The dropship's interior was as black as the void as they descended to the ground. TacCom had ordered for the dropships to be sealed airtight so as to minimize casualties from the flak. On paper it was a good idea, but what looks good on paper works horribly in reality. Thrasher had never felt claustrophobic in his life before now. Strapped down on the bench, with explosions and screams filling his radio, he desperately wanted to see what was going on. He wanted to shoot something, not sit here with a blank wall in front of him.
A large explosion rocked the dropship, shaking it so hard that the two clone troopers sitting beside Thrasher were thrown to the floor. They grumbled in annoyance and resumed their seats, perfectly calm. It unnerved him to see his comrades so steady. They were one shot away from a fiery death in the atmosphere, and the regulars were as calm as they were back in barracks. They were too calm.
"Thirty seconds," the pilot announced. "Expect a hot LZ."
No, really? The dropship lurched violently to the side, this time with enough force to throw Thrasher off the bench too. He landed heavily on his side and swore. To his left, he heard a horrid screeching noise. He looked up in time to see the doorway get ripped from its welding by a hail of flak. Suddenly the dropship was filled with light and he could look out.
Hundreds of Republic dropships were descending on the planet Despayre. Sepratist flak and fighters were there to greet them. Dozens of dogfights had erupted among the transports ships as droid trifighters blazed away at everything that moved while the clone fighter pilots shot them down with merciless precision. There were lots of casualties though. Even as Thrasher looked out the window a dropship just to their port took a direct hit. The dropship split in two just behind the cockpit, spraying flames and hydraulic fuel in all directions. A dozen screaming bodies tumbled out of the ship and fell thousands of meters down to the jungle floor. Thrasher felt anger building in his chest as he watched the bodies fall. Everyone of those men was his brother.
The dropship rocked back and forth as the pilot manuvered to evade antiair fire. He moved the dropship through the flak field as if it were a dancer, dodging hard rounds and slipping between expanding fields of the lighter spreads. It amazed Thrasher to see his skill. The moves that this pilot were pulling off were phenomenal, even for a clone pilot. It was as if the dropship was an extension of the pilot's will.
"Dust off in ten."
The dropship broke through the flak field and dropped altitude to treetop level. It hovered there for a bare second while the pilot looked for a clear landing point. Seeing one, the dropship shot forward, evading handheld rockets and small arms fire. It settled in a meter off the ground, giving them a short jump to the ground. The clone troopers leapt off first, firing and finding cover as they had been trained. Half of them died before they had two feet firmly on the ground.
Thrasher jumped off the other side of the dropship, the side that did not have droids on it, and checked his ammunition again. His modified DC-17 was loaded and ready to roll. As soon as the dropship took off, he charged into the fray, firing at targets and dodging behind cover.
A trio of the troopers broke out from the hail of fire and advanced to an overturned speeder. They crouched down behind it and laid down suppresive fire on the droids up ahead. That was their first mistake. Droids do not run for cover when lasers start snapping past their heads. They are not intimidated by incoming fire. Their second mistake was hiding behind an unexploded speeder. Judging by the puddle of fuel dripping out of the engine, it was chock full of oil. And when those things went off, they really went off.
Thrasher swore as a stray round set off the fuel. The speeder and the clone troppers disappeared in a blazing inferno. Thrasher shot their flaming bodies to be sure that they were dead. As bad as he felt shooting his comrades, it was a far better fate than burning to death. Once he was sure they were dead, Thrasher hunkered down behind a metal container and checked his GPS. The dropship had let them off near a pair of antiair emplacements. Each emplacement held a heavy flak cannon and a brace of the lighter flak guns. One of those emplacements alone could wreak havoc on the invasion.
After a glance at his allies, Thrasher peeked out from behind cover and squeezed off a burst at a cluster of SBDs. His roudns sparked off their armor, causing minor damage. The droids turned to face him however, and they all leveled their blaster cannons on his position. That gave the remaining four clone troopers the break they needed. While three of the clones opened up with their DC-15s, the fourth pulled out an EMP grenade and hurled it at the cluster. The droids collapsed as the energy release overloaded their systems. With those droids cleared, the clones advanced, firing in staggered groups while they worked their way forward. Thrasher rose and joined them, offering his bulkier, more protective armor as a shield to his lighter-armored comrades. Together the five clones fought their way to the edge of the first emplacement.
The emplacemetns were standard Sepratist constructions. A square kilometer of bulldozed, trench-sided ground with the three antiair cannons in a triangular pattern. Crates and containers of ammunition littered the area, creating lots of explosive cover. The clones hopped into the trench and huddled low to discuss their plan. Thrasher listened in vaguely, but his main focus was on the invasion force. Even as they planned their assault, another two dropships exploded high in the sky above them.
"Sir," the ranking trooper tapped him on the shoulder. He did not need to do that, his radio picked up the voice just fine, but the regulars always acted different around the non-regulars. It was as if they had to constantly convince themselves that they were really there.
"We will assault their position with a Theta-Flanking plan."
"Bad idea." Thrasher leaned up to catch a glimpse of the emplacement. "There are too many explosives lying around. You and your men would be torn to shreds before you got close."
"Do you have a plan?"
"Yeah." The clones flinched at the casual word. "How many grenades do you have?"
"We have seven EMP detonators and a thermal apiece."
"That'll do." Thrasher pointed to a nearby ordinance container. "I want one thermal on that container. The explosion should set off a chain reaction that will clear out most of the ammunition. It might even destroy one of the guns. Once that is cleared we can advance through that depression." He indicated a shallow ditch running perpendicular to their position. "From there we can get close enough to the guns to EMP them."
"On your mark then."
"Right," the clones lined up against the trench. One of them, Thrasher recognized him as the one who tossed the EMP grenade at the SBDs earlier, pulled a thermal detonator out of his ammunition belt. He primed the grenade and held his position, waiting Thrasher's order. "Execute!"
The clone trooper sprang to his feet and cocked his arm to throw. The other clones and Thrasher rose to a half-crouch and scanned the area for targets. Time slowed to a crawl as Thrasher swept the area with his rifle. No target, no target, no… frack! Droid sniper. It had them in its sights and it was out of his rifle's range. That was the one drawback of his DC-17. The modifications made the standard antiarmor and sniper attachments incompatible. He couldn't reach it. All he could do was pray.
There was a flash of red light and Thrasher's visor automatically darkened. Several of the clones screamed something that he could not understand. He did not feel a thing, but a second later there was a loud explosion and he was thrown to the ground. His visor untinted and he got a look at the damage.
One of the clone's was dead, a gaping hole in his helmet. His body was sprawled against the edge of the trench, his rifle slung over his shoulder. The grenadier. The other three clones were picking themselves off the ground. Black scorch marks marred their white armor.
Thrasher pulled himself to his feet and picked up his fallen DC-17. "Status report!"
"Delta 312 is dead, sir. He was shot as he let go. The thermal detonator missed its target."
Thrasher glanced over the lip of the trench and winced. The grenade had landed far short of the container. Droids were beginning to funnel their way, drawn by the blaster fire and the explosion.
"Now would be a good time for another plan, sir. Do you want to try it again?"
A second sniper shot lit the air. The round glanced off of Thrasher's helmet with enough force to knock him back a step.
"No good, that sniper's got us zeroed in. We need to take him out."
"My men can flank its position and flush it out," the clone offered. "You can pick it off from here."
"That wont work. My DC doesn't have the sniper mod. I can't hit it from this range."
The clone's shoulders slumped a little. That was one of the most expressive things Thrasher had ever seen a regular do.
"We need to take those guns out, sir." The clone's voice had a desperate edge to it, something that he had never heard before. "Our brothers are getting shot down in the sky above us."
"We'll get it, don't worry."Thrasher risked another look. The area was swarming with droids now. Thankfully, there were no SBDs in sight. "I have an idea. I need two of you to stay here and be ready to grenade the container on my mark."
"Yes sir." The clone looked at the other two and said something on their squad channel. The clones nodded affirmatively. "These two will stay behind. What do you want me to do?"
"You and I will flank them aruond the trench system. I lead, you provide overwatch. Once we get close enough we can pop it from the side."
"Sounds good, sir."
"Alright then. Follow me." Thrasher pointed to the other two clones, who were eyeing the approaching droids impassively. "Covering fire on my mark."
"Fire!"
Thrasher grabbed the lip of the trench and hoisted himself up. Laser fire splashed all around him, but the droids were too far away for their shots to do any real damage. He did not have to worry about anything but the sniper. Speaking of which…
Bam!
He staggered to the side as a sniper round slammed into his arm. The cortosis blade absorbed most of the energy, but his arm burned like it had been hit with a hammer. He grunted off the pain and charged towards the next trench, finger pumping the trigger. A handful of his rounds hit their targets, but none of the droids went down. The clone trooper followed his every step, doding fire and plodding forward with the determination of one bred for battle. A spent round glanced off his thigh armor, spinning him around, but he scrambled to his feet and kept going, hosing down the droids with his DC-15. They dove into the trench a few feet ahead of a shoulder-fired rocket. The rocket tore a gaping hole in the ground where they had just been.
"Right," Thrasher gasped, gulping for air. "Let's go."
They set off down the trench, Thrasher at a halfcrouch with his gun resting against his shoulder, the clone a step behind, covering the top of the trench. A pair of droids jumped into the trench ahead of them, but a single round from the DC-17 shotgun attachment left them lying in pieces in the mud. The other droids were still shooting at the two clones back at their original position. The two clone rifles could barely be heard over the thunderous roar of the droid firepower.
"Just a few more meters," Thrasher said into his radio as they neared the spot where he had seen the sniper. A wave of fire washed over the trench as an air-to-surface rocket exploded among a cluster of droids near the trench. The heat caused Thrasher's shields to flare, flashing opaquely as they fought to stem the rush of heat. "Here we go, he should be…" Thrasher pictured the area in his mind and pointed through the trench wall, "there. Fifteen meters. EMP the bolthead."
"Will do, sir." The clone pulled an EMP grenade out of his belt and flicked the trigger. On the count of three they rose. Thrasher fired at the nearest droids, cutting down three with shots to their power packs. The clone trooper's grenade soared through the air and landed among a jumble of crates. A wave of static hit their systems as the grenade went off. Thrasher waited a second for the EMP to die out. Then he jumped out of the trench and charged into the crates. He found a short-circuited sniper lying amid the crates. He shot its rifle once to disable it and turned on his tactical radio.
"Sniper down, you are green for the grenade."
The clone troopers confirmed his message with a series of clicks and Thrasher ran back for the trench. Three seconds later a massive explosion shook the ground. Several more explosions rocked the area as the ordinance containers detonated. The explosions lasted for a whole minute before the noise died off.
"Good job, troopers." Thrasher said. His ears were ringing so hard he was shouting into the radio. "Let's go get those guns."
Only two green lights winked on his HUD. He turned to the clone at his side, frowning. "What's up with your squadmates?"
"One moment." The clone switched radio channels and held his head to his helmet. An unnecessary act, but one that showed he was actually checking. He stayed like that for a few seconds.
"Delta 310 is wounded, sir. He cannot move from his position."
"Where did he get hit?"
Another pause. "In the stomach, sir. His vital signs are low."
"Does he need evac?"
"No sir. His condition is stable."
"Good. Tell…"
"Delta 314."
"Tell Delta 314 to haul his boots over here. We'll take the gun positions as a threesome."
"Roger that." The clone activated his squad radio and ordered Delta 314 over. The clone hurried over, stopping only to finish off disabled droids. While he approached, Thrasher looked over at his comrade. The clone's armor was scorched black across his chest. Burn marks covered his legs from glancing shots. He looked like a range target after a shooting contest.
"What's your number, trooper?" he asked the question casually. The clone started at the question.
"Delta 318 sir."
"You're doing good, 318. You seen action before?"
"First time outside the simulaters, sir."
"Well, you're doing fine."
Delta 314 jumped into the trench. Thrasher saw that he was cradling his left hand. Blood seeped out from between his armor plates.
"I took a piece of shrapnel to the hand, sir." He explained. Thrasher scanned the wound with his helmet and saw that it was not serious. "It will not be a problem."
"Good." Two flak cannons boomed nearby. "Time to go spike some guns."
The three clones climbed out of the trench and advanced on the gun positions. One of the lighter flak guns was a smoking wreck. Its barrel had been snapped off in the explosions. The targeting computer was a pile of debris. That was one down.
A handful of droids were still operable in the emplacement. Most of the droids had been destroyed or damaged by the inferno that had been set off. Thrasher finished off damaged droids with single shots to the head, burning their computers.
"Contact, one SBD and three tinnies, one wet."
One wet. The droids had an organic officer. He had to be taken care of quickly. As long as he was issuing orders, the droids would operate more effectively.
"Take cover behind those crates." Thrasher pointed to a stack of parts-containers to their left. "We'll surprise them."
An SBD rocket clipped past them, ricocheting off the ground. They scrambled for cover, firing blindly at the SBD.
"Scratch that, we'll do this the old fashioned way." Thrasher pumped a round into his shotgun. "You two keep them busy; I'll flank them and frag the droids.
The clones nodded and shouldered their weapons. They rose to a kneeling position and opened fire on the SBD. Their rounds had little effect on the armored droid. It returned their fire and advanced, plodding forward one step at a time.
He slipped off around the stack of crates, crouching and moving slowly. Some of the droids were equipped with rudimentary motion sensors. If he moved slow enough he could avoid setting them off. The blaster fire behind him increased as he snuck around the cover. The other droids must have joined the battle.
Thrasher rounded the final corner, weapon at the ready. He paused when he saw what was in front of him. The droids had their backs to him. They were oblivious. Even better, their organic commander was just ten feet away. It was a human, decked out in Separatist gear. He was issuing orders to the droids from behind a shielded mini-bunker. A computer console was at his side. It looked like a targeting computer.
Silently congratulating himself for his luck, Thrasher advanced on the unsuspecting human. He approached to within a foot before the human noticed him. The officer let out a muffled swear as Thrasher's cortosis blade slashed across his throat. He moaned in pain and collapsed on the floor, convulsing wretchedly as spasms of pain wracked his body. Thrasher took up the human's original position and trained his DC-17 on the droids. The droids had paused, disoriented by the loss of their leader. While they hesitated the two clone troopers leaned out from their cover and shot down a cluster of droids. The droids, immediately returned fire, and one of the clones fell back clutching his shoulder.
The SBD turned back towards Thrasher's position, curious as to why its commander had stopped sending it information. Thrasher shot it in the face from only a dozen feet away. The droid stumbled backwards from the impact, its arms waving in an attempt to keep its balance. One of the clones took the opportunity to shoot its legs out. The SBD fell to the ground, arm cannon firing aimlessly. He then tossed an EMP grenade at the mini-bunker. The EMP detonated in a brilliant flash of blue. The computer sparked and died quietly.
Thrasher finished off the other droids with a few bursts and advanced on the fallen SBD. The droid clawed at his feet as he stepped into its view. He shot it again to finish it off.
"Status report."
"Delta 314 is wounded. He took a shot to the shoulder the SBD. He is stable, but his arm is useless."
Useless? It's a miracle his arm is still attached to his body. SBD rounds could tear whole limbs off.
"Roger that. Are you green?"
"Ready to move on, sir. My visor's gone, so I'm ditching the helmet." The clone's voice disappeared on Thrasher's radio. He next heard the clone's voice coming from their position. "Let's get this over with."
Thrasher reloaded his rifle and pumped another shell into his shotgun. Delta 318 strode into view, carrying Delta 314's grenades on a belt slung bandolier-style across his shoulder. With his battle-scarred armor and grim expression, he looked like a holovid action hero. Thrasher admired the clone trooper's guts. In his mind it took a special kind of crazy determination to fight without a helmet. Yet here the clone was, continuing the fight despite losing his most valuable piece of equipment.
"You sure you're good with this?"
"Yes, sir."
The clone commando regarded the trooper for a moment, sizing him up. "Right then," he finally agreed. He turned toward the guns, temporarily silent as their central targeting computer had been neutralized. The droid guards milled about uncertainly, waiting for orders. Thrasher braced his gun against a crate and settled his sights on a clump of droids. He wished he had a grenade launcher with him.
"Sir, that's a long shot and there's no more cover." Delta 318 set his own gun up beside Thrasher's. "Got any ideas?"
"A few." Thrasher scanned the area, looking for volatile containers. He found a stack of them near the heavy cannon. Two droids were taking rounds straight from the containers and loading them into the cannon. Perfect.
"How good is your arm?"
"Sir?" The clone gave him a confused look.
"How far can you chuck one of those?" he pointed to the thermal detonator in his belt. "Think you can reach that gun?"
"From here? It is five meters outside of my range, sir." The clone shook his head.
"That's close enough. What's the blast radius on that?"
"Ten meters, standard issue."
"That puts those containers well within the blast then."
Delta 318's confused look melted from his face. His eyes lit up excitedly. "Roger that, sir. Just say when."
"Right now."
Delta 318 armed his detonator and primed it. He cocked his arm back to throw and, giving a grunt, hurled it as far as he could. The detonator sailed through the air, flashing silver in the sunlight. The droids followed its path, their computers calculating its threat value. While their backs were turned Thrasher opened fire. His blaster fire caught three droids in the back. Shards of metal flew in all directions as they toppled over.
The cannon exploded in a spectacular display of fireworks as the thermal detonator and ammunition containers blew up. The firing chamber disintegrated from the blast. Wreckage and debris flew in all directions. Two guns down.
Delta 318 opened up with his DC-15, and together they finished off the remaining guards. The third gun was undefended. All the droids had been eliminated. Thrasher planted some thermal tape on the breech and they retreated to a safe distance before detonating it. This last explosion seemed anticlimactic. The flak gun fizzled and dropped to the ground with a dull thud. The area was cleared.
Thrasher marked the emplacement as neutralized on the Tactical Battlenet. He breathed in deeply when a reply came from FleetCom. In the sky above the majority of the dropships turned their way, descending towards the pacified LZ. The two clones returned to Delta 314's position, still alert, but slightly relaxed. The battle was still raging on elsewhere, but their objective had been achieved.
Delta 314 had patched himself up as best he could in their absence. He had torn off his rifle sling and fashioned it into a makeshift sling. He rose to his feet as they approached and threw a salute with his uninjured arm.
"Mission accomplished?"
"Mission accomplished." Thrasher patted him lightly on his shoulder, careful to not put much pressure on it. His helmet scanner showed him the extent of the clone's injuries. He had lost a lot of blood for a laser wound, but the trooper had used the bacta from his medpack to stop the bleeding. The rest of his body looked fine.
"You soldiers did well today." The commando offered him a shoulder to lean on and they set off for the final member of their squad. Dropships were already touching down. Dozens of clone troopers emerged from the dropships and headed their way, weapons at the half-ready position. Some of them recoiled at the sight of the trio. The two troopers were covered in blood, oil and blaster burns, and Thrasher could only guess how imposing he looked. Glancing down at his chest plate, he saw lots of blood sprayed on his armor from the human he had killed. He would need to wash that off.
A pair of medics approached them tentatively, and Thrasher relinquished his hold on Delta 314. When one of the medics approached him, he waved him off and pointed to the trench where they had left Delta 310.
"We've got a man seriously wounded in that trench. Stomach wound, minimal internal damage. Go patch him up and evacuate him."
The medic saluted and rushed off to the trench. Some more medics followed him, and soon they were carrying Delta 310 back to a waiting dropship on a stretcher. Thrasher felt a measure of pride rise in his chest as he saw Delta 318 at the dropship. He was arguing with an officer about going back into the fight. The officer wanted him to go back to the ship for debriefing and to reequip, but 318 was adamant about staying planet-side.
Thrasher wandered closer to hear them.
"I am perfectly capable of continuing, sir." 318 was saying. "Just give me another helmet and I'll be good to go."
"Negative, 3118." The officer replied. His face was unreadable behind his helmet, but Thrasher could sense the frustration in his voice. Clone officers hated it when the troopers disobeyed orders or refused to cooperate. "You are wounded and your equipment is damaged. Return to the ship now for debriefing. You will be sent back down later with an ad-hoc unit when enough men are assembled."
"Sir, I…" 318's voice faltered and he nearly lost his balance. He looked exhausted, even though they'd only been in the fight for less than an hour. He cast Thrasher a pleading look.
"Head back to the ship," Thrasher advised. "You need the rest."
Delta 318's face slumped in defeat, but he saluted the officer and Thrasher. Rifle in hand, he climbed aboard the medevac dropship and found a spot on a bench.
The officer looked over at Thrasher and nodded. "Thank you, commando. Did you see much action here?"
Thrasher turned around to view the battlefield. Smoking crates littered the area. The bodies of nine dead clone troopers and the scores of wrecked droids were a grim reminder of the battle. A civilian would have called this a bloodbath. Thrasher considered it a minor skirmish.
"We saw a little." He answered. The officer nodded again and returned to his duties, not willing to engage the commando in any more conversation. None of the regulars felt comfortable around commandos or ARCs when lasers were not flying. He did not feel comfortable around them either.
His squad radio crackled to life, startling him. "Hey, Thrasher, I see you cleared out an LZ. We're coming down."
Thrasher looked up at the sky. The battle for the air had calmed down remarkably. The volume of Separatist fire had decreased dramatically. The larger troop transports were now making their way planet-side. They had established a foothold on Despayre. Now they just had to find the scientist.