Chapter Two
The cabin of the gunship was nearly silent as it plummeted through the planet's atmosphere. Vosh, for one, was attempting to settle his stomach. The G-Force dampeners on the gunship were good, but he was still just aware enough of the craft buffeting and swaying to be motion sick. Vosh's men, on the other hand, appeared completely unperturbed by the descent. Each face was hidden behind the typical blank visor. Vosh knew that the internal comms of his troopers' helmets were alive with chatter, but he was content to let them have that small measure of privacy. He trusted that his men would communicate anything that was tactically relevant. Gradually the feeling of falling started to dissipate as the gunship's pilot arrested its descent. "Two minutes to the Landing Zone," the pilot said through the cabin speakers. The men in the cabin straightened up and those that didn't already have them retrieved their DC-15s from storage racks on the wall. No one expected a fight, but still the clones swapped fresh charge packs into their rifles like they had been drilled to do their entire lives. A couple of the more cautious troopers even prepped their rifles to fire.
The gunship had just swept over a ridge and started its final approach when the pilot opened the cabin doors. Clean, crisp air rushed through the cabin as the wind threatened to snatch Vosh's field cap from his head. Their LZ was gorgeous. A wide meadow, covered in flowers of every imaginable color, stretched into the distance. Vosh couldn't help but think that it was a shame to crush something so beautiful under the boots of him and his troopers. He forced the sentiment out of his head as the gunship flared to a stop and set down on the surface of the unknown planet. The clones charged out of the cabin each man splitting to follow his squad mates as they fanned out around the gunship. Vosh followed, ducking under the tips of the craft's wings. Its passengers safely offloaded, the gunship pilot shut the cabin doors and lifted off again. He had been on the ground for maybe ten seconds. Vosh turned just in time to watch the second gunship finish unloading and follow the first back toward orbit.
One by one Vosh's squad leaders checked in over the comm. All four of his squads were on the ground and accounted for. "All right, just as we briefed gentlemen. Fan out and secure the perimeter." Vosh lowered the comm transmitter from his lips and watched as each squad jogged towards its assigned corner in a loose line. The synchronicity with which the clones moved was uncanny, not to mention a little unnerving. Only one clone had stayed behind with Vosh. Doc, the platoon's medic. "Are you alright Lieutenant?" he asked. "You looked a little queasy on the way down." "I'm all right," Vosh answered as he retrieved his electrobinoculars from his belt. "Just not used to tactical descents is all."
Vosh swept the tree line with the device. Nothing was immediately apparent but that didn't mean a threat couldn't be lurking just out of sight. Reaching up to a switch on the side of the electrobinoculars, he switched the device into infrared mode. Vosh let out a soft whistle. The signatures of dozens or maybe hundreds of animals were visible. All of them warm-blooded enough to show up white hot on the thermal image. "Well, there's no shortage of life," Vosh said, handing the device over to the clone at his side. Doc raised it to his eyes and turned in place scanning the surrounding forest. "The men will be happy. Something else to eat besides ready rations." Vosh didn't say so, but he agreed with the sentiments. Ready rations, or readyrats as they were commonly known, contained the optimal nutritional content for humans although they weren't enough for some species. Vosh chuckled as he remembered a Duros academy mate of his suddenly fainting away during a field exercise. Come to find out his species relied on a crucial vitamin that no one had thought to check in the readyrats for before ordering the man to live off them for fourteen planetary rotations. Regardless of how effective they were as a food source for Vosh and his men, they had no flavor and biting into one felt like you were sinking your teeth into a duracrete block. Their cooking facilities would be limited at best, but he and the clones could use them to turn the local wild and plant life into something that hopefully approached palatable. "I want anything we forage carefully screened before it's prepared into food." Doc didn't get a chance to reply before Vosh's comm chirped in his ear. "Lieutenant, this is Aurek Squad. Quadrant one is secure, over." In sequence, Besh, Cresh, and Dorn Squads all reported that their respective quadrants were also secure. It was exactly as Vosh had suspected. If there was anything hostile in the area, his platoon's arrival had scared it off. Vosh acknowledged the transmissions and ordered his men to rally back in the center of the meadow with him before switching his comm to another channel. "Bantha 5 this is Lieutenant Vosh. The LZ has been secured and you are cleared to begin your approach." The pilot's voice came back from the small cylinder clutched in his hand. "Copy that sir. We're on our way." A minute later four more gunships swooped in over the ridge Vosh and his troops had flown in over a few minutes earlier. This time, instead of the tactical assault landing conducted by the troop carriers the gunships made a gentler approach and flared to a soft touchdown. Vosh felt the slight downwash from the gunship flutter over him for a moment before the pilot cut off the repulsorlifts. The shutdown also silenced the LAAT's characteristic rumble, and the craft seemed to settle a few centimeters further into the ground.
The first thing that Vosh noticed as the cabin doors hissed open was the pallid face of the naval tech that staggered out of the cabin. Vosh turned but Doc had already hurried forward and grabbed the man. At the front of the craft, the pilot popped his canopy and he and his gunner swiftly removed themselves from their seats with a grace that told Vosh they had done this a thousand times. With a pop and a hiss of escaping air, the pilot removed his sealed helmet and cradled it under his arm before making his way over to Vosh. The pilot snapped to salute when he reached his superior. "Happy decent?" Vosh asked the man, taking the datapad the other had held out to him. The clone didn't have a chance to respond before he was cut off by retching just out of sight behind the gunship. Vosh felt his stomach tumble with sympathy and had to take a moment to collect himself. "Doc?" he called cautiously. "It's all right sir," the medic answered. "First-time descent that's all." Vosh let out a sympathetic chuckle. Even with the G-Force dampeners that prevented passengers from feeling the jostling of most modern vehicles, the steep orbital drops that the gunships tended to perform took some getting used to. Vosh had a similar reaction to his first orbital descent, and as he had been reminded on the way out of orbit he still wasn't quite used to them. Vosh looked down at the datapad. Everything on the manifest looked in order: several prefabricated structures, crates of supplies, food and blaster power packs and the like, and some heavier military hardware. He had requisitioned two E-Web Heavy Repeating Blasters, six 74-Z speederbikes, and two All-Terrain Reconnaissance Transports. The E-Webs would be used to guard the camp, the 74-Zs gave him more flexibility for long-range reconnaissance and patrols, and the AT-RTs did the same although they could also give his men an edge in a firefight with their underslung heavy blaster cannons and grenade launchers. Vosh peered into the cabin of the nearest gunship. It appeared to be the vehicle carrier. Four of his six speederbikes were stored in their usual rack on the rear ramp and the two AT-RTs sat in their crouched storage position. When activated they would stand to their full three-meter height. Vosh had used AT-RTs on several occasions before, they were one of the few things that the Republic had enough of. So many, in fact, that they willingly donated them to planetary defense forces. They were fast but not so fast that they felt uncontrollable like the 74-Zs, and they were maneuverable enough to avoid most hazards the terrain could throw at them.
Vosh was snapped out of his thoughts by a quiet cough. While he had been lost in thought most of the platoon had made their way back and were standing waiting patiently for orders. Vosh beckoned his squad leaders to him and met them at a small patch of bare dirt. "Here's what I'm thinking for the camp," he said while retrieving a small branch from the ground nearby. Vosh etched an outline into the dirt. A hexagon of camp structures all opened onto a common clearing in the middle, the E-Webs would be set on the north and south sides of the hexagon, and latrines would be dug a hundred meters to the East. Once he had made sure the squad leaders understood the plan, Vosh stood and faced the rest of the platoon. "All right people, let's get these tubs unloaded!" He cast a good-natured glance at the pilot standing nearby. "We wouldn't want to keep Bantha Squadron from off their cushy starship any longer than necessary, would we?" "No sir!" the platoon shouted in unison, the laughter evident in many voices. And they got to work.
Three hours later the camp was finished. As they had worked the sun had set, drawing long shadows over Vosh's troopers, the naval techs that had come down with the cargo, and the heavy-lifting droids that they had brought to help move the larger components. Vosh stood beside a small, rugged communications console, its five-meter antenna stretched skyward above him. This should have been what got them back in contact with the Dauntless. Should being the operative term. "Try it now," a muffled voice said from below him. The naval tech that had suffered from what he heard his troops colorfully refer to as a "digestive crisis" on landing now had his entire upper body submerged in the inner workings of the console. Vosh stepped back to the console, being careful to avoid the man's legs, and keyed in a series of commands. After a moment the main status light began to blink a reassuring green. It had linked with the communications suite on Dauntless.
The young man underneath him extracted himself and replaced the console's front panel before standing and dusting himself off. "That should be the last thing that needed to be set up," Vosh said. "I believe you gentlemen are free to return to orbit." The young navy man's face took on a nervous expression, and Vosh followed his gaze, right to the gunship he had arrived on. Vosh chuckled, "Chin up Ensign. The ascent is never as bad as the descent. Although if you'd like Doc can give you another shot of anti-nausea meds before you head up." The ensign shook his head. "No thank you sir. I'll just have to get used to it." The man walked off and Vosh watched as the pilots loaded their passengers back into their gunships. Almost in sync, a piercing whine began to emerge from each of the four crafts. The whines climbed in pitch until Vosh almost couldn't hear them anymore and then settled down into the LAAT's characteristic rumble. Landing lights flashed on, briefly blinding Vosh and bathing the meadow in light. Then, one by one, each gunship lifted off and soared upwards towards their mothership in orbit. Vosh watched them until their running lights became pinpricks indistinguishable from the stars around them before turning back to the comms console.
"Dauntless this is shore party. Do you read?" A miniature hologram of Captain Kiles shimmered into existence over the comm. "We read shore party, how are things?" Vosh gave a satisfied nod. "Everything has gone smoothly. No complications to speak of." Vosh considered mentioning the sick ensign, but he decided that the poor young man had been embarrassed enough. "What's your plan?" Captain Kiles asked. Vosh shrugged. He was in no real rush. They had a month before anyone expected them back in Imperial space and they could theoretically stay indefinitely if the ships in orbit managed to establish a stable communications link back to the Empire. "I'll take a day to let the men settle in. We've determined several local species that seem edible, so I plan to establish local supply lines. We should be able to mount an expedition to the target location the day after tomorrow. Any more luck with orbital scans?" Captain Kile's face creased with a worried frown. "No, either we've run across the most naturally scanner-resistant rocks in the galaxy or there's a structure under those hills. Structures that no one wants us to know about." Vosh frowned as well at the news. The Victory-Star Destroyer's scanners should have been powerful to see through almost any material in the galaxy. Only very specific alloys were scanner resistant, and Unknown Regions or no Unknown Regions, Vosh had never heard of them occurring naturally on a planet. In all likelihood, there was something unnatural down there. Vosh shrugged internally at the realization. He and his men would find it and whoever or whatever was inside would either cooperate with them, or they would very quickly realize why few beings in the galaxy dared go toe-to-toe with the Imperial Army.
Vosh exchanged pleasantries with Captain Kiles once again before cutting the connection. The camp was mostly empty by now. Most of his men were already in their tents getting some much-needed rest. The only ones still out were those on guard duty and one or two stragglers returning from the latrines. One trooper sat reclined against the wall of their small vehicle shelter. The man's helmet was beside him on the ground and he was fast asleep. This didn't strike Vosh as particularly unusual. Despite having the exact same genetics, the clones' personalities varied greatly. Perhaps this one simply preferred to sleep under the stars. And as the cool night breeze brushed past, Vosh could hardly blame the man. He had certainly been sent to worse planets—much worse. On his way to his tent, Vosh circled the camp and met with each of the four perimeter guards. He received their reports, all clear of course, and shared with them what he had learned from Captain Kiles. Something else was on this planet with them and he wanted his troopers on alert. Vosh knew the rumor mill would be working throughout the night as troopers changed watch and most of the platoon would already know when he officially briefed them in the morning. He finally entered his personal tent and left the entrance flap pinned partially opened to cycle out the stale recycled starship air the tent had been stored in. Vosh gratefully sank onto his cot and removed his boots and uniform. Now that his camp was finally set and secure, Vosh had only just realized how tired he actually was. He settled in and drew the small sheet over him. Tomorrow he would ensure his men's position on this world was secure and then they would begin to unravel this mystery.