Eleven
"You should cut him some slack, you know," said Arkaan, catching up to Shane.
"What?"
"Jaro. General Hoday. He's a Jedi, they're just not made to command troops in battle."
"I thought you Mandalorians hated Jedi."
"I do. But I spent two days in a basement under siege with that Jedi, and several weeks watching him try to cope with men who don't know what to do with down-time, so I cut him some slack."
"And me?" piped up Marcla.
"You're just an annoying hanger-on."
"Thank you, Noa, you're most kind."
"It's Arkaan to you, di'kut. So what is this mission anyway, Shane? Do I get to know?"
"No."
"Hey, it doesn't bother me, I'm just curious. Plus, if I spot anything that might help your investigation, I won't know to tell you unless you give me some kind of clue, vod."
Shane looked at Arkaan again, looking sidelong at him as they walked down a corridor.
"I'm after intel," he said at last. "Disturbances were picked up in this area a week ago, after being detected near Corellian space. Command didn't know what to make of them, and it was decided that sending a vessel would call too much attention to it. I was sent, in case it turned out to be related to the Seps. Happy now?"
"You knew this was here?"
"No. All that was known was some sort of spatial anomaly was detected several times in the space of a few hours in Corellian space, before disappearing, then reappearing a few days later, closer to Coruscant. I tagged along because you were heading this way."
"And now it seems like you've found your anomaly."
"Apparently so."
Marcla stopped, and a noise behind them made them turn. As before, the corridor was still empty, with no signs of life other than themselves. A ceiling panel rattled and Arkaan frowned at it. Something caught his eye on the floor and he looked down to see a DC15 carbine lying on its side. He quickly glanced up and did a head count.
"Weren't there four of you before?" he said suspiciously at the three clone troopers, who looked amongst themselves for a few seconds before raising their carbines and trying the nearest doors.
As before, all of them were locked down tight, and all defied their attempts to pry them open. Arkaan, meanwhile, was using the barrel of his rifle to poke the ceiling panel he'd seen move. It flexed, but refused to move, the rivets at each corner holding it fast to the beams criss-crossing the ceiling. He frowned at it before whacking it with his gloved fist.
"We have to move on," said Shane.
"But, sir, we can't just leave him here," protested one of the troopers.
"Do you know where he went, trooper?"
"No, sir."
"Then you can't retrieve him, can you? Let's get moving, and if we find him on the way, then we'll pick him up and take him with us, whatever state he's in."
Without waiting for an answer, Shane turned on his heel and marched off. Having no other choice, the troopers followed, Arkaan and Marcla bring up the rear.
With the disappearance of one of the troopers, the others were a lot more on edge, their carbines held at the ready position constantly. Even Arkaan and Shane were affected, with Arkaan holding his rifle ready, the stock in his shoulder, but the barrel pointed down at an angle, and Shane keeping his Westar rifle leveled. The only person in the group to continue on almost unaffected was Marcla, who still managed to look like she was gliding in the clunky EVA suit she wore.
Another corner found them in front of another bank of turbo-lifts, but these ones appeared to be a lot more utilitarian than the last set, with less of the trappings of power visible. The group took a few moments to secure the immediate area, before returning to the lifts.
Shane tapped a button beside the door, and they waited in an awkward silence for a lift-car to arrive. When it did, the doors slid open and all six of them recoiled from the doors.
Bits of white plate were still visible from the red, brown and black mess that spattered the walls of the inside of the car. The stench of feces and burnt meat filled the air and one of the troopers wrenched off his helmet to vomit against a wall. A small pile at the back of lift-car looked to be the bulk of the remains, but with the blood and guts covering the wall, none of them could really be sure what had originally been what.
"I think we found our missing trooper," said Shane.
"I'll get the next one," murmured Arkaan before moving to one side and tapping another call-button.
Marcla moved forward into the lift, carefully avoiding stepping on anything, and knelt beside the small mound of guts, one arm extended and her eyes closed. She waved her hand over the mound once, then stood and backed out the lift, opening her eyes as she went.
"It's definitely the missing trooper," she declared.
"How can you tell?" asked one of the troopers.
"The remains are still warm."
The trooper who'd vomited coughed and spat, before wiping his mouth on the back of his armoured hand. He took a sip from a tube extending out from his armour, filling his mouth with water, rinsing it clean and spitting it onto the puddle of vomit on the floor.
"You alright, trooper?" asked Shane.
"Fine, sir," replied the trooper, replacing his helmet and moving around the lift, studiously avoiding looking inside.
As they waited for another lift-car, Arkaan looked across at the trooper and was suddenly very glad of his helmet. Despite having discovered the torn-up remains of a man they'd lost only minutes before, he found himself with an enormous grin on his face, and was fighting to keep himself from laughing out loud. The trooper noticed Arkaan looking at him and turned his helmet towards him, as if to silently ask him what he wanted. Unable to help himself, Arkaan turned on his external speakers.
"I guess we can call you Upchuck from now on then, trooper," he announced.
"Yes sir," replied the trooper. "Very funny, sir."
Behind Arkaan, Shane was moving slightly, his armour looking like it was vibrating slightly. Arkaan opened a private line to Shane's helmet, and listened to the ARC trooper sniggering. He closed down the link and shut off his comm, before joining Shane and sniggering quietly to himself.
The lift arrived, and, after checking it didn't contain any other remnants of clone trooper, they entered it gingerly. Marcla examined the panel and pressed a button, closing the doors and speeding them on their way.
"Arkaan."
"Shane?"
"I've been trying to raise General Hoday since that trooper disappeared, but it's like he's disappeared too."
"What about Sergeant Jaig?"
"Same story. I also can't raise the hangar party, and the Iron Fist isn't responding either."
"You can contact the Fist from your helmet comm?" said Arkaan in surprise.
"ARCs get access to better equipment, sir. And I was able to listen to transmissions from the Fist up until we lost that trooper. Then it's like everything went dead."
"You think we're being jammed?"
"I think there's someone on this ship that wants us off or dead."
"I'm not leaving until we get answers. Call it professional curiosity."
"Curiosity killed the strill."
"I'm not a strill, lieutenant."
With a jolt, the turbo-lift stopped dead, throwing the occupants to the floor. At the same time, the lights went out, plunging them into darkness. A whispered voice over the comm began swearing softly in a high-pitched voice, repeating the same curse over and over in a panic. Other than that, the lift was left in silence.
Shane was the first one back on his feet, followed closely by Marcla. The ARC activated a spotlight clamped to the side of his helmet and swept it over the doors and onto the control panel. The lights on the panel had gone dark, and a few experimental taps yielded no results.
"I'm changing the rules of engagement," growled Shane. "Any objections?"
The only reply was the clicks and whines of safeties being disengaged and weapons being readied.
Marcla ignited her lightsabre, bathing everything in the lift in a soft, silvery light. Without waiting for any of them, she stabbed it into one side of the door and dragged it down the height of the door, carving a red-hot line. She repeated this for the other side before extending a hand, and, with a brief blast of the Force, blew the doors away from the car.
They only travelled a few inches before they impacted loudly on the walls of the shaft in front of them and dropped away into the abyss below. The Jedi stuck her head out of the newly-created hole and looked up and down, as if contemplating which way to go.
"We need to go down two more levels," said Shane helpfully over the comm.
"Back in a sec," replied the Jedi, before dropping out of the door and disappearing from sight.
The group listened for a few minutes as she leaped around the lift shaft below them. They could hear the dangerous hum of the lightsabre as it was swung around, and the occasional sparking impact of energy-blade-on-metal. The car itself resounded with several thumps as she climbed on top of the lift and readied herself.
"Brace yourself."
Another sparking impact and the lift free-fell for two floors, throwing Shane, Arkaan and the clone troopers to the floor once more. Again, they came to a bone-jarring stop, and Arkaan shook his head as he dragged himself to his feet.
Outside, Marcla's silver lightsabre swung a few more times before shutting off. Her head appeared in the doorway, hanging upside-down, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. She swung back into the car, hitting the deck with a loud clang and once again, her arm came up. This time, however, the doors blew out and travelled a long way down a corridor before eventually coming to a rest. She hopped off the lift car and into the corridor beyond, looking around for any signs of life.
"Maybe she is useful after all," muttered Arkaan.
The passageway was, as before, completely devoid of any sign of life, but it made the group no less wary. Marcla's lightsabre was the only weapon not held ready, and they made regular pauses to count their number and the trooper bringing up the rear spent half the time walking backwards. None of them spoke, preferring to keep their ears opens for any strange noises, but other than the odd creak and the occasional clunking sound in the distance, nothing could be heard out of the ordinary.
Their route took them on a winding tour of dead corridors and empty rooms, and with every area with no signs of life, the group became more and more disturbed.
"Where are we now?" asked Arkaan quietly, startling the group with his voice.
"Just below the gun-decks," replied Shane. "Next left should take us deeper into the ship and a few more corridors and we'll find the security checkpoint for engineering."
"Not far now then."
They took the next left, finding another long corridor with all the doors locked on either side. At the far end of the corridor, a light flickered, then shut itself off. The light in front of it switched off, then the one in front of that. In sequence, every light in the corridor shut itself off, making it appear as though the darkness was advancing towards them. Four spotlights appeared in the gloom, each illuminating a thin sliver of the corridor, and the lights swung around with the motion of their helmets.
"We've lost another trooper," announced Marcla.
The spotlights all swung inwards, and they counted each other, finding that the Jedi was correct, and that one of their number had disappeared once again.
"Haar'chak!" hissed Arkaan. "Me'ven banar'la olar?!"
"Speak Basic!" Shane hissed back.
"I don't care what he said," muttered Upchuck. "I just want to know what's going on."
"That's what I said," replied Arkaan. "I'm going to have to teach you aruetiise to speak Mando'a."
"Maybe after we get out of here, sir."
"The only place we're going is engineering," growled Shane.
"With all due respect, sir," began the other remaining trooper, but Arkaan cut him off.
"He's right. If we take control of engineering, then we can see what's causing these problems and do what we can to stop them."
"Isn't it obvious?" shot back the trooper. "We're being hunted! The power outages I can put down to a lack of maintenance on a ghost ship, but now one of us has been torn apart and dumped in a turbo-lift, and another has disappeared! We need to rendezvous with General Hoday and get back to the Iron Fist, pronto!"
"Wait a second," said Upchuck. "If the General's on the bridge, shouldn't he be able to do something about this?"
"We can't get a hold of the General, so we can't rely on him at the moment, only ourselves. We get to engineering, and we find out what's going on."
"The further we go, the more we lose! Who's next? You? Me?"
"This isn't up for debate, trooper," said Shane, emphasizing the rank, a dangerous tone in his voice.
Before the trooper could respond, a low rumble made the deck vibrate beneath their feet. They all looked down, four spotlights illuminating four different parts of the floor. Marcla lifted her helmet and sealed it before taking her lightsabre off her belt and gripping it tightly.
A massive explosion tore through the corridor in front of them. One whole wall and a section of the ceiling just disappeared in an enormous fireball and the five of them were thrown down the passageway, pelted with debris as they went. Huge support beams dropped through the hole, followed by trolleys, desks and other bits of mangled equipment. Several huge artillery shells dropped in behind the support beams, clanging noisily as they went. The noise, however, was drowned out by the roar of escaping air. Some of the debris that had been blown down the corridor was suddenly sucked back up and out the hole, and Shane and Arkaan found themselves blown off their feet, followed by the two clone troopers.
As abruptly as it happened, the whistling air stopped, and the four men were dropped unceremoniously in a pile on the deck in front of the pile of rubble. The three clones scrambled up, Upchuck helping to pull Arkaan back onto his feet. The other trooper began running down the passageway as fast as he could, yelling incoherently. Shane leveled his Westar at his back, going into a slight crouch as he did so.
"Stop!" he called out. "Get back here, you shab'la deserter, or I will shoot you down!"
His words had no effect and the trooper kept on running, arms waving wildly.
Shane squeezed the trigger.
A silver flash intercepted the blue bolt and disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Marcla lowered the lightsabre and extended her other hand, and the fleeing trooper found himself dangling in mid-air, his legs still cycling as if he was still trying to run, but his feet were no longer touching the deck.
Still twisting and turning, the trooper floated back down the corridor towards them and ended up suspended in mid-air in front of the diminutive Jedi. She reached up and stroked the front of his helmet, and the trooper went limp. She gently lowered him to the floor and placed him in the recovery position, putting his carbine beside his leg.
"Wake him back up, Marcla," said Arkaan. "We need to get out of here, right now."
"Why?" asked Shane.
Arkaan merely pointed to the haphazard pile of artillery shells behind the barricade. Shane knelt and threw the unconscious trooper over his shoulder and ran back down the corridor. The rest followed suit, with Upchuck pausing only to retrieve the carbine from the deck.
As they ran, a figure appeared beside Arkaan, and he turned to her angrily.
"Why didn't you warn me about that?" he growled. He'd turned his external speakers and comm off, meaning only he could hear his voice, but he knew that she'd be able to hear him.
"I'm not omnipotent, you know," she replied, not sounding a bit out of breath.
"You've warned me in the past about these kinds of things."
"Those were obvious dangers that you would've missed. Besides, no-one was hurt, were they?"
"That's not the point, and you know it."
"Oh, relax."
"Relax?! Someone's trying to shab'la kill us! We've lost two of our troopers already, one of which was found in pieces!"
"Don't worry, Arkaan. Everything will be revealed in time."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Arkaan glanced to one side, but the figure had disappeared and he growled angrily beneath his helmet.
Ahead, Shane and Marcla had doubled back through another set of corridors, still running flat out. Despite having a fully-armoured trooper slung over one shoulder, Shane was still managing to keep ahead of the small Arkanian Jedi, and his superior knowledge of the ship's layout meant he unerringly guided them around the potentially lethal obstacle.
Flicking his comm back on, Arkaan was breathing heavily and found himself struggling to keep up with the super-fit clones.
"Stop," he wheezed. "Got to stop."
Marcla slowed, turning as she did so, waiting for Arkaan to catch up. As he did so, she slipped a hand under one of the armoured plates, laying a hand on the body-glove beneath and he found himself suddenly able to breathe. The pair ran like that for a few more minutes, their route taking them along more empty corridors until the corridors eventually opened up into a large area, with several different doors set into different walls. Two of the doors had a booth set next to them, and Shane stopped by one of them, lowering the unconscious trooper on his shoulder to the floor. Arkaan and Marcla stopped beside him, and the Jedi withdrew her hand. Arkaan found himself suddenly drained, and sat back against a wall to catch his breath.
"This door leads to engineering, and hopefully some answers," said Shane. "Wake him up, Jedi. You put him under, now bring him back. We need everyone alert and ready in case we find something we won't like on the other side of that door."
"As you wish," replied Marcla, bending to the task.
"Never heard of a trooper running before," said Arkaan.
"We're all men under this armour, Mandalorian," said Shane, his voice hardening. "We're not like the tinnies, blindly following our programming."
"Technically, we're all just following our genetic programming, but I'm not going to argue semantics with you. You got a plan for getting us past that door?"
"I was thinking about knocking and asking politely, sir."
"Mir'sheb."
"What?"
"You're a smart-ass, lieutenant. Does the map give locations of key consoles or anything else that might help us?"
"Not really, but a lot of what I've seen has been very similar to Acclamators like the Iron Fist. If the same holds true in there, then we should have no problems finding that we need."
On the floor in front of them, the unconscious trooper began to stir. Marcla had removed his helmet and had the fingers and thumb of one hand resting on either side of his forehead. The trooper raised himself into a sitting position, still with Marcla's hand on his head, and he blinked fiercely for a few seconds. Marcla removed her hand and gripped one of his hands, taking his pulse, before standing and nodding to Shane.
The ARC crouched in front of the trooper and removed his own helmet, staring into the trooper's eyes, his own hardened with barely contained anger.
"You're a coward, trooper, and a liability. The Jedi saved you before, but if you run again, I won't hesitate to shoot you down, do you understand me?" The trooper nodded, fear in his eyes. "Good. I need you up and active. Can you use your weapon?"
"Yes sir!"
"Then get up and fall in."
The pair of them stood, the trooper accepting Upchuck's hand in helping him up, and they both put their helmets back on. Upchuck gave him his carbine back, and the five of them stacked up against the door, Marcla standing off to one side, obviously unfamiliar with entry procedure.
Shane gave a silent countdown with his fingers, and, when his last finger fell, he activated the door.
Arkaan was first through, followed closely by Shane. The Mandalorian went immediately left, with the ARC moving right. The two troopers behind went straight in, carbines leveled.
What they found made them stop in shock, lowering their weapons slowly.
"I don't think it left the shipyards looking like this," said Marcla lightly.
