The visual sensors in my helmet darkened with each flash of the bombardment, protecting my eyes from the bright explosions of fire and plasma.
Our jetpacks touched down about a hundred meters from the Jedi's main base of operations, but I had no doubt that they would see us coming. They always seemed to sense trouble a parsec away.
"Hold," I said, dropping down to one knee and taking aim at the base. It was really just a few dozen metal shacks, but fighting the Jedi house-to-house in close quarters would be far too costly.
I held up my closed fist and the nine other Mandalorians formed up around me, also pointing their rifles at the Jedi's hiding spot, but not opening fire.
Two of the little pests had already noticed us and leapt out from the doorways with their gleaming blades switched on.
"Hold," I said again, making sure my mental state was focused purely on my blind hatred of the Jedi.
Half of the launched explosives still laid in and around the Jedi's base, littering the ground like scattered rubble. However, as the Jedi ran past the very first one, the trigger mechanism sprung into action and enveloped both of them in a plasma burst hot enough to reduce them to ash, instantly.
"It looks like they should have studied a few tactics or weapons, instead of philosophy," said Holt.
He wasn't wrong. The proximity sensors had been sloppily strapped onto the fake duds and it was only because of the enemy's lack of knowledge that they had fallen for it. I made a mental note to chide whoever had done that prep work, because it wouldn't have fooled even a low-level merc.
"Should we go in?"
"We ain't goin' anywhere. Stick to the plan."
"Boot, we've got them scared stiff. We should finish them off before they escape."
I smacked him on the back of his helmet. "I don't care a bit. We use our advantages. We don't go runnin' in where the enemy wants us, for a few extra kills."
"If you say so."
He clearly didn't believe me, but I didn't rightly care. "We stay here, right between them and forward command. We move in when we're told, but not a moment sooner."
The bombardment stopped, but all around him was the sight and sound of the other teams opening fire. Quite a few even took their jetpacks over the minefield and straight into the base.
"Damn idiots."
"I want those cretins wiped off the face of the earth!" Mandalore called out, leading her army of less than fifty out of the compound's gates.
The tension in the streets had finally broken out into full urban warfare, and she wasn't about to be left behind.
Boot watched all of it unfold from one of the watchtowers. He kept his rifle propped up with an advanced tripod so he could aim it with only one arm, but never fired.
It wasn't out of any disloyalty to his tribe or pity for the Blood Battalion. It just didn't seem necessary.
Hyne and her forces were moving through the streets uncontested, their beskar allowing them to shrug off the few clean hits that the troopers unleashed upon them. Most of the Bloods were still convinced that the Mandalorians were on their side, and so were taken entirely off guard when those t-shaped visors weren't focused on the Consortium mercenaries or the miner militia.
However, right before Boot's eyes, the Mandalorians took their first casualty.
A young man named Elden Wright took a hit to the neck, just under his helmet. He was young and foolish, running into enemy fire without any concern for cover or lines of fire.
At least, that was what the Mandalorians told themselves as they pushed forward, and Boot watched it all happen from the now abandoned base.
