Forgive the spelling of this chapter. My Microsoft Word's spell check failed for the hundredth time. I've proofread it several times, but mistakes always escape. Send me a review with typos so I can correct them.
Jungles, the most irritating and deadly topographical location imaginable. Scanners can't read through it, you can't see through it, heck, you can't even shoot through it sometimes. Trust me boys, you don't want to fight in jungles. If you ever find yourself in a jungle, start praying.
-Sergeant Kal Skirata during a lecture on the values of cover.
Keith, Cable and Sith filed in behind Thrasher as he entered the briefing room. It had been two weeks since Geonosis, two weeks of long hours in the sim room practicing jungle combat. Thrasher did not want to see another tree for the rest of his life.
Jedi General Aayla Secura faced them from the Officer's podium, along with a man that the clones did not know. While Aayla was clad in the now-usual leather armor that she so favored, the other man was completely different. He wore a full suit of armor that covered every inch of his body from the neck down. Familiar runes and inscriptions traced their way down the armor, giving it a flowing but alien appearance. Underneath the armor was a dark green body suit with numerous pockets located within easy arm's reach. His face was darkly tanned and he had a very non-regulation beard that covered his whole throat. A few faint scars showed along his brow, but he looked in perfect health.
Cable leaned over to Thrasher as they took their seats. "Sir, that is one hardcore soldier."
Thrasher nodded slightly and continued his scrutiny of the man. On closer inspection, he saw that the man stood at a near-still attention stance, his body hardly swaying. He also carried something tucked under his right arm. Thrasher shifted in his seat for a better look. It was a helmet. A Mandalorian helmet. His heart skipped a beat as his mind registered the thought. There was a Mandalorian here! That meant that something interesting was going to happen.
Aayla had been speaking with a clone Commander when the commandos entered. It did not look like they would be done any time soon, so Thrasher surveyed the surroundings.
There were at least a dozen other clones in the room, none commandos. They sat in a cluster, datapads in hand and backs straight against the cold durasteel chairs. Thrasher waved to them casually and grinned as they acknowledged him. The regular clones were stuffy and boring. Fun was the last thing in their dictionary.
A single clone rose from his seat and marched over to the commandos' seats. Thrasher rose to greet him. The clone removed his helmet and saluted.
"Greetings, Echo 32. I am CC-5052, Commander Bly, of the 327th Star Corps, the General's second-in. I will be leading the regular's contingent during the operation."
Regulars? I thought this was a covert op. What's changed? I hope it's not too bad.
"Glad to meet you, sir." Thrasher returned the salute and extended his hand. Bly looked at it dryly. So much for hand-shakes. Cable rose behind Thrasher and leaned forward.
"Echo 45, sir. I'm the second-in for this guy."
"It is a pleasure, Echo 45." Bly bowed his head a fraction before turning back towards his seat. Without a word he marched back and took his seat with the others.
Sith let out a suppressed sigh as the clone's resumed their seats. "He's got issues."
The door to the briefing room slid open again and a clone trooper walked in. This one wore red armor instead of the yellow patterns favored by the 327th. Interesting.
The clone paused in the doorway, his helmet turning as he checked the room. After a few seconds he fully entered and headed towards the clones. To Thrasher's surprise though, he grabbed the seat next to Thrasher instead of sitting with the others.
"Captain Deviss, formerly of the Hawkbats Battalion. I'm with the 327th now." He held his hand out warmly. Thrasher grinned and accepted the hand. He shook it vigorously. Something about the clone told Thrasher that this one was special. For one, his arm was much stronger than that of a normal clone's, and his eyes shifted a little bit as he watched Thrasher. Normal clones could stare into your eyes for hours on end; it was creepy.
"Echo 32, Thrasher, at your service Deviss."
The clone settled back in his seat and pointed at Aayla. "So she's the General here. I haven't seen her before now. She's so… strange. I've never seen a female before. Do they all look like that?"
"Maybe. I haven't got the faintest clue." Thrasher jerked a thumb towards Bly. "What eating him, by the way. I thought the officer's were more relaxed then the regs."
"Most are, but not him." Deviss coughed lightly and shook his head. "He's as dry as Geonosis is red. It has something to do with his training, or so I've heard."
"Yeah." Cable reached across Thrasher and extended a hand. "Echo 45, Cable. You said you're from the Hawkbats, right. Are you on special detachment or something?"
"No; my company was wiped out over Geonosis." Thrasher did not need to look to feel Cable's jaw drop. "We were tasked with hitting a cluster of core ships before they could lift off. We got three of them sitting on their fuels pipes, but my squadron was virtually annihilated. I only survived because my ship crashed behind our own lines. We got picked up commandos, just like you guys."
"Oh. I'm sorry for your loss, Deviss."
"It doesn't matter. The past is the past. Those that survive keep on fighting."
Aayla turned away from the clone by her side and faced the seated soldiers, ending all conversation. She looked them each in the eye before starting.
"Commander Bly, Thrasher, soldiers and commandos, Most of you have heard about our mission already."
The hologram projector flicked on and the image of a world popped on screen. Thrasher did not recognize the world, but it looked familiar.
"Despayre. It is nothing more than a penal colony, but the CIS has sent a taskforce to this planet. We have smoe idea why, or at least what they are looking for. Contact with this planet was lost several days ago, so we can assume that the CIS is in full control by now.
"The 327th is tasked with occupying the planet and eliminating the CIS presence. It's as simple as that. For this mission they will be equiped with additional advanced thermal imaging software and shortrange projectile rifles per squad."
Commander Bly rose from his seat and Aayla paused.
"General, why would we need projectile rifles? Our DC-15's have worked adequately against the droids."
"With your permission, General." Thrasher stood up when she nodded. "The jungle's density would render the common DC-15 useless over fifty meters. The rounds would lose power and impact with each branch, leaf, twig that they'd hit; projectiles don't lose any of that as easily. Furthermore, from what my mission debrief has said, this planet is home to some laser-resistant carnivores. I don't know anything that's resistant to a slug round."
"Well put, Echo 32. Thank you for clarification. I did not notice that in my briefing." Bly sat back down, clearly unconvinced. "I have no further questions."
"Good." Aayla cleared her throat and continued. "Elements of the 14th Fighter Command will provide aerial support for this mission. Fleet Command 12 is in charge of blockading the system until the operation is comleted. Any other information that you might need is in the briefing datapad.
"Moving on to the Commando operation…" The hologram flickered slightly and zoomed in on the southern hemisphere of the planet. Two large complexes were highlighted. They were both the size of small cities, spread apart by some two hundred miles.
"These are prison complexes Alpha and Omega. From what we've learned, the CIS forces had made contact with these complexes before we lost communication with the planet. Our guess is that they are planning to release the inmates into the Republic as terrorists or incorporate them into the CIS ranks as officers. Either way, we need to stop them before they can ship them off-planet. If any of them make it offworld, the results could be disasterous."
Sith stood quietly and Aayla stopped. "Pardon me, General, but couldn't we just level the place with an orbital bombardement? It would make more sense to me to blast the place to smithereens."
"We could…and risk blasting any prisoners, guards and information inside." Aayla pushed a button on her hologram projector pad and a datafile slid into place to the left of the images. There were two files. One was of a human male, age fifty-four. The information on him read that he was a weapons designer for BlasTech Industries. The second figure was different. It was a female human, age twenty-one. She was his daughter, according to the file.
"Jason Sol and his daughter, Nerrissa. They work for BlasTech industries in the experimental weapons manufacturing department. Jason is the executive director of the department and has made personal contact with each and every experimental weapon priduced by BlasTech so far. I have no doubt that you can understand the seriousness with which I tell you that his rescue is of utmost importance.
"Master Windu has ordered your unit to find and extract these two if possible. We have no idea why they were there, but it would be a boost to morale if news came out that we had rescued a weapons designer from the CIS forces. Besides, the CIS could easily coerce them into turning their talent to aid the CIS.
"From what limited intel we have, these two are being held in one of the prison complexes. Your job is to find them and get them out. Any other Targets of Oppurtunity are up for grabs. Once you've done that we'll incinerate the complexes. Any questions?"
No one spoke as she watched them carefully. Thrasher could tell that she was searching them, looking for problems or confusion. She waited a moment before acknowledging the man beside her.
"This is Hete Slayder, one of the commando trainers. He will accompany you on this op and provide a more accurate briefing of the current threat assesment. His codename for the operation is Snake Doctor."
Hete took a step forward and nodded to the clones. "Commandos, Commander Bly, I am Hete Slayder. I've had over fourty years of jungle fighting experience from before this war. I hope that my knowledge will aid you in this endeavor.
"One of my comrades will accompany the 327th while I will personally join the commando element. My job is to make sure you know what you're doing once you hit dirt. Simulation training is great and all, but nothing beats the real thing when it comes to jungles."
Hete stepped away from the podium and motioned to the commandos. "Echo 32, if you and your commandos will follow me." He headed towards a door in the back of the briefing room. Thrasher rose and followed him. A hand-scanner was at the door and they waited patiently for it to analyze Hete's hand-scan. Finally it slid open.
"Welcome to the armory, gentlemen." Hete stood to the side and waved them in. They entered in one at a time. Thrasher was impressed by the array of weapons inside. The room was filled with weapon racks and scrates of ammuntions. Crates of detonators and EMP grenades lined one of the short walls to their right. On the far side of the room sat a handful of experimental BlasTech X-17 chainguns.
"Take what you need. I ordered it all specifically for this op."
Thrasher strode directly to the stack of chainguns. He lifted it onto his shoulder and nodded satisfactorily. It was light and his helmet automatically integrated with its internal computer, aligning the sights and giving him the heating meter that controlled the firing mechanism.
"Nice tech here. What'd it cost to get this stuff?"
"Not much." Hete patted him on the back and touched a blinking light on the side of the chaingun. "This baby is run on an internal cooling system. It generates its own energy via a tiny generator located just above the shoulder guard. It can handle sustained firing for up to a minute at a time. Keep it running too long and it will overheat. The cool-down time is about twenty seconds. Don't get caught overheated in a firefight; you'll be a sitting duck with this hunk on your shoulder."
"Roger that, sir." Thrasher set the weapon down and looked pointedly at Keith. "Hey, 86, this one's our type."
Keith walked over slowly, judging the weapon with feigned disinterest. "I don't know, Thrasher. I think Cable would like it more."
A deactivated detonator bounced off the back of his head. Cable's indignant voice followed close behind.
"In your dreams, 86. I'm stocking on the boom-sticks. You guys have fun with your fancy pea-shooters. I've got the real stuff right here."
Keith and Thrasher turned to examine Cable. He was posing heroically with one foot on a container of detonators. A half-dozen bandoliers of thermal tape, detonators and other explosive instruments were slung around his torso. He eyed them with mock distain from his place. "What do you mortals want?"
"Funny, Cable. Real funny. Now shift your butt and lets stock up on stuff that we might need. Optic probes, thermal and infrared scanners, RAM nets, anything that could be useful in a jungle."
Sith dumped several armloads of material onto the table. "Got it all right here, 32. probes, scanners, a GPS, a brace of cortosis shields…"
"Cortosis! What the frack is that doing here?" Thrasher turned to Hete, who was standing in the doorway. "Where'd you get that."
"I found it… somewhere. It doubles as a lightweight energy shield. Very quiet, very effective. Lightsabers aren't the only thing that it works against. They're also razor sharp, so you could go hand-to-hand with it easier than you could with your knives. It cuts through droid like a vibro-blade through caf."
Keith picked up the shields and offered them to Thrasher. "You take the 'tosis, sir. After all, you're the most likely to go duke it out with the tinnies."
"Thanks, Keith." Thrasher slid the shields onto his arm and adjusted them to avoid his glove-knife. "They feel like they were made for me."
Hete patted him on the back and held up a modified DC-17. A short-barreled energy-shotgun had been installed in front of the magazine slot. "This baby will help in the close encounters. You can take down just about anything with this."
Thrasher looked at it for a moment and grinned. "I'll take it."
"Good." Hete pointed to the door and held up a datapad. "Here are the mission specs for you to review. We'll lift off in five hours."
Thrasher accepted the datapad and saluted. The operation codename read Blood or Honor.