Hey guys it's able, messed up and posted this chapter too soon, so if you read this one there is a chapter prior to this that I failed to post. The error is fixed now. My bad :(
Thanks for reading.
Mimban.
"Get me a count of wounded!" Asher grit as he withdrew a hypo and jammed it into his neck.
"I've got six." Dice warbled, pulling his helmet off to spit scarlet onto the mud, he'd taken a rifle stock to the jaw.
Asher cursed as his brother spat again, this time a shattered tooth.
"A full twelve." Walker muttered, slapping a new power pack into his weapon.
"Vod lemme look at that." Jace said as he gently assessed Walker's bleeding neck.
"Just a love bite from a knife vod I'm fine." Walker grit.
"Brother respectfully, shut your karking mouth and let me work." Jace said firmly.
The infantry officer sighed and craned his neck so Jace could see.
"Walker, Dice, I want the wounded moved inside that house." Asher advised, gesturing toward the one he and Jace had found their food.
"Roger that." Dice nodded.
Walker gave a thumbs up through a grimace as Jace cleaned his wound. A tube of wound sealant, "Trooper glue." Was applied through the cut, Walker grit his teeth as it heated and cured.
The sealant was the closest they'd get to stitches in a pinch. Painful to apply but when it bonded to skin it was like a cut never happened.
Their wounded were brought inside the house, furniture was upturned to make room for floor space.
"How many KIA?" Asher asked.
"Ten from Hammer company." Sergeant Gee said walking up, his voice tinged with sadness.
"Got five here from Sword co." Sergeant Trace reported.
Asher sighed and shook his head, one was already too many.
"Get them covered up inside that house there." Asher bid, gesturing to a smaller squat building, "Police up their ammo and ordnance."
"Yes sir." Both NCO's affirmed, conveying his orders via their own comm channel.
"Archangel-five to Mudjumper-five, how me? Over." He asked into the comm.
There was a moment of silence as he kills his mic and the radio blared static.
"C'mon answer me." Asher grit.
His comm chirped.
"Archangel-five this is Mudjumper I read you Lima Charlie over."
"Mudjumper be advised, we are holding out but outgunned and outnumbered. They almost overran us last time, I don't think we can hold out, over."
There was another moment of tense silence, was Hoyt finding the words? Finding a way to say what Asher already felt in his bones.
His comm chirped and the Commander spoke.
"Archangel-five, your orders are the same, hold position. Not one step back, over."
Asher stared at the battered hillside and clenched his jaw. Night would be upon them soon, knowing their opposition, they'd be hampered well into dawn.
"Roger Mudjumper," Asher spat, "Likelihood of reinforcement? Over."
"Zero, you're not the only one with hard contact. You'll just have to hold on until my men and the five-oh-first break through to you, over."
"Roger Mudjumper, Archangel-five out." Asher growled.
Never before had a brother's face felt so worthy of punching.
"Gee," Asher began, "Get your men setting up those trip flares ahead of the swarm mines when night falls."
"Yes sir." His brother nodded.
Gee was on Geonosis with the rest of them, he still had that planet with him both mentally like all the other veterans and very literally.
Pieces of Geonosian rock would be inside of him for the rest of his life, an unfortunate natural shrapnel from droid bombardments.
As the sun dipped down and night blanketed Mimban the thunder came with it. The rain began like it had many a time before, and it came hard. Visibility would be almost zero if not for their night vision.
The ground was littered with chemlights, pale orange glowing amidst the gloom.
"We've almost bled through all our ordnance. Low on rockets and are almost through the mortar rounds." Dice explained with a quick glance of his datapad.
"Not looking so hot on medical supplies either, each medic we've got has an aid bag stocked to his own specs. Gonna be thinned out on everything from here on out." Jace explained, spooning some canned stew into his mouth.
They'd formed up for a meeting inside one of the houses. The heater was on to ward off the night chill, Gee and his men had set the mines and trip flares, bodies acting as perfect cover for the tripwire.
Asher had found his appetite after the day of fighting, the canned food they'd found had been a breath of fresh air on this rotten planet.
His command team had done the same, the house was lit sparsely for light discipline, some smoked, ate or cleaned their weapons in this moment of calm.
"From what orbital recon got us they're camped out about a mile to the East." Walker intoned.
The small holomap projector was already in the center of the table they'd claimed. The topographic map showing in blue of where they were and where the enemy was located in red.
"I don't think they'll hit us tonight, no point in his kind of storm." Dice sighed lighting a cigarra and passing one to Jace.
"Then what? We could take the chance and make a break for our lines." Sergeant Trace suggested.
"Not in his weather vod, wouldn't work out in our favor with most of the wounded being litter bound." Jace reminded.
Asher pressed his lips into a firm line, they'd pulled riskier before. But if they left their cover they'd be screwed if they faced enemy fire.
They were outnumbered still, and while the idea of retreating was tantalizing he did have his orders.
"Not one step back." Asher mused eying the map.
Asher looked to the empty space that Cutter should've occupied and sighed. He missed his brother dearly, his perspective would've been vital right now.
If it hadn't been for that stupid mission.
"So what we dig in and wait to be slaughtered?" Gee spat.
"No, but we have the tactical advantage right now, it'd be foolish to leave it." Dice responded.
"Tactical advantage by virtue of position, not by munitions." Walker reminded.
Asher's mind was already on Cutter, and he glanced about the room.
"Usually I take lead but at this point?" Asher looked to his left and right, "Anybody have any ideas that don't end in us being killed?"
"We don't have the rockets for another armored column." Dice reminded, "So a straight up attack on their camp is out.
"Or the personnel." Jace said taking a drag, "We've got maybe sixty men now."
Silence and tension dominated the room, and Asher pulled the cigarra pack banded to his bicep. He perched the smoke to his lips, lighting it and taking a desperate drag.
He had nothing and it seemed his men didn't either until he saw Gee's face brighten.
"I have an idea." Gee piped up, "What if I bought us some breathing room? Leveled the playing field?"
Asher gestured in invitation.
"Sergeant Gee the floor is yours."
The Clone Sergeant moved to the center of the table, half his face scarred by Geonosian explosives. Despite the scars his smile was bright.
"What if we destroyed their armor before they became a problem?" Gee asked.
"Start making sense vod." Jace snorted.
"Look, out there it's a flood, you can't see ten feet in front of you without macros on. What if we had a team go to their camp and sabotage their tanks?"
"We don't have charges for that or even the rockets for that kind of shock and awe." Dice said for the umpteenth time.
"I'm not saying blow them up, some of you need to learn some karking subtlety." Gee grunted, "We have a slew of those marking beacons don't we?"
"And I said to start making sense." Jace snarked once more.
Gee sent a sour look to Jace but continued.
"What I'm saying is, we can't call arty in this weather, the cannon cockers won't risk it with their rounds getting wet."
"So you're going to what? Hard mark their tanks?" Jace asked with a look if irritation.
"Do you have a better idea?" Gee challenged.
Jace sighed and held his head in his hands.
It was a gamble, a huge gamble, he might lose another brother if he authorized this. Asher clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, he wished the Jedi were here or Cutter.
If he took it, he'd lose more men, if he didn't he might lose all of them.
He didn't want to, but he'd have to, Hoyt had tasked his unit for actions that were inherently insane.
Perhaps a little insanity was what they needed.
"What is it you need then?" Asher asked.
"I need ten good brothers." Gee grinned, "And as many of the swarm mines that we can spare."
Rikke Vix was awoken by the sound of explosions.
She ran outside, snagging her helmet as she moved. Like many of her people she'd slept in her armor.
As soon as she exited her tent she heard the metallic click of a pin being pulled and she turned in horror.
A swarm mine sat at the foot of her shelter, the glaring words of "FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY." Staring her in the face.
But it didn't go off.
Her heart thundered behind her beskar cuirass. Was it a dud? A mess up at the GAR's factory? Or was it a delay?
Nothing happened.
She knelt and inspected the device with an air of caution. The wire was connected but the device wasn't armed.
Someone did this on purpose.
"Mother!"
Dade jogged up while she took in the carnage. By the Weequay tents there were scarlet smears and blackened ground from the explosives that had been set.
"The clones got into the perimeter, killed the sentries last night and planted karking mines by the tents!"
Swarm mines, she'd heard of them before, it had turned the first men out of the tents into paste.
The Mandalorian woman should be a husk of meat and beskar, but why not?
"Stars and galaxies…" Dade muttered as he took in what she knelt beside.
"They set the mine but didn't arm it." She said flatly.
This was a message, in the old times, a Mandalorian warrior would throw down a gauntlet to challenge an offender. This mine was Captain Asher's challenge it seemed.
"How many dead?" She asked as she reached to once more ensure the mine was disarmed.
"Mines shredded the guys closest to the entrance, minor shrapnel for some others but maybe only a dozen dead." Dade explained, "One of the sentries from last night is missing."
Rikke frowned, missing? Or dead somewhere?
The Weequay leader, Jero Kaskor strode up, his leathery face a scowl.
"I want blood." He growled.
Rikke's visor measured him critically from here crouch, he seem unbothered by the mine left for her.
"You'll have it, get the tanks set." Rikke nodded as she stood.
"The Clones are as good as dead." He chuckled.
She nodded and the Weequay moved to his people.
Tora joined her shortly thereafter, watching the Weequay retreat.
"That guy creeps me out." Tora muttered.
"His clan believes in battle for the sake of it, they don't care if they die." Rikke explained, "Leads to some… interesting prospects."
"Perfect cannon fodder." Dade mused.
"They breached our perimeter during the storm and set mines at the sleeping area, guards had their throats slit. Clearly they're sending us a message." Tora said as she crossed her arms.
"The message is clear," Rikke hissed, "They're not going to give up, in fact… I believe they're taunting us."
The AAT tanks stood at about a dozen strong, all they had left after the Clones had repelled the last few attempts.
To be blunt, the Weequay crewing them barely knew how to do so, but they were effective enough.
Tank crews hopped into their vehicles, they revved their engines and did their pre-combat checks before they'd shuffle out.
There was a pregnant pause for a nanosecond before a series of booms, almost like thunder echoed miles away.
A dull whine, followed by the faint roar of shells as they arched high and sliced through the air with a high pitched whistle as they came down.
"Kriff! Artillery!" Tora cried hitting the dirt.
HE shells came down hard, careening right into the tanks as they readied their column. Every blow from the shells onto the tanks was like a hammer being slammed onto them.
The tanks detonated one by one before they could taxi out. Chaos set in as the vehicles blew, it dawned on Rikke then what the clones had done.
Mines had been set, but they'd never been the goal. They were only bait. It was a ploy to goad them into their armor and to attack.
Weequay mercenaries bailed from their vehicles screaming as the flames melted their skin. They rolled on the mud, but the damage had been done.
Some tanks had been split down the middle, cleaved open heavy armor like nothing as the occupants inside were reduced to ash. Others were flaming hulks perforated with HE, the stench of burning meat and hair carried by the blackened smoke.
It was a mad scramble to aid the wounded, assess the damages as the early dawn sky was licked by the flames of the ruined AAT's.
The Mandalorians struggled to their feet, their limbs felt heavy after the force from the shelling. Craters lined the muddy ground, decimated tents lay in heaps all over.
Rikke could only think of one thing as the Clone's plan truly sank in.
"Not bad Clone… not bad…" She muttered.
Blood flowed into the muddy puddles, tinging the murky water scarlet as a Weequay, cut in half from the explosions let loose his final breath.
"Archangel-five to Hard Rain, positive splash over." Asher blared through the comm.
"Roger that Archangel, Hard Rain out."
Asher stowed his binoculars and smirked. Smoke stacks ran high into the air and that could only mean success.
"Well done ner vod." Asher said to Gee.
"Someone had to guide you all back to the true path." The Sergeant said, playfully giving a two fingered salute.
"Let's go see what our guest has to say." Asher said simply, turning on his heel.
Gee had thought it pertinent to take a prisoner, one of the sentries from last night.
They strode into one of the houses, their prisoner's wrists bound to a chair as one of the Infantry Clones, Torch, sent his fist into the jaw of the Weequay.
The alien coughed, spitting scarlet onto the floor as it rasped and choked. Yellowing teeth clattered to the floor amongst the droplets of blood.
"Get anything out of him?" Asher asked.
"Negative sir, di'kut won't say anything." Torch grunted wiping blood from his gauntlet.
Asher pulled a chair close to his foe, purposely dragging the legs of it against the ground. It was a psychological effect and the Weequay flinched at the loud noise.
He sat across from the prisoner and leaned into him.
"You know who I am?" He asked.
"Some dead man." The Weequay hissed.
Asher's eyes narrowed.
"How many of your men were left before our little gift?" He asked simply.
"Go sit on a bantha horn." The Weequay spat.
"This doesn't have to be difficult." Asher whispered, "You know we're a medical unit right?"
The Weequay glared hate through almond shaped eyes.
"That means there's so many ways we can hurt you, and you'll never die." Asher mused, standing to circle his prisoner.
The Weequay's gaze darted left and right as Asher stood behind him.
"You don't scare me clone." The Weequay muttered.
Asher believed him.
"I suppose it doesn't matter, you lot will keep coming and we'll just keep on killing." Asher sighed, "Even if we all die, I plan on wiping your clan from the face of the galaxy."
The Weequay snorted, spat blood that careened right into Asher's visor.
"We'll keep coming until we slaughter you all! Like we did these pathetic mud people!" The Weequay hissed.
His visor's systems wiped away the blood with a sweeping roll of plasma but Asher could still only see red.
"What did you say?"
"You… and all your brothers will be sacrificed to Quay! Just like them!" The Weequay barked, "Your souls to honor the gods!"
The Clones surrounding the prisoner were a mix of tensed muscle, clenched fists and grit teeth. Hands tightened around blasters as black visors stared malice at the Weequay mercenary.
Asher said nothing, unlike his brothers who's minds raced with dozens of scenarios of violence they could dole out to their guest he'd already made up his mind.
It had once felt odd to kill organics, wet targets didn't go down like droids after all.
But as Asher drew his pistol and sent a bolt through the alien's forehead the sensation was like stepping on a bug.
The galaxy felt cleaner somehow.
Smoke wafted from the muzzle of his sidearm, Torch removed his helmet just to spit on the corpse.
"Get this trash over the cliff." Asher growled.
Torch nodded and hefted the body.
"Contact incoming!" A clone shouted from outside.
Asher bolted outside in time to see a lone figure soaring through the air. The shriek of thrusters echoing through the humid air.
The Mandalorian landed on the spot that they'd stood when Asher met them the first time, her arms crossed as she reached her full height.
"Captain Asher!" She called.
He joined the line and gauged his opponent critically.
"Orders boss?" Walker asked.
"Hold fire, but don't let up security, full three-sixty."
"Yes sir, hold fire!" Walker cried.
He lay his rifle down and advanced toward the Mandalorian Warrior. Her visor measuring him with curiosity.
It was the daughter, Tora.
"Su cuy'gar." She greeted as he halted.
Asher remained silent, hands resting on his belt.
"If you're not here to offer terms of surrender I'm not interested." He growled.
"Funny, I was going to offer you the same thing." She jested.
"You and I both know that's not going to happen, last night not a clear enough answer?"
She shrugged.
"Can't blame a girl for trying, we're actually quite impressed." She explained, "It'd be a shame to see such talented warriors die for this hill."
"Is that all?" He said, cutting the conversation short.
"Captain if you don't surrender you and your men will not see tomorrow." She said seriously.
His hand hovered over his pistol.
"I could say the same to you." He growled..
"I just speak facts." She explained, "If you surrender your men won't be harmed."
His hand relaxed, his visor stared her down as his voice gained its edge.
"If you were in my position would you?" He asked, "Would you surrender?"
Her head tilted to the side, Mimban's scarcely seen sun glinting off the black of her visor.
"No, never."
Asher's jaw clenched as she turned to take her leave. The words clawed their way up his throat, did they know? Did they truly know who they'd sent at them?
Only one way to find out.
"You know they did it right?" He stated.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Who did what?" She asked, peering over her shoulder.
"The Weequay, they slaughtered this village, a sacrifice to their god." Asher spat, venom lacing his words.
The Mandalorian's visor betrayed no emotion, but Asher had spent his entire life learning body language through armor.
"You said you were in it for credits not for politics, but you lay your head last night with murderers." Asher crossed his arms, "You probably thought it was the droids eh?"
She said nothing.
"You call yourself Mando'a." He growled, "Send another wave and then another, if those mercs want souls for their god they'll have to earn ours."
Her visor stared right through him, he didn't miss it when her fists clenched at her side.
Her jets roared as she flew off.
The Medic Captain turned on his heel and moved back to his men.
"So, they surrendering?" Jace jested.
"Nope, you'll have better odds of being elected Chancellor than that happening." Asher sighed.
"Hey maybe I should be Chancellor." Jace snorted, his smirk audible.
Asher snagged his rifle and heard distant blaster fire it persisted for a brief moment before the silence dominated once more.
"Get ready boys!" Asher shouted.
His men were already in place but they did their last second checks quickly, power packs checked and ordnance staged.
The Weequay crested the hill en masse, no tanks but a few skiffs and speeder bikes. Their hollering louder than before as dozens become hundreds.
They just kept coming, more than the last few waves.
The familiar scream of jet packs rang through the sky once more as three Mandalorians flew right at them.
Asher expected rockets, blaster bolts, anything. But nothing ever came.
"Hold fire!" He shouted.
The order echoed as the Mandalorians touched down, the two siblings lead by the mother. Their boots squished onto the mud as the lead woman strode forward.
His brothers didn't fire but they didn't take their weapons off of the Mandalorians for even an instant.
"What are you doing here?" Asher growled.
Rikke held her hands up and they were spattered with gore.
"With recent circumstances… we've decided our contract with the Separatists is no longer profitable… financially or morally."
The words sank in and Asher turned to Jace who simply shrugged. His gaze went past the Mandalorians at the throng of Weequay mercenaries.
"Why come here then? Why not just hightail it to orbit?" Asher asked.
Rikke's smile was felt despite him being unable to see it.
"Come now vod'ika, I would never allow Mando'ade to be slaughtered like animals on some muddy hill."
Asher's jaw clenched.
"If we didn't need all the help we can get…" Jace sighed, "Who's blood is that?"
Rikke extended wrist blades in her gauntlets, meat hanging from them.
"Their leader." She affirmed as she retracted them with a metallic click.
"You'll answer for this if we survive." Asher affirmed stoutly.
"I expect nothing less vod'ika." Rikke chuckled, "Where do you want us?"
"Shock and awe, stay inside the lines until I say, then bring the pain. You're under my command now."
"You got it." Rikke said simply, nodding to her children who joined the line, "You heard him my lovelies… shock and awe."
Tora walked up to Asher and gave him a friendly punch on the arm.
He simply stared and she passed somewhat dejectedly.
The Captain shook his head.
"Ner vod… we're in deep aren't we?" Jace asked as the Weequay's chants grew louder and louder.
"Is there ever a moment where we aren't?"
The enemy charged.
The radio blared with chatter and Reha linked her frowned with worry.
Asher and his men had been cut off for too long. They'd held well but besides air and artillery support were very much on their own.
Her master strode in, her brow furrowed and her eyes filled with dread.
"Come with me to the CP Padawan, I would have words with Commander Hoyt."
Reha snagged her helmet and slid it on, Nero and Kincaid following them.
The CP was abuzz with activity, Hoyt was leaned over the holomap, the only blue marker in a sea of red was Asher's position.
"Atten-tion!" A clone cried.
"At ease." Rig Nema intoned.
"Ma'am." Hoyt greeted.
"Commander," Master Nema said, "What is the status of my men?"
"A mercenary company has been keeping them in a small village a few klicks North. They have orders to hold it." He explained.
Reha frowned behind her helmet.
"And why haven't you gone to support them?" Her master asked.
"My men are stripped as is, same with he five-oh-first. They're lucky they have the support that they do have."
"They've been on the verge of being overrun since they took that town. Why have them hold it?" Reha spat.
Hoyt's eyes narrowed from his spot.
"Because that is the most ground we've taken the entire time here."
"But they cannot hold it! If it's ground we've gained go help them keep it!" Reha snapped.
"I can't!" The Clone growled, "I've lost thousands here, a few hundred others? I cannot risk many for the sake of a few. They have to hold out until we gain more ground, once we reach their distance we will move to support."
"If you won't send men, then I will take mine to support them." Master Nema affirmed.
"Ma'am you and yours are to maintain the aid stations. We still have wounded." The Commander reminded stiffly.
"Tell me," The Jedi Master began, "Besides it being territory taken, what value is that town?"
Hoyt sighed.
"The town's tactical value, is very little in the grand scheme of it all."
The tension settled in like a fog, and Reha felt to emotions of Nero and Kincaid turn darker.
"You sent my brothers to hold a spit of land that isn't even worth having?!?" Kincaid roared.
Hoyt stood straighter, puffing out his chest to pronounce the commander's rank pinned to his armor.
"As you were Lieutenant." The Commander hissed.
"No, screw that, we're going to get them." Nero shot back.
"My men were meant to rendezvous with yours but the tinnies looped around and kept us in their trench lines. Do you think I want to leave them there? If I could send men I would, but if I lose a few hundred on top of the thousands already gone to take this rock, so be it." Hoyt slammed a palm flat on the table.
Master Nema shook her head in disbelief.
"I outrank you commander, I am going to get my men out of there." She snapped.
"If you leave, more will die unattended ma'am. You are the best chance for our wounded, as soon as the ground forces make their way out of the lines they will move to support Captain Asher and that is final."
Reha watched her master cross her arms and leave the tent without a word.
The Zeltron Padawan moved to follow.
Nero and Kincaid glared disgust through their visors at Hoyt before they joined their Jedi.
"Master?" Reha called.
The Jedi Doctor let loose a shaky exhale.
"He's right, if we leave more men will die." She affirmed.
"But master it's…" Reha murmured, "It's Asher… him and the boys they… they need help."
"I know young one… I know."
Nero clenched a fist, and she could feel Kincaid's seething emotions bubbling beneath the surface.
"I will not leave my brothers out there." Nero spat.
"Me neither." Kincaid chimed in.
Reha turned to the clones and back at her master.
"Give me all the men we can spare, I'll go to him." Reha said firmly.
"Padawan no-"
"You always told me the day may come when I won't be able to rely on you Master. Maybe this is it, my final test." The Zeltron Jedi stood just a little taller even though her stomach was doing somersaults with fear.
Her Master sighed once more and lay her hands firmly on her shoulders.
"I had always known one day you'd outgrow me… I just wish it was under better circumstances." Her Master smiled sadly, "Do not ask me to send you out there."
"You don't have to, I want to, let me take whatever men we can spare and get our boys home." Reha insisted.
Her master closed her eyes gently and nodded.
"Nero, Kincaid, leave me enough medics to man the aid station and take whoever you can find to support Captan Asher."
"Yes ma'am." Both clones barked, running off to rally their troopers.
The Jedi Master looked at her Padawan with a mix of pride and worry.
"I am so proud of you Reha… may the Force be with you." Master Nema said, "Take this, it was with Cutter's gear."
A lightsaber was put into her hand, where did Cutter find this of all things?
"It belonged to Master Actus Set, the Mud Jumper's general… Cutter must've found it when he crossed over."
Reha hefted the blade in her hand and her master gave her shoulder one last squeeze before she took her leave. Reha moved for the trench entrance to wait for her task force.
Hopefully they gave her enough time to stop the shaking in her legs.
Bombers flew overhead, low and fast as they roared over the trenches.
The Zeltron Jedi knew exactly where they were headed.
"Lay it down!" Asher roared without hesitation.
Blue laser fire zipped forward, joined by the yellow bolts of the Mandalorian weapons. The Weequay fired back as they moved in three-to-five second rushes.
"Let them get close before you rip into them with the Zulu-sixes!" Asher boomed.
The opposition bounded from shell crater to shell crater, smoke grenades covering their advance as they moved.
To Asher's right, a grenadier pumped the action on his weapon and sent a round right at a cluster of speeder bikes.
He took a knee and opened his comm to the pilot's channel.
"Archangel-five to Thunder-one, how me? Over!" He shouted.
"Archangel-five this is Thunder-one, I read you Lima-Charlie, over."
"Requesting high priority ordnance, on my head, danger close! Coordinates linked over!"
There was a pause before Thunder-one spoke as the coordinates fed via his HUD. He couldn't spare the moment to read it manually, not with their opposition closing in. He just hoped the marker he'd set was far enough away, it was already too close for comfort.
"Roger Archangel, party starts in five mikes. High explosive followed by snake and nape. Puff the Magic Krayt Dragon right behind, callsign Broadside-one over."
"Roger that Thunder-one, just keep Puff off of my pos' stick to the perimeter, Archangel-five out!"
A bolt rang against Tora's beskar plates and she dove for cover right next to him.
"Puff the Magic Krayt Dragon?!?" She cried in confusion, executing a cooling flush on her pistols.
"I won't spoil the surprise!" He shouted.
He rose and leveled his rifle on his cover and rejoined the fray.
Weequay were cut down in droves, but numbers were beginning to overwhelm them.
They kept their loose advance, a full wave attack of organic opposition. It wasn't like before with the probing they'd done for days. They were intent on taking this village.
Asher got his sight picture and sent a round into the torso of one, and finished him with a shot to the head in a quick double tap.
"Archangel this is Thunder-one, keep your head down. Arc light, one minute out over."
"Incoming!" Asher shouted, the word echoed up down the line.
The fighters had made their presence known in a shriek of jet stream but the bombers did in a dull rumble. The engines groaned as they came overhead, the PTB-625's sweeping lower lower.
The canisters let loose from the lead flight of bombers, the payload careening straight to the ground in beautiful mushroom clouds of high explosive ordnance.
Where Weequay stood, black smoke replaced them as the bubble of force from each explosion made Mimban tremble. The air was sucked out of everyone's lungs from sheer force alone and that was only half of what Asher had called in.
The second wave of bombers swept in, their own drop coming in fast.
High leaping fire swept forth like a curtain, five hundred meters it spread as it billowed black smoke and torched any in it's path. The Weequay burned worse than they had when he called in the Willie Pete. Screams echoed like a broken choir as they tried to douse the flames, the jellied substance sticking to them and melting through flesh.
"Keep the pressure on!" Asher commanded.
High explosive bombing, and a napalm strike halved their numbers. But they still had them beat two-to-one.
And they were closing in.
Asher hefted his rifle as they crossed the threshold. The trip flares announced their arrival like fireworks on the Chancellor's Election Day. The Swarm mines set just behind them turning the lead party into nothing but red mist and a memory.
But it only killed a few, dozens charged through the gore.
Enemy fire came forth in droves, and the cries of desperation rang in Asher's ears from around him and through his comm.
"I'm hit!"
"Medic!"
"I'm almost out! Last pack!"
"Black on ammo!"
He fought instinct, that word, that Force forsaken word…
Jace peeled off in Asher's peripheral, and got to work out of sight.
The rotary cannon closest to him overheated, barrels glowing an angry vulcan red and it gave the Weequay mercenaries just the breathing room they needed to lob a grenade that clattered beneath the tripod mount.
"Grenade!" One clone cried.
In desperation, one of them took the explosive as it beeped into oblivion and covered it with his body.
It detonated, armor shattering and the body underneath exploding out in a swell of gore. Asher was knocked to his back by the force of it, pain searing through him where his armor didn't cover.
He looked down, white bone sticking out of his arm. Did he break it on the impact?
His ears rang, his heart hammering in his chest, the world was still and the battle was background noise as he timidly touched what he thought was his shattered humerus bone.
It wasn't his, it curved too much.
He wanted to vomit, to scream, to beg for the battle to be over when he realized that it was one of the trooper's ribs that had been blasted out from that Clone's sacrifice. Meat hung stringy from the ruined muscle that surrounded the bone.
Gritting his teeth he wrenched it out, and got his mind back in the fight. His rifle was gone, where? He didn't know.
Now they were right on top of them.
A Weequay bounded over the berm, weapon held high, his bayonet gleaming in the sunlight. The alien brought it down with a wild howl that Asher barely dodged.
He reached for the closest weapon he could, his mind and pulse at a lightyear a minute. His hand found purchase along something solid and he swung it with all the strength a punctured arm could.
The GAR standard issue entrenching tool was like a blade if need be. The edge of it cleaving open the mercenary's throat almost to his spine. It wasn't clean, the edge was dull and it tore more than it cut. His enemy gurgled, falling to his knees as he sputtered on his own crimson.
The first blow would kill the Weequay certainly but the Medic Captain hefted the shovel and brought it down like an axe and cleaved open the alien's skull.
It had been hand to hand before but this was worse, animal, he swung the shovel's flat end and clotheslined another. He held the tool high and brought it down with a roar, the edge breaking ribs and splitting open the hostile's chest cavity.
Blood spattered onto his armor as the Weequay's arteries jetted blood out, Jace pulled a pistol and returned fire as he dragged his casualty into their CCP. Walker hefted the white hot barrel of a DC-15W and jammed it straight into the gut of his foe. He slammed his hand on the buttstock and forced it deeper to floor his opponent. The barrel melting into his enemy's guts, the screaming never ceased as the alien futilely grabbed at the weapon and melted his hands in desperation.
Gee tackled another, bringing his fist down over and over again on a bleeding face.
Dice headbutt his opponent and rammed his knife under the mercenaries chin, the long blade going up into the roof of the alien's mouth.
A Weequay tried to crawl away from Trace before the Sergeant grabbed them by the braid, cupped the alien's head and twisted until the kicking stopped.
This wasn't a battle anymore, it was survival.
An infantry Clone was decapitated by a vibrosword, another shot several times before he was brought to his knees. His men were falling all around him, and he feared he'd follow suit soon as a blaster bolt narrowly missed his head.
The Mandalorians let loose their flamethrowers, fire roaring out but only buying them time. When the fuel ran out the largest of the three, Dade brought out a vibroaxe and almost cut his enemy in half where the neck met the shoulder.
Their mother, Rikke extended her wrist blades and joined her son, while Tora flew up to lay down fire from the air.
The Clone Captain brought up his weapon to parry a bayonet and swung it low, catching the Weequay's knee. He dropped the shovel and drew his knife, the blade being thrust once… twice… three… four times into his enemy's heart. He felt ribs being forced aside by the blade.
Every strike of his knife killed more and more of his civilized self. The Weequay's sick gurgle ringing out after every desperate scream as she feebly pawed at his armored body.
He wasn't a soldier anymore, none of them were, he was an animal, a beast, a butcher, a killer just like the Kaminoans wanted.
His comm chirped but he barely heard it as the Weequay's soft blows stopped and her screams were silenced with a rattling exhale.
"Arc…gel….ive….th….is…. Broadside….. over."
What?
He listened intently, lost in his own world, the slaughter raging around him. More opposition charged the open field in massive clusters of bloodthirsty warriors.
"Archangel-five this is Broadside-one, Puff the Magic Krayt Dragon beginning pass over."
Beams of green laser came forth and swept wide like the strokes of a paintbrush.
Men were cut down like wheat to a scythe as the craft circled the field.
Puff the Magic Krayt Dragon, a CR-20 troop carrier refitted as a gunship. Four LAAT/i laser turrets all pointing out it's left side and rained a God's judgement upon their enemy.
The four turrets turned left to right as they swept the beams across the field. The Clones finally found their feet and began to overwhelm the opposition within their line.
Shouts and screams echoed from their enemy as they retreated, numbers cut down to thirds and the troopers lay more fire down on their retreating enemy.
"That's right! Burn them all!" Walker shouted, letting loose a stream of blue laser.
Even as they fled, Puff ate well, it's guns stopping men dead in their tracks.
Asher finally relaxed but only as much as an adrenaline high would allow. His skin itched and burned from his neck all the way down his spine. His hands shook and trembled as he wiped the blade of his knife against his thigh.
"Archangel-five this is Broadside-one, guns overheated and fuel low. Good luck down there vod, Broadside-one out."
The gunship did another full loop and jetted off into the distance.
To his horror, the Weequay weren't retreating they were regrouping. They were tactically disadvantaged numerically and by terrain. They still outnumbered him and his men but his confidence was not high.
The Clone Captain had hoped that the air support would've sent them running but it only seemed to fuel the religious fervor of their opposition.
"Ammo count!" Asher commanded.
Walker and Dice moved to get their numbers as Asher took in the opposition.
A solid company worth of Weequay mercenaries formed up, hefting their weapons and intent on finally taking this village.
"Aw man." Jace sighed as he rejoined Asher, arms slumping at his side as he took in the enemy.
The Mandalorians flanked him as well, keenly eying their opposition.
"The odds aren't good." Rikke sighed.
"This is your time to leave, this isn't your fight." Asher reminded, "You can cut and run now."
Rikke laughed, a hearty musical sound.
"And miss out on this? I think not."
Asher only shrugged, but smiled slightly.
"This is probably gonna be it." He whispered.
"Ammo count red overall sir, some men are completely black." Dice intoned.
"Scavenge what you can off the dead, if you have to use hostile weapons so be it."
"Yes sir." Dice responded.
Asher knelt and grabbed a fallen DC-15 carbine, checking the power pack and clenching his jaw as he saw it was half full.
"You're bleeding vod." Jace reminded.
Asher glanced at his arm, the wound from the bone shrapnel seeped over the white of his armor.
"Lemme help with that." Jace said, withdrawing a small injector gun from his belt and filling the hole with bacta foam.
It stung like ants in his blood stream but it would seal the wound well enough to stop the bleeding.
"You've got more but they're small, they'll have to wait." Jace explained.
"Might not matter soon." Asher said darkly.
He ignored the exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, the thunder in his heart and the screaming in his ears.
"Stand to!" Asher announced, what was left of his men coming forth, most wounded, some not.
There were no chants from the Weequay Mercenaries. They stared with grim determination. For them it seemed, a Pyrrhic victory was still a victory.
"We're almost out of everything sir." Walker murmured.
"Everything we've got, they want this hill they're going to have to earn it." Asher growled.
Asher hefted the carbine, and turned to his left and right.
"An army of one man!" He called.
"But the right man for the job!" His remaining troopers echoed.
Weapons aimed, the Medic Captain zeroed in on his target as they charged.
He squeezed the trigger and a bolt flew true into the chest of a hapless lowlife. His men using his own shot as a cue to do the same. Their weapons sang until the worst possible phrase could be said, up and down their feeble defense.
"I'm out!"
He fired bolt after bolt, until the carbine sputtered and died. He discarded it and drew his pistol, he still had plenty left to go.
Perhaps a god was listening, or the Force the Jedi spoke of so reverently, but the chirp of his comm was more beautiful than anything in the universe as he fired his sidearm.
"Archangel-Five this is Archangel-Six, support inbound, how me over?"
Commander Sul?
The telltale thump of grenade launchers broke through, grenades landing into the throng of mercenaries.
Commander Reha Sul leapt over the hill to the Weequay's flank, dual lightsabers igniting in her hands, one green and one blue.
And she was not alone, the familiar paint schemes of Nero and Kincaid followed behind her, a solid two platoons of fresh troopers leveled their weapons and opened up.
From where he stood, Reha cut into the opposition with a scalpel's precision, her movements like a dance. Their avenging angel escorted by warriors clad in white.
He stopped firing in awe of it, it seemed impossible.
"Archangel-six this is Archangel-five I read you Lima Charlie!" Asher hollered.
The men cheered, whooping and hollering as their Commander laid waste to the foes all around her, deflecting blaster bolts with ease as she cut enemy after enemy down with her swords made of fire.
Asher grinned, hefted his pistol and on shaky legs ascended the cover emplacement.
"Let's give our Commander a warm welcome boys!" He boomed and ran into the carnage.
His men gave a collective roar as they did the same, sprinting into the battle.
For too long they'd been on the defense, it sickened him, and now they had the momentum they needed.
The first Weequay he shot, was just another kill closer to ending this.
"They've finally pushed the droids back sir, clankers are on the run."
"Very good." Hoyt nodded, finishing his third cup of caff.
His eyes canned the holotable disdainfully, so many dead, others dying. And a battalion's Captain trapped with nowhere to go.
"Uh sir?" A Clone outside the tent called, "You might want to come see this!"
Hoyt grabbed his bucket as he exited the tent and almost dropped it in shock.
Captain Asher limped into view as the head man on a litter with his men not far behind. His armor was tinged with mud and blood, the men that had been with him were all in similar states. Walking wounded kept the pace with the help of a healthy trooper, arms slung over shoulders.
Litter bound casualties were in the dozens, peeling off toward the aid stations. Hoyt's heart tore when he saw the body bags being carried to the mortuary tent.
"Captain Asher?" Hoyt called.
Asher gestured to a trooper who took his spot carrying litter and the Captain moved to the 224th's Commander.
Hoyt's disbelief was replaced with disdain.
"Captain Asher I ordered you to hold that position."
The Captain closed the distance.
"A position with no tactical viability." He spat, venom laced in his voice.
"You had orders to-"
A fist collided with Hoyt's jaw, sending him into the mud.
Asher stood over him, the fallen Commander's clones moving to intercept the Medic Captain.
"I wouldn't boys." Jace growled, his blood smeared armor giving them pause.
Hoyt spat blood into the murky ground and glanced up at Asher with burning rage in his eyes.
Asher seethed, his fists clenched, the wounds he suffered burned with agony at the sudden movement. He wanted to scream his throat raw at Hoyt, to make him pay for the needless losses he'd suffered.
He just couldn't find the words.
Asher turned from the Commander and stomped to his unit's AO.
The Medic Captain took a spot at the apex of the aid stations and helped triage the casualties. He had to make sure everyone under him got treatment.
General Nema tried to usher him in ahead of everyone else and he refused.
And when the last immediate patient was flown out on Showtime's bird, then and only then did Asher allow himself to get treated.
"Let's see what we have here." Nero said simply as Asher peeled his bodysuit off.
Nero gingerly wiped at the wounds, fingers palpating gently at the ones that littered his upper body where his plates didn't cover.
"I… feel something here." The Clone Lieutenant said.
"Shrapnel?" Asher asked.
"Let's see…"
Nero withdrew some forceps, lifted open the skin where it began to fold onto itself just below his delt.
He stuck in the instrument and Asher clenched a fist.
"Got it." Nero smirked.
When he pulled it out, the two of them went silent.
Held in the warm light of the tent, tinged with blood but still white was a human tooth.
"Stars and galaxies…" Nero whispered.
Asher looked down at his naked torso, where many more similar wounds sat at the gaps of his armor.
The clone that had given his life for his brothers came to mind immediately, when they'd policed up his body he was mangled, his entire front a mess of shattered bone and armor. They couldn't even identify him.
By Asher's reckoning, the shrapnel inside him could've been anything, rocks, metal, pieces of armor, bone or teeth.
His arms shook in horror, his breath sped up along with his heart that he struggled to calm. His throat tightened and he almost gagged at the sight of all the weeping wounds. He gave Nero a pleading look that made his demands known without words.
Pull it all out.
Nero only nodded, gave Asher's shoulder a squeeze and got to work.
Thanks for reading :)