Hello again, loyal readers! I'm back with the next installment of this epic story, and I'm sure I've kept you all waiting long enough. Enjoy!
"It is good that war is so terrible, else we would grow too fond of it." General R.E. Lee
Commander Tharcourt sighed and clipped his commlink onto his belt before slumping down against the interior wall of the building. He had just been advised that General Veers had to head back to the Imperial safezone to reoutfit. Rescue was going to be delayed even longer. He took off his helmet and wiped his forehead before looking up at the people before him. With Freya, Daraay, Ekks and Coleth across the street and two buildings down, along with the pilot, the administrator and one of the Moff's troopers, Drakken was now in charge of a motley assortment of characters.
Major Trent sat by the back door to the room with his blaster in hand, a resigned expression on his face. Nearby, Moff Bix sat in a chair in the corner. His four remaining stormtroopers (including the injured trooper) and Lieutenant Millet had taken up positions at the door, windows and small hole in the wall along with the six troopers of Delta-7 who had made it to the building. He drew the commlink again.
"Thorne?" He asked. "How are you guys holding up?"
"We're in a decent position, C'mander." She returned. "Sergeant Daraay has everyone positioned t' well cover…um…approach vectors, yea. You doin' okay?"
"Oh I'm just dandy." Drakken grumbled. "The convoy uh…they've been delayed. It will be a while, Freya. You guys hold on, alright? We're getting out of here."
"I know." She returned, her voice a little more somber. "We're all getting' out. I know ye too well t' think otherwise. Ye take care a' yerself."
"You too." He said softly, and put the communication device away. He turned to the room. "Stay frosty." He advised. "The convoy is coming."
"When, sir?" Gallen asked half-heartedly, scanning the road through the lens of his sniper blaster.
"They've been delayed, same as us, but if I know Veers, he'll be here." Tharcourt answered.
"We're done." Major Trent stated bleakly. "If the rebels don't finish us off, we're going to be cooked when the fleet glazes this place."
"Well, that's a morale boost…" Mets grumbled.
"Do we have a plan, Commander?" The governor asked, no condescension in his tone.
"We do." Tharcourt nodded, and elucidated for the sake of his troopers, and the stormtroopers in the room. "We have a good position here. Good ground. We can even be covered by our team across the road. If they attack us, we wait till they get in close…probing the area. That's a narrow road they'll be coming down, and if we stack 'em up, it'll take them a while to get online and commit. If we can hold until Veers gets here, we'll all be alright."
"Roger that, boss." Gallen stated.
"Outstanding, sir." Felian commented. Moff Bix gave a respectful nod, and sat back in his chair.
Half a block down, Freya clipped her commlink to her belt and attempted a hopeful smile as she turned to the people in her care. She loaded a new power cell into her blaster pistol and holstered it, before carefully peeking out of a window. No sign of rebels yet, but she was certain that at least some of them had seen her group enter the ruined building. They would attack at some point for sure. It was only a matter of time.
"That Commander is a hell of a man." Administrator Duvolka commented from behind her, making Thorne jump a little. The bureaucrat grinned sheepishly for startling her. "He can fight, that's for sure."
"Aye. He's a right scary man when he gets all balled up in a fight." Freya agreed. "He won't let anything happen t' his people though. I like to think we're all gonna be fine." Duvolka smiled.
"Is he married?" She asked. Thorne's eyes widened a moment, and she got a little choked up.
"Uh…I…no, I don't think he is, ma'am." Freya answered, and gave a fake smile. The blue-eyed administrator only smiled a little more.
"Oh…I see." She said with a knowing wink.
"Wot? Wot…n…no…it's not like that…" Thorne said defensively. Duvolka put a hand on the taller woman's shoulder and leaned in close.
"Your secret's safe with me, girl." She whispered, and clicked her tongue. "My name's Mabishka, by the way.
On the other side of the room, Ekks was in a position beside a blown-out window with his helmet off. He sat next to the Imperial pilot the team had rescued. The pilot started to raise their head to look out the window, but Ekks grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back down, then wagged his index finger in a warning. The Corellian drew a small mirror on a telescoping stick from his belt and handed it to the pilot, who used it to check outside before handing the small tool back.
"Yep." Ekks sighed, making himself comfortable against the wall. "Another beautiful day in Imperial service." He scoffed. "I'd rather be at the stick of my ship, all things considered." The pilot lifted off their helmet, and a cascade of blonde hair fell down across her shoulders. She looked at him with blue-gray eyes set in a soft, pale face and scoffed herself.
"Same here." She stated, and sat her helmet down. "Can't help but wonder what those bastards are doing to my TIE right now." She looked over to see Ekks' mouth hanging open. "What's your deal?"
"Holy kriff, you're a gal." He gushed.
"Last I checked." She said with a small smile. "Never seen a woman pilot before?"
"Yeah…but…damn. You're beautiful." Ekks remarked. The woman blushed a little.
"Little forward, aren't we, pilot?" She asked cynically.
"Always." He shrugged. "I'm about a millimeter from death 24/7 in this job, so I apologize if I don't take time to buy flowers."
"Maybe I like flowers." The pilot said wryly. Ekks rolled his eyes.
"Right, flowers…I bet a girl like you would go gaga if a guy bought you a tool set and a bottle of spotchka." He chuckled. She raised an eyebrow.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, pilot."
Drakken walked about the room, personally checking on all of the troopers and inspecting their safe-haven for any weaknesses. The walls seemed thick, made of some kind of natural masonry. They would all be safe from small arms fire at least. He made his way to a window, and cautiously gazed out onto the street for the fiftieth time since they had retreated into the structure an hour earlier. His commlink crackled a little, and he drew it to is mouth.
"Say again." He sighed. There was no answer. "Thorne, is that you? Sergeant Daraay?" The device hissed and sputtered.
"…out there? Hello? Can anyone read me?" A voice came over the commlink.
"C'mander, ye hearin' this?" Freya's voice broke through.
"Yeah. Everyone stay off the net for now." Tharcourt advised. He listened for the strange signal again. Finally it returned, a little stronger than before.
"Is anyone out there? We thought we heard chatter. Are there any Imperials left on this rock? We need assistance. Over." The commander looked at the others in the room.
"It sounds like some boots for sure." Felian said. "Possibly some troopers that got lost or were holed up somewhere."
"What if it's a trap, sir?" Lieutenant Millet posed. "Rebels trying to draw us out or zero us?" Drakken nodded at the idea.
"This is Commander Drakken Tharcourt, Identify yourselves." He stated.
"SP-90174, sir." The voice returned, indicating that he was a scout trooper. "Thank the stars somebody else survived."
"Are you alone, trooper?" The commander inquired.
"Negative sir…there's three of us. We've been trying to reach some…safe place or another all day. Can you help us, sir?" There was a tinge of nervousness to the man's voice over the air.
"If you're really Imperial, then you can answer a couple questions, son. Then we'll work on getting you home."
"I understand, sir." The scout radioed back.
"Alright. Before I do, how's Major Nemo doing? You hear anything from him?" There was a long silence.
"I…I don't know any Major Nemo, sir. None of us do."
"Really? I thought every Imp on this rock knew the Major." Drakken lied. "The one with the big gut? Fell off that AT-AT that time. You know him."
"I'm afraid I don't, sir." The scout returned. "Should I?"
"Nevermind." Tharcourt said, and nodded to the Lieutenant. "Now, if you're Imperial, when do we celebrate Emperor Palpatine's birthday?"
"We don't." The voice came back smartly. "Our emperor has no need for birthdays."
"Good." Drakken replied. "Final question. What was on the menu at the mess hall three days ago?" There was a light scoff on the other end of the line.
"Same as always. Boiled garbage, sir." The answer came.
"He's imperial." Dall commented.
"Yep." Mets agreed.
"Alright son, listen…" The commander spoke into the commlink. "We don't know who else might be listening, so this could get hairy. Get to grid sector Foxtrot-four-niner…" He consulted his holomap. "Move to point three-seven-dot five-five by eleven-dot-two niner. Do you copy."
"We copy, sir." The scout returned. "We're about five minutes out."
"Come in from the south. We'll cover you." Drakken added. "Good luck." He paused a few moments, then spoke into the device again. "Thorne, you get all that?"
"Aye. We 'eard it loud an' clear. We're t' be 'avin guests."
"Affirmative. They'll be coming past you, so watch your fire to the south."
"Yessir." Freya shot back. "An' we'll be watchin o'er our sights fer any unwanted visitors."
"Copy." Tharcourt said, and turned to the room. "Alright. On the clock. We have friendlies inbound. We may need to pave the road for them. At the ready."
"Mets." Gallen called.
"Yo."
"I'm at thirteen." The sniper bragged.
"Sixteen." The scout returned with a grin.
"Cut the chatter." Felian ordered.
Soon, the three soldiers came into view, jogging along the wall of the buildings across the street. Tharcourt immediately noticed that they consisted of two scout troopers and a stormtrooper. They paused and scanned the road, before the scout in the lead waved toward the building the Imperials had barricaded themselves inside. The three troopers made it partway across the road before all hell broke loose. Several rebels on a rooftop nearby had spotted them and opened fire, joined by a small band of insurgents who poured out of an alleyway.
"Covering fire!" Commander Tharcourt ordered, and every blaster went to work, firing at anything that was not in white armor on the road. Gallen easily took down one rebel, then another, wondering if the flood of enemies would ever stop. TZ-2201, one of the Moff's guardians, turned his heavy blaster toward the alley and let fly a long burst of automatic blaster fire, only stopping when his weapon overheated and shut down to cool.
The troopers sprinted across the street, and just as the first got to the doorway, the last in line, the other scout, took a hit to the lower back and fell. The stormtrooper ran back to help him up, and was in the process of dragging his injured comrade to the building, when he was hit by a slugthrower round in the stomach. Commander Tharcourt ran out into the melee, firing his blaster pistol with one hand, and helping the two injured troopers inside with the other. Once inside, he threw the door shut, and walked to a window, throwing one of his only two thermal detonators out toward the mass of rebels. With a violent explosion, much of the enemy fire abated, and the rest of the rebels retreated back up the alleyways.
The stormtrooper who had been hit with the projectile weapon was carried to a table, where Dall got to work immediately, removing the man's helmet and breastplate. The slug had punched a nasty hole in his abdomen, and bright red blood poured forth. Dall dumped a package of clotting agent into the hole, and started taking the man's vitals. The wounded scout slumped against the wall and tore off his helmet, throwing it across the room.
"Kriff it all! He wouldn't have been shot if I hadn't got myself blasted!" The young scout exclaimed. Tharcourt stomped over. He could see the young trooper was in pain, and looked on the verge of panic from the ordeal.
"Trooper." Drakken stated, kneeling before him. The scout, a twenty-year-old Coruscanti named Asan tried to sit at attention, and winced, grabbing his side.
"Sir."
"You alright, son?" Drakken asked.
"It hurts pretty bad." He answered, and coughed. Tharcourt picked up the blaster rifle on the floor and shoved it into the trooper's hands.
"Nobody has any control over who gets shot and who don't, so throw that out of your mind." The commander said matter-of-factly. "A convoy is coming for all of us. Soon. You understand?" Asan nodded, sweat beading on his forehead from the pain. "Now, anyone comes through that door not yelling friendly, you give 'em two in the chest and one in the head, you copy?"
"Yes sir…still in the fight, sir." The scout trooper nodded. Drakken then turned his attention back to the wounded stormtrooper on the table. He joined Dall, who was probing the wound, the other scout from the newcomers and Lago holding the soldier's ankles and shoulders to keep him from thrashing violently on the makeshift operating table. Lago had his eyes clamped shut.
"Gah…dammit, I can't find the slug." Dall complained. "Sir, I need light...light!" Tharcourt obeyed, holding a battery-powered torch over the wound as Dall dove back in with his forceps, his patient letting out another tormented scream. "There it is…there it is…got it!" Dall announced, pulling a deformed, soft lead bullet from the deep wound. He tossed it to the floor, and went back into the hole with a set of hemostats. "Damn…feels like…" He looked up in anger at Tharcourt. "Sir, the Abdominal aorta's been nicked by that slug. I can't control the bleeding. He needs a medivac now." Tharcourt nodded and walked to the other side of the room.
"Control, Control, This is Delta-7 Actual…" He spoke into his commlink. "I need immediate medivac for a wounded trooper."
"Negative, Delta-7 Actual." A voice he didn't recognize said back. "Area is still too hot to risk any transports. Stand by and wait for the convoy, over."
"I have a severely wounded man here, who need immediate medical attention." Tharcourt explained the situation.
"I understand, commander." Piett's voice advised, taking over the other side of the conversation. "But if we send any ships in right now, they'll just add to the casualties. Every walker and AA gun they have is pointing up right now, old man. You have to wait. I'm sorry."
"I copy…control." Tharcourt sighed. "Out." He looked out the window at the inky darkness. Dawn would be coming soon, and on this world, it came fast. "General, any good news on the convoy?"
"Negative, commander." Veers' voice came over the commlink. "We're almost at the safezone. We need to reoutfit and regroup, and we'll head back out as soon as possible. Maintain your position for now. We will be there."
"Understood, general. Delta-7 Actual…out." He glanced back where Dall was still working on the fading stormtrooper. Dall met his gaze and offered a solemn shake of the head. Tharcourt walked over and looked down at the dying man.
"W…we getting out of here, sir?" The stormtrooper asked weakly. Tharcourt placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah. We're getting out. All of us."
"That's good. I was starting to worry." The wounded man breathed.
"What's your name, son?" Tharcourt asked. "Where you from?" The stormtrooper narrowed his eyes like nobody had ever asked that question of him before.
"Grisanta…Fota Grisanta, sir…from…from Naboo." Drakken closed his eyes a moment to allow himself to catalogue that name. He sighed.
"You lay still now. You did good out there, trooper. Saved a man." He nodded. "Just rest now." Grisanta gave a weak smile and closed his eyes. Tharcourt again met eyes with Dall, the two men in the unit who took death more personally than any of the others.
An hour later, Thorne was sitting on what remained of a table in the ruined building her contingent was using as a bunker. She looked over to the corner of the room where, shrouded in the darkness, she could see Ekks and the girl pilot playing some kind of game, balancing a knife point-first first on the tips of their fingers. Occasionally the girl would giggle and slap Ekks on the shoulder-guard of his armor. Freya smiled. At least somebody was having fun. She wished she was with Drakken. She wasn't scared for herself, she realized, just worried about the man. She looked over. The local stormtrooper was messing around with some gadget on a low table.
"Cute couple, huh?" Duvolka commented, sitting beside Thorne. She gestured to the two pilots in the corner, who were now in a silent but intense arm-wrestling match.
"Aye. 'parently born a' shared hobbies and mutual boredom." The ensign said. The administrator laughed, then sighed.
"Think we're really getting out of here, Thorne?" She asked.
"Ye obviously doon't know our c'mander." Freya replied. "He'll get us out. Bloody count on it. He's just…that guy." Duvolka narrowed her eyes.
"That guy?"
"Aye. Ye know the type. Run inta some great burning buildin' t' save a kid. Stand there an' think a' some wild, crazy idea right in the middle of a bomb goin' off. That guy."
"Yeah…I kinda get that." Duvolka said. "He's a catch for sure. How long you two been together?" Freya choked a little and coughed, patting her chest to clear the spittle from her windpipe.
"Och. We're not! I mean…at least I don't think so." The aide sighed again.
"You got it bad, girl. Really bad. You need to go for it. Tell him how you feel." Thorne kicked her feet a moment.
"I dunno…it don't seem right…ye know…unprofessional…"
"Pshhh!" Duvolka scoffed. "Unprofessional…you know how often it happens? I saw a captain go out with a deputy governor once, for kriff's sake. Two stormtroopers guarding my office ended up together. Nobody cares, Thorne. I mean, they act like they do, and you'll have a finger wagged in your face. Then they'll look the other way unless it interferes with duty. You want to go out with your commander, you go right on ahead."
"You're odd fer a political officer, ye know that, right?" Thorne commented with a smile. Duvolka shrugged.
"Eh. I'm a spoiled brat and I have money and girl power on my side." The woman shot back. Freya giggled.
"Either of you ma'ams...care for a cup of caf?" The stormtrooper asked, presenting a cup of steaming hot beverage to Thorne and Duvolka.
"Wot? How?" Thorne asked, confused. The two women looked to where he had been sitting, and saw that he somehow had managed to stash a small caf bean grinder and a compact press/boiler in his gear, and had been occupied with making the drink.
"Well it's all in the grind, you know, ma'am." The trooper explained vaguely. "And usually, I like to use fresh, distilled water. Call this Battlefront Blend, I guess." He shrugged. Thorne took the cup and gave a smile and a gracious nod.
"Thanks." She said. "Where'n the bloody hell they pick you up from, trooper?" She asked, and took a sip of the caf. It was delicious, made better by the fact that she really needed a cup of brew right about now.
"Behind a desk." The trooper answered.
"Yer kiddin'."
"No, ma'am. I worked in the mess hall. I made the caf. When the shooting started, I ran to the armory and got my gear on. By the time I made it out, the building was being overrun. I fought up to the Governor's office with a couple other troopers. We all three got captured with the Moff."
"Oh yeah…I remember that." Mabishka Duvolka stated, tapping her chin. "You three tried to protect us. And you're a cook?"
"Gourmet barista, actually." He answered. "Before I joined up at least." His small machine bubbled, and the trooper hurried over and grabbed the other small cup, and brought it to the administrator. She smiled as she took the drink, and sipped it.
"Well trooper…" She fished.
"Grent, ma'am."
"Trooper Grent…" Duvolka said, raising her cup. "Here's to hoping you live to make me caf on a better day." Thorne raised her cup.
"Here, here." They took a drink from their cups, but were interrupted by a low thrum, followed by the room shaking.
"Aw shaz, we got company…" Coleth called. Another thrum, and the building rattled again, sending masonry down on them all.
"They have a GAV, and they're blasting the commander's position, ma'am." Daraay reported. Ekks jumped up and dusted himself off, then picked a piece of plaster from the girl pilot's hair.
"We need to do somethin'!" Thorne exclaimed. "Can we engage them, draw their fire?"
"We'll be blown to hell." Ekks argued.
"Corporal Ekks is correct, ma'am." Daraay said. "We can't hope to fight them directly." Freya looked down for a moment, and a stroke of inspiration came to her.
"What about indirectly?" She proposed. "Sergeant, it's dark as the devil's weskit out there. Use yer night vision an' lead us up to them. Ekks, you come too. The rest of ye stay here. We'll neutralize the gunners. When the coast is clear, you lot make a beeline fer the c'mander's position. Copy?!"
"Yes ma'am!" Everyone barked. Duvolka grabbed her arm.
"You're sure sounding like…that gal." Mabishka commented. "You two'd make a hell of a couple." Thorne grinned.
"Let's try an' live through this row, then I'll worry about me love life." The ensign returned. "Alright, let's move."
The rebel in the PX-10 Compact Assault Vehicle rolled up alongside the GAVr Occupier his compatriots had stolen. The three insurgents in the two vehicles had enjoyed the last day. They had driven the tanks through the city, blowing up or running over anything that looked like Imperial property. After years of taxation and forced labor, it felt almost cathartic to be doing so much damage to the Empire, even if it was on such a small-scale. He popped up out of the hatch to watch the Occupier fire another blast of energy into the building those damned imps were holed up in. A few more times, and they'd either have to come out, or risk having the whole building fall on their heads. While watching the damaged structure, the rebel didn't see the three figures creeping up in the darkness from behind the two armored vehicles. He didn't see the imperial officer in the strange attire and the death trooper climb aboard his comrade's GAV…
"Oi! Hi there!" Freya greeted, sliding down the sloped front of the tank, in front of the driver, a rebel in a stolen helmet.
"What the kriff?!" He said in surprise, then heard a choking sound. He looked back and up to see a death trooper strangling the insurgent in the commander's hatch with a thin wire. Before he could turn back, the man felt everything go dark as Freya thrust her combat vibroknife into his throat. Daraay dragged the commander from the hatch, and Ekks clamored up onto the Gav and disappeared down the hatch, and a moment later, the vehicle began to turn to the left.
The rebel in the small PX-10 glanced over to see why the fire had stopped from the larger vehicle. He braced himself against his hatch and froze as he saw both of the twin blaster cannons trained on his own stolen machine. Ekks fired both barrels into the tiny tank, and it detonated in a ball of fire and twisted metal. Corporal Ekks hopped out of the GAV, and as he and Thorne leaped from the tank, Daraay dropped a thermal detonator into the belly of the tank, before leaping off herself. A few seconds later, there was a dull whoomp, and tongues of fire shot from every opening in the now disabled Occupier tank.
Commander Tharcourt and the troopers and governor inside the building had been seeking cover as the bombardment shook their refuge. They were preparing to evacuate the building when the shooting stopped. Tharcourt heard two explosions from outside, and a minute later, the door to the haven was thrown open with a cry of 'Friendlies! Friendlies!', and Freya rushed in, followed closely by the teammates and personnel who had taken shelter in the other building. The ensign came up to Drakken and heaved a heavy breath.
"Whew…soory I'm late, C'mander darlin'…we 'ad t' take oot a couple a' enemy tanks." She explained with a smile. Tharcourt looked her over. Freya's clothes were a mess, and she had blood spattered on her face and her chestplate. He could only imagine what kind of kooky assault she had led against the enemy GAVs. He raised an eyebrow.
"What ensign, no caf?" He asked mockingly, looking at her empty hands. She grinned.
"Aye. I got ye one. Double roast…no sugar. Got shot right out me hand." He gave her a relieved pat on the shoulder, and she returned with a brief, friendly, hug. A couple of blaster bolts flew through a nearby window, and the troopers returned fire. The two officers took cover as more energy projectiles impacted the building's outer walls, some finding their way into the inside of the structure.
"Delta-Seven Actual, Delta-Seven Actual, come in, this is General Veers." Tharcourt's commlink spoke. He grabbed it off his belt, his left hand holding one of his blaster pistols.
"Go ahead!" He called back.
"Be advised, we are inbound to your position, with walker support. E.T.A. ten minutes." Veers advised.
"Copy general." Tharcourt acknowledged. "Be advised, we are under heavy fire." Indeed, it seemed as though hundreds of the planet's rebels were pouring fire onto the building now, and every imperial inside was firing out of doors, windows and holes in the wall, fighting for their lives.
"Understood." The general returned.
"Prepping air support now, Delta-Seven Actual." Another voice spoke over the commlink. "Standby."
"Roger." The commander spoke, and winced as an explosion shook the room. "Who am I speaking with?"
"Captain Needa, Commander. Air support inbound. The pilots need a point to begin their strafing run." Tharcourt looked around the room until he found Felian.
"Sergeant Felian!" He bellowed.
"Sir!"
"You have any more of those IR markers?"
"I have one!" Mets called, and tossed the device to the commander.
"One moment, Captain Needa. I am placing an IR strobe on the roof of the enemy building." Drakken stated. "Cover me!" He called to the room, and as the soldiers belted out a withering volley of fire, the commander ran out the door and lobbed the illuminator toward the roof of the building across the road. It bounced off the lip of the building, fell to the sidewalk and rolled against the wall.
"Commander, the pilots do not see any infrared marker." Needa said over the communication device as Tharcourt hurried back inside, chased by blaster bolts.
"Damn, it must've fell short!" Tharcourt exclaimed.
"I got this!" Thorne called, and charged out the door, and across the street, dodging blaster fire. She threw herself against the far wall, and looked around in the darkness, finally spying the illuminator by a pile of cans. She seized it and threw it upon the rooftop. Freya ducked down with her commlink.
"Illuminator on roof. Send the bloody run!" She practically screamed over the airwaves.
"Target identified." The voice of a pilot was heard over the comms. "Beginning strafing run." Thorne sprinted across the street as the first two TIE fighters streaked overhead, followed by a pair of TIE bombers. The roof of the building lit up like it was on fire as the ensign rolled into the safe haven of her team's building. Before she could even stand, another group of three TIEs screamed by, firing on the rebel position. One of the insurgents fired a rocket launcher into the air, and the last TIE in the formation exploded in a giant fireball that lit the sky.
"Eat this! Eat this!" Lieutenant Millet screamed, firing a heavy blaster belonging to one of the now-wounded stormtroopers in his command.
"Reticle, breathe, squeeze…reticle, breathe squeeze…" Gallen kept repeating as he fired round after round at any enemy he could get a bead on. The sniper had long lost count of how many rebels he had killed. The fire from the insurgents seemed to be steady, despite the aerial assault. They were in every building on the street, in every alleyway, behind every piece of cover on the road. An explosion took out a couple of the rebels, then another, then another. Lago was using up every stun grenade and thermal detonator still in the bag he had brought, throwing them at the enemy positions through a window.
"Drakken." Freya panted, touching shoulders with the commander as she joined him in firing out of a small hole in the masonry. "Fer feck's sake…if we make it outta this un, it's gonna be a bloody miracle!"
"They're coming!" Tharcourt returned, reloading his spent blasters. "Keep shooting, Freya." Thorne swallowed. The convoy was coming, but the enemy was all around them. For once, she had no idea what was going to happen. The realization had hit her that this could be it, their final stand. "Drakken?!"
"Yeah?!"
"If we don't make it out…" She began, still shooting onto the street.
"What?"
"I'm not going out…without…" She breathed. He glanced over, and she pressed her lips onto his and stole a quick kiss. "Love you, Drakken. So ye know." Tharcourt blinked a couple of times.
"Yeah." He said with a slight smile, and began firing both of his pistols through the gap. The street was suddenly lit up with powerful red bolts impacting every building except theirs. The ground shook slightly in a rhythmic beat.
"Walkers!" Mets cheered.
"Are they ours?!" One of the stormtroopers cried out. As if to answer, a group of rebels on a nearby rooftop were atomized by a volley of heavy blasts.
"They're ours." Commander Tharcourt said in a relieved tone. Five AT-ST's strode up the street, firing in an arc that covered nearly one-hundred and eighty degrees. Behind them, a line of armored vehicles came speeding up, their blaster cannons shredding everything around them. The transports came to a stop, and out of the lead one came a figure recognizable to Tharcourt in the early-morning light. Drakken threw open the door and walked out as General Veers calmy strolled up. They met between the building and the convoy and shook hands, red and green blaster bolts still splitting the air around them.
"Heard you and your men needed a lift, Commander." Veers stated nonchalantly. Drakken couldn't help but smile.
"Yes sir."
