Chapter 10: A New Hope
Ben and Detail 3 had been making hasty preparations for the assault on Scarif. He had called on many different strike teams and assault groups from both Special Operations and Special Forces.
After the passage of two days, he had managed to collect twenty-five individuals. Now, he, as a captain, had to convince the leaders of these assault teams to cede him overall command of their mission which was not an easy thing to do.
After much talk, debate, and negotiation, Ben was finally able to get every squad and team leader to give him overall command of their assault.
The plan was that they would penetrate the protective shield and land on Scarif after the Rogue One team had begun their assault and Rebel pilots had successfully suppressed TIE fighters in the atmosphere.
For this mission to be a success, Ben had to ensure that pressure was taken off of Rogue One and diverted to them. Then, and only then, could Rogue One advance into the actual record's facility, retrieve the plans, and make it out safely.
In theory that was how it was supposed to work, but Ben had a nagging feeling it would all go so very wrong.
However, Ben did not mention his concerns to anyone, not even Mothma.
Now, as he buttoned his dark blue uniform jacket, ensured his blaster was in his holster and placed his peaked cap on his brown hair, he took deep breaths to calm himself.
This just didn't feel right, but he felt obligated to perform the mission. If he did not, Rogue One may be destroyed, and the hopes of the Rebellion along with it.
After reassuring himself one final time, he made his way down to the hanger. The Rebel Fleet would soon be coming out of hyperspace, following close behind Rogue One, that had successfully managed to evade suspicion and penetrate the defenses around Scarif using a stolen Imperial shuttle.
They were less than five minutes from reverting when Ben got the news from Silas that Director Krennic was on-world performing an inspection. The news sent mixed emotions through Ben. On one hand, anxiousness mixed with happiness at the thought of destroying the Imperial garrison and Krennic along with them; however, those feelings were tempered by fear. If Krennic were on-world, then his personal squadrons of Death Troopers would not be far behind. That meant his father would potentially be on the planet, in danger. He had just rediscovered his father, and he did not want to lose him now.
"Board!" A voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
Ben turned to both Silas and Chuchi, who had boarded beside him. "Good luck," he told the pair. The two returned his gesture.
They reverted out of hyperspace into a chaotic maelstrom of dog fighting X-Wings and TIE fighters. Without hesitation, the two shuttles containing twenty-five additional rebels blasted out of the hanger and towards to beautiful planet below.
Andre and his battalion were engaged in a hot firefight with some elements of the Rebel strike force that had initially managed to penetrate their defenses. Now, as he knelt in the sand behind an equipment box, his blaster blazing away, the sun glinting off of his visor and white armor, he felt invigorated and reborn.
The injuries he had sustained on Jedha, especially the blow to the head, took him out of action for weeks. He was a naturally restless person, unlike Ben, who was calm regardless of the situation, and he always wanted to be doing something to keep himself busy.
The days of doing nothing but retraining his body were tough, but now that he was back in action, it was well worth it.
He had time to think more about his younger brother and the man he had turned into. It broke Andre's heart seeing the anger and sadness on Ben's face at their first, and last, encounter on Jedha.
Andre was further distressed when he heard from his father that he had encountered him, and even spoke to him, while on a secret mission for Krennic.
He longed to see Benjamin again.
A transport, Rebel Alliance by the markings, flew over his head and pitched around as it descended towards the sandy beaches and turquoise colored water.
"Focus your fire on the shuttle!" Andre instructed his platoon.
The ramp of the shuttle opened and more rebels began pouring out, some falling dead before they even set foot on the beach.
Andre's eyes went wide when he saw a familiar dark uniform, and body shape, sprint off the ship, making towards a large electrical generator for cover. The individual fired his blaster pistol as he ran to his temporary refuge, diving the last meter to prevent being cooked by a blaster bolt.
As the figure dove, his peaked cap fell away from his head revealing his face.
Andre's eyes widened even further and a gasp went through him.
No.
It was Ben.
Ben ducked behind his temporary cover, daring himself to lift his head to peer over the obstruction, lest his head be blasted off his shoulders.
"Keep up your fire!" He bellowed to his fellow soldiers, many of whom had taken cover behind anything and everything.
They fired into the tree line upon seeing flashes of white armor, or at the stormtroopers and shoretroopers swarming out of the entrance to the facility in front of them.
Soon it seemed that more and more Imperials had converged on their position. For some, the situation was becoming untenable, however, for Ben, it was a sign that pressure was being taken off of Rogue One and diverted to their little assault team.
A bolt screamed over him and buried itself in the chest of a Rebel trooper that Ben didn't recognize.
He looked over and felt relief flood through him as he saw Chuchi and Silas under cover, unharmed, and blazing away.
Ben returned to the task at hand and aimed his blaster at a tan colored shoretrooper and fired. His bolt screamed from the blaster barrel and impacted the soldier in the chest; the man dropped like a stone to the ground.
Then he heard—and felt—an ominous sound: Imperial AT-AT's.
He couldn't yet see the Walkers, as they were obscured by trees, yet the sound and ground vibrations grew louder and rougher at the machines closed in. Suddenly, a huge bolt of red plasma screamed over the trees and impacted the ground less than four meters away from him. The explosion threw him a few meters and covered him in scorched sand, yet for the most part, he remained unharmed.
He had landed out in the open and managed to dodge a few red bolts sent his way, however, his uniform jacket wasn't so lucky, the piece of blue clothing came away singed.
Ben quickly scrambled behind yet another transport crate nearby and continued to fire.
The walkers were growing ever closer, blasting the Rebels in the clearing. Now it was only a matter of time before the walkers would be upon them, blasting them to pieces. If Rebel fighters didn't arrive soon, they would all be toast.
The walkers were now close enough to become visible over the treetops. Their stark gray coloring contrasting against the blue sky green foliage.
"Take cover! For kriff's sake take cover!" Ben bellowed once more upon seeing the two walkers focus their armaments on their position.
Ben ducked down onto the sand, covered his head with his hands and waited for the inevitable. The AT-AT walkers fired into the clearing, throwing sand, trees, and men into the air. A fateful bolt struck their transport shuttle, which caused a huge explosion.
Ben was pelted with the superheated debris of the now destroyed shuttle. He had been waiting for the bolt with his name on it to send him to his maker. But it would seem that today just wasn't his day to die.
The barrage had allowed the Imperial troopers to advance further towards, and around, them. They were slowly being pinched and outflanked.
Enemy fire was now coming from their front and to their right. Their position was quickly becoming untenable. They had nowhere to go. To their backs was open water, its calm, turquoise water displaying a mocking calm in contrast to the battle occurring on the sand.
Ben felt panic, a thing he had rarely felt throughout his life, begin to set in. They were trapped with nowhere to go.
He looked around his remaining soldiers, those that weren't dead or wounded. Out of the original twenty-five, around ten remained. Looking around further, Ben noticed that Chuchi and Silas had survived the most recent bombardment.
Despite his previous luck, it looked like his streak was coming to an end.
Andre was still managing to squeeze off a few shots despite his quaking hands and sweaty brow behind his helmet. He was still very shaken from witnessing Ben being thrown into the air after the AT-AT's had fired on the Rebel positions. He was sure that Ben was dead and internally began to grieve his death. His eyes teared up, the liquid spilling over his cheek, and small sobs racking his frame.
This wasn't how an honorable Imperial Stormtrooper should act, but he didn't care. He had seemingly just seen the death of one of the last members of his small family. This time for good.
Then, to his amazement, he saw Ben begin to stir before his younger sibling rushed behind another crate—one of many scattered around the landing site.
The AT-AT walkers were continuing to blast the rebels, including his brother, with more and more falling dead or injured.
To Andre, it was only a matter of time before Ben and the others either surrendered or were killed.
Suddenly, just as they appeared to be on the cusp of victory, the AT-AT's seemingly blew up on their own accord.
Andre and his other troopers were in a state of shock for a moment, wondering just what had destroyed the precious walkers. They got their answer when Rebel X-Wing fighters flew over the scene in a V formation.
Ben and his soldiers cheered as the fighters flew over the charred and burning wreckage of the AT-AT's. It was a welcome sign that reinvigorated him and his fellow soldiers. They began their fight anew, and despite their small numbers, they began to advance slowly once more, pushing the Imperials further and further back under a withering fire.
However, despite their small amount of progress, they advance soon stalled. They were once more bogged down, a stalemate. Neither side made any movement for many minutes, both maintaining their positions as they blasted away or used grenades.
The small group of Rebels then got a welcome relief. Some additional Rebel troops, ferried down after the disablement of Scarif's protective shield, landed in an adjacent clearing.
Ben, through his earwig, heard the communications of the Rebel pilots and commanders in the skies above. They were vital, for he needed to know if any fresh Imperial troops were landing or Rebel forces ordered to retreat.
For now, all he heard was welcome news: "Rebel reinforcements inbound!" a pilot shouted over his comm.
With reinforcements, Ben and his remaining soldiers could finally make the push to get off the beach.
They pushed on, advancing through a wall of red plasma, slowly gaining ground. Soon, the Rebels were nearing an entrance to the facility.
As Ben slowly trudged over the dense sand and past lifeless corpses, his earwig blew into a flurry of activity.
"We are receiving a transmission!"
"There's too many of them I'm goi-arggh!"
"The Death Star is nearly within range! I repeat, the Death Star is nearly within range!"
The last statement made over his earwig gave Ben pause. Despite the heat, sun, and dark uniform, Ben hadn't even sweat, until now. Hearing that the Death Star was in range sent terror shooting through Ben.
If the Death Star was within range, it either had two potential targets: The Rebel Fleet or Scarif.
Ben knew that Rogue One was still on the world and that meant the plans were as well. If the Empire wanted to protect its best-kept secret, then Rogue One would need to be destroyed, even if it meant destroying the planet along with it.
Cold dread seeped into his body. He had to get off this rock and soon.
But they were still under fire.
He once again brought his pistol to bear and blasted to his front, thick with smoke, hoping to hit or suppress any enemy combatants.
He stood up to full height and took a deep breath. What he was about to do was incredibly stupid.
"Ben, what are you doing!?" Chuchi screamed over the sound of battle.
"Surviving!" Ben said as he took off in a sprint, disappearing into the smoke.
Chuchi gave a grumble, then stood up and ran after her superior. Silas followed close behind.
Andre was in the thick of the action. The bolts flew all around his white-armored body.
"They're moving forward! We need more men!" He heard a fellow trooper shout.
"Push them back!" Another shouted.
The acrid smoke blanketed his sight, leaving Andre no choice but to switch to thermal imaging to get a sense of the battlefield.
He saw numerous heat signatures coming through the smoke and blasted them. The figures fell and the heat from their bodies began to decrease.
Suddenly Andre picked up movement from his immediate right. He knew that no Imperials were positioned over there.
He whipped around to face the enemy but was too late. He stared at the blaster barrel, and the rebel grinning madly behind it, for a millisecond before the inevitable blast came.
Searing heat and pain rocketed through his body. As he fell to the ground, he smelt the burning of his electronic equipment and bodysuit. His back hit the ground hard and his hands impulsively let go of his blaster rifle. His gloved hands then went to clutching to the charred, smoking white armor, and deep injury below. He gasped in pain, shaking breaths rocketing through his body. He stared up at the trees of Scarif, and the beautiful blue sky above, his thermal imaging switching itself off due to sensor damage sustained in the blast.
What a fitting place to die. Surrounded by beauty. He had always loved the trees.
His eyes behind his helmeted visor picked up the rebel who had shot him. The deranged-looking man stood over him, a smile plastered over his grimy features, and raised his aimed his blaster at Andre's helmet.
The man below closed his eyes and apologized to his father.
And to his brother.
Apologized for the moments he would miss in their lives.
Ben ran through the smoke, his blaster clutched in hand.
Just as he came out of the haze, he came upon a rebel soldier preparing to execute an injured stormtrooper lying in the sand.
Ben wasted no time.
He had survived crimes and suffering most people would think of as unimaginable. He had killed criminals, no matter who their affiliation.
This man, despite being a fellow Alliance soldier, was a criminal.
Ben ran up to the man and stopped in his field of vision. The man looked over at him, smiled then prepared to return to his dark duty.
He never got the chance to pull the trigger. A blaster bolt was sent in-between his eyes, and he slumped lifelessly to the ground.
"Ben!? You just killed a fellow soldier!" Silas said after witnessing the scene.
Ben walked over to the injured trooper and the dead Rebel soldier, crouching down to assess the former's injuries.
Ben quickly turned his attention to Silas and gave the man a serious look. "Hell, Silas, he wasn't a Rebel, he was a criminal. Death was the least I could do for him."
He then returned his attentions to the Imperial stormtrooper—an officer, based on the orange pauldron.
The man's gloved hands, which were gripping his charred wound, shot out to grip Ben by the shoulders, startling him.
It also startled Silas and Chuchi to the point they aimed their blasters at the incapacitated Imperial.
"Ben," a strained, muffled voice came from the soldier's external comm.
Ben froze. That voice sounded so familiar.
Ben himself reached down to grip the man on his shoulder plates, "Andre?"
As if in silent reply, the gloved hands squeezed Ben's shoulders.
Ben sighed in silent happiness. He then moved his hands down from Andre's shoulder plates placed one on his chest, winding the other around his upper back.
"This is going to hurt," Ben said.
He didn't give Andre a moment to reply and instead hefted both of them to their feet.
Andre instantly sagged against Ben, letting out a strangled cry of pain at the rough treatment, and Ben had to wind an arm around his older brother's waist—over his ammo belt—to keep him from falling to the ground.
"What is this? What are you doing?" The shocked voice of Chuchi carried through the small area despite the sounds of the still raging battle.
Ben turned to look at both her and Silas. They both wore a look of heavy shock on their faces.
"He's my brother," was all that Ben supplied. He then took an experimental step forward with his new charge. It was clumsy at first, but soon he and Andre were moving in slow, shaking steps.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Silas yelled from behind them.
"We're leaving the planet," Ben said.
"With an Imperial?" Chuchi added, still in shock.
"Well, do you want to get blown into space dust?" Ben said.
"Wh-What are you talk—talking about, B-Be-Ben?" The shaking, electronic voice of Andre filtered through his helmet.
Ben turned to look at the two black, lifeless visors facing at him. "The Death Star is closing the distance to Scarif. That means one thing—"
"That Scarif will become the space weapon's most recent test," Silas said grimly.
Ben nodded in silent affirmation.
"We—we have to leave," Chuchi said, getting her wits about her.
"Now," Ben said with urgency.
"There—there is an undamaged shuttle on a landing pad less than a kilometer away from this location," Andre supplied in a strangled breath.
All three Rebels nodded and made their way to shuttle with Andre giving them instructions.
They tried to run, with the Death Star coming within firing range any minute; however, Andre's severe chest injury made running impossible for the man. He suggested, more than once, that Ben leave him behind and save himself. Needless to say, Ben did not want to hear it.
By the time the shuttle came into view, panic was once again setting in, and Chuchi and Silas sprinted to the still undamaged shuttle. They managed to open the ramp with the access codes provided by Andre.
Ben nearly carried his heavily armored brother the rest of the way and onto the ship. The ramp closed just behind them as Chuchi and Silas took the controls.
The shuttle was not meant for interstellar transport and did not have a bunk or quarters.
Ben improvised, laying Andre down on a rack of seats that lined the wall, and belting his upper chest—despite his pained cries, waits, and legs into the connected rows of seats.
Ben then took a seat beside Andre's helmet. Without any words, the two brothers, separated by war, laced their hands together and let love flow between them.
Back in the cockpit, Chuchi and Silas expertly piloted the craft above the green treetops and into the atmosphere. Down below, fighting still raged.
As they exited the atmosphere, Silas noticed that the protective shield around the planet was inoperable. Looming in their field of view was an ominous sight: the Death Star.
"Quick, we have to get out of here," Chuchi said.
"I know," Silas replied.
The Death Star's main laser was pointed directly at Scarif.
"Where should we go?" Chuchi asked.
"The Rebel Fle—" Silas' words died as he witnessed the entire Rebel Fleet jump into hyperspace.
Now alone, they noticed a bright green laser shoot out of the Death Star and impact the planet below. A seemingly slow, destructive shockwave was soon spreading over the entire planet.
"It's… it's gone," was all Silas managed to say.
"Force help them. We can only hope Rogue One was successful," Chuchi muttered.
She then noticed a swarm of TIE fighters closing in on their location. They needed to leave and fast.
"Get us out of here," Silas said.
Chuchi plugged in coordinates from memory, not knowing which system they were for.
"Punch it," she ordered.
The shuttle plunged into hyperspace, leaving the Imperials, and a destroyed planet, behind.
In the rear of the shuttle, Ben and Andre continued to bask in comfortable silence, their hands still laced together.
It was Andre who broke the silence.
"Wh…where are we going?"
"In all honesty," Ben said, smiling down at his brother, "I have no idea."
"This should be fun," Andre said.
Ben laughed.