Author's Notes: Thanks to those who took the time to review my work. It's greatly appreciated, and I hope you'll continue to do so. Thanks also for the info and suggestions.
Point Alpha:
In the aftermath of the vicious firefight, the relative silence of the worshyr forest was almost deafening. Not even the birds and insects dared to make a sound in the wake of the chaos that had just shattered the peace. In the distance, a lone creature of some sort started chirping tentatively, but no others joined it.
Delta 3-8 sighted along the barrel of his DC-17M blaster carbine, alert for anything out of the ordinary as he scanned the path that lay before them. "Clear." He spoke normally, ensuring that his squad mates could hear him, but his helmet made sure that no one else could.
4-0 and 6-2 slipped past him, hurrying to positions further along the path. The trail they were following consisted mostly of worn footpaths that wound their way along mighty tree branches. Every now and then, they had to venture across fixed or swinging wooden bridges – particularly vulnerable spots – but nothing had threatened them so far.
"Clear!" Fixer said.
Scorch slipped past him, carbine held ready as he advanced.
Although he couldn't see very well beyond the canopy of trees above them, 3-8 thought he detected a tall, dark shape thrusting out of the forest ahead of them, interfering with the murky, mist-shrouded light cast by Kashyyk's sun. It had to be the Wookie fortress their Advisor had described to them – Point Alpha.
"Clear," Scorch reported, and 3-8 left his cover position and began advancing again.
They continued leapfrogging for several minutes, trying to watch in every direction at once. They had to pay attention to what was going on above and below them as well, as enemies could be lurking in the branches of the worshyr trees, or on different levels of bridges and platforms. Once, a patrol of half a dozen battle droids on a hover platform drifted past them on their right and slightly below, but the clone troopers found cover quickly, and the droids went on their way, oblivious to how close they'd come to permanent deactivation.
Finally, the solid, massive bridge that provided access to the fortress loomed ahead, carved from a single, living worshyr branch. Crafted railings lined its sides for much of its length, but every so often, branches high enough to be trees in their own right jutted upward from its sides, providing splashes of green color, and more than a little cover.
Not surprisingly, it was crawling with battle droids. The scorch marks and destroyed Wookie gun emplacements attested to the ferocity of the battle that had been fought only a few hours ago.
"I don't like the idea of a frontal assault," Fixer said quietly. He looked to 3-8 and 6-2, who were crouched next to him amidst a thicket of branches that grew next to the path.
"Why not?" Scorch asked. "We could take 'em. I don't even see a Super Battle droid out there."
"It's not just them that we should be worried about," 3-8 replied. "If we make an attack, every patrol in the area is going to descend upon us. We'd get caught in the open, and I don't have any illusions that we'd last very long."
"So we need to find a way to make a quiet entrance," Fixer said.
3-8 nodded. "Something like that."
"Stanchion guns," Scorch suggested. "If we can get around to the side of the fortress, we could find another way up into it, and just swing across."
"Fast, silent, and minimum time in the open," 3-8 said. "I like it."
"So what are we waiting for?" Fixer prompted.
They made another scan of the immediate vicinity, then started moving to their right, circling around to the side of the battered fortress. They knew better than to move in the open, and stayed well hidden among the vegetation that grew among the maze of branches, but surprisingly, they didn't come across any patrols. That was an odd oversight, even for battle droids that were operating without the benefit of a biological commander.
"No sentries," Scorch said softly over the com, echoing his leader's thoughts. "That's odd."
"And more than a bit disquieting," 3-8 agreed. "It's got to be a trap."
"After seeing what happened back at the LZ," Fixer put in, "I wouldn't be a bit surprised. So the question is, what's tipping them off to our operation?"
3-8 crouched at the edge of the branch they were standing on, and gazed through a screen of wide leaves across the gulf of open air that separated them from the Wookie fortress. "I'm not sure. We know the Separatists have had spies in the Republic before, but they've never even gotten close to Special Forces ops." He tapped a control on his wrist pad and brought the magnification of his helmet visor up, scanning the platforms, battlements and bridges that comprised the fortress' defenses on this side. "And right now, I don't think we've got time to figure that out. We need to do our job, then get to the rendezvous point with Battalion Six." He was silent for a few more moments as he watched for any sign of movement. "It looks like we're clear. Get your stanchion guns ready. We'll all go over at once, minimize the risk of detection. Distance is fifty-seven meters."
They slung their carbines over their shoulders, where they could access them quickly if the need arose., then unclipped the smaller, pistol-like stanchion guns from their ammo belts and set them for the correct distance.
"Where're we going, Boss?" Fixer asked.
"Aim just above that lowest platform, there," 3-8 said, pointing. "At this distance, we'll have enough slack in our lines to come across just below it. We'll let the guns pull us up, and we'll be back on our feet in only a few seconds."
The three commandos took careful aim, the hooks of the stanchions on the ends of their guns glittering in the light that filtered through the trees from above.
"Fire," 3-8 commanded.
With little more than a pop and a hiss, the stanchions shot across the open space, trailing long strands of flexible durasteel cable. They buried themselves in the wood of the mighty tree, exactly where 3-8 had indicated.
3-8 paused for a long moment, waiting to see if anything had noticed the small missiles. But still, nothing moved, and he gave a small sigh of relief. "All right, let's go. Keep your eyes open."
"First one to fall buys drinks when we get back to Coruscant," Scorch piped as he stepped off over the one hundred meter drop.
3-8 and 4-0 were right behind him, their heavy armor and gear lending acceleration as they arced down and across toward the fortress.
That was when the first beam of crimson light streaked out toward them.
"Holy nerf herders!" Scorch yelled in surprise as the bolt clipped his left shoulder plate, sending up white pieces of armor.
"Snipers!" 3-8 shouted. "Hold on!"
Several more bolts streaked out from the fortress, barely missing the commandos as they swung across. The platforms were swarming with battle droids, all of them armed with sniper carbines. Behind them, super battle droids were appearing on the scene.
Belatedly, 3-8 realized that they'd been watched since before they had tried to cross. Their element of surprise was hopelessly lost. They'd have to fight the enemy head on. "EM grenades!" he commanded as the side of the fortress rushed closer.
He pulled one of the grenades off his belt and tossed it up onto the platform he intended to reach, and then he slammed into the massive tree trunk with bone jarring force. The grenade exploded a split second later, and tendrils of lightning reached out toward everything that carried electronic components, sending up a cloud of sparks and smoke. A trio of snipers spasmed then dropped, their internal systems fried. Two more explosions announced that 4-2 and 6-0 had successfully delivered their grenades as well. Several more battle droids collapsed, and out of the corner of his eye, 3-8 saw a super battle droid topple over the edge of the platform and fall toward the forest floor one hundred meters below.
He waited until the last crackle of unleashed energy had dissipated, then tapped the ascend button next to his stanchion gun's trigger. It's small motor whined as it rapidly pulled him up, and he readied his DC-17M as the platform drew nearer. One battle droid made the mistake of poking its head over the edge to see what was on the other end of the cable, and it dropped backward with a surprised squawk as a cerulean beam caught it right between the eyes. More droids started toward the edge, realizing that the commandos were coming up, but they were too late.
3-8 rolled onto the platform as soon as he reached it, coming up to his knees, carbine leveled and blazing before the enemy could even begin to start drawing beads on him. First one droid, then a second fell, and a super battle droid partially melted under several direct hits to its head and torso.
It was then that he realized he was alone on the platform. His squad mates hadn't made it yet, and he could see at least a score of droids bearing down on him. A quick glance around revealed there wouldn't be any cover until he could fight his way off the platform.
That was when he heard the distinctive clatter of rolling machinery, quickly coming his way from the corridor that led into the fortress. Destroyer droids.
"Make it fast, Deltas!" he yelled into his helmet com.