Chapter 5
"Do you think we should fight, father?"
"No," his father scoffed. "This war is stupid. Both sides are stupid. One fights with droids, and the other with clones. If they won't spill their blood for their cause, why should we?"
"So, we won't fight?"
"That's…the elders' decision, boy." His father sighs. "If they decide to fight, we must join them. We have a responsibility to the town even though we live outside of it. This is our home. We owe it to them to help wherever we can."
BA-du-du-du! Rapid-fire blasts startle the wildlife. Du-du-du! Du-du-du! Du-du-du! Flocks of birds cry out as all sorts of creatures flee in every direction.
The pathfinders hear it, halting as they listen, determining its direction. Their leader motions, and they continue along the Ewok trail. Eventually, they come to a treacherous ridge, a narrow path with a steep drop to one side and a challenging climb on the other. Near the center of the trail lay the band of Ewoks. Scorch marks darken the wall beside them.
The pathfinders creep closer, then their leader holds up a hand, halting them. He motions again, and they lay in the high grasses, searching for their prey. They'd followed the stormtrooper for hours, closing in. But they'd spent the whole day just behind the Ewoks.
"What happened?" A pathfinder inquires.
"The stormtrooper lured them onto the ledge," their commander explains. "Halfway across, he ambushed them because there's no cover or escape. See the scorch marks? The narrow path trapped them in single file, making it easy to mow them down with three-round bursts."
"He can't be far," another tells them. "But should we pursue?"
"…and risk getting caught in the open too?" Their commander shakes his head. "No. You two use ascension cables to place yourselves on overwatch. We'll keep guard as you climb, then move in and check our allies. I won't feel comfortable doing that unless someone's watching our backs. Signal when you're in place, then we'll move."
"Yes, sir," they agree before they launch the cables. CHINK! Once the harpoons set, they soar up the side of the cliff. Their comlinks click, a near-silent signal that they're positioned. Next, the pair move along the ledge, rifles ready, their eyes scanning for danger. Once they reach the Ewoks, they signal their companions before they check for vitals.
"Be careful," the leader warns. "He placed explosives under wounded last time."
"Jeez," his companion whispers. "What a monster."
WWHAA-PHOM! From above them, they hear the overcharged blast, and someone cries out. Whoosh! Almost too quick to follow, a pathfinder falls into the rift. A brief firefight breaks out before the second pathfinder falls, slamming into the ledge next to them. He's motionless with a smoking crater in the center of his chest.
Both rebels stare before they turn back to back. Darting glances search for threats until the leader decides, "We know he's above. If we move, he'll pick us off."
Weeeee! The pathfinders look towards the woods behind them. The subordinate warns, "Ascension cable! He dropped behind us!"
Their leader pulls a smoke bomb and hurls it from where they came, "Run!"
Poof! Smoke erupts from the bomb, masking them. The stormtrooper unleashes a barrage of blaster fire BA-du-du-du! His subordinate screams and falls. The last pathfinder makes it across the ledge and dives into the trees. He circles and doubles back around one. The smoke clears. He can't see the enemy, but his remaining pathfinder remains on the ledge, unmoving.
"Stop following me," the trooper yells from the opposite side.
Fury and grief erupt from the pathfinder. "Never! We're going to put you down like an animal! Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME!"
BA-du-du-du! A three-round burst hits the tree, his rifle, and his shoulder. The pathfinder spins, hitting the ground hard. He grits his teeth, dragging himself behind the tree for cover. His right arm refuses to move. His shoulder burns with the injury. The rebel rolls on his back, left hand reaching across his waist to draw his sidearm. He admits, I can't stay here. He struggles to his feet and uses the tree as cover. Then, he slithers from tree to tree, sneaking away.
Click! "Freeze, rebel!"
The rebel freezes, knowing the stormtrooper is only a few steps away.
"Stop following me and save your comrade." the stormtrooper tells him. A moment later, he adds, "If rebels continue executing prisoners, I will butcher every last one of you."
A tense heartbeat passes. The pathfinder spins-but finds nothing. He collapses, distraught, and takes out his comlink. "Base, this is Hunter 1; I-I need medical and evac."
From above the secret base, the captain signals Hera. Silently he holds up three fingers, two, and then one. BOOM! The window shatters, the explosion hurling the glass inside. Two rebels rappel in immediately. Blaster fire erupts as Hera and the captain swing inside. She rolls with her landing, barely avoiding the blast that kills him. The captain tumbles out of the window.
Nearby, a fierce dark-skinned woman in a medical uniform reaches for a dropped blaster. Next to her is a guard, clutching his chest. Hera kicks the blaster away, and pistol whips her.
The room is in chaos! The lieutenant flees to the door and takes cover before blasting a pathfinder coming in the window. The colonel cowers under his desk, hands covering his head.
Another guard swings a neuro-whip with terrifying skill. The yellow lash knocks a blaster out of a pathfinder's hands; he snaps it again, wrapping it around a pathfinder's neck. An electrical charge ignites, frying the rebel, who collapses. Hera shoots at him, but he dodges, then cracks the whip at her.
The colonel shrieks at the sound of blasterfire, reminding her of her objective. She rolls forward and grabs him, forcing him to his feet. Hera wraps her arm around his neck and points her blaster at his head.
Suddenly, it's knocked from her hand. Before she can react, something pricks her neck!
"Everyone freeze, or she's dead!" The doctor holds a scalpel to Hera's throat. The doctor expertly twists Hera's arm behind her back. "I mean it! Lower your weapons NOW!"
"We lower our weapons, and we're dead anyway," a pathfinder argues.
More imperials arrive at the doorway while pathfinders climb in the window. Everyone looks at Hera and the doctor. Hera knows it's a standoff; ironically, what she'd planned to do.
"Will you let my men go?" Hera negotiates. "Keep me, but let my people leave."
"We're not leaving you," a pathfinder insists. The lieutenant lowers his rifle and signals the arriving soldiers to wait. Darting glances, distrust, and uncertainty spread through the room.
"Yes, you will," she commands. "Is that fair? Can my men retreat?"
"No!" The colonel recovers, drawing himself up, now that the danger seems concluded. He stiffly declares, "They'll reveal our location."
"They already know our location, you idiot!" The doctor snaps. "Take your wounded and go. The tailhead stays with us! If you try anything, she dies!"
Hera nods, and the pathfinders slip out the window. Moments later, they pass through the gate and melt into the woods. Hera's heart pounds, but she feels relieved. As dire as the situation appears, at least she saved her people. The doctor releases her hold and takes a deep breath.
The guard with the neuro-whip approaches her with a glee in his eyes, "I can only imagine what secrets I'll pry from her."
"She's worth more alive and whole," the doctor tells him. His disappointment is palpable.
"I've withstood torture before," Hera declares. "You'll get nothing from me."
He binds her wrists, then whispers intimately, "Only because you haven't felt my touch."
A chill runs through her, revulsion and horror struggling against her will. Then she replies, "The Empire is defeated; surrender before this gets any worse."
"She's right," the colonel decides. "The Empire is finished, but we're alive. With my title and some negotiating, I can get us off-world."
"You forgot yourself, Colonel Dyer!" The doctor hisses. "I will not betray the Empire."
"I can see that now," Dyer admits. The stun blast catches Hera by surprise. The doctor collapses on the desk, then slips to the floor. "You're lucky; we might need a doctor."
"What have you done?" The lieutenant demands.
Dyer motions to her, "Captain Wither disregarded my orders, and you witnessed it. Lieutenant, reset our sentries on the walls and gate. Dungeoneers, bind the captain and search our prisoners for weapons. Both will remain here, and we will negotiate for our extraction."
Hera watches them exchange looks, the lieutenant seeking support but finding none. The unwounded dungeoneer binds the doctor and drags both prisoners to the wall. The wounded dungeoneer rises to his feet with help from the lieutenant before spraying him with bacta.
"Y-yes, colonel Dyer," the lieutenant grumbles.
"Lord Dyer," he corrects. "Lieutenant Gale, my proper title is Lord Dyer."
"Yes, my lord," he answers sullenly before leading his men out of the room.
The commander senses it. He can feel someone following him again. An unpleasant itch, tension, and fear mix into a blend of primal intuition. Something about the woods draws out his survival instincts, his desire for self-preservation, and heightened them.
Or I'm imagining it, he admits. My sleep deprivation and injuries have combined to incite paranoia and delusion, leading me to mistake it as a pursuit.
He doesn't see anyone, but the commander remembers how quietly the Ewoks move. Instead of lingering, he checks the map on his datapad. Though hours of light remain, shadows stretch, and darkness comes early in the woods. His time is limited, so he pushes hard.
An hour later, he arrives at the scene of his defeat. First, he searches from a distance for enemies or survivors. Unfortunately, only carrion peck the dead, and wild animals gorge on the few remaining bodies. He checks again before pressing forward, but no threats appear.
In a crouch, he skulks through the woods until he reaches the center of the battle. A crater lies where the bomb hit him. Slain Ewoks remain alongside their enemies, stormtroopers, and army soldiers. He wonders if the Ewoks grew lazy moving the bodies or weren't that hungry.
"Focus fire!" His voice echoes in his memory. "Concentrate fire on the gyros!"
The AT-ST grenade lands near him, but his attention is on the walker's hips.
"Grand Commander!" His aide cries, but it's too late. He can't dodge until she slams into him, covering him with her own body.
The stormtrooper shakes off the memory. Then, he searches the dead for his aide, expecting to find her body. He returns to where he fell. Where she saved me, he corrects himself. For a long moment, he sees nothing until he discovers a trail. It isn't footprints. It's not the trail of someone dragged but instead someone crawling from the battle.
His spirit rises, a spark of hope flickering in his heart. The commander follows the trail swiftly, only tempered by his experiences over the last few days. After moving a dozen steps into the woods, he sees her sitting against a tree. The explosion blackens her white armor, but he recognizes her black puldron instantly. In her hand, she holds a datapad.
He races up to her, checking for a pulse before he tears off her helmet. Her eyes are empty, sightless and lifeless, staring through him. The commander sags. With his hands on her shoulders, he rests his head against her chest. He trembles before sobbing, huffing for breath. Then after a few deep breaths, he notices the datapad. He picks it up and reads it.
If you're reading this, I'm dead. My service, my duty, has all been for naught. I have failed the best officer I have ever met. My only comfort is that I won't have to live with it. I'm so sorry. Sir, I am so sorry.
Sergeant Thea Heinz/TK 3334
The commander can barely breathe. His despair crushes him with the weight of a mountain. Without intending to, he lays on his side, next to her. Some time passes as night falls.
His comlink beeps, a weak signal calling, "Any imperial forces, please reply! Help me!"
It repeats, growing more desperate each time. Struggling to find the will, the commander answers, "Identify yourself."