Hello, my fantabulous readers! I'm back with a new chapter after a small delay. Squeezing in a couple of chapters before another show this weekend. We'll have the sideshow, sales booth, magic acts and the Indestructible Man, a magnificent human who can lay upon a bed of nails as a cinderblock is broken over his chest! We'll have the old circus organ going too, with traditional fair music. I'm stoked about this one, because with multiple acts and attractions, I get to wear my red coat and top hat. Not that I'm vain at all about that...(In low voice) Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for...
All that said, prepare yourselves for the epic battle scene you've been awaiting. This one will be Star Wars in all its blood and guts...in spades! Enjoy!
Jereth Falsed stood by his Y-Wing as the ground crewman finished loading the last of the proton torpedoes onto his ship. He was impatient as the young crewman worked. Falsed had only stopped on this miserable rock to refit after his squadron had made a run on a small Imperial base, and he couldn't wait to get away. The Empire was close, and he could feel it. They had been hot on the heels of the Alliance since the Death Star, and this base was too exposed, too blatant. The thirty-nine-year-old pilot had enough experience to dislike the lackadaisical way some of these young fighters treated war. Many of them were too careless, and he sometimes wondered if their cockiness was more of a morale boost or a hindrance in combat.
"You get those torpedoes in yet, Handy?" He asked. There was a clang from the other side of the Y-Wing. "Guess not. Just hurry up, alright?" He turned away from the craft and kicked at a pebble on the bare earth. "I gotta get back to the rest of my squadron before they hop to the other side of the galaxy."
"I think you should cancel your reservations, buddy." A voice said from behind the rebel pilot. Falsed spun about to find himself face-to-face with of all things, an Imperial pilot. He was almost to shocked to speak. "Sorry. Kind of need your ship." He felt the muzzle of a blaster pressed into his chest a moment, a feeling like a heavy punch to his sternum, and Jereth Falsed knew nothing else.
Ekks quickly climbed the ladder leading to the open cockpit of the Y-Wing, and hopped inside. He took a moment to look over the control panel. His first though was how old and outdated this thing was, the second was how easy it was going to be to fly it. Newer ships relied too heavily on computers, and the controls could be finicky and soft. These older starfighters…you really felt everything in the yoke. It was actually exciting to fly them. Hell, Ekks thought, they were so old-school, they'd might as well put wheels on them. He gave a short wave to the grassy knoll five-hundred meters away, closed the cockpit, and engaged the engines.
"Alright baby, let's see what you can do." He spoke to the machine as he pulled the yoke while increasing the boost. The Y-Wing shot up and rearward, the Corellain trooper letting out a loud whoop. He was getting a feel for her now, and coasted the fighter forward and drifted it into an arc around the small outpost. The rebels were beginning to get suspicious of the unplanned flight, and hailed the former owner of the ship.
"White-Five…you didn't have clearance to take off." A voice advised over the comms set of the Y-Wing. "White-Five, respond. What do you think you're doing, Falsed?" Ekks noticed that he was lined up with a structure that looked like some sort of communications building, no doubt containing flight controls and all of the comms for the base. A handful of curious rebels had gathered in the dim glow of the security lighting, and were standing between his hovering ship and the building, wondering what was going on. He grinned at the near-perfect setup, and pushed the mic switch.
"I'm sorry, control…" He said with a light tone. "Falsed can't speak to you right now, on account of premature death. My name is Ekks, and I'll be your enemy pilot for this flight. Please sit back and make yourselves comfortable, ladies and gents." With that, he pressed the fire-control button for the ship's twin forward-mounted laser cannons, mowing down the enemy onlookers in a hail of fire that he walked onto the comms building, before firing a proton torpedo into it, bringing half of the building down to a pile of flames and rubble. In the firelight, he saw the large blaster cannon start to swivel around toward him and he jammed the controls forward, speeding over the compound.
"Can't catch a cat in a dark alley, you kriffin' idiots." He sneered, putting the Y-Wing through a couple of rolls before banking it quickly and returning toward the base. Ekks lined up with the rebels' sole air-defense weapon, and let fly two more proton torpedoes, destroying the cannon and the bunker it was mounted to. A short burst of laser fire took down a pair of rebels who made an attempt to fire at him with simple blasters.
A few hundred meters away, Gallen lay still behind his long blaster, fixing his crosshairs on one of the installation's pole-mounted lights. It was a tricky shot, a head-sized target at five-hundred, and the bright light made it hard to focus on the fixture itself. He exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger, and a second later, the lamp exploded in a shower of sparks. He moved his reticle to the next and after a few moments, fired again. The light was extinguished like the first.
"Got em." He stated. "You're good to go, sir."
"Good shooting." Tharcourt commented, and turned to the rest of the team. "Alright, let's move. Quick and violent."
"Yes sir." Freya and the six troopers returned. The commander drew his blaster pistols, and led them out into the now darkened open area between the hill and the rebel base. They covered the distance in under four minutes, and only stopped once they had their backs to the rear wall of one of the huge barracks buildings.
"Alright, alright…we're making entry." Tharcourt panted into his helmet's mike. "Ekks…do not fire on the two…large buildings. We're going in."
"Understood, commander. I'll have my fun outside." Ekks answered over the comms. Tharcourt took a few breaths of air, and felt sweat running down his forehead. "Damn it, I might be gettin' too damned old for this."
"Naw, you're still young enough to break heads, sir." Mets whispered over the mic.
"An old Lothwolf, young pups." Tharcourt returned in a low voice. "Okay, the old Karzaak City Shuffle. Felian, you, me and the scouts go left. Daraay, you, Thorne and the troopers go right. You will clear the second floor. Thorne, stick with the sergeant, and shoot anything that looks hostile."
"Aye, sir."
"Felian, breacher." The scout sergeant already had a breaching charge in hand, and stuck it on the door of the sprawling, two-story building. He pushed the button on the device, and it emitted a beep. In Felian's other hand was the detonator for the explosive. Tharcourt gave a nod. "Stack." The team formed two lines on either side of the door, and back two meters, the commander behind his trusty scout sergeant. A moment more, and it was time. "EXECUTE."
The door was blown to bits by the explosion, and before the dust had even settled, the team had begun spilling into the room in perfect order. First in was Felian and Daraay, followed by Tharcourt and Freya. Already, they were taking unaimed fire from the room. A pair of rebels who were hiding from the chaos outside fired wildly at the intruders, only to be cut down by the sergeants and Tharcourt. The commander's squad moved left into the room, gunning down another rebel who ran in from the next room upon hearing the explosion and the blaster fire. Within seconds, they had cleared the first room and had entered the next, practically rolling over the odd rebel they encountered.
Daraay's squad entered a small room to the right, and immediately, the tall death trooper backpedaled, shoving the young ensign behind her back with an arm. A flurry of blaster bolts blew clouds of shards from the masonry wall where they had been only a moment before. It was obvious that they had just run into a good-sized group of enemy combatants, and from within the room, they could hear several rebels calling out for backup.
"Sorry ma'am." Daraay commented as she calmly drew a thermal grenade from her utility belt. "Did not mean to shove you. Didn't want you to get shot on your first mission." She activated the grenade, cooked it for a couple of seconds, then tossed it around the corner. "The commander would be furious at me." The building was shaken by the explosion, and Daraay stepped around the corner, firing a salvo into a lone rebel who was somehow still standing. Dall and Lago rushed into the room, clearing the corners and stairwell. "Coming, Ensign Thorne?"
"Oh…yes." Thorne answered, her ears filled with a horrible ringing sound from the grenade. "Thank ye...sergeant." Freya joined the trio at the base of the stairs, aiming her E-11 toward the top landing. For a few moments, nobody moved.
"Any orders, ma'am?" Daraay queried. It donned on Freya that she was technically the highest-ranking person in the room, and that she had no idea what to do. The terrible thought also occurred that if she gave a bad order, it could prove to be deadly to herself or worse, one of these troopers. Her mouth felt dry, and her legs felt a bit wobbly. She did the most rational thing she could conceive of.
"Sergeant," Thorne began. "Ye have experience wit this sort of row. Ye'd best take point. I'll follow yer lead in this." Behind her intimidating black helmet, Sergeant Daraay gave a small smile. Thorne was shaping up to be a good officer after all. She wasn't a showoff or a glory seeker. The commander picked his friends well.
"Understood, ensign." Daraay stated, and started up the stairs, her huge blaster at the ready. Thorne walked up the steps just behind the sergeant, her blaster aimed through the gap between Daraay and the wall. Suddenly, a rebel popped out at the top of the stairs. Freya was almost blinded by the flashing of Daraay's portable cannon, and only managed to squeeze off two shots of her own before the stairway fell quiet again.
"We get 'im?" Thorne asked.
"Of course, ma'am." Daraay answered, and continued on. Thorne followed, and soon they reached the top of the stairs. Freya cast a short glance at the fallen rebel on the landing. With a detached sense of order, she slid the blaster out of his hand with her boot, and shoved it down the stairs. They entered a room that seemed far too empty. At least a dozen bunks were lined up along the walls of the large room. They moved down the rows, Daraay pausing at an open door to the left long enough to clear it before moving on. Thorne stopped before reaching the doorway, and knelt down, looking curiously at a few personal effects on one of the beds. A few credits and a datapad lay in a neat pile beside a folded-up piece of paper. Thorne scooped up the items and stowed them in a small bag on her belt. Just as she looked up, she saw the rebel soldier.
He was a man in his early twenties, close to her own age. He was dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, something that seemed silly at first, then it clicked that he was not only an enemy combatant, but that he was holding a blaster pistol. The rebel hadn't noticed Thorne in the dark room as he came through the door, but was pointing the blaster at Daraay's back. Freya didn't pause for a millisecond longer.
Before she could even rationalize what she was doing, she had sprung into a firing stance, leveled her blaster at the man, and fired four times into him. The rebel staggered, and tried to turn around, to raise his weapon with what little strength he had left. Thorne fired twice more into him as Daraay spun about, now aware of the danger. The rebel fell to the floor. No dramatic flourish or being launched backwards like she had thought. He simply seemed to collapse gracelessly in place, falling in an impossibly awkward position. She stared at the body for a few moments, the realization sinking in. Thorne let out a breath through pursed lips.
"Shite…" She muttered. Freya wasn't exactly sure how she felt. It wasn't at all like when she had been forced to kill Kasa. That was a terrible, heavy feeling. This felt almost…hollow.
"Thank you for the save, ma'am." Daraay said, now moving toward the open door the rebel had entered from.
"Right…close shave, aye?"
"Yes. Shouldn't have let my guard down." The death trooper admitted. "You make that mistake only once." Thorne nodded, and looked back to see the other two members of the squad standing behind her. She took a deep breath and followed Daraay into the next room.
In the airspace above the rebel base, Ekks was having the time of his life. It had been far too long by his reckoning since he was able to do something like this, and he was going to get his credit's worth of action. He performed daring stunts and maneuvers as the enemy tried desperately to shoot down the hijacked Y-Wing. He had already destroyed four of the X-Wing fighters on the ground, and now the pilots of the remaining pair were attempting to take off.
"Oh-ho-ho…don't think I'm gonna let you get those heaps in the air, do you?" He commented as the enemy craft lifted off the ground. He opened fire on the rebel ships. One of the fighters had a wing blown off, and spun out, crashing in a mangled heap. The other pilot gained enough altitude to engage the thrusters, and took off after Ekks, who threw the yoke to a hard right, dodging the rebel pilot's blast of laser fire. He laughed as he pulled the stick back, forcing his ship into a step climb, the G-forces of the in-atmosphere maneuver pushing him back in his seat despite the built-in compensator of the craft.
The X-Wing attempted to match his climb, exactly what Ekks thought he would do. The Corelleian jammed the stick forward and slightly right, forcing the Y-Wing into a sudden plunge that made Ekss' stomach feel like it was in his throat. The X-Wing shot up past him, and Ekks pulled back on the controls, bringing his own ship back up into a climb, the metal groaning under the strain of the stunt. Now with the enemy X-Wing in front of him, Ekks fired a long burst from his twin cannons, catching the rebel fighter in the engines. The starfighter seemed to sputter out, and fall into a nose-dive toward the ground, three-thousand feet below. Ekks watched as the ship became a fireball before it even reached solid ground, exploding in a brilliant orange ball.
"And yo mamma's a hutt." He said with a grin. Then, just to add insult to injury, Ekks dove toward the rebel base, avoiding the two large buildings his teammates were in, but lining up with two smaller structures on the outside of the compound. On the way down from the heavens, he unleashed a hailstorm of laser bolts and two more proton torpedoes, pulling the stick back and leveling off only a hundred feet from the fireball he had created.
Meanwhile, inside the first building, Freya and Daraay's squad were examining a hole in the wall, an ad-hoc portal which seemed to lead to the neighboring building by means of a short, covered walkway. Daraay shined her weapon's bright light through the hole, and beyond the four Imperials could see a small room filled with stacks of ration boxes. Thorne was still a bit shaken by her earlier experience, but now understood what Drakken meant when he'd spoke about not having time to dwell on it. She knew she had a job to do, and right now it meant calling this in.
"Drakken…commander…" Freya spoke into her helmet's mic, "…the buildin's, they're linked together it looks like. We found a passage into the next one, I think."
"Same here, Thorne." Drakken's voice came back. "Take down the building. Your team start at the top, and we'll hold back a few minutes. Then we'll assault the first floor, and link up with you at the stairs. Understand?"
"Aye. Understood, Drakken." She answered. "Moving into th' next buildin' now." Freya looked back to the other members of her detachment and nodded, motioning forward with her free hand. Daraay switched on the light on her blaster and moved through the dark doorway, followed by Thorne, Dall and Lago close behind the ensign.
"Roger that, Thorne. Be careful." Tharcourt said, ending the transmission. He held up a hand and silently motioned toward the doorway in the wall that had been converted into a passage into the next building. His squad started toward the opening when a blaster bolt shot past, missing his right shoulder by mere inches. Drakken fell to the left and rolled out of the way, stopping in the prone position where he began returning fire through the narrow opening. Felian moved to the left side of the doorway, with Coleth to the right, and the two scout troopers began pouring fire into the unknown area beyond the door. Incoming bolts stopped, and the squad stopped firing as well.
"Felian…flash-banger." The commander ordered. The sergeant nodded, and tossed a stun charge into the room. There was a terrific crump of the charge detonating, and a few green blaster bolts came flying through the doorway again.
"It's a lovely karkin' day, men!" Drakken exclaimed, and began returning fire once again.
Upstairs in the huge building, Daraay and Freya found themselves in an intense firefight when they were caught in a long hallway by a group of rebels. Using two crates at the end of the hall as cover, the rebels ambushed the small team, forcing them to seek shelter in doorways along the corridor. After a few moments, the entire affair became nothing but a game of shooting back and forth with no clear goal or results.
"Ensign, we should split up, and flank the rebels." Daraay advised from her position directly across the hall from Thorne. "If you can stay here…"
"Och the noo! I can do it." Thorne returned. She looked into the room she was standing half-in. "Got me a door over here that goes off to somewhere. I'll flank the stoters an' we'll give 'em a right skelpin'.
"Yes, ma'am." Daraay stated. "I will maintain in this position then, and you can attempt to find a way around them.
"Okay, sergeant." Thorne answered, firing her own blaster left-handed around the doorway. "I need a second. Ye think ye can manage with one trooper, Daraay?" The death trooper poked her head out from the cover of the doorframe as if she had seen something interesting, then fired a burst from her mammoth weapon, resulting in a death-scream from down the hall.
"Ma'am, I can hold them as long as you need me to." Daraay said back. "Dall, go with the ensign."
"Right away, sergeant." The medic called.
"Covering fire!" Daraay ordered. She, Thorne and Lago sent a torrent of blaster fire down the corridor as Corporal Dall sprinted across the hall to the doorway Thorne was sheltered in.
"I'm off." She called to Daraay. "Keep the heid and be safe."
"You too, ma'am. Good luck." Daraay nodded. Thorne turned to the medic.
"Dall, we're goin' ta move through this room, out that door over there, and try an' find a way to get behind those rebels. Ye' got anything t' add?"
"No, ma'am, just get us there in one piece, and I'll be happy." Dall replied. Thorne smiled.
"Nae ye worry." She remarked, moving through the room, her blaster at the ready. "I'll do me best to at least keep our resident sawbones froom getting' slotted. May need ye to patch me oop when I play the eejit officer an' get meself hurt." She threw herself to one side of the door, and nodded to Dall, who readied his blaster and nodded back. Thorne threw open the door, and the two of them immediately entered the room, scanning left and right, but seeing nothing resembling a threat. They relaxed a little as they continued on.
"Best you keep your head down and try not to get lit up in the first place, ma'am…" Dall said in a low voice as he scanned the narrow hall they now found themselves in. "Don't feel too good, firstly. Secondly, I think I'm starting to get used to having you as a commanding officer." Freya chuckled as she slid against the wall, clearing a doorway. It was merely an empty closet.
"Ye lot'll get acclimated to me." She joked. "And I'll try an' not get any boo-boos. The c'mander'd be right scunnered at me for getting meself hurt."
"Likely." The medic said. "He's really keen on you, you know?" She felt her cheeks growing warm, and gave a dismissive wave as she stopped at yet another closed door.
"Ah…doon't be speakin havers, doc." Thorne remarked. "We're good pals. Would nae do ta' be lovin an' larkin' with yer best mate."
"I suppose not, ma'am." Dall agreed. He allowed Freya to kick open the door, and he rushed into the room, scanning left with his weapon's light as Freya moved to the right. The small room was clear, and still there was no passage back to the first hall, no passable way to get to the enemy. Freya was becoming annoyed, and growled.
"All roads lead to Coruscant." Dall shrugged. He motioned toward a short hall that led right, then turned to the left. "May as well, Ensign Thorne,"
"Aye…right." She sighed. "Hope Sergeant Daraay is well and good without us."
"I'm sure she's fine, ma'am." He stated dryly.
"Hm." She huffed, and spoke into her helmet's mic. "Sergeant Darray, it's Ensign Thorne. Come in."
"I am here, ma'am." Daraay's voice answered.
"Are ye alright?" Freya asked. "How is everything?"
"Everything on my end is good." The death trooper replied. "We have five enemy combatants KIA, and the immediate area is cleared. What is your location, ma'am?"
"I'm still tryin' t' figure that oot, sergeant." Thorne said. "Dall and I got turned about in this place. Sorry we couldn't help ye."
"It's fine, ma'am. These things happen in battle." Daraay reassured her.
"Aye. Well, if yer all done there, try an' link up with the c'mander. We'll be a' tryin' t' find a way to the bottom floor ASAP."
"Understood, ma'am." The sergeant acknowledged. Freya turned to Dall.
"See corp'ral, doesn't hurt t' check in." She commented. "Now alls we have t' do is find a way downstairs."
"Yeah, if we can find a way anywhere in this damn maze of corridors." The medic grumbled.
"Aww, no need t' be all crabbit aboot it now." Thorne remarked. "What was it ye said earlier…all roads be leadin' ta Coruscant, right?" She started down the hall, Dall coming up beside her. Both of them held their blasters at the ready.
"Doesn't anything ever get you down, ma'am?" Dall asked facetiously.
"Ach. I like t' think I got a sunny disposition." She answered. "Jes' because it be a rainin' don't mean ye gotta be dreich too. Just think about…"
They were almost caught off-guard when two rebel soldiers, hearing the pair of Imperials coming, shot out of a room, their blasters firing wildly toward them. Dall dropped to a kneeling position, and Freya flattened herself out against the opposite wall, firing her E-11 one-handed. A stray bolt glanced off of Dall's helmet before he and Thorne gunned the enemy soldiers down. Everything went quiet, and the two stood for a moment with smoking blasters in hand.
"Ye a'right, Corporal Dall?" Thorne asked. She stepped over to the medic.
"Yeah…yes, ma'm…" He replied gruffly, and put a hand to his helmet where the blaster bolt had deflected off. "…just got my mother-kriffing bell rung. You shouldn't talk so much, ensign. Ugh. They must've heard us coming a klick off." She made a nervous face.
"Sorry, doc…" She apologized. He huffed as they walked to the now-closed door the two enemy soldiers emerged from.
"At least the damned rebels don't have any good fighters…" Dall remarked. "Ought to be thankful for that." As if on cue, the door literally ripped from its hinges and flew outward in two pieces, sending the two Imperials bouncing off the opposite wall. Thorne's helmet was knocked off as she collided with the wall and almost toppled over. From the doorway stepped one of the biggest creatures Thorne had seen to date.
He, and it was certainly a male, was easily a foot taller than Freya's five-foot-eleven frame, and his size and bulk would have contested that of even Daraay. His skin was a reddish tinge, and on his large head were two horns. Though the gargantuan newcomer with a hatred of using doors was dressed in mottled-green trousers, tall boots and a gray shirt and brown vest like a normal rebel soldier, he very much looked the part of some devil out of one of the fables from Breoh'Lar.
Freya was taken aback for a moment, then shook off her surprise. There were tons of specie out there, and this particular individual was nothing more than a big, red rebel. She threw up her blaster with her right hand, but the tall creature smacked it away so hard, the weapon flew from her hand and clattered to the floor nearby. Dall had recovered enough to jump forward and try a left hook on the ferocious rebel, but the horned man blocked his arm mid-punch, and delivered a headbutt that rattled the medic. Then the rebel grabbed Dall by the shoulders, and threw him down the hall, sending the hapless stormtrooper rolling down a flight of stairs. Thorne was now alone, facing the being, who gave her a menacing glower.
"Wot n' the thund'rin 'ellfire are you, mate?" She asked spitefully.
"I'm Chamock…a Devaronian, little girl." He responded in a thick accent. "And I'm about to break your head." Freya narrowed her eyes, and planted her feet firmly.
"Ye try it. I'll gie ye a skelpit lug!" She growled back. Chamock dove at her, and Freya spun out of the way, allowing the devaronian to collide forcefully with the wall, breaking chunks of masonry free with the impact. She rolled to her blaster, and scooped it up, but as she raised it, the powerful alien had already closed with her, a heavy lump of broken masonry in his hand. Chamock grabbed the barrel of the blaster and pushed it aside as Thorne fired, causing her to miss. Then with a growl, he slammed the weapon into the wall with one hand, and brought the chunk of rock against it with the other. He then stepped back, a satisfied smile on his face as the young ensign mournfully examined her now bent blaster for a few moments.
"You scared yet, schutta?" The devaronian asked. "You should be. You are just a tiny girl, but you are still an Imperial officer. I am going to make red spot on floor of you." Thorne sneered, baring her teeth as she tossed the useless blaster away and stood, her right hand going to the back of her belt and finding her extendable staff.
"Me father always said soom people's better at talkin' than at fightin'." She said. "Ye rattle on too much."
"Then I'll skip pleasantries and get down to stomping…and I like stomping." He shot back with a cruel grin. "Come little girl, let's make this…" He paused when a six-foot metal staff suddenly appeared in the young woman's hands with a ringing sound.
"Then haud yer wheesht an get oan wae it." Freya growled. The alien charged at her, but Freya sidestepped and spun her staff expertly, connecting with the side of the rebel's head. He merely staggered a bit, shook off the blow and growled at her. She turned about, twirling the staff to confuse her opponent, then struck again, in only a couple of seconds, smacking the devaronian across the other side of the face, in the left arm, and spun in place, striking with a jab to his chest. He coughed, and rubbed his head.
"Playtime over." He stated.
"Aw shite…I'm boned."
Tharcourt was becoming worried. His squad had already linked up with Daraay and Lago, and there was no sign of Freya or Dall. None of them had heard anything from the missing duo since Thorne had radioed Daraay nearly ten minutes earlier. They had gotten lost in the huge building, and were trying to find their way back to the rest of the team. That was the last anyone had heard.
The base was nearly clear of all enemy personnel. Outside, Ekks had fairly well taken care of everything that wasn't the buildings they were in, and between them, the entry team had killed over twenty rebels. Four more were tied up under the guard of Ekks and Gallen, who had moved to the building once there was no more need for overwatch. Now, nobody on the team questioned Commander Tharcourt's order to locate the missing members of Delta-7. His feelings for Ensign Thorne aside, they all knew that nobody was to be left behind…ever.
They got to the end of a hall on the bottom floor of the larger building, and the commander finally spotted one of his lost troopers. Corporal Dall was sprawled across the bottom landing of the stairwell. He wasn't moving, and Drakken felt a knot in his stomach. The terrifying thought that Freya and Dall were killed almost sent him into a breakdown. He had to shut that part of his mind down, blank out everything except the here and now. The commander took a deep breath, and ran to the unconscious form of his soldier.
"Dall! You alright, Dall?!" Tharcourt asked, shaking the medic. The trooper groaned and came to. "You good?"
"Ugh…yes sir…" The battered and bruised Dall answered, allowing his commander to help him up, and half-drag him out of the stairwell and lean him, sitting, against the wall.
"What happened?!" Lago exclaimed, he and the rest of the team gathering around.
"I'm wondering that myself." Tharcourt remarked.
"We we're clearing the hall…ugh…up there…" Dall motioned up the stairs. "Me and Ensign Thorne. Damn…devaronian built like a kriffing meteor…chucked me down the stairs."
"Dall…" The commander asked, a little apprehension in his voice, "Where's Thorne?"
"I don't know, sir…last I saw…"
"KEEN YE FLY, YE BOGGIN-FACED FECKIN' GOBSHITE?!" The ensign's voice screamed from up the stairwell, followed by a horrendous thundering as Freya and a huge devaronian rebel came crashing down the steps. The huge alien hit the wall at the bottom head-first with a sickening thud, Freya using his body for what little cushioning it was worth on her landing. Her staff came clattering down on top of the pair, and for a few moments, neither of the bodies moved.
"Freya?!" Drakken cried out, and ran to the heap of forms on the landing. As he reached her, Freya let out a long, pained groan, and rolled off of her opponent to the floor of the hall at Tharcourt's feet. He fell to his knees and gently grabbed her by the shoulders. "Freya…Freya, you alright? You hurt?!"
"Nguhhh." She whimpered, and let him help her up. She stood shakily, favoring her right leg, and looked at Tharcourt. Her nose was bleeding and looked broken, and her left eye was starting to swell. Her uniform was rumpled, and there were bloodstains on the front and sleeves. Her left sleeve in fact, was torn almost completely free from the body of the tunic, and a small head wound was dripping blood down her pale face. Despite her obvious injuries, she gave a weak smile to her friend.
"Me datty always said…th' beeger they is…th' 'arder they fall." She said in a wavering voice, then promptly fell, Drakken catching her in his arms. He glanced at the dead devaronian rebel and back to the unconscious girl in his arms. He let out a frustrated sigh.
"Alright, let's finish mopping up the compound. Daraay, take Mets, Coleth and Lago, and do another sweep in these two buildings for holdouts, and double-check for any crucial intel we may have all missed. Felian, help me get Thorne and Dall out to the staging area, and grab her staff. Dall's gonna need some painkillers, and Thorne's going to have to have a date with a bacta tank when we get back."
"Yes sir." Daraay answered.
"Roger that, sir." Felian replied.
Forty-five minutes later, just as the sky began to turn grey on the horizon, all members of Delta-7 stood in the large courtyard between the two large buildings and what was once a refueling depot. A raging inferno fed by the remains of the fuel station lit the entire scene with a red-orange glow, the destruction and over two-dozen corpses scattered about adding to the hellish quality of the scene. Dall was sitting near the five prisoners they now had, the injured medic leaned against what used to be a part of an X-Wing's starboard dorsal wing. Freya looked upon the scene tiredly, being supported by Drakken's arm around her, her own hanging about his neck.
"We'll hike out of here soon." Commander Tharcourt advised his team. "It's going to be a long walk with our wounded.
"I ain't so bad…Drakken, sir." Freya argued hoarsely, hanging onto him. Her eye had swollen almost shut, and she had almost as much bruising as natural skin tone by now. It was also apparent that her ankle was probably sprained badly. "Ye can leave me in this right here spot alright…then ye come back fer me wit the ship, Drakken. I won't be a weight about you lot's necks…"
"Freya…" Tharcourt sighed. "You're my friend and a hell of a soldier, but please…shut up. And that's an order. I'm not leaving you here."
"Ah, yer the salt of the universe, ye are." She stated with a weak smile.
"And you have a concussion to contend with, my dear ensign." He returned.
"Sir, we don't have to walk back." Ekks announced. "I can call our astromech to bring The Huntsman to us."
"I don't want a droid flying my up-armored assault ship." The clone wars veteran said grimly.
"Then you want to drag these two all the way back…with all due respect, sir?" Ekks inquired.
"Fine. Just do it." Tharcourt growled. The pilot pushed a button on his wrist communicator.
"Hey, R-5…" He spoke into the device. "Ping our position and bring the ship to us. We need dustoff." A few beeps and blips came back over the speaker.
"He said about six minutes." Lago translated.
"Works for me." Drakken mumbled. They all stood in silence for a moment, until some ammunition in the anti-air bunker cooked off with two loud booms.
"Whoo, we sure messed this place up good." Coleth commented.
"Well, we're going to mess it up more." The commander added. "Blow the remainder of the ships. On our way out Ekks, I want you to give these buildings a couple of torpedoes. Don't want the rebels coming back and using this place again."
"This'll send them a strong message, won't it, boss?" The pilot asked, watching the remains of the control building finally collapse. Drakken looked sidelong at the Corellian.
"I think that was the point." He muttered.
"Sir?"
"Nothing of value here. No real data, no cache of weapons or command and control." Tharcourt explained wearily. "This was just a tiny little refueling point. Most of the rebels here were pilots and ground crew. Make no mistake…this wasn't a strategic strike."
"Then why were we ordered to come here sir, if this place wasn't important?" Daraay questioned.
"It was to find that pilot." The commander replied. "That's my guess, at least. All this for one man. I don't know who exactly he is, but Lord Vader is tearing this galaxy a new black hole looking for him."
And so ends the most epic battle so far in the story. What did everyone think? Poor Thorne did pretty well for her first combat mission...though she'll probably be feeling that one in the morning, eh? I will ty to get one more chapter up before I have to leave friday, so stay tned for another instalment of your favorite Imperial-centric Star Wars fanfiction! And please, leave me your questions and comments, and they will be addressed! Until next time loyal readers, Cheerio!