Chapter Three: A Certain Unspoken Synergy
Cress watched glumly in the mission room as Captain Tavus, Fuse, Gearbox, and Needles suited up, preparing to strike the separatist base. He had been told to stay in the mission room with Jorgen, to monitor the op.
"Nothing personal Sergeant," Tavus had told him. "I know you're a good soldier. But an op like this, you need a certain unspoken synergy with the people beside you. You're just too new."
"I understand, sir."
Tavus had clasped his soldier. "You'll catch the next one."
Now he and Jorgan were left to watch the feed from the squad's cameras.
The assault started with Fuse. He set up a tiny drone, which looked almost like a child's toy, that flew into the midst of the perimeter defenses. The separatists stared dumbly at the object as it hovered in midair. Then it exploded – a tremendous blast that belied the drone's small size.
The defensive line was all but obliterated. The surviving separatists were engulfed in smoke, and many of them found their hair or clothes set ablaze. HAVOC Squad descended into that hell of flame and smoke, of coughing and screaming, firing their blasters to all sides.
The four did not speak – there was no need – nor did they pause in their advance. They moved in an almost circular pattern, each taking a turn at point, each taking a turn guarding the rear and flanks. ]Every time there was a break in the smoke, Fuse threw another device from his belt. The defenders were kept constantly off balance, and never had a clear view of their assailants – who doubtless seemed like an army rather than just four men.
Cress had to admit it; Tavus had been right to leave him behind. He simply couldn't have fit into that formation. He would have stumbled all over himself trying.
"Give yourself time, kid," Jorgan grunted at him. "You'll get there."
The assault continued seamlessly. The separatists were disorganized, and slow to come to their own defense. They shot wildly into the smoke. Each time a separatist fired, the sound and the flash of the muzzle provided the Republic troops with a new target. The scattered enemy forces kept pulling back, further and further into the base, and the squad kept pressing forward.
Deeper in, the enemy had improvised some defenses, pulling mining carts and crates into a makeshift blockade that doubled as cover. This time, Needles solved the problem. He pulled a glass vial from his belt and tossed it into the air, overtop of the barrier.
One of the separatists shot the vial. Seconds later, all of them were twitching on the ground, tearing at their throats as foam came from their mouths.
"Masks!" Tavus called.
The camera showed the four troopers putting on their gas masks before advancing past the collapsed men. At the end of the shaft, they removed the masks. Whatever the substance had been, it apparently dissipated quickly.
They reached a data terminal. Fuse and Gearbox worked together to access it while the other two guarded them.
"Here it is," Gearbox announced. "Floor 3, Shaft E. According to this, should be an elevator if we turn left at the next junction."
They went back into their wheel formation. They were encountering no resistance at this point. Cress guessed the separatists had withdrawn to a higher level, to prepare a stronger defense.
They reached the elevator, which was an open platform.
"This isn't going to be a fun ride," Tavus announced.
They pulled some nearby crates onto the elevator to crouch behind. Tavus and Gearbox held their blaster rifles at the ready, while Fuse and Needles each prepped a grenade. All were certain some kind of ambush would be coming.
It did. After the platform cleared the second floor, blaster fire erupted from above. The separatists' aim was wild, and the crates deflected many of the blaster bolts. But even schoolchildren could not miss every shot at a stationary target rising toward them, and the HAVOC Squad members were left to rely on their combat armor to keep them alive.
Cress heard grunts of pain from the men as they ascended. Needles' head jerked as a bolt ricocheted from his armor and came very near to his eye.
"Hold fire," Tavus ordered, his voice steady. "Hold…"
Fuse's camera feed abruptly stopped as a blaster bolt hit him square in the chest. The young man was knocked back by it, and the grenade he had been clutching fell from his fingers. Tavus kicked the grenade off the platform, while Gearbox pulled Fuse back under cover.
"You all right?" Gearbox asked, shouting as the grenade exploded below them.
Fuse nodded. "Think so."
Through Gearbox's camera, Cress could see that Fuse's face was pale with pain. No wonder - His chest plate had dented inward, and had to be pressing hard on his body. Another hit in that area, and the young man's death would be a near certainty.
"Let 'em have it!" Tavus shouted, equal parts eagerness and anger in his voice.
Gearbox and Tavus opened fire on the platform above. At the same time, Needles threw his grenade upward.
Screams from above, and Cress saw separatists falling like rain around the men on the platform. More shots from Gearbox and Tavus. Soon, the area was clear.
"Injury check!" Tavus called.
In the adrenaline rush of battle, it was possible for a soldier to be injured without realizing it. A conscious injury check now could save them from an ill-timed complication later.
Tavus, Needles, and Gearbox were clear of anything but scratches and bruises. But Fuse was starting to have difficulty breathing.
"It really hurts," he said, a quiet note of surprise in his voice.
"We've got to get that armor off," Tavus said.
Gearbox helped Fuse strip away the chest plate. Through his camera, Cress could see the blood on Fuse's shirt.
Gearbox and Needles cut away the shirt, then Needles examined the injury below.
"How are you feeling now?" Needles asked.
"Better."
Needles nodded. "The pressure of the armor. Does it hurt when I do this?"
Cress couldn't quite see what Needles was doing, but he heard Fuse's groan.
"Bruised ribs," Needles said. "You'll need an examination to make sure nothing's cracked, but you will recover."
He jabbed a needle into Fuse's arm. The young man's breathing grew steadier.
"He can't fight like this," Gearbox told Tavus.
The captain nodded thoughtfully, started to say something in reply.
There was a sudden flash of light. A few cries from the men. Tavus barked an order that Cress couldn't quite make out.
Then the cameras cut out. The only thing Cress and Jorgan could see on the monitors was static.
Jorgan swore. Then swore again, louder.
"Too easy," he said. "I should have seen – It was all too damn easy!"
The lieutenant typed frantically at the computer terminal.
"It's not just the cameras," he said. "We've lost life sign trackers, locators, everything!"
Cress had a sick feeling in his stomach. Tavus and the others had been sweeping through that base with textbook professionalism. Then in a single second…
"Send me in, sir," he said.
Jorgan looked at him, then back at the static on the monitors. He nodded to himself, reaching a decision. Turned back to Cress.
"Suit up, Sergeant. You're going in!"
Mira had been with Corso, at the outskirts of the base's perimeter, when HAVOC Squad burst through the separatist line.
Her original plan had been to slip in, pretending to be separatists, and work their way gradually through the base. HAVOC's assault provided an opportunity for a more direct approach.
She signaled to Corso to follow in the squad's wake, picking off the few survivors Tavus and his men had left behind. When HAVOC stopped at the terminal, she and Corso ducked under cover. They waited for the troopers to move on, then dashed to the computer.
While Corso stood guard, Mira searched for the location of the man Skavak was coming to meet.
"Dareg," she said aloud, as she keyed in the man's name.
The base specs placed him on the ground floor. The opposite direction from the elevators, so they would no longer be in HAVOC Squad's shadow. That was good – It increased the chances of finding Dareg alive.
"With all this confusion, he might not be there," Corso said, giving voice to her worries. "HAVOC might already have killed him.
"Let's hope not," Mira replied briskly. "Or at least that he left something behind that'll give us another lead."
She no longer expected Skavak to come. He wouldn't miss the mess the soldiers had made, nor would he stick around to get shot by them. The most she could hope for was the existence of another clue.
As she followed the specs to Dareg's quarters, she returned to Plan A: Pretending to be a separatist. The confusion caused by the attack made that easy. The seps were running back and forth, everyone trying to find someone in charge to tell them what was happening, or what they should do about it.
"I heard there were at least twenty of them," a wide-eyed young man told her. "Storming the upper levels. Should we go after them?"
Any reply of Mira's was made redundant by the blaster fire they heard down the hall.
"They're at the elevators," someone whispered.
There was an explosion that shook the floor. Some people screamed; others wept; more than a few ran toward the exits, in greater fear of being buried alive than of potential Republic forces waiting outside.
The need for pretext had passed. None of the separatists were paying any heed to Mira or Corso. They strode through the mass, found Dareg's quarters.
The room was empty.
"He probably ran when the explosions started," Corso suggested.
Mira chewed on her lower lip. Something didn't feel right.
"I have a bad feeling about this," she said. "Let's get out of here."
She wasn't sure whether she heard or sensed the footsteps behind them. She tensed herself, started to turn. But it was already too late.
She felt a sudden blow at the back of her head. Then all was darkness.