Cutting the Fuse

The Dune Sea

It was fully dark by the time Havoc reached Fuse's coordinates. The lieutenant and Dorne thought the Zabrak was trying to make amends for his poor life decisions, but Aric wasn't convinced that he hadn't sent them into a trap. Of all the members of Havoc, Jorgan would have pegged that kid for a traitor last. Maybe Fynta was right and he had just been swept up in the fervor of his squad, but that didn't mean Jorgan trusted the guy.

The Cathar leaned against the mayor's hovercar, it was an old, dingy thing, but it was probably considered the high life on this dust ball. Dorne was attempting to convince Fynta to take the stim she was offering, assuring her that it was a simple pickup. They had been running almost non-stop for nearly eleven hours with only protein rations as sustenance. Jorgan knew Fynta's stance on stims from personal experience. Back on Ord Mantell she had only taken one after being awake for more than twenty-four hours while in hard combat. Fynta only conceded after he slipped it into her glove while the med droid was patching her up.

"Might as well give up, Dorne," Jorgan said. Fynta's helmet turned in his direction, he envisioned her narrowed eyes behind the faceplate. It was true what they said about bonding under fire, he'd just never understood just how quickly those bonds could form, or how strong they could be. Jorgan realized he already knew both of these women well enough to predict their actions and responses.

"That woman is the most stubborn person I've ever met," Dorne sighed, offering Jorgan the stim instead. Fynta had already started up one of the dunes at a crouch to get a better look at their surroundings.

Jorgan waved away the stim. "I agree. Bet she would too." The medic just shook her head and slipped the vial back into one of her many pouches. "The lieutenant just doesn't like stims. Her previous posting introduced her to a lot of addicts. Can't say I blame her, but I know my limits."

Dorne nodded up to where Fynta was laid out on her stomach on top of the dune, staring down her scope. "That's my concern, sir. I sometimes get the impression that the lieutenant believes she doesn't have limits."

Jorgan understood how Dorne felt, Fynta took too many risks without concern for her own safety. "She's still alive," he said by way of reassurance for both of them, then slipped his helmet on and activated the comms. "What's the plan, boss?" Jorgan knew she didn't want him calling her lieutenant any more than he wanted to be addressed as sergeant. So they'd developed a silent agreement on the matter.

"We need recon before we go barging into the cave. I want to know how many are in there," Fynta replied.

"I believe my scans are more advanced than yours. I'll get the information, sir," Dorne answered while scrambling up the dune. She dropped down next to Fynta to look through her scope as well.

"Probably. Okay, see that line of rocks to the east? That's going to be your best bet. Don't get any closer than necessary, Dorne. We only need an estimate." Jorgan listened to the women while they discussed strategy. Then Dorne slid back on the sand until she was below the ridge and scurried off in the direction Fynta had indicated. When the lieutenant didn't make a move to come down, he decided to join her.

Climbing sand dunes wasn't as easy as the holovids made it look. The sand was constantly shifting and for every meter Jorgan made it up, he slid back at least half. Finally, the Cathar flopped down on his stomach next to their commander and started searching for Dorne through his own scope.

"She's just to the south of those rocks," Fynta said without moving. "Check my POV."

Jorgan had only used the point of view system built into their helmets a couple of times. Each helmet had a built in audio and visual system that linked through their shared Havoc Squad frequency. Basically, anyone who had access to that frequency could hear and see everything the squad was doing. It was a lot more high tech than the old armor cams he was used to and these could be shut off internally, the latest updates making Tor's nifty little switch obsolete.

Jorgan did as she suggested. Fynta was looking thirty degrees west of where he'd started. The overlapping images were disorienting. "How do you see through all of this?"

Fynta moved for the first time, just the tilting of her head towards him. "Let me see it," she said, sliding down below the ridge, grabbing Jorgan's belt to tug him down too. The Cathar let out a startled gasp that Fynta ignored. "Dorne, I've got to check something with Jorgan's helmet, flash my comm if you need me."

"Understood, sir."

Fynta pulled off her helmet and held her hand out for his. Jorgan had learned better than to argue with the lieutenant when she was focused on an op, so he complied. Fynta turned it over in her hands and grimaced, "What in the—" Jorgan raised a brow bone when she slipped his helmet over her head. "Well, no wonder." It was bigger than hers, so the helmet bobbled when she moved. "Jorgan, see if mine fits over that big head of yours. I'm going to do some rearranging—don't worry I'm not going to touch any of the important stuff." The Cathar grabbed hers and shook the sand from it. "Or read your mail. . . ."

"Very funny."

Fynta's helmet barely fit over Jorgan's ears, but it was enough. The HUD was a lot more cluttered, but organized. His and Elara's personal comm icons were at the bottom right corner, the squad frequency icon was more prominent, but placed in the opposite corner to avoid any accidental contacts. There was another comm icon, so small Jorgan almost missed it, tucked up in the very top. He didn't have one of those that much he knew. When Jorgan stared at it too long, big red letters appeared: ACCESS DENIED.

That was interesting, but it was the POVs that he knew Fynta wanted him to see. His and Dorne's were lined up along the top. They were smaller, not even taking up half of the HUD, and in perfect detail. Jorgan understood now why it was so easy for the lieutenant to keep an eye on them. A quick glance up and he could see exactly where everyone was looking without losing sight of his own surroundings. Two focused blinks and whichever POV Jorgan was watching took up the entire screen, not just an overlay. Two more returned it to its proper place.

"Who's out there? Drop your weapons!" The voice was Imperial.

"Fierfek," Fynta swore and snatched the helmet off his head with enough force to pop his ears. She shoved his back at him. "All fixed. Buckets on!" Fynta was already in motion, rifle clacking against her back as she slid down the dune.

Jorgan slammed his own down and sealed it before taking off after the lieutenant. His HUD hadn't changed too much, just a couple of icons moved around so that the POVs were set up the same as hers. He glanced up to see blaster fire chipping away at a rock just above Dorne's head and marveled at the clarity of the image. What he wouldn't have given to have had this kind of tech in his ops room on Ord Mantell.

"Contact!" Dorne called.

"Almost there, Elara," Fynta replied. She had a head start, but Jorgan's longer stride quickly pulled him level.

Dorne was squatted awkwardly behind a stone out cropping when they arrived. "Apologies, sir. It would seem I'm not quite as stealthy as I thought."

Fynta held a hand up to stop Jorgan while she kept running, then dropped and used her momentum to slide across a gap in the stones, the beskar screeching against rock, and smashed into Dorne before coming to a stop. "It happens, status report," Fynta said as if this were a simply training exercise.

Dorne grabbed Fynta's shoulders to steady them both before replying. "I've managed to take two out. Scans are reading five more are just inside."

Fynta stood a little higher to get a better vantage. Jorgan decided to test out the controls of his new setup and pulled her POV up to full size. What he saw didn't make him happy. "They're dug in pretty good, sir."

"Yeah, they sure are," Fynta responded, ducking down again. "We need to get behind them. Dorne, I need you to provide continuous cover fire. Don't be shy with the ordinance, we have plenty."

Dorne nodded.

"Jorgan, you and I are going to swing around that dune and flank them."

Fynta waited for Dorne to start firing, then lunged back across the gap to where Jorgan was waiting. She grabbed his shoulder pauldron without slowing down and hauled him along behind her. The night vision had kicked on, painting everything in a sickly green light with the white hot heat signatures of the commandos registering as bright lights.

The Imperial commandos must have had night vision too, because little pits started appearing in the sand at their feet as soon as they were in view. "Blow something up, Dorne," Fynta said calmly. The more people shot at them, the calmer the lieutenant became. There was a hollow sucking noise, the kind a rocket makes when it leaves the tube, then an explosion at the mouth of the cave that caused Jorgan's screen to dim instantly to protect his eyes. Fynta half slid, half ran down the other side of the dune with her weapon raised, but silent.

The carnage at the bottom was worse than Jorgan had expected. Dorne had scored a direct hit on something combustible and parts of black and red armor lay all around. One of the commandos groaned, he was missing a leg and an arm from opposite sides. Fynta put a bolt through his head without hesitation and moved further into the cave. "Jorgan, watch the door and check for survivors." She disappeared into the cave opening and hissed. "Shab." Two Mandalorian curses in under an hour. It was going to be one of those nights. "Dorne, I need you in here."

Jorgan took up post outside, keeping his comms open to stay in the loop. Dorne rushed past him, gasping a few seconds later. "This man is an Imperial Technician. A good one judging by his insignia." There was another pause, "He's badly wounded, sir."

A male voice groaned. "Surrender . . . I-I surrender! Please!" The man sounded young, but that could just be the accent.

"Make yourself useful," Fynta responded, all steel. "Coordinates for your hideout. Now."

"Base—base coordinates. Here, on this data—d-datapad," the man whimpered pitifully. "Please . . . mercy, m—mercy. . . ."

"Dorne?" The comm was silent. "Alright soldier, it's all over, you can go home now. Thanks for your cooperation."

"Thank you . . . th-thank you."

Jorgan didn't approve of her decision to let the man go, no matter how easily he'd given up the coordinates. It was a foolish move. When the two woman reappeared at the entrance, he switched over to Fynta's private comm. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"What is it, Jorgan?"

"I disagree with your decision to let that man live, he is an Imperial Technician, those rank right up there with officers. He'll call ahead to—"

Fynta held up what looked like a busted comm device. "Dorne," she said, switching back to the squad frequency. "Jorgan is curious about the man inside, would you fill him in please?" Then Fynta dropped the device in the sand and walked away.

"Yes, sir. The technician suffered an abdominal wound when their ordinance exploded. His upper and lower intestines were exposed and one lung deflated. He also suffered severe damage to his liver and right kidney," Dorne paused, her voice losing a little of its business like tone. "I gave him a sedative, he will be dead within ten minutes."

Fynta had a way of putting her squad in order without yelling or public humiliation, but it worked. Jorgan was effectively chastened and Dorne was none the wiser. He switched back over to the lieutenant's personal line. "Apologies, sir. I should have known better."

There was a pause. "On the contrary. I rely on you specifically to keep me straight. I know you will speak your mind and our unique history makes you the obvious choice for my conscience." Fynta paused again, "And I appreciate your subtlety." Jorgan heard her take a shaky breath. "He was only twenty-two, Aric."

Jundland

The light on the console was blinking when Havoc returned to the aircar. Elara kept thinking back to that boy. He was an unwelcomed reminder of the little brother she'd left behind on Dromund Kaas. Her father and mother were both successful officers in the Sith's military. She knew they were fine since her father had publicly disowned her, but her brother was young, just coming into his own. Elara missed him tremendously.

"Lieutenant. Lieutenant, can you hear me? This is Oleg Klerren. Are you there, Lieutenant?" The mayor appeared out of the middle of the console at Fynta's behest.

"I read you loud and clear," Fynta responded, removing her helmet. Even Dorne could tell that she sounded weary and the look on Jorgan's face seemed to confirm that something was bothering her.

"Fuse just called. He said Colonel Gorik is pulling out. He's going to run for it, Lieutenant!" The mayor flapped his arms angrily. It reminded Elara of a large bird attempting to fly. She found the image inappropriately comical and attributed it to the shock of what they'd just been through. "That scum killed dozens of innocent people for his tests. Those people deserve justice. Their families deserve justice! Please hurry, Lieutenant—Gorik has to pay for what he's done."

"We have the coordinates. Moving out now."

"You've got him on the run, now finish him off!" It was oddly aggressive for the soft spoken mayor, but Elara could understand his outrage. His people had been under attack for weeks, hundreds of innocent lives lost. "Good luck. Klerren, uh, Klerren out. Err, right." Elara smiled at the man as he lost a little of his steam at the end.

"Well, this is shaping up to be one of our faster missions," Jorgan said once they were all back in the car.

"It helps when the quarry wants to be caught," Fynta agreed.

"Do you think he's really changed sides again? Do you trust him?" Jorgan asked.

"I only trust my squad, Jorgan. Everyone else I approach with healthy suspicion. But I do think that Fuse is trying to make right, if not by the Republic, by the people who were harmed by his actions."

"Think that includes us?" Jorgan grumbled. Fynta merely shrugged in response.

The coordinates took them deeper into the desert. The first sun was beginning to rise by the time Havoc reached the cave. There were no guards outside, no signs of activity in the last several hours, and Dorne began to wonder if they had arrived too late. The only signs that anyone had been there at all were a couple of droids who still worked tirelessly at their jobs, even though their human masters had abandoned them. "Sir," Elara ventured. "It appears that everyone has left." Her HUD chirped, a single white dot appearing on the screen. "Correction, there is still one lifeform in a room at the back of the cave.

"Well, let's go see who it is." Fynta picked up the pace as they passed under an engraving in the overhead rock that read Kalarath Imperial Base. It was a large, vaulted room that might have been beautiful if it weren't for the flashing red lights throwing gyrating shadows across the walls. It reminded Elara of a nightmare she'd had once.

"Lieutenant!" Fuse called from behind the forecshield blocking his cell door. "You made it just in time, Gorik called for a full-scale evacuation." The Zabrak bounced on his toes excitedly and pointed up a metal ramp that led off through another tunnel. "He's already at the hanger in the back of the base overseeing the evacuation, and he has my bomb designs with him! Please, you have to stop Gorik before he escapes with those designs!"

"Warning! Warning! Self-destruct sequence initialized. All personnel must evacuate to the hanger area immediately. This is not a drill. Countdown sequence initialized. Warning! Warning! Facility detonation imminent."

"Great," Jorgan mumbled.

"Oh, no. We're too late. The entire base, it's—it's going to be vaporized, we—we're out of time," Fuse sighed and hung his head in defeat.

Fynta banged on the shield closing the Zabrak in to get his attention. "There must be some way to shut down the self-destruct sequence. Think."

Fuse glanced up at the lieutenant, then took a steadying breath. "You'd have to go to the command center to cancel the detonation. Y-you could even unlock my cell from there." He shook his head, "But-by the time you reach the command center and stop the explosion, Gorik will have escaped with my bomb designs, that can't happen."

"I'm sure we can stop the explosion and get Gorik if we move fast enough." Fynta turned towards her squad, "Dorne get to that command center—"

"No," Bazren interrupted. "You—you have to leave me. By the time you cancel the self-destruct, Gorik will be long gone. Please, there isn't time to argue. It's down to me or the bomb designs, and . . . well, there's only one good choice there. He's got a lot of fire power with him, it will take all of you to take him down!" Fuse held his hands together, Elara realized he was begging.

Elara was already searching for signs of the control room, increased electrical output or even radiation spikes. Once a likely candidate surfaced, she started running, but Elara was still aware of her squad mates' voices over the comms. "I've made my choice, and I'm getting you out of here," Fynta was saying. "Jorgan, you're with me."

Elara found a small room dwarfed by a massive computer console on the far wall. The countdown had reached the twenties and Elara hoped she fast enough to enter the shut off sequence before it hit single digits.

Fifteen seconds until detonation

"Dorne?" Fynta asked.

"Nearly there sir." Elara could feel the nervous sweat trickling down her spine.

Ten seconds until detonation

One more line, she could do this. "Got it!" Elara yelled, probably too loud, but there was far too much adrenaline coursing through her system to remain calm.

Shut off sequence accepted.

Elara let out a shaky breath and flatted both palms against the computer panel, taking careful breaths to slow down her hear rate. After a moment, she switched to the lieutenant's POV. "Any luck on your end, sir?"

Fynta was staring at a large hanger with Jorgan crouched in the middle, examining something on the floor. Elara switched again, this time to his. Jorgan was looking at an older man with deep-set wrinkles and wide, lifeless blue eyes. Colonel Gorik. Elara had been so intent on her own task, she'd subconsciously blocked out the sounds of battle.

"Got them," Wolfe called. Jorgan's perspective shifted and now it was the lieutenant who was kneeling. "Okay, good work guys, rendezvous at Fuse's cell. Oh, Dorne, don't forget to unlock it, please."

Elara examined the array of buttons and switches and settled for one she calculated most likely to provide the desired result. "Yes, sir."

Kalarath Imperial Base

Fuse was sitting cross-legged on the floor when Fynta and Jorgan returned. He looked defeated and true to his word, hadn't moved an inch since Fynta left, even though the door was standing open. "Got the plans," she assured him, patting one of the pouches on her belt.

Fuse looked up, "I guess I should thank you. You saved my life; after everything I did."

"Havoc Squad doesn't leave men behind," Fynta answered. She wanted the Zabrak to remember that, whatever became of him.

Bazren climbed to his feet, dusted off his pants, and looked Fynta in the eye. "Lieutenant, there is nothing I can do to make what we did to you right. But I can try to keep it from happening to others. Tavus, he's not a bad man, but what we did was wrong."

Fynta nodded. "Think of it this way, with you alive, we have a chance of bringing the rest of them in peacefully. You know I can't stop until I've found them all."

The mixture of emotions that played across Fuse's face was hard to follow, mostly, it looked like grief. "Well, consider me officially surrendered. I'll stay where you can see me."

"It's a long trip back to Coruscant," Fynta said. The Zabrak would be facing a firestorm when he got back and that wasn't including what Garza was going to do to him.

"I'm ready, Lieutenant." Vanto Bazren squared his shoulders and started towards to entrance.

Anchorhead

Jorgan had spent the last six hours in peaceful oblivion. The mayor had been kind enough to set them up in rooms and the Cathar had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He woke to someone pounding on the door and stumbled out of bed to tell whoever it was to piss off. Turned out to be the lieutenant, so Jorgan swallowed his comment. She took one look at his disheveled appearance with raised eyebrows, then shoved him inside and shut the door. "What are you doing answering the door like that?" Fynta asked, gesturing up and down the length of his body with both hands.

The sleepy fog was clearing and Jorgan realized he'd come in, removed his gear, and climbed into bed. Once again he was standing in front of his CO in nothing but his shorts. It was becoming a bad habit. "Sorry, sir. I was still asleep. What time is it?" Glancing at the chrono on the night stand, Jorgan saw that he still had two hours before their scheduled briefing.

Fynta was fighting back a smile, no doubt adding it to the long list of things he did to amuse her. "You surprise me, Jorgan. You're not exactly the same man I met on Ord Mantell. Either that, or you're one hell of an actor."

Jorgan was pretty sure he wasn't being scolded. "You have that effect on men, sir."

It was a risky move, but worth it when Fynta started laughing in earnest. "Well, our meeting has been moved up to now, so clean up and get dressed, soldier. Garza wants us on the move again." She paused at the door and her eyes traveled over him again. Then Fynta shook her head with another laugh and shut it behind her. Jorgan was left wondering if she was right, maybe he wasn't the same man from Ord Mantell anymore.

The mayor was in good spirits when Havoc reached his office. "Lieutenant! You made it!" Klerren jumped to his feet and ran up to shake her hand, allowing Jorgan a moment of satisfaction at the startled look on the lieutenant's face. One that quickly vanished at Klerren's next words. "Your General Garza called, I filled her in on what I know, nice lady. Stern, though."

Jorgan stifled a snort, this guy didn't know the half of it. Fynta's jaw muscles tighten, but she didn't look back. "General Garza is an exemplary officer," the lieutenant responded on automatic, though Jorgan knew how often the two women butted heads over mission specifics.

"She definitely seem to know what's what," Klerren laughed. "Comes with the job, I guess. Anyway, she wants you to call her from your ship before you take off. She was pretty insistent about it, actually. I told her I'd given your team some rooms to get some sleep in. Hope nothing is wrong." Klerren looked like a kid who'd just ratted on his friend, hoping that by letting them sleep he hadn't gotten them into trouble. Jorgan had to give the man points for that. Turns out there are a few decent politicians out there after all. Way out there.

"Post mission debriefing—standard procedure," Fynta assured him.

Klerren let out a relieved breath. "Oh, good. Personally, I think I've had enough excitement for three lifetimes. I don't know how you do it. Well, Lieutenant," the mayor offered his hand to Fynta again, "The people of Anchorhead owe you an incredible debt." She accepted, then he moved on to Jorgan and did the same, "You've saved countless lives from a threat we never could have imagined." Jorgan obliged and Dorne was ready when Klerren made his way to her before turning back to Fynta. "I managed to scrape together a small reward for you. It's the least we could do to thank you."

Fynta waved her hand to dismiss the idea, "No reward is necessary."

"Well, that's generous of you. I know the people affected by these bombings will really appreciate it. I'll send it their way." The man had yet to show concern for anything apart from his people, so Jorgan he would be honest enough to follow through on his promise. "So, I guess this is where we part ways. It's been a real pleasure having you here, Lieutenant, and your team. We will never forget what you've done for us. Good luck. You'll always be welcome in Anchorhead."

"Thank you very much, Mayor." Fynta saluted, even though the mayor had no idea what to do in return. It was a sign of her respect. Jorgan hoped one day the man understood just what that meant.

Once back on the ship, Fynta headed for the bridge while Jorgan stowed his gear. "Alright, people," her voice came over the ships intercoms. "Garza is going to call us when she has more information on Alderaan. She said it is a delicate situation." When isn't it? Jorgan thought. "But couldn't hurt to go ahead and make our way there."

Jorgan decided to grab a shower while Fynta set the navacomp for Tepasi. It was a four day break as far as travel time and the planet was next door to their objective. Plus, Fynta swore it was the best place to find a good drink in that sector. Aric's room was large and empty since Dorne had chosen to take up residence in the medbay, but he knew it wouldn't last forever. Unless Fynta managed to fill the squad with women. That thought was so chilling that he stopped in the middle of unpacking. Surely she wouldn't do that to him. Then Jorgan remembered who he was dealing with and let out a low growl. Of course she would.

Jorgan was distracted when he noticed his datapad blinking, it took it a moment to register because it was the new message light. He rarely received messages, Jorgan didn't even really know anyone who might want to contact him. In the end, the Cathar opened it halfheartedly, figuring it would be a sales ad or something.

It wasn't.

Mando'a Footnotes:

Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.

shab - excrement (used as a curse)

beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron