Chapter 28: Morst Ni'skar

Bothawui-9

[Damnit, we're too late,] Morst sighed in Bothese.

The police headquarters had fallen. Four TX-130s, an AT-TE, and more than a hundred Clones were now gathered in the police headquarters parking lot between. Like shooting Rancors in a Cage.

[Sir,] Varm growled, [I see Asir, they have her in the police headquarters.]

[Let me see, is she hurt!] he grabbed Varm's electro-binoculars and turned off the infrared in his RIS suit. Asir hung her head sadly and looked very worried but appeared uninjured. She was amongst eight other cops and two paramedics, kneeling around a pillar. A human in a green uniform was saying something two her.

[All right,] Morst growled nervously, [if they have our people there…] he gulped if they have my wife there. [If they have our people there, it should be safe to hit their tanks. Fall back to the tops of the buildings, out of sight. I'll stay here and target them.]

As the three Bothans disappeared into the storm, ash began to dominate the mix. The ground was becoming progressively greyer.

[I am in position,] Sar growled with some static coming from her mic.

[In position sir,] Kalan said.

[Almost… now I am in position,] Varm growled, [awaiting targeting.]

Morst laid down on the ground and pulled out his targeting laser. [Kalan, you fire first, then Sar, then Varm.] He shone his laser at the rightmost TX-130. ]First target, fire when ready.]

A missile fired from Kalan's AK-Prime rocket launcher and hit the TX-130. It flipped over. Several Clones standing around it were blasted away. Some were crushed by the tank when it landed upside down.

Morst turned off his laser and crawled to another position. He shone it again, "Gin-voyara woks." [Fire.]

Another TX-130 went down. As Morst rolled away, the snow where he had been lying down was suddenly blasted with a beam canon. Blasterfire riddled the position.

[They are firing on my position,] Morst growled, [they must be able to see my targeting laser. We need to be quicker to hit the next one Varm.]

[Very well sir,] Varm growled in Bothese.

Morst laid under a bench. [I will only spot it for less than a second. You must be ready.]

[Ready,] Varm said.

Morst shone his laser spotter for a split second then turned it off, rolling out of the way. This time, the beam canon nearly hit his shoulder, but Varm's rocket was already on its way.

The offending TX-130 exploded. A group of Clones was now running beyond the fence, searching for him. One in the lead, clad in grey and green armour, was shining spotlight-like flashlights from his helmet, illuminating the snow and ash.

[Only two tanks left,] Morst snarled. [Stupid Clones. This time I want all three of you to hit their biggest tank, one second though.] The Bothan ran to the corner of a building, unclipped his Abokul-57 heavy blaster from the back of his armour, and clipped its bipod onto the corner of the building. He aimed it at the nearest Clone, the one with a head-flashlight on his helmet. Morst wonder to himself if the Clone would see him before he died.

Right as Morst was about to squeeze the trigger, something hit Morst's back so hard that it knocked the wind out of him and broke the bipod off his heavy blaster. The Bothan tumbled into the snow, holding the Abokul-57 without its bipod.

"I got a Bravo Tango sir!" a human voice yelled excitedly from behind. "I got one! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

Morst dropped his Abokul-57, rolled over, tapped his middle two fingers into the palm of his hand, activating his wrist-blaster. He raised his right hand up at the white and red armoured Clone.

The Clone kept his blaster trained on the Bothan, not interpreting the raised arm as a threat. "HOLD STILL!" the Clone yelled.

Closing his hand into a fist, and pointing it up, Morst fired two shots into the Clone. The Clone's head snapped back. A fiery blaze emitting from the bottom of his helmet as he fell.

Another human voice yelled "SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED! BRAVO TANGO IS NOT SECURE! MAN DOWN! I AM IN PURSUIT!"

Morst rolled onto his back and ran around the corner. Seven Clones ran after him, led by the flashlight-helmeted one.

The Bothan snarled in a panic into his comm, "Ąghhįthą zhųl mų!" [They found me!]

[I am Oscar Mike to assist sir,] Kalan growled.

"Nųkhįz." [No,] Morst snarled. "Sju ko—" [I will—] He stopped running, realising the Clones were no longer following.

Itoll Oc'nel

The Diplomatic Service Clones were now frantically overturning filing cabinets, scattering flimsiplast sheets everywhere. Tarkin was livid, pacing about, joining the messy search.

"These are organised!" Sey'les snarled, "stop throwing them everywhere. It's making it harder to find things."

"Very well ma'am," one of the Clones said.

On the general channel, the Clones outside were yelling orders and the status of their search. It was not going well.

The sounds of a blaster rang out, spraying shots at the Clones outside. Oc'nel raised his head curiously—is that a Bothan wrist blaster?

"WHERE IS MY AIR SUPPORT!" Tarkin yelled.

"I found the town map sir! I can't read any of it though," one of the Clones said, unfolding a plastisheet property boundary map.

"Sey'les, Oc'nel—"

"On it, governor!" Sey'les stammered. She started running her finger over the map.

Oc'nel walked up and looked over her shoulder. "I see it sir!" he growled excitedly.

Sey'les sighed.

"It's… well the shelter is across the street from the hospital," Oc'nel explained, not picking up on Sey'les's disappointment, pointing at the label "нисуш."

"Very good Ensign," Tarkin said quickly. "Omega Actual to Allanteen Actual, we have lost three tanks and are taking heavy casualties. What is the minimum safe distance for a Doonium Slug? We need air support on a position in front of the hospital—"

"—Governor," Oc'nel gasped, "we can't target civilians with a Doonium Slug!"

"Governor, I agree with Oc'nel," Sey'les stammered.

"Captain, Ensign, the Chancellor has classified Thrask Research as a sponsor of terrorism. I am authorised to do whatever is necessary to put an end to them. Now, if these prisoners," Tarkin gestured to the bound Bothans, "were helpful, then I would feel like showing these terrorists, even Thot Ni'mai, some mercy. I may even be persuaded to merely take him into Republic custody. You never know," Tarkin idly dropped the suggestion, staring directly at Asir.

"Is that the same weapon that hit the mountain?" Asir whispered fearfully, her voice still gone.

Oc'nel saw Sey'les stare at Asir, her fur swirled nervously. Sey'les tilted her head in Tarkin's direction as if trying to tell Asir just tell Tarkin, give him something! I don't want to be a part of murdering your whole town. Please help me help you.

"Indeed," Tarkin said with a terrifying smirk.

Oc'nel's fur fell flat in fear.

"I can, I can—" Asir stammered in a whisper.

"—Sir," the voice of the Allanteen's pilot said through the comm. "There is a significant chance another Doonium round will crack the crust, especially at a lower elevation. I would not want to be any closer than—wait we are getting a hail from the Resolute. They want to speak to you directly Omega Actual!"

"Put it through!" Tarkin huffed, his smirk vanished.

"Commander," Anakin's voice came through the comm angrily. "Your name is not on the fleet registry. I don't care who the hell you are or who you think you are. If you fire another Doonium Slug at the Bothans, you will be returning to Coruscant in an orange jumpsuit, am I understood?"

"Yes General, I—"

"—Withdraw! That is an order. Return to the Caellus."

"Yes sir," Tarkin hissed coldly hanging up. "BLASTED JEDI!" He stomped furiously on the ground.

Wulf chuckled loudly.

Oc'nel smiled with relief.

"Is something funny Lieutenant?" Tarkin asked.

"Permission to speak frankly Governor?" Wulf chuckled uncontrollably.

"Permission denied," Tarkin hissed. "Keep your insubordination to yourself Lieutenant."

Anakin seemed like such an asshole. Oc'nel was very surprised that he went out of his way to stop Tarkin. Wait… how did he know?

"Sir, should we take them with us?" Scorch asked, pointing his gun at the handcuffed Bothan cops.

"No, we are leaving all prisoners behind," Tarkin sighed despondently. He pulled out his comm. "All forces, fall back. We need fire support at the police headquarters parking lot. Burn everything shooting at us and prepare to extract us."

"Very well sir," a Clone voice said.

Colourful green and red glows could be seen through the thick clouds of ash as the LAATs mowed down the Bothan positions. The ground rumbled from torpedo hits.

Morst Ni'skar

A red glow fell from the sky and hit the house Sar was in. Half of the house exploded outwards onto the street. A cupboard door bounced off Morst's RIS helmet.

[GET OUT OF HERE!] Morst snarled in Bothese. [Fall back to the plaza! They are bombing us!]

[Sir I—] Kalan started but never finished. A green laser beam cut through the house he was in.

[VARM! JUMP!] Morst ordered as another LAAT hovered over the house Varm was in. Varm leapt out of the second story window just as green and red lasers began slicing through the structure.

Morst ran and slid through the snow and ice as fast he could, aided by his power armour. "GHĮNPHŲNTĄ MĮDH MŲ!" [Come with me!] Morst grabbed Varm's wrist and pulled him up.

A spotlight shone on the two.

Morst swore angrily under his breath in Bocce and Askar Creole. [Activate the adrenaline!] he ordered in Bothese as the two ran beyond the edge of the spotlight. A familiar voice in his head told him that he would now be pumped with adrenaline.

Under their helmets, the Bothans' eyes dilated. They began sprinting as fast as they could, escaping the view of the spotlight which tailed just behind them. After the two ran to the left, the spotlight continued searching straight ahead fruitlessly.

Thirty seconds later, LAATs gave up on blasting the two Bothans and settled for levelling the remainder of the neighbourhood. Morst could still hear proton torpedos destroying city blocs as he entered the plaza.