Chapter 41
"The north wall attack failed; we've lost all contact with our infiltrators!"
Voices overlap and struggle against the constant chaos and blaring transmissions. General Hera Syndula can barely discern one from another as disorder and panic spread.
"…lost everyone, run run, RUUUUN!"
"Keep down! We can't advance! We're getting slaughtered!"
"Reinforcements to the West! We're on the wall-!"
"Ma'am, Ewoks have a foothold on the western wall, but the -" a tech adds.
"X-wings are requesting additional orders," a comm. officer interrupts.
"Ma'am, we've lost all comms with the northern attack," another officer pushes.
"The main attack has stalled! Captain Kensington says Imperial fire pins them."
"General, the X-wing pilots insist on landing and joining the battle."
"Ma'am! The western wall pushed the Ewoks out, and they're fleeing."
"General! Ma'am! Ma'am! General," again and again, increasingly frantic, her subordinates call for her attention. Rapidly, her presence is in greater demand, intensifying her headache and anxiety. Hera responds as swiftly as possible, but the sheer bedlam feeds their unease. Even as she struggles to keep up, their eyes widen, and their voices grow pitched.
"Remain! Calm!" Hera snaps, startling her techs and officers into silence. Once order reasserts itself, she continues in an even voice. "You have your instructions; stop bringing me anything that isn't a priority. We knew this could happen. Focus! Where is the walker?"
"It avoided their sensors, as planned," a tech states. "It's passing through the shield now."
Hera's chest tightens, "Let the AT-ST take point; once it engages the compound, commence the full attack. Remind the infantry to shoot cautiously to avoid friendly fire."
The infiltrators should have struck when their attention was on the AT-ST's arrival; how did he detect them? Bad luck? No, he's that good. The techs convey her orders even as Hera's stomach flips and her headache persists. We kept it from his scanners, but how will he respond?
Then she wonders, Is this what Mon Mothma deals with daily? No wonder she was pissed. Some time passes with a steady stream of messages before one arrives, reassuring her.
"Ma'am, the southern wall defenses have collapsed, the gate is in pieces, and our forces are halfway to the walls. The imperials are running into the compound."
Hera's heart stills as an idea comes to her, "Does the walker have a shot on the Zeta?"
"One moment," the tech replies, radioing the AT-ST. Then she replies, "It has a difficult shot, and the ship has shields. The pilot believes he could hit it easier from the compound's side."
"Ma'am," the Mon Cal communications officer interrupts. "Only the imps near the gate are retreating. Those on the western and eastern walls are holding. Our forces are taking significant casualties. The AT-ST could reposition, sweep the walls, and hit their ship."
If we disable the ship, we win, Hera admits. Then she reflects on the last few hours; then…then they fight to the death. The hope of escape is the only thing keeping them in retreat.
"No," Hera decides. "If we disable or destroy the ship, they'll fight like cornered animals. Some may escape, as we once did, and continue wreaking havoc on us. Tell the AT-ST to focus on the main entrance. That's where we'll thin their ranks. The commander plans to ambush us there and initiate a second defensive parameter. Instead, now that his forces are running, they'll keep running as long as we keep the pressure up. That ship will be their tomb."
The Grand Commander can barely hear his thoughts, let alone the voices of his comrades. The continuous blaster fire creates streams of blue and red; screeching plasma salvos mute everything else. Even the AT-ST's groaning motors and footsteps fade into the background.
I hope Gary is ok. The war machine scours the troopers from the south wall, many fleeing to the entrenchment inside the gate. Some escape through the main entrance, drawing the AT-ST's wrath. Consequently, it obliterates the retreating troopers. Soon, the repeaters repositioned, allowing them to fire over the courtyard's trenches. The AT-ST discovers it cannot easily shatter the walls and struggles to shoot through the narrow gateway. In return, it receives a barrage of harmless blaster bolts—an ongoing tit-for-tat stalemate even when it launches grenades over the walls. Explosions erupt throughout the yard, but the defenders refuse to budge.
Rebels in the south pause safely behind the walker; an errant footstep is as dangerous as its blasters to them. The Ewoks don't, deftly racing through its legs, only to be chewed up by the defenders. Meanwhile, the rebels shift fire to the second floor.
Alliance soldiers reach the walls along the East and West and begin ascending them. While reloading his rifle from behind cover, the commander wonders, is this our legacy? Are mechanical terrors and a futile struggle against the inevitable all we've done?
A grenade appears, flying by him. Miraculously, he swats it, knocking it back over the wall. It explodes among the attackers and erases any further idle thoughts. Nearby, several stormtroopers gap; one gives him a thumbs-up. The grand commander laughs maniacally. Together, they turn their rifles outward as a team and blast the swarm of attackers.
Ear-piercing shrieks and savagery pass unnoticed as everyone fights to live a little longer.
Suddenly, rocks fall from above, flooring a stormtrooper. The commander looks up and discovers a trio of gliders passing overhead. He yells, but the battlefield pandemonium swallows his voice. His first shot goes wide, but the second nails the glider's Ewok. The creature shrieks before it crashes into the side of the compound. The other two swing away, but his troops echo his actions. One flyer falls, riddled with blasts—someone on the roof shoots the third.
"Lieutenant Diggs," the commander calls. "Anyone on the second floor, come in!"
"Go ahead," Diggs replies, surprising him. The walker left only devastation.
"Reposition anyone remaining to the west and the east of the compound-"
"Say again!" Diggs replies. "I can barely hear you!"
The commander repeats, adding, "Reinforce the walls until we withdraw! Send Dib and the Yuzzum to the north. It's almost time!"
"Yes, sir!"
Time stretches and slows, passing unheeded. He fires, takes cover, fires, and reloads. The sequence changes, but the commander continues methodically. Concrete showers them as the wall crack and crumble, revealing the durasteel supports. The stench of burnt flesh and dusty concrete fills his nose and mouth, bypassing his clogged air filters—a gift from the swamp.
The commander finishes reloading as an Ewok comes over the wall. He stuns it with a thrust, and his comrade shoots it. Another appears and jumps on a stormtrooper, only to be impaled by a bayonet. The commander blasts a rebel before he can climb over, then blaster bolts force him down from its sheer volume. A bolt hits his comrade, who falls, still as the grave.
Rebels swarm over the wall, side by side with Ewoks, only to be butchered when they reach the top. More push forward, climbing over their dead even as the second floor blasts them. A big man tackles the commander, squeezing him tight, as they fall among the bodies. He loses his rifle, breaks the man's hold, and elbows the rebel. He reaches his knees before a second aims at him but takes a bolt from a nearby trooper. Who's immediately killed by several blasts.
"Pull back!" The commander orders, then repeats, his voice obscured by the screams. He slugs a rebel to buy time and reaches for his pistol, only now remembering he lost it in the swamp. Instead, he switches to his ax, but an Ewok grabs his hand and bites it!
He hammers the monster with his fist, then a second time, before throwing the Ewok in a rebel's path. The rebel stumbles and trips over the beast. The commander kicks the rebel's head so hard that his whole body shudders violently. He ducks one punch, but another rebel front-kicks him, nearly knocking him off the wall. The commander swings himself forward, dropping into a crouch to avoid falling. Next, he reaches for his dropped rifle, screaming, "Pull back!"
The stormtroopers peel off the wall steadily, together, and with discipline instead of abandoning each other. The commander's hand closes on his rifle only to have it kicked from his grasp. Left off balance from the kick, the commander slams into the rebel and shoves him back over the wall. Another rebel points his rifle but takes a blast in his chest and collapses.
"Sir! Get off the wall!" Gary yells from the courtyard below, motioning for him to run. That moment's distraction allows a rebel to strike him, but he misses his follow-up. Gary continues shooting rebels, but they control the wall now. The commander draws his force pike and drives it into the nearest enemy, hurling him from the top. An Ewok slashes at him with a knife; the commander thrusts his pike with both hands, rupturing it.
A rebel hits him, wrestling with the commander. Gary screams, "No!"
More rebels slam into the commander, overwhelming him. He slugs one but receives a dozen blows in response. Desperate and encircled, he kicks off the wall, dragging the rebels over the edge. A moment of weightlessness passes before they slam into the ground blasting the air from their lungs. Recovering quickest, the commander lashes out with his pike.
"Commander!" Gary continues screaming, blasting the rebels as quickly as possible, but they return fire, forcing him back. Somehow, despite the commander's struggle, he feels the hair on the back of his neck rising. Pressure builds as if a storm is on the verge of breaking. Its power matches Gary's screams, growing simultaneously, "No, no, no!"
Even disoriented, the mass of rebels detain the commander. Soon, one presses a blaster pistol against his helmet. In the rebel's eyes, he recognizes pure hatred.
"NOOOO!" Gary howls, and the storm breaks. An invisible hand slams them, crushing them as one. After a moment, the commander shakes off his beatings and breaks free of the pile.
He staggers before reaching Gary, sitting on the ground like a deflated pack.
"Sir, uhhh-that was lucky!" The commander reaches for him, causing the stormtrooper to flinch. He jerks Gary to his feet, and together they struggle towards the doors.
"I can't believe I didn't realize it!" The commander growls. "The way you escaped the ambush. All the languages you speak. It's not luck! You're one of them!"
"I am not!" Gary mumbles weakly. "I'm lucky, that's all. Please don't kill me, sir."
"You wear that armor, Gary. After all we've been through, you'll always be my brother." The commander leans against the compound wall, catching a breath. Behind them, the rebels blast the second floor, suppressing it. Meanwhile, the AT-ST pounds the entrance, barring them.
Somehow, three stormtroopers followed them without either realizing it.
"Use your magic, Gary," one suggests.
"Shut up, Kyle!"
Without warning, the AT-ST crashes through what's left of the gate. A grenade launcher tears free from its side, but otherwise, it passes unscathed. This close, the terror of the walker is palpable. In seconds, it butchers the few troopers remaining behind the entrenchment.
The commander screams, "Run inside!"
Half-dragging Gary, the commander dashes through the door with his team of troopers, screaming. "Friendlies! Do not fire! Hold your fire!"
Within, the imperials stood up tables as barriers, which the AT-ST cannons shattered. Few troopers live among those guarding the barricades. Scorch marks reveal where the walker slaughtered them. Wounded flee up the stairs, barely able to make the climb.
"Help Gary," the commander orders before he hears a loud pop. "Take cover!"
They throw themselves to the floor as explosions tear through the room. Grenades from the walker's remaining launcher shred the barricades and pelt them with shrapnel. The walker is too tall to see what it's shooting but fires indiscriminately.
Suddenly, the AT-ST freezes. The break stuns the Imperials almost as much as the jarring silence. The walker remains still as Ewoks charge between its legs, screaming and whooping at their chance to attack. The commander passes Gary to his troopers, "Go, take Gary with you."
The commander moves to the center of the room with the remaining defenders. There, the dungeoneers form the center of the line. Although personally unsettling, somehow Caizor remains unharmed, but Swanson's armor is marred and blackened from the explosion.
"Status?"
"Good to go, sir," Caizor replies immediately—his stun stick and blaster ready.
"We're holding, sir," Swanson replies with a pained grunt. "No matter what comes."
He examines each trooper, then the guardsman, before signaling, "You've done enough. Pull back for medical if it's available. If not, withdraw to the Zeta."
"I can still fight, sir," Swanson grumbles, and the wounded nod in agreement.
"I know," the commander replies. "That's why I'm not wasting your lives here."
While Swanson withdraws, the commander seizes a blaster pistol from the ground. He checks its charge, then joins the line behind the table barricade. As the Ewoks reach the doors, a volley of blaster fire cuts through them from the first defensive line and the second-floor causeway. The Ewoks stumble briefly before arrows and grenades fly into the room—rebels from beyond the door fire on the causeway, crippling their support. Soon the battle becomes a vicious melee at the tables. The commander thrusts and shoots over the top while the lightning-quick Ewoks fight to bypass it. The sheer numbers and viciousness of the beasts slowly drive the defenders back. Then, without warning, several Ewoks lift a table while more rush beneath it.
"Pull back!" The commander yells as he and Caizor struggle to hold the tide. Ewok spearmen drive a wedge between the commander and the fleeing imperials, chasing them up the stairs onto the raised walkway. From the doorways, troopers fire into the Ewok assault, but only for moments before the savages reach them. The commander and Caizor end up pushed into a corner. Caizor pulls his whip and swirls it over their heads, driving the Ewoks back.
With imperial forces in retreat, an Ewok screams in their language, and the rest pause. The commander looks around, realizing Ewoks also hold the causeway behind them, surrounding them. Ceremoniously, the Ewoks part allowing a dark-furred chieftain to approach.
Instantly, the commander recognizes the chief of the Lightfoot tribe. With bloody fingers, the Ewok motions for the commander to come out of the corner. Then raises his spear. Knowing it will be no help, the commander holsters his pistol and raises his force pike in both hands.
BOOOOOOMMMM!
It's easy to miss the first gong with the battlefield racket, but the sharp-eared Ewoks jerk, then look over their shoulders uncertainly. BOOOOOOMMM! The sound cuts through all the noise, closer this time, disturbing the Ewoks. BOOOOOOMMM!
"What is that sound?" Caizor demands, but the commander would know it anywhere.
The chieftain snarls and lunges, exploiting the distraction. Serrano appears suddenly, parrying the thrust, his crimson cape fluttering majestically.
"Sir, it's time for you to withdraw. Guardsman Caizor and I will deal with them."
"Two of you can't fight them all," he counters.
"I didn't come alone, sir," the royal guardsman replies.
Lieutenant Gale and Diggs charge through a doorway with wounded Imperials. The same distraction that left the commander open also preoccupied the Ewoks. The Imperials cleave through the second floor before shredding the Ewoks below. Instantly, the fight renews in earnest.