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"Everything has a melting point. Whether its snow or steel, everything has the point where it starts to dissolve. I guess that day was just when I realized I had one too."
- Time in Yanameer System – 2 Days
-Time After Hoth – 167 Days
The ground was cold. All around S-Man it felt as though there was ice. The chill of the wind gripped him, piercing even the hardest points on his already thin Scout Trooper Armor. Slipping between the crevices, and licking through the skin through his dark black body glove.
He breathed out, and he could see his breath. It moved like the wind pushing over a touch of smoke. And as he breathed in, he could feel his lungs fill with an uncomfortable harshness. It swelled within him, and all at once he could feel his entire body convulse.
It was not the cold he felt, but smoke, an entire lung full of it.
S-Man began to hack and cough aggressively. He wheezed as choked, and looked up to see his face inches away from a moderately sized pyre, which pumped dark smoke directly into his mouth and nostrils.
He heaved, and pushed himself away from it, but continued to choke. He coughed and coughed and coughed. He began to spit, and attempted to vomit, but he didn't want to get it all over in his helmet.
But then S-Man touched his hand to his face and realized the hard truth that he was not wearing his helmet. He put both hands on his head attempting to feel for it, and had all the evidence he needed to be sure that it was not there.
He attempted to catch his breath and fell backwards onto his rear, and fell out of the cabin of the MAAT.
S-Man stared for a moment, just looking at the smoldering wreckage of the transport. Only one of the wings on S-Man's side was still attached, the lower wing, while the upper wing was completely torn off. The ball turret was completely cracked open, with the unmistakable view of blood splattered all around.
Metal pieces were strewn everywhere, and small fires burned from the lost fuel and anything flammable that hit its peak temperature, searing much of the jungle around them.
For a moment S-Man expected to be hearing a flood of animal calls. Birds chirping and beasts howling, as one would expect to hear in a jungle. But all he could hear was himself attempting to catch his breath. All he could hear were his thoughts trying to figure out exactly what had just happened.
"Frell, I'm pinned!" A familiar voice said. It was Upper Cut.
"Can you move your weight at all?" A not so familiar Storm Trooper asked.
"The Frell do you think!" Upper Cut growled "Ahhhh Grahhh, it hurts!"
S-Man got up onto his feet and quickly stumbled his way to Upper Cut, who was being looked after by a Storm Trooper with scorched armor.
The deep voiced trooper in S-Man's squad was not in a good place. A large piece of the shutter doors on the side of the craft has slammed down right onto his arm. Though Upper Cut was outside of the craft, his left arm from just above the elbow was still inside.
"S-Man!" Upper cut cried. "S-Man. You gotta get me outa here."
S-Man looked and tried to wedge his hand in the door to get it to open, it wouldn't move.
"I already tried that." The Trooper beside S-Man said. "It won't budge."
"Well get something to leverage it!" S-Man spat, as though the answer was obvious.
He looked down at Upper Cut. "Is it just your arm? What else is frelled up?"
Upper Cut looked up and shook his head. "I don't know man. I don't know. I can't tell cus my arm hurts so Frellin' much!" He paused a moment, looked around some more, and then howled again. "Graaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh it hurts!"
Before S-Man could do anything, Upper Cut grabbed the front of his helmet, tore it off an threw it. "Shavit! Those Ruck-Damned Skeel Holes, I'll kill em!"
Sweat moved down the mans dark skinned brow. His bald head had a large cut on it. He was in bad shape.
"Have you seen Nak?" Upper Cut asked.
S-Man stood up and looked around. He didn't see Nak anywhere. There were a few other troopers getting to their feet. But all around he noticed white clad bodies tossed about that were simply not moving.
"No." S-Man said. "But don't worry about him, we gotta get you up."
The other trooper came back with a long piece of metal. There was no telling what part of the ship it came from, but S-Man guessed it had come from a piece of the wing.
"I found this." The trooper said, offering it to S-Man.
"Alright, get it between the door." S-Man ordered, even though he did not have a higher rank.
They got the piece of metal in between the door and attempted to wedge the door open. But it was of absolutely not sure, the door wouldn't budge.
"Shavit. Were gonna have to cut you out." S-Man said, noticing Upper Cut grabbing a Stim from his belt.
"Do what you gotta do, man." Upper Cut replied, injecting the small stim into his neck as it was the only exposed skin he had. "Just get me the frell outa here."
S-Man backed up, needing to find something to cut. As he did he looked up and saw the co-pilot was still alive. His canopy was completely cracked open, but he was on the com reporting the situation, and calling for assistance.
There was no way of knowing if the coms were still even working, but S-Man hoped he could get something.
"S-Man!"
Turning around, S-Man saw that it was Nak who had called his name. His armor was fairly intact, and for a moment he was relieved that all of the squad had survived.
"Shavit, Nak." S-Man began. "You scared the…"
But before he could finish, Nack shook his head. "No time! The Yanem are coming! Lots of them!"
S-Man couldn't see Nak's face, but he was sure there was a look of terror in the old man's eyes that would match his own.
Nak moved forward to S-Man, and slammed his E-11s Sniper Rifle into his chest.
"You're the best shot here. Start picking em off." Nak ordered "Go!"
S-Man didn't waste a moment. He looked over and saw Upper Cut drawing his SE-14 pistol, knowing the trooper wouldn't go down without a fight.
S-Man climbed up on top of the wreckage. He did not have time to climb a tree, nor could he assess the area around them well enough. This was where the line of fire would be established, and this was his only available vantage point.
He activated the weapons power cell, and noticed that his right hand was exposed. The black glove had been torn to pieces, but miraculously his hand only seemed to be bruised.
"Make em pay, S-Man!" Upper Cut yelled "Make em pay!"
S-Man tried to ignore it, but the scene playing out around him was nothing short of insanity. Nak was barking orders at the remaining Storm Troopers, who were arming themselves and taking up positions around the destroyed MAAT. Though he could not see their equipment, he knew that they had enough to slaughter a small city before they took off.
But now that they had crashed, were all likely wounded, and had lost most of their men and equipment, S-Man was not sure how things would play out.
He peered down the scope, in the direction of the village, directly to the starboard side of the downed MAAT.
There was nothing to see. Just trees, a random bug the size of your fist that would take flight here and there. A series of tall flowers that stood at the base of some of some larger stumps brought vibrant colors to the environment.
And then suddenly he noticed that conflicting with those bright colors were dark brown and gray figures, hunched over and moving en masse.
S-Man did not hesitate even for a moment, but to recognize that these people, who were not supposed to be more then non space fairing savages in grass huts, were all carrying blaster rifles.
Thooooooooooo
A green blast jolted from the barrel of S-Mans rifle.
Thoooooooooooo Thoooooooooo
Two more. And just as he fired, the sound was followed by a loud shrieking sound of a Yaman crying out in pain.
Then there came many more sounds. More shrieks and yells. The Yanam horde revealed themselves with mighty war cries that made the blood run as cold as ice.
There must have been dozens in the trees ahead of them. None of the Storm Troopers knew anything about Yanam culture or biology, so for all they knew it could have been hundreds.
But in spite of that, they knew that the only way they would get out alive, was to fight.
"Open Fire!" Nak could be heard yelling, and at once seven streams of blaster fire pouring out from the wreckage of the MAAT.
It was a mix of fire from the standard E-11 blaster rifle, to the very welcome tone of a rapid firing DLT-19 Heavy Blaster rifle.
The roaring was loud and continuous, the field of fire being covered with precision and power.
Unfortunately the fire was returned. All at once, wild sprays of blaster fire reigned in on the Troopers holding the MAAT in a horrifying display. Nearly every inch of the craft was being pelted with red streaks, which left burns all over what remained of the vehicles armor.
The fires still burned all around, and the heat from the day still slipped in on every trooper who desperately aimed his rifle to keep the mob of alien creatures from reaching them.
Thooooooooooooooooo
S-Man fired another shot.
Thooooooooooooooooo
There was little difficulty hitting a mark. The training camps referred to such situations as "Target Rich environments".
But for S-Man and every Storm Trooper, who stood their ground attempting to valiantly hold the line, it was nothing short of an imminent massacre.
And as before, suddenly S-Man began to feel cold. The heat began to fade away from him, as wisps of cool air slipped across his neck. They slid passed his hand, washing over the finger that squeezed the trigger.
On one part of his mind he could hear his training officers. He could hear his drill sergeants. They told him that he needed to fight for the Empire. That if he were to fall here, everything they knew would be in jeopardy. That the Empire would topple amidst the dominoes. That the galaxy would slip back into the same chaos that it was in before the glorious rise.
But something in the back echoed. It clattered like distant thunder on the horizon that slowly creeped in with the approaching storm.
He could not tell what it said, but he knew it was dulling out the sound of his training.
Thooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It came in louder as the seconds moved by. Moment by passed with the clattering of blaster bolts bouncing on the durasteel around him. But he could not hear it. All he could hear was the thundering sound.
And finally as he was able to make it out, S-Man began to echo it with a whisper on each shot.
"Rannik."
Thooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Rannik."
Thooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was his birth given name. It was screaming in his head. It was filled his ears, and drowned out the explosive sounds of thermal detonators being lobbed forward to stop the advance.
In that moment S-Man's mind was paralyzed. He was powerless to control his body, as he unleashed bolt after bolt into Yaman warriors.
An arm. A chest. A Shoulder. An Eye.
S-Man placed a new searing burn in whatever he could connect with. Far, near, the target was the target. And he had a duty to himself and the others to be as swift and accurate as possible.
He moved from laying down atop the wreck, to shifting to one knee. He unloaded faster, and faster. Firing over the smoke and fire and dirt and blasts that could only be described as everywhere.
There was another noise. One that S-Man was becoming familiar with. It was something coming from outside of his mind. Something real. Someone else.
He turned his head slowly to see the co-pilot, peaking out over the top of his canopy. In his hand there was a blaster pistol, but he was staring straight at S-Man.
"Down!"
He yelled at S-man, who blankly stared at him with his eyes narrowed and his mouth agape, trying to understand exactly what the man was saying.
"Danger close!"
The co-pilot still had his helmet on, but it sounded as though he was begging for his life.
Then S-Man looked up and saw it. He could not hear them, but he saw them.
TIE Fighters, like dark angels from the sky, zoomed down from the sky. And from the ball between their twin Radiator Panels fell brilliant green lights. They danced across the dirt and smothered the Yaman.
They passed over and obliterated the incoming mob. Strafe by strafe. Second by second, more and more of the Yaman perished.
But S-Man did not get down. He watched. Watched as the Imperial might laid all of them to rest.
They scattered, fearing for their lives. Ran back towards their village. Ran out towards the trees. Ran anywhere they could for shelter from the raining death.
One of them was fool enough to take refuge near the MTT, at the back by the engines. Just beside S-Man, who reacted on reflex.
His rifle cracked the hunched over Yaman in the face immediately. The creature stumbled back, dropping its weapon, and looked up to face the blank stare that came from S-Man's eyes.
S-Man's rifle came back to his shoulder, and he aimed directly at the Yanam's head, preparing to finish him off.
The Yaman stared right back at him, knowing that his final seconds were upon him.
And then came the icy wind. The feeling of cold. The freezing touch that ran through his neck.
For many seconds, while the green fire dropped from the sky on the dirt before the MAAT, S-Man watched the Yaman, who could do nothing but wait for his end.
And the thundering sound came back into S-Man's head. It seeped into his thoughts, and he could do nothing but whisper it.
"Rannik."
S-Man then lowered his rifle, his mouth still dropped open, and he tilted his head back, eyes still on the Yanam, who quickly got to his feet and sprinted towards the trees.
The TIE fighters ceased to fire at the dirt before the MAAT, and strafed the village. The shrieks and yells of the Yaman could hardly be heard over the Ion roar of the TIE fighters and the lightning the unleashed upon it.
S-Man came down off the top of the MAAT, his face still blank as he looked out at the dead Yaman that were in front of him. There were at least forty corpses. Not a single one of them still breathed, as they would have been utterly snuffed out by the onslaught of the fighters.
Smoke came from the ground, sizzling above three foots craters that lined the ground. And all S-Man could do was stare out at the trees.
A hand rested on his shoulder and Nak spoke.
"Two casualties and a horde routed." He said with a loose smile, a rising enthusiasm in his tone with the fact that they'd survived. "Not bad for a twelve minute fight."
To S-Man it had felt like seconds. It had not even occurred to him that he'd had to change out the power cell on his E-11s Sniper Rifle twice.
"Was that it?" He asked blankly, attempting at sarcasm, but the shock was too much.
"Come on, lets check on Upper Cut." Nak said, walking back around the MAAT.
S-Man looked once more on the TIE fighters annihilating the village in front of them, and then his eyes dropped to the ground.
He was gazing at a clear piece of duraplast. It was part of the pilot's canopy that had been stripped off. The lack of protection no doubt led to the pour man's death, but S-Man couldn't think of that.
All he could do was look down at it, as it was showing him his reflection. He could see the burning MAAT in it, and the Storm Troopers behind him tallying up the damage.
But what he stared at was the face. Rannik Dalgus' face.
His Face.