Venator-Class Star Destroyer.
"Valkyrie."
Location: Low orbit above Arantara.
Asher hefted his DC-15A, slinging it over his shoulder along with his aid bag.
Orbital defenses had been null, and they'd just entered the atmosphere as of this morning.
Today was the day.
The mad scramble, the heavy falls of boots, the barking of orders to load their gear quickly. His men milling about, pushing carts of medical supplies, large plasteel cans of water and ordnance into the gunship bays.
His energy ran high, despite the pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, on the drop before Geonosis his hands had shook. And he steeled his nerves to fight the urge, he couldn't afford to look nervous in front of his boys and the Jedi.
"Let's go boys! Load it up! we're moving in thirty!" Cutter barked.
Thirty minutes until the drop.
Tensions were high, he could feel it, you didn't need the Jedi's so called Force for it.
"Careful with that!" Cutter warned, two of the medics hauling their massive crate of blood products and bacta.
Silver and black had been painted on their gear. Fresh paint onto the shiny armor of the new guys, while the Geonosis veterans looked odd, battered armor and fresh paint.
Asher had followed suit, black and silver on his arms, a vertical stripe of silver down his chest piece. Silver down the armor of his legs and black on his knee pads.
He'd written phrase onto the side of his helmet, just below the crest. He'd found it in a book he'd read back in the hospital and it stuck with him.
"Everything beautiful is far away."
He felt a shorter presence stand next to him, and his body filled with reassuring warmth.
"I like it." Reha smiled, poking the side of his helmet.
Asher smiled despite her not being able to see it, he knew she could feel it.
"What does it mean? To you?" She asked.
"That no matter how bad it is where you end up, there's always better somewhere else."
Commander Sul grinned at his response.
"As Showtime would put it, that's so deep Captain."
Asher let loose a boom of laughter he desperately needed in times like this.
"You almost look like you're ready for battle." He jested.
The Padawan had shifted from robes to bits of Clone armor, her shoulders, forearms and from the knee down covered in GAR plasteel. A sleeveless body glove covered with her minimalist robes, ending in fingerless gloves that clutched a Phase I helmet.
Symbol of the Jedi order was painted on her shoulder pads, the black that matched her hair and the silver of her master's cultural dress intricately designed.
"We're a unit, may as well wear the colors." She mused.
Asher only nodded.
General Nema strode in, her raiment similar to her Padawan. She'd shifted to grey robes that matched the color of her usual garb. The headdress remained, and she moved with the grace Asher believed reserved for royalty.
"Are you ready Captain?" She asked.
The boys were loading up the last bits of supplies, and he sighed as the anxiety flooded back in. He eyed the time on his HUD.
"Yes ma'am."
Ten minutes till drop.
"Eyes on me!" He barked.
Every clone, every pilot, every medic, every ground pounder turned to him. Dozens of visors eying their leader, their big brother.
"We're hitting the ground hard, stay low! Once the lines are drawn we set up shop! Lieutenant Kincaid, Shaman has the CCP, set it up someplace with good cover."
"Yes sir!" They all chorused back, Kincaid nodding for extra affirmation.
Asher looked to the left, and once more to the right.
Gods above and Force all around he hoped they'd all be here when this campaign was over.
"Company! Attention!"
Hundreds of plasteel boots clacked together on the deck.
"An army of one man!" The Captain called.
"But the right man for the job!" They thundered back.
Asher grinned viciously, that got the adrenaline pumping.
"Get to your gunships boys!" He commanded.
The clones whooped and hollered, springing to their craft.
Asher, the Jedi and the rest of the Command team moved to their gunship. Showtime was already in the cockpit, he'd painted a cartoonish picture of a schoolyard Speeder bus. With little Clones rapelling out. Above it, in bulbous flowery text was the LAAT/i's callsign.
"The Boogie Bus."
That had made even the stone faced Cutter laugh.
Asher fist bumped Jace who had already taken his spot. Grabbing onto the overhead strip to ground himself closest to the bay door.
The LAAT/i's doors slid shut with a heavy whirl. Commander Sul donned her helmet and grabbed the strap, her feet shuffling nervously.
General Nema placed a gentle hand on her Padawan's shoulder and the Zeltron immediately calmed.
"Welcome aboard the Boogie Bus!" Showtime blared onto the intercom, "Today's weather is hot, with a hundred percent chance of blaster rain! It is time once again brothers!"
The engine rumbled to life.
"Hope you don't mind a little music!" He laughed into the mic.
Cutter groaned audibly.
The steady buildup of an all too popular Herglic rage-metal song blared through the intercom, and much to Asher's dread along the Company's radio channel.
Showtime and the crazy di'kuts in the air wing were blasting music on a military frequency!
Somewhere out there an Admiral was having a stroke.
The gunship lifted up and lurched forward with the grace of an obese flying insect as it left the hangar bay.
Light disappeared from inside the gunship, the slits in the bay doors showed nothing but black as Showtime taxied them out. It only took thirty seconds before the light came back in harsh force, orange not unlike Geonosis.
That's when the booms started.
Flak battered the sky as the columns of LAAT/i's came down from above.
"Woo! Flak's heavier than a Gamorrean turd!" Showtime hollered onto the intercom.
Jace put a free hand on Asher's shoulder, shouting above the roar of the engine and the deafening booms.
"Brother! Why you got that defect as our pilot is beyond me!" He cried.
Asher only shrugged.
The gunship lurched to the left and right dodging the flak, Asher could feel it in his bones that they were almost on the ground.
He gripped the overhead strap just a little tighter, his knees felt weak, the sensation of high speed flying did little to ease the feeling in his gut. He felt the same thing everywhere as his palm sweat soaked into his gloves, a rogue bead of sweat finding a path along the scar on his face.
"Forty seconds till dirtside!" Showtime warned.
Asher steeled himself and announced to the bay via radio, cutting into the music Showtime put on.
"Stay low, mind your sectors, the 501st landed ahead but it is a hot LZ!"
The slam of force as the gunship lurched to a stop sent a wave of vertigo up his body.
If it wasn't for the polarizing effect on his helmet he'd of been blinded by the harsh light of the planet's nearest star.
He stepped out, the Jedi flanking his sides, the rest of the command group behind him.
Dust was kicked up by the LAAT/i's dropoff in fat clouds of orange fog that they advanced through. Adrenaline surged through his veins, his blood screaming in his ears as they met with the 501st. Blue streaked armor sending bolts toward the enemy.
Skywalker and Rex had picked a hell of a staging point, rigid cover all around them. Enemy fire snapped against the rocks they used as fighting positions. They were dug in, low, the rocks forming natural trenches almost.
The line was wide, Clones dug into the squat spires of rock and the small plateaus that mimicked Geonosis so closely that Asher almost thought he was there again.
The clanking sound that gave the droids their name echoed distantly amongst the surges of defensive fire as Asher and his men joined the line.
The droids had sent a platoon strength of Supers their way. The 501st had already made them pay dearly it seemed.
The Medic Captain slammed down next to Rex the Jedi joining him on his left. The 501st leader glanced toward Asher and slapped a hand on his pauldron giving it a rough but affirming shake.
"Welcome to the fight vod!" He greeted.
"Good to be here!" Asher snarled, "I was hoping for trees and beaches!"
"Incoming!" A clone cried down the line.
Asher curled up putting his hands under his chest, an old habit he'd learned long ago. He can get his eardrums burst by arty but he'd need his hands to preserve life.
The indirect fire rocked their spot, craters bursting from the ground behind them. Rocks and debris came down with it, clattering against his armor.
"Anybody hit?" Jace cried.
The Medic Captain opened his commlink.
"Break break this is Archangel Five, to all call signs, give me an up that you have no casualties over."
Rex opened his own commlink to do the same.
"Witch Doctor main up, over."
"Shaman main up, over."
"Sword main up, over."
"Hammer main up, let's blast some tinnies brothers. Over."
Asher grinned viciously at Dice's comment, lack of professional radio etiquette notwithstanding.
"All good on my end ner vod." Rex reported.
Asher gave a crisp thumbs up.
The Clone Captain glanced toward the Jedi Master and her Padawan. Rig Nema's face was a mask of pure calm, serenity set into a grim face as she awaited the enemy's advance.
Reha behind her helmet, stayed stoic but Asher saw the tremble in her hands as she gripped her saber as a lifeline.
"Here they come!" Rex announced after peering through a set of binoculars.
"Don't shoot! Let them close in! Wait till they're close!" Asher commanded.
"Torrent main to all callsigns, cease fire we're letting them cross open ground over."
Asher opened the commlink to Dice.
"Hammer Main this is Archangel Five how me? Over." He droned.
"Archangel Five this is Hammer main I read you lima charlie over." Dice commed back.
"Hammer Main this is Archangel Five. Set up your mortars in the shell craters behind us, space your grenadiers and rockets up the line along with your boys on the zulu-sixes over."
"Archangel Five this is Hammer main, acknowledged. Sending them now, over."
Asher smirked as he saw black and grey paint adjusting to right where he needed them.
"Archangel Five out." He said, killing the commlink.
Skywalker slid to the cluster of leadership and smirked, his face dusted with grime but his smile was wide.
"Ready for this Master Nema?" He asked, his bravado pouring out his very being.
"Ready as I'll ever be young Skywalker," The Jedi Doctor said.
General Nema placed a steadying hand on Reha's shoulder.
"Trust in the force Reha." She advised warmly.
"Yes master." The Zeltron said, worry ringing her voice.
"You two stay down, defend yourselves but do not break cover." Asher commanded.
Despite outranking him, both Jedi fell to command and nodded.
The Droids drew nearer, B1's backed up by Supers.
He could hear the squeaky voice of the yellow clad officer droid.
"Hey! Maybe the artillery got all the clones?" It buzzed.
Asher leveled his rifle, and the clones up and down the line did the same. Cutter revved up his rotary cannon.
Asher got a bead on the officer droid.
"Light them up!" Rex roared.
The symphony of blaster fire burst forth, blue streaks zipping into the throng of metal. The droids began to return fire but the first ranks were decimated, useless scrap shambling to the ground. Asher's bolt had cleaved off the officer droid's head and he smiled.
"Kill 'em all!" Asher growled into the comm.
Cutter roared as he let his rotary cannon open up, the whir of the barrels groaning before the rapid fire came pouring out.
The steady thump of indirect fire from their mortars arched upward before crashing into the ranks of battle droids. High explosive shells pulverizing metal chassis like nothing.
Fourth platoon's grenadiers fired their own smaller payloads, the steady clack of the pump action was music to his ears as they brought the pain forward.
Asher's DC-15A was the moneymaker at distance like this, almost every shot he took was a hit and waiting for the droids to step into the killzone had paid off well in confirmed kills.
Cutter laughed as he lay down heavier fire, the former grunt Clone had been in a heavy weapons squad and hadn't been parted from the rotary cannon he'd affectionately named, "The Pig."
Asher had never met his template Jango Fett, but he'd heard of the man's deadly use of dual blasters. Captain Rex's skill with them matched their progenitor's own as far as Asher was concerned.
The fire kept up, the droids had sent double the numbers compared to the clones and despite their slow advance it remained steady.
Down the line the tell tale cry of his profession rang out.
"Medic!"
Jace bolted before Asher could even blink.
"He's mine!" The Clone Lieutenant proclaimed mid stride.
Asher never felt prouder.
The clankers got closer and closer, sheer numbers overwhelming the volume of fire.
Finally the Jedi came into play, all three leaping into action with their sabers drawn.
He'd seen it from a distance on Geonosis but up close it was something else entirely.
It was like a dance, fluid, faster than his eye could keep up with. Bolts were deflected with ease and the droids were sliced like nothing and he was envious of this display of violence. It gave him pause almost, the awe of it, he didn't want to turn away, even to regain his sight picture.
They made it seem more art form than barbarism.
Radio etiquette gone, Jace yelled into their channel.
"Captain get your shebs down here I need help!"
"Copy, moving." He answered back.
He bounded over, keeping as low as possible along the rocky formations. As soon as his gaze caught Jace kneeling over his casualty he broke into a sprint, sliding across from his brother.
Jace had already used the quick release on the trooper's armor. He'd cut open his body glove. Bacta patches sealed the wounds along his chest, he was huffing and wheezing.
The casualty's helmet was tossed aside, he looked younger somehow. This was his first battle.
"What's going on? Talk to me." Asher commanded shrugging off his aid bag.
"Multiple chest wounds, sealed, no bleeds found on blood sweep. Airway was patent and now I'm sure it's gone."
"Incoming!" Rang down the line once more.
Asher and Jace draped themselves over their downed brother as the shells rocked the ground around them.
As he got closer, his HUD ran through vitals, his oxygen saturation was tanking.
"Did you NPA him?" He asked.
"No! Rocket hit his spot, he clocked his head real bad!" Jace explained.
Asher grit his teeth, more invasive measures were needed.
The shells ceased.
"Clear!" A clone shouted.
Asher rose, opening his aid bag and grabbing a cric kit.
"NCD him, his lungs are collapsing."
"Roger vod." Jace affirmed grabbing his needles.
"Can you hear me brother?" Asher asked giving the clone a shake.
No response.
Asher dug his thumb behind the casualty's collarbone, pressing right onto the pressure point on a normal person the stimuli hurt.
No response.
"Kriff." He cursed.
It simplified things however, he wouldn't have to waste any painkillers.
Asher knelt next to the casualty's head. Tilting his head back just a little bit more, the Adam's apple bobbed and he felt his site.
"Alright brother, we got you." He said, even though he knew the clone couldn't hear him.
"Medic!" Rang down the line once more.
He knew someone was going to work on the new casualty. And he barely caught a glimpse of blue painted armor moving with haste.
"Go get him vod." Asher whispered.
He withdrew an alcohol pad, swiping it over the casualty's throat until he was satisfied.
His fingers traced the clone's Adam's apple as his free hand filled a syringe with air. Using his casualty's chest as a table, Asher laid out the trachea tube and hooked up the syringe of air before snagging the scalpel.
The scalpel blade easily ran along the skin of the clone's neck, exposing the entire site. His deft fingers stabilizing the cartilage, small smears of blood soaking into the fingers of his gloves, mingling with the sweat.
He took his scalpel and created a plus sign in the cricothyroid membrane, before turning to the trachea hook he taped to the scalpel's handle.
The hook nabbed the hole he created, opening it. He retrieved the trachea tube, and inserted it, pulling the plastic plug that kept it shut. The base of the tube had a bulb that he inflated to keep it in place.
Satisfied with his work, he looped the strap that ran around the nape of the downed clone's neck and tightened it snug to keep the tube in place.
"Bag him." Asher commanded.
Jace had dropped the NCD's, three of them already before relief was apparent. And retrieved the bag valve mask that he snapped onto the tube.
"Send it." Asher said.
Jace squeezed the pouch of air, and the casualty's chest expanded evenly.
"Gotcha." Jace muttered.
Asher raised his commlink.
"Shaman Main this is Archangel Five over."
"Archangel Five this is Shaman main, go ahead over."
"Got one Alpha level casualty headed your way, MEDEVAC required ASAP over." Asher blared.
"Archangel Five Roger that, be advised, the droid's are laying down arty most likely in the next fifteen mikes, watch your shebs over."
"Shaman main, roger, we'll be on the way."
Asher eyed the line, they were holding for now. The 501st grunts laying hate through blaster barrels.
"Torrent main Archangel Five, sitrep on casualties over." Asher asked on Rex's frequency.
The radio chirped and Rex's voice rang in his helmet.
"Archangel Five this is Torrent main, be advised, casualty count unknown. Wounded are moving to the CCP over."
"Roger that Torrent main, Archangel Five out."
"We gotta get him to the CCP." Asher stated calmly.
"Roger sir." Jace responded back.
Jace had carried a litter bag with him, tearing it open and splaying out the foldable litter and expanded it with his foot, hinged poles becoming rigid in under a minute.
"You need to keep bagging him, I'll get us some help." Asher announced.
"Torrent main this is Archangel Five, I need three good men to help carry this casualty to the CCP, we are two hundred meters from your pos over."
"Roger Archangel, sending some of my best your way over."
The help arrived without missing a beat, the Galactic Republic's cogwheel painted on his helmet, the other had slung his Z-6 rotary cannon and the third had strips of blue going down the cheeks of his helmet.
"Need a hand brother?" The heavy weapons clone asked with a grating tone.
"Absolutely boys, grab a handle." Asher said, his cool still intact, "Brother you stay at the head, send the breaths as best you can."
"Roger." Jace affirmed, shrugging on his aid bag while Asher did the same.
Each of the 501st clones took a handle, kneeling, Asher dropping to the right of the casualty's head.
"Prepare to lift! Lift!" He barked. The litter rose up, Jace still at the bag.
"The CCP's there!" Asher advised, dropping a ping to the 501st Clone's HUDs.
They moved quickly, thin sand being kicked up by their advance. Blaster fire zipping overhead as gunships roared above, green lasers from the ball turret shredding the droids alongside salvos of missiles.
The heavy weapons clone laughed heartily as the explosions rocked the line.
Asher shook his head, this guy was just like Showtime.
The CCP had been created in a small crevice in the plateaus that were scattered about. Overhead was open sky, but rigid cover more or less covered in a 360.
He made a mental note to praise Kincaid later.
"Friendly coming in!" Asher cried.
Kincaid jogged out, eying the casualty from head to toe. He beckoned them forward into the CCP.
"Right here! With the urgent!" He called, gesturing to an open spot.
"Prepare to lower! Lower!" Asher commanded.
Gently they placed him down.
"What do you got for me?" Kincaid asked dropping to his knees before the litter.
The battlefield was pure noise, so along with his words Asher touched Kincaid where the interventions were.
"Penetrating chest trauma sealed! Cric in place, positive chest expansion! Three NCD's dropped!"
"Roger that sir! We got him from here, you and Jace get back to the line!"
Asher nodded, putting a hand on Jace's shoulder which he shook.
"You did good brother." He said speaking as loud as he could over the gunfire.
Jace nodded but looked down at his gloves, soaked with blood.
Asher wanted to tell him it gets easier, that after awhile blood will stop bothering him. But deep down he knew none of it was true.
He scrubbed and scrubbed but sometimes still saw it soaking his hands.
"Back to the line." He said instead.
Jace snapped out of it, shook his head and unslung his carbine.
They moved quickly, Asher resuming his spot next to Rex. He was pleased as he saw the scrap pile had grown.
"Miss me vod?" Asher joked, rifle up.
"Like nothing else in the galaxy." The 501st Captain snorted.
"Incoming!"
Asher docked down once more. The artillery kept landing behind them, but had crept closer with every iteration. Whoever had been calling in the coordinates clearly reeked of incompetence.
Asher looked left and right and called out the all clear.
There were few stragglers left, they'd halted the droid attack at least for now. The Jedi had made made mincemeat of them all.
Soon, all was quiet, just the wind blowing and the chatter of the Clones. The Jedi came back, the trio none the worse for wear but both General Nema and Commander Sul's armor had been scuffed and dirtied by combat. Skywalker made a beeline for his men.
"Not shiny anymore." Asher mused.
The Medic Captain rose to meet them.
"General Nema, Commander Sul, glad to see you're in one piece." He greeted.
"Captain Asher, I share the sentiment." General Nema smiled softly.
Asher's visor leveled at the Padawan.
"You alright commander?" He asked.
"Yes, sorry." She said, pulling her helmet off.
Her long hair was matted and tangled as she shook it. Beads of sweat were spattered about and she frowned, running a hand through it.
"We have casualties?" General Nema asked.
"Yes, follow me to the CCP."
Asher beckoned for Jace to follow.
"Friendly." Asher announced as they moved into the control point.
Kincaid sat with his helmet off, kneeling down to help a wounded trooper drink from a canteen before taking a few grateful gulps himself.
"Sir, ma'am." He greeted, clipping the canteen to his belt.
Kincaid never looked more exhausted.
"How are they holding up?" Asher asked as General Nema went to do a more hands on check, Reha idling behind her.
"Got most stable, got the most urgent out." He explained.
"Good."
The three troopers of the 501st that had helped them earlier jogged up. And Asher turned to greet them.
"Sir." The leader greeted.
"Good to see you boys again, how are you?" Asher asked.
"We're holding up sir best we can."
"I didn't get your names." The Captain intoned, pulling off his helmet.
The three 501st Troopers did the same, pulling off their buckets.
"I'm Denal, this is Jesse and Hardcase."
"Thank you for the help bringing that man in."
"That's why we're here sir, his squad wants to know where he is." Denal explained.
Jace turned to Kincaid.
"Hey, where's that one from earlier?" Jace asked, "The one me and the Captain brought."
"The one with the cric and the NCD's?" Kincaid asked, Jace's nod was his response.
Kincaid's gaze hardened and he swallowed roughly.
Asher already knew what he was going to say.
"He… he didn't make it."
"What?" Jace asked, voice gaining an edge.
"The shrapnel tore his renal artery… he bled out just after you dropped him off." Kincaid said softly.
The 501st troopers faces dropped, Denal's jaw clenched, Jesse remained stoic while Hardcase scowled, eying the direction the droids were in.
Jace however, nodded slowly before turning on his heel. Every step he took his rage mounted, his shoulders tensed and his hands shook.
He ripped off his helmet and threw it into the sand with a cry of anguish. All his anger, all his frustration in his shout until his voice was hoarse as he fell to his knees.
General Nema and Commander Sul's heads snapped to him, kneeling in the sand.
Asher walked slowly, his hand gently resting on Jace's shoulder.
"You did your best ner vod." He whispered.
"We did everything right." He said, voice quaking, "We did everything right."
Asher slowly sank down to sit next to him.
"Do you remember what I said? When you were all going through the medic course all that time ago?" He asked.
"You told us a lot of things." He whispered.
"I did, but this one was probably the most important."
Jace shut his eyes and took a shuddering breath. He remembered Asher's words and repeated them.
"You can do everything right, get them onto a bird in record time. Get them to the best hospital in the galaxy…"
"And they'll still die." Asher whispered.
He draped an arm around his brother's shoulders.
"But we never give up on them, not ever." He said, tone soft.
Jace nodded, determination in his face as he angrily wiped his eyes.
"I think… I want to be alone for a bit vod." He said, eyes shut.
Asher nodded, coming to his feet.
"I love you brother." Asher said simply.
Jace only nodded, shaky hands going for a cigarra pack he kept in a belt pouch. He lit it and took a greedy drag as Asher walked away.
Asher saw Reha standing at the CCP entrance her face sad, and he could see tears brimming in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Asher asked.
"I can… feel what he's feeling." She explained, sniffling.
Asher hummed in response, turning to his brother sitting alone.
"I can make him feel something else, I can take the pain away from him." She said.
"You can do that?" He asked.
"I can take away the negative emotions, make him at least feel… neutral I guess."
Asher shook his head.
"No," He sighed, "He needs to feel this."
"What do you mean?" The Zeltron Jedi asked.
"He needs to feel this, because it's something every medic learns." Asher explained, "It is a hard lesson, but a necessary one."
Reha looked at Asher sadly before turning to watch Jace.
With that he turned back to the CCP to see if there's anything anybody needed help with before they moved for the droid factory and core ships.
Reha watched Jace until he threw the stub of tobacco into the sand, stomped on it and slid his helmet back on.
He was on Asher's strike team, and she could feel a new emotion coming from him.
Pure and raw determination.