through the fiery barrier. He turned to the turret gunner. "Secure the prisoners. I will go out and talk to them."
"Yes, sir." The turret gunner turned his blaster on Dusel and Knuckles, "Sorry, pals. Just following orders."
Dusel wondered how many evils that sentence had justified since the Empire came to Earth.
The Commissar cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled upwards to the walker. "I am Commissar Zod of the 289th Legion. I have two prisoners and another trooper to transport to the West 4 garrison."
The walker made no indication that anyone aboard it heard the Loyalty Officer. He cupped his hands again. "I said, I am . . ."
The walker raised its left front leg up and brought it smashing down on top of the Commissar before he had time to react. The man vanished underneath the massive footpad of the AT-AT. Dusel imagined he heard a squishing noise an instant before the footpad crunched down.
"Stars and galaxies!" The turret gunner exclaimed.
"E chu ta!" Knuckles seconded.
Dusel only saw a deliverance from evil. He dropped to his knees. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he removed the helmet and tossed it aside.
Salvation.
He recognized this walker. How could he not, for he had spent hundreds of hours lovingly toiling across every centimeter of its deck plates and fusion drive. There could be no mistake that Monkey 9 stood before him.
He didn't know how but since he couldn't go home again, Home had come to him.
"Dusel, you son of a slorth, figures we'd find you sitting on your shebs while real men of the Empire had a war to fight." Malm's familiar voice sounded out from the AT-AT's external audicasters. Dusel glanced at the footpad nearest to him. Someone who had considered themselves a real man of the Empire lay crushed beneath the durasteel giant.
"Malm, you sleemo, if you've gotten a single scratch on my girl." Dusel warned.
"Sorry Corporal." Luke the Deck Chief's voice announced, "Any new damage would be my fault. I still haven't gotten the hang of driving her yet."
"I'm just glad to see you guys." Dusel said.
"Corporal, report to the cockpit on the double. There is no telling how long before the Terrans return." Major Wells ordered. "We're lowering the port side repelling cables."
Dusel led Knuckles and the turret gunner from the MAAT/i to the left side of the walker. Sure enough, cables with foot straps waited for them.
Knuckles placed his hand on Dusel's shoulder indicating for him to wait a second. "Friends of yours I take it?"
"The best. It's my crew." He hesitated, then added, "My brothers."
Knuckles nodded in understanding.
The turret gunner was the first to be hoisted upwards. Dusel and Knuckles stepped into their own foot straps and waved to the Deck Chief above that they were ready.
"This doesn't get us out of the woods yet. You know." Knuckles warned. "Those kriffing Commissars aren't going to quit coming after us till we've both kicked the rancor."
"My mates are good men. The Major is the quiet type but he never fails to look after the rest of us."
"I hope so. I don't know how long we can hide here in China. I have a brother out in the Pacific who went rogue. He was a Marshall Commander even. If I can I'm going to find him and join up with his outfit. You're welcome to tag along."
"Thank you, sir. I'll consider it, but my place is aboard Monkey 9." Dusel said. He didn't know how long that would be true. If the Empire discovered he survived the crash, the first place they would look would be aboard his walker. "It's good to have a Plan B."
"Yes, it is." Knuckles agreed as they both shot upwards. Two seconds later they were aboard the lower crew deck of the hull.
Luke and the other Deck Chief were looking after the turret gunner. Who was complaining of a minor concussion from the earlier blow to his helmet. Luke thumbed towards the cockpit. "Man, am I glad you're back, Corporal. It was the will of the Force I never tipped us over. The Major wants you up front stafa."
"I'm on my way." Dusel said. Knuckles followed. A moment later they stepped into the back of the cockpit.
"Gunner, target that crash site. I want all remains obliterated beyond hope of recovery." Major Wells ordered. He didn't bother to turn around when Dusel entered.
"From the abos?" Knuckles asked.
Major Wells did turn around to face the newcomers now. His face was stern and he looked to be contemplating the nature of Knuckles's presence. Finally he answered, "From the Empire. You GentleBeings are officially deceased."
"Sir, won't you get in trouble for this?" Dusel asked.
"That depends. You may or may not have heard this from your captors, but the Emperor is dead." Wells announced.
Knuckles became as still as a ghost. Dusel jumped.
"Unofficially, blasts have been exchanged between several starships in the Fleet. The Fleet is not saying much, perhaps because they've consolidated on the other side of this planet, but I believe High Command on Mars is actively engaged in hostilities with Moff Seco." Wells said.
"Civil War. That would mean the Princess has succeeded her father and Moff Seco must have attempted a coup." Knuckles said.
"My assumption as well. There's no telling who will be in charge of the Empire tomorrow. For all of our sakes I hope it's Lady Yos" Wells held out his hand to Knuckles. "Major Wells, 1st Martian Armored Corps. Commander Monkey 9."
Knuckles shook his hand. "Prisoner TK-3950, formerly second-in-command 7th Battalion, 32nd Air Command Legion. But you can call me Knuckles."
Wells turned to Dusel and smiled, which for him was a rare thing. "It's astral to see you as well, lad. I swear by the Core that Deck Chief Zhell was determined to walk us off a cliff."
"He sure was!" Malm agreed from the gunner's seat. "Commander, target has been destroyed."
"So, you're willing to conceal two fugitives from the long arm of the Commissars?" Knuckles asked.
"Fill Knuckles in, if you would, Gunner." Wells said. Dusel picked on the fact that he was missing something, some secret that Malm shared with Wells.
"We've been concealing much more than that for three years now, Major. We wait for moments like this to cause mischief to the scum who run the Empire." Malm laughed. "Fierfek! The Major here was able to hide myself and Zhell back there so well even Dusel here didn't have a clue as to what we were truly up to. We were just about to let him in on our secret when the barve went and got himself arrested."
Wells put his hand on Dusel's shoulder, "Stang fine job you did lad, standing up to those CompForce scum like you did. It proved I was right about picking you for my crew. I couldn't be prouder." Dusel felt about three meters tall.
Knuckles started laughing. Dusel didn't understand why and couldn't keep the confusion from showing on his face. "You've been with this walker crew for three years and you never figured it out? I've been with them three minutes and it's as clear as old Jango's nose on my face."
"What is?" Dusel didn't enjoy being left out of something and he liked being laughed at even less.
"Well go ahead and tell him." Knuckles told Wells and Malm.
Wells spoke first. "Driver, we are members of an Alderaanian Resistence cell for the Alliance to Restore the Republic under command of Viceroy Bail Organa. We've been cut off from our true chain of command for three years, ever since the 'big jump'."
"You're what?" Dusel gasped, as the truth slowly dawned on him.
Malm laughed, "Dusel, you stoopa, we're the Rebellion."
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Next up: Joss Whedon is going to sue somebody