Chapter 36
Forty-two hours after the commander promised an EVAC.
Under a blistering salvo of blaster fire, the commander barely jerks the grate back into place with a metallic screech. Charged blasts strike it long after he's turned, crawling in pursuit of his companions. Unlike the last time, every inch isn't intolerable. He feels focused and alert, if a bit weary. The Grand Commander drags himself through the first turn of the air shaft, assisted by both Major Shin and Gary.
"I can't believe we survived that," the major declares breathlessly.
"You saw her, didn't you?" Gary asks, but it's not really a question.
"Yes, I did," the commander admits.
"We shot her three times, and you hit her with the ax!" Doctor Wither exclaims. "Surviving is…inconceivable!"
"More machine than man, remember? We have to keep moving," the commander insists. "They may follow us or…"
The grate comes off with another screech, quickly followed by a "tink" and "bang." The commander peeks around the corner, discovering grenades bouncing down the shaft.
"Go!" He orders. "Go, go, go!"
They crawl frantically until the explosion violently rattles the shaft. Immediately, the commander lurches on top of Major Shin while Gary echoes his movement, covering Dr. Wither. Fire races around the corner, channeled by the shaft until it reaches and passes over them, scorching their exposed bodies. Agonizing seconds later, the fire dissipates.
"Everyone okay?" The commander demands before pushing them. "Keep moving!"
"I could use a moment," Major Shin coughs.
"No time," the commander tells him. "They'll sweep all the air ducts they come across until they're satisfied. Soon they'll send in probe droids with explosives."
"Do we have a plan?" The doctor demands before coughing from the smoke.
"Yes," he replies. "Major Shin, did you use the AT-AT to breach the wall?"
Major Shin coughs again, then continues crawling, "Yes, and as a support fire. When Colonel Brenna tried to hold ground, we hit it. It destroyed their cover and bunkers."
"Brilliant," he comments.
Doctor Wither motions, "The message has changed, the repeating one from the rebels."
"Major Shin or any rebel forces, this is Gold-5. Come in."
Everyone turns to Shin, who looks at his communicator before he and the companions turn to the commander. He motions, "What are you waiting for? Answers him."
"Gold-5, this is Major Shin; it's good to hear you."
"Whoo!" A cheer rises from the command center, the admin and communication officers celebrating his survival. Hera can't help but share their sentiment while her large bodyguard smiles openly, and Lord Dyer nods. Captain Kensington releases a sigh with a smile. The Mon Cal comm. officer gives Hera a nod confirming it's him before keying her microphone. "Major Shin, this is command. Everyone is really happy you're alive. What's your status?"
"I'm ok, but most of my unit is dead," he replies cautiously. "I have…secured allies…"
Hera places a hand on the Mon Cal's shoulder, "Tell him we know we know."
"Major," the Mon Cal says. "Ghost actual knows you're with the Grand Commander."
Shin's hesitation is echoed in the command room; utter silence waits breathlessly. Both are equally surprised by her declaration, amazed her plan came to fruition.
The commander's deep voice is unmistakable, "We must assume our comms are compromised. We have a plan but can't discuss it openly."
Hera gauges the room temperature with a glance. Captain Kensington grits his jaw but remains silent. Her bodyguard and Lord Dyer nod, agreeing with the plan they're ignorant of, while the Mon Cal and the rest of her staff wait on her. Hera decides, "Tell them to proceed."
"Your plan is approved," the Mon Cal announces.
Gary calls, irreverent as always, "Ask her if she's decided what to do with him?"
"What am I supposed to do with you, commander?" She recalls asking at the Dulok village. Hera winces, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation. His inside joke leaves many confused, but her bodyguard laughs out loud. Frustrated and uncomfortable with the lack of discipline, she can't stay angry. Fondly, she curses, Shut up, Gary!
Then, a thought occurs, and she gestures. The Mon Cal hands her the headset, "Yes, Gary. I'm going to place him in a museum with a sign. 'Open only in case of war.'"
Gary's laughter carries over the comm with a few stifled chuckles on her side and her bodyguard's deep laughter. The commander replies, "That's the best offer I've received so far."
"Good hunting," she responds. "May the force be with you."
She returns the headset and thinks, will this familiarity worsen my position or not?
"You should contact command," Dyer interrupts. "To keep everyone informed."
Hera wonders, when did command decide to micromanage everything I do? Then she answers her own question, when I collaborated with the Grand Commander and spoke so highly of him. The real question is, when did command become so timid? Half of them served the Empire at one point or another. Why is it so unnerving that I want a peaceful solution?
Then she adds, Curse Lord Dyer for putting these schemes in my head, even if he's right. Unfortunately, she has only seconds to contemplate it.
"General, do you want the assault teams to stand down?" Captain Kensington asks.
The Mon Cal adds, "Gold-5 requests further instruction."
"I don't think we should cancel the attack," her bodyguard points out. "Not yet. I respect the commander as much as you, but—there's no guarantee he'll come out the other side."
"Ma'am?" Another tech calls. "The scouts left at the compound ask for an update too."
Hera thinks fast, blinded by the barrage, then sidesteps their questions to buy time. "Gold-5 has been there for hours; ask if he needs to be relieved."
The Mon Cal relays her message before they hear his reply, "No, ma'am, you couldn't drag me away. For my friends and the transport, I'll see this through."
Hera nods. She assumed as much but wanted to offer, "Tell him to keep a close watch and assist however he can. Then, contact both orbital command and Mon Mothma with updates."
She holds up her hands as another comm. officer arrives, halting her. "Captain Kensington, update the assault team. My friend is correct; we can't be certain Shin and the Commander will succeed. Then contact your scouts, and tell them to remain in position. If they need relief or supplies, let us know, and we'll have them delivered."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Lord Dyer," she begins, but her words are swallowed by a terrible explosion outside. The sound startles everyone, causing them to flinch or cry out, then stare ominously.
"I'll investigate," Captain Kensington turns and heads for the doorway.
"No!" Hera shouts louder than intended. She lowers her voice, "Carry out your orders. My guard and Dyer will investigate."
Her bodyguard winces, conflicted between protecting her and following her orders before racing through the doorway. Lord Dyer moves a little more cautiously. Kensington hesitates before a look from her causes him to pull his comlink and communicate her commands. I still don't trust him, she insists. I need to keep him close.
Hera approaches the door slowly, looking beyond where she spots the inferno. There's no mistaking the charred remains of an X-wing at the center of the blaze. Security races toward the fire with medics, and a pulsing siren begins chirping in the background.
The death trooper commander scowls at the smoking grate. Although her expression remains hidden behind her helmet, her posture leaves no doubt. She knows the stormtroopers survived, and her subordinates know it too.
The eight troopers nearby stand in various positions, some defensive, others watching her for their direction. They're not uniform or unified; quite the contrary, they're standing in two groups. She notes the change in attitude. At random, she points out pairs and uses military sign. She makes a C with her remaining hand and holds it up to her eyes. Then points at the air duct. She mimes throwing a grenade. Without words, she orders the pairs to look for access hatches to the air duct and hurl grenades inside.
Some begin following orders before hesitating. A team leader makes the C with his hand and points at his communicator. A hologram of the grand commander hovers above it. The commander cuts sharply with her hand, "no." He signs again, insisting. She slashes her hand twice more, sharply, growing irritated. Then the team leader points at his chest, indicating an officer or superior in sign. She cuts "NO" angrily and swings her arm, commanding: "GO!"
Frustration boiling over, the team leader argues, "The Empire is in shambles! Yet you want to keep hunting loyal imperials for a worthless weapon? Executing incompetent troops is one thing, but this is the Grand Commander! He's the senior sector officer!"
The commander slashes her hand curtly, "NO!"
Unfortunately, even her supporters break sound discipline by countering, "Good soldiers follow orders. We have ours, get the schematics, destroy the evidence and anyone in our way."
"-from the same people that failed the emperor! We should be executing and detaining traitors celebrating or supporting the rebellion. This op is a waste of resources!"
"He's collaborating with rebels!" Another death trooper argues.
"How do we know he's not here because we executed those imperials?" The team leader demands. "Our orders specifically forbid us from rescuing stranded imperials. Why?! There are hundreds of them pleading for help; now more than ever, we need all hands on deck."
The commander draws her pistol and bangs it on the grate. BANG, BANG, BANG! Startles, the whole squad jumps. She returns it to her holster. Then she forms a mouth with her hand and snaps it shut at each of them, telling them, "Shut up!" The first team leader folds his arms while her supporter lowers his gaze in compliance. Then she disregards her earlier orders, certain they've lost the opportunity. Instead, she motions for the disruptive team to take the lead. She makes a C with her hand near her eyes and points, then swings her arm, "Go."
The second team follows the first, patrolling down the corridor until their leader passes her. The commander points at the opposition team leader, forms a C near her visor, and points at the first team. "Watch them," she orders silently. In response, he points at her, forms the C near his visor, then at them. Finally, he holds up his two fingers.
"You watch them too," he warns. Then he finishes by pointing at his commander, his eyes, then his back. Silently, cautioning her, "Watch your back."
The death trooper commander frowns. She's as disturbed by the breakdown of discipline as much as by the swiftness with which it occurred. How did it come to this? She wonders. She can't deny the legitimacy of the team leader's questions because she asked the same questions only to have them rebuffed by command.
She looks at her team leader and pulls a battle stim from her belt. She shows it to her subordinate, and he also draws one. She injects it into her neck, and he does the same.
Instantly, her concerns disappear as a rush of euphoria races through her veins. She's flush with energy and focus, utterly sure of the victory to come. Her concerns brushed aside; she activates the ID9 seeker droid attached to her back.
A smaller, personal version of a viper probe droid, the robot has the same dome head, a large red eye, and dangling manipulators. It beeps a question at her. She points at the access hatch, and the droid hovers toward it before flying inside.