Chapter One

Clone Wars: Day 547

Xagobah

The deck of the gunship rocked beneath his feet, bounced by the concussive force of exploding anti-air shells. The loud booming of the guns was barely audible over the rumbling of the LAAT/I's engines, and the howling of the wind. The excitable banter disappeared as the craft entered the flak band, and the troopers shifted anxiously, fists clenched tightly around the loops suspended from the ceiling of the troop bay.

The co-pilot's voice came in loud and clear over the larty's intercom system. "ETA to Drop Zone, one minute."

First Platoon stared at the deploy light, waiting for it to turn red. The Captain of Easy Company moved from one trooper to the next, double-checking jet-pack attachment points. Jarkiv was an attentive commanding officer, and took his responsibility to his troops seriously.

The Clone Commander ducked his head out of the open doors to look at the chaos below. So high above the battlefield, it always felt like they were moving a lot slower. The only indication of their air speed was the buffeting of the wind against his faceplate. The cannons on the wings were firing rapidly at targets of opportunity, and the gunners were busy at work in the gunnery bubbles. The drop zone was going to be hot. A small object whistled past 1367's head. He flinched. Too close!

Just ahead, the General's gunship bobbed, narrowly avoiding a burst of flak. The larty behind it took the full brunt of the blast, and tumbled from the sky in two fiery masses.

The Commander didn't have time to feel sorry for them. The troop bay lit up red, signaling the troopers to begin their jumps. He barked "Go! Go! Go!", and the troopers of First Platoon leapt from the gunship, beginning their free-fall to the LZ. Six-Seven activated the altimeter and airspeed displays on his HUD, then followed them, hurling himself clear of the larty.

Over twenty-eight exhilarating seconds, the airspeed indicator shot from zero to two hundred and seventy-four meters per second. The altimeter was changing so quickly that the numbers were an unreadable blur. CC-1367's heart-rate rocketed, and his breathing quickened.

For Six-Seven, there was nothing more thrilling than a high altitude, low opening jump. There was also nothing more calming. From this high an altitude, you couldn't see large vehicles like tanks, and only very large buildings were visible. Even the busiest of planets seemed quiet and pristine. Up here, only birds and the 506th Airborne soared.

The Commander had done it so many times, he could break it down to nothing but numbers. From an altitude of twenty-seven thousand meters, it took him just under four thousand meters to reach his terminal velocity. He would not have to deploy his wings until he was only six hundred meters from the ground. That meant about eighty-two seconds of exhilarating free-fall.

Six-Seven looked around, locating his troops, shining white dots against a murky purple backdrop. Xagobah's air was thick with pollen and fungal spores.

General Kraia was barely visible fifty meters below, distinguished from the white armored troopers by his civilian kit. The General's jump suit was marked with splotches of blue and gray, and had zippered control surfaces, which gave the General maneuverability even in free-fall. It wasn't bad kit, for civilian gear, it gave a good compromise between agility in the air, and mobility on the ground. General Kraia carried his oxygen supply on his legs, out of the way of his wings and emergency reserve chute. The only weapon he carried was the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

The first time General Kraia had joined them in a HALO jump, the oxygen-giddy General had needed a little encouragement out of the troop bay. Most people did, it went against all instincts to voluntarily jump from a fast-moving vehicle, especially a flying one. At the time, General Kraia had not appreciated Six-Seven's form of encouragement, a firm shove out of the bay door.

Now, General Kraia was a seasoned veteran. He knew the drill as well as any of the troopers under his command. The General had done a bang-up job so far, and had more than earned Six-Seven's respect.

A tactical update flashed on Six-Seven's HUD. **Able Company en-route to primary mission objective.**

Able Company were tasked with neutralizing enemy mobile artillery emplacements four days' march south of Easy Company's target, the command post designated Charlie.

The clearing around command post Charlie was visible to the west. It was a large compound surrounded by dense jungle. The plan was to drop right into the compound, avoiding a two day tab through the local flora.

It didn't take long for the Separatists to figure out what was going on, and blaster fire started lancing through the sky at First Platoon.

CC-1367 looked at his altimeter again. One thousand meters...

Eight hundred meters... Now!

The Commander activated the wing mechanism with an eye-flick, and the airfoils swung out into flight position, slowing his free-fall.

"Targets of opportunity boys!" came the booming voice of General Kraia. "And try to leave some for me!" The crackle of comm interference gave the normally smooth voice of the General a hint of grizzled experience. It suited him.

The enemy fire was getting denser by the second. They really didn't want visitors. At first, the enemy fire was ineffective, but as the company drew closer to the target, the droids found it easier to hit their marks. One trooper went limp under his wings, a clean shot to the head killing him outright, and he spiralled to the ground.

Three more shots zinged past the Commander in quick succession. CC-1367 fired up his jets, changed his angle of attack, and returned fire with the guns mounted on his wings. The cannons lit up with a loud sphat-sphat sound, and two shots struck the ground at the enemy's feet, the third burning through the target's knee, the forth through the thin abdomen, splitting the droid in two.

Six-Seven oriented on a new target, and fired a burst of shots into a cluster of B2s. The shots did little to slow the behemoths down, but they did leave a mark on one droid's bulky torso, just to the left of its head. The Commander pulled the thermal detonator from his belt, primed it, and dropped it the midst of the Super Battle Droids as he soared over them.

The detonation shattered the B2s, shooting large twisted shreds of metal whistling through the air. The leading edge of the pressure wave knocked three battle droids over like clanking metal dominoes.

A series of flashes demanded the Commander's attention. Off to his left, General Kraia was leading Second Platoon in a charge on the enemy's left flank.

The General swung his yellow-hued saber quickly, picking off an enemy blaster bolt and returning it to sender. The hulking blue bucket of bolts went down with a satisfying metallic clank.

Beside the General, four troopers armed with Z6 Rotaries advanced, spraying the enemy formation with scorching blue plasma.

The anti-personnel turrets came to life, spraying hundreds of bolts downrange at First Platoon, forcing them to retreat for cover, and pinning them down. Two troopers fell, chest plates smoldering. One fell silent, the other screamed blue murder for someone, anyone, to help him.

Six-Seven's stomach lurched when he saw the wounded trooper's number on his HUD. CT-229/8267. Six-Seven. Just like me. I can't just leave him there.

"Fourth Platoon, get on that right flank!" Six-Seven yelled. "Shiv, you're with me!"

I'm coming vod. Hang in there.

Six-Seven swooped in for a landing, and darted to cover behind a massive tree trunk. It wasn't going to do a whole hell of a lot against sustained fire, but soft cover was better than no cover.

He was just meters from 8267's position. But it could just as well have been klicks with that turret firing.

Third Platoon advanced to his position in squads, leap-frogging from cover to cover.

"Jarkiv? Six-Seven." He spoke into his comm. He watched Jarkiv press a hand to his ear.

"Go ahead Sir."

"Third Platoon is going to deal with that turret. They'll need some covering fire to get in close. I'm going to try get to 8267. Tell your boys to watch their fire."

"Yes Sir!"

A burst of anti-infantry fire flashed over the top of Six-Seven's position, passing with a high-pitched whine, and leaving behind an acrid smell. Moments later, Third Platoon's CO slammed into the downed tree beside Six-Seven, and ducked his head, panting heavily. Seven more troopers joined the two officers. Lieutenant Shiver stared at him for a moment as he caught his breath. "Ready Sir?"

Six-Seven closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. This is insane... I'm going to run out there, and get myself shot. And for what? A kid I've never even spoken to. Osik! I'm losing it.

The Commander pulled one pistol from its holster and flicked the safety off. Why am I doing this?

He knew the answer of course. He was doing this because he'd gotten attached to the kid, just like that, over something so ridiculous as a shared number.

"Ready." he said. "First Platoon, covering fire! Third Platoon, take out that turret!" Six-Seven rose to his feet, and made a jetpack assisted leap over the massive tree.

Third Platoon followed him over the top, and began their assault on the turret, under a barrage of covering fire provided by First Platoon.

Six-Seven sprinted toward his downed brother, and dropped a battle droid with a well-aimed pistol shot without breaking his stride.

Six-Seven skidded to a stop beside his fallen comrade, who had fallen ominously silent. The kid's breathing was shallow and ragged, and his vital signs were plummeting fast.

As he looked over the kid's injuries, it didn't look good. The shot had burned clean through the armor, and made a bloody mess of the kid's chest. The fact the kid was breathing at all was a miracle.

He couldn't help the kid, it was well beyond his abilities to stabilise injuries this severe. The kid needed a medic.

A shot hit the ground beside Six-Seven's feet, reminding him that he needed cover to duck behind, or there'd be two very dead Six-Sevens. "Jarkiv! Cover me! I'm coming to you!"

The Commander lifted the kid, and scrambled toward cover, blaster bolts flying so close he could almost taste them. "Stay with me kid. You're not out of the fight just yet." he murmured.