Back with another chapter, and it would've been posted last night, but life got in the way of life. So here it is, and I hope you all enjoy!
"Pile in…pile on in…" Commander Tharcourt droned, patting each member of Delta-7 on the back as they started up the ramp below the cockpit of The Huntsman. "Do it lovely, do it ugly…it's all the same to me." He sighed as Freya and Gallen brought up the rear of the group. Another day, another potentially dangerous and probably annoying mission. Freya gave him a small smile, and he nodded to her. "That's it, up and over…through the brush…" He pirouetted and started up the ramp. "…and in the clover."
He entered the shuttle and hit the close button for the hatch. Walking into the passenger compartment, Drakken dropped down on the padded bench next to Freya and huffed a sigh. He leaned his head back against the bulkhead a moment, and then looked about the bay as the ship hummed to life and began to lift off. Everyone seemed to be getting ready for the mission. Dall was checking his medical equipment for the fifth time, Felian was giving his E-11 carbine a cursory field strip, and Gallen was polishing the scope of his long-range blaster with a fine cloth. As the shuttle left the hangar of the destroyer, Drakken raised an eyebrow.
"Uhh…where's Lago?" He asked.
"He's up front with Ekks." Mets answered. Drakken nodded.
"Alright…wait, what's he doing up there?"
"Corporal Ekks wanted to cross-train Lago on piloting The Huntsman, sir." Daraay said. He heard a snicker from his other side, and jerked his head toward Freya. She was now sitting with an innocent look on her face.
"Huh. You order the cross-training, Freya?" She smiled, knowing the truth behind the instruction the Corellian was giving the young trooper.
"Nah. But I knew about it." She replied. "Probably a good idea, havin' us two people what can fly a ship." He raised both eyebrows. "Och. Ye know what I mean. Ye can fly, and so can Felian. I can…make a half-hearted attempt at not killin' us if I had tae. But we ought tae have a second skilled pilot." He gave a nod.
"Yeah…" He thought. "Not a bad idea. We ought to do more cross-training. Sergeant Felian!"
"Sir?"
"Want to help me teach Lieutenant Thorne how to track?"
"Wh…what?" She squeaked.
"I'd be happy to, commander." The seasoned scout responded.
"Good. We can probably start on this assignment. Tracks, bushcraft, maybe blood trails. Let's get her up to speed."
"Roger that, sir." Felian stated, then went back to reassembling his blaster. Drakken gave Freya a small grin.
"A little cross-training, love." He said. "That way, we have two officers that can track in the field." He nodded gently. "I've been meaning to teach you some of it…just been busy, you know?" She met eyes with him and they shared a short moment in each others' gaze before Drakken stood from his seat. "I'll go see how their training's going." He scoffed. "It's not that I don't trust Ekks…I just…"
"Don't trust Ekks." Dall grumbled, staring at a pack of wound coagulant.
"Now Corporal Dall, that magnanimous gent's never done you wrong." Tharcourt jested with a smirk. The medic looked up grumpily, shook his head, let out a chuckle, then went back to his work. Drakken walked to the open hatch leading to the cockpit and paused a moment. He slowly stuck his head inside, where he could hear the two men talking.
"Yep…yep…just like that." Ekks was saying. "Take her niiiice and easy…well at least till you get the hang of it. Now hold on, and I'll set the hyperspace coordinates."
"This is easier than I thought." Lago remarked. "This shuttle handles pretty good."
"Ships all got their own personalities." The Corellian explained. "Some are real easy going like, and some, you gotta damn well force 'em to do what you want. This one…she's a real pearl, alright."
"All ships are girls, right?" Lago asked. "I keep hearing people refer to them as like "she" and "her".
"Yeah. All ships are gals." Ekks replied. He chuckled. "And like a gal, you gotta know how to touch them, you know? Figure out what they like and what they'll do for you. Then…"
"Ahem…" Drakken walked into the cockpit.
"Oh…uh…hello commander, sir." Lago greeted. Ekks laughed.
"Hey boss. I was just teaching my little buddy here the ins and outs of flying a starship."
"So I heard." Tharcourt said. "Odd how akin piloting is to romancing a woman, isn't it?" Lago looked back at his commander with a wide-eyed expression of shock, and Drakken laughed and patted the back of his co-pilot's seat. "You have a good teacher, son." He assured the young man. "He'll make a good flyer out of you. Just don't gamble with him. I think his decks have too many cards in them."
"Me? Nah. I never cheated anybody, Boss. Just lucky." Ekks grinned. "Really, really lucky."
"It helps when you can make your own luck, corporal." Drakken offered. "Loaded dice and ambushing the enemy is the same thing. Nobody sees it coming." The pilot gave him a devious grin, and Tharcourt jabbed a thumb toward the bay. "I'll leave you two to it. Get us there in one piece, Lago."
"Yes sir."
Saracor was a lush, green planet in the Outer Rim near Iego, but enough removed from normal trade routes as to render the world essentially a hole in the wall. As the shuttle descended toward the surface of the planet, Drakken watched out of the small viewport as they passed over a dense forest, a green, flat plain of tall grass, and finally began to set down at an Imperial facility. As soon as the ship was on the landing pad, the ramp lowered and Commander Tharcourt stepped off of The Huntsman with Thorne and Daraay close behind. A lieutenant in a dusty grey-green uniform came jogging up with a squad of army troopers behind him.
"Delta-7?" He asked over the whine of the engines stepping down.
"Yes lieutenant." Tharcourt stated. "I'm Commander Tharcourt. We're here about your rebel problem."
"Yessir." The lieutenant snapped a salute. "Right this way, commander. I'm to take you to Captain Vespan. Your team can wait in the main lobby."
"Sergeant Daraay, take the team in." He ordered.
"Yes sir." The Death Trooper stated. She turned back into the shuttle.
"Lead the way, lieutenant." Drakken nodded.
Tharcourt and Freya were taken into a small office on the second floor of the sprawling, squat complex. Behind a desk sat a wiry, unhappy-looking officer in a pressed uniform. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the two Imperial SpecFor officers stepped in. The tall, stern-faced man stood from his seat at the desk and nodded his head as if agreeing with some inaudible but highly-desirable tidings.
"Good, good, good." He said. "Someone finally took my reports seriously, eh? Or maybe those vandals finally cost the Empire enough to send someone after them. Stars end if I've been able to deal with this problem. I haven't the manpower nor the experience…"
"Captain?" Tharcourt offered, interrupting the man's tirade. The officer huffed.
"I'm sorry, commander." He replied. "Captain Vespan. I've been over this mining and shipping facility since it was established four years ago. Since these hooligans started…terrorizing the shipments coming here from the mines, it's taken everything I have just to maintain command and control in this place." He scoffed, jerking his head derisively. "Desertions…pah! On top of the KIA we've had to contend with…"
"How many of your men have been killed, Captain?" Tharcourt inquired.
"A hundred and four." Vespan growled. "All either drivers or guards on the shipments. Cowards refuse to stand up and fight with the garrison here."
"Why bother?" Drakken offered. "They're after the rhydonium, not a fight. They're expending the minimum amount of energy and materiel to achieve their ends." The captain huffed and nodded in agreement. "Are they taking the fuel off-world? There any evidence of where the rebels are operating out of?"
"How am I supposed to know that, commander?" Vespan sighed. "I sent two platoons of stormtroopers and six scouts on speeder bikes to find them and wipe them out." He shook his head. "Killed to the last man. I sent another platoon out…army troopers, supported by two TIE fighters right after they hit one of our shipments. Any guesses what became of that, Commander?" Drakken shrugged.
"Well, I guess I'm here." He said.
"Yes, and that was all back when I could well afford to send these rubbish soldiers out against them." Captain Vespan said, and Drakken frowned at the officer's disregard for his men. "I started putting guards on all of the vehicles, and it just added to the body count. Now, I just run as many smaller loads as I can and make do on what gets through." That piece of information gave Tharcourt pause.
"How many convoys do you run a day?" He queried.
"Four. Why?"
"How many vehicles per convoy?"
"Three or four…"
"And how many make it through?" Drakken asked.
"Generally we only lose one every couple of weeks, what does that have to do with anything?" Vespan demanded.
"More than you think, captain." Tharcourt replied. "I was told there's around a dozen of the rebels. I think Intelligence got something right for a change. If they had more, they'd be using them. You'd be losing more rhydonium. I think they're also delaying their raids because they have to sneak what they loot off-world. Which way did you send your reaction forces?"
"West-by-southwest, the direction the rebels were seen flying off in."
"Anything out that way?"
"Nothing but mountains, forest…it's the Ku'Pakshi Range out there. Rocky mountains with a lot of cave systems." Vespan explained. Drakken paced the room a few times.
"No doubt they're hiding up there." He finally stated. "That's exactly what I'd do. No sense in bombing the area either. Anything short of glazing half this world isn't going to ferret them out."
"Ye think we can sneak up there and catch 'em by surprise then?" Thorne asked.
"No, Lieutenant. They're probably counting on that." He said. "I got a better idea…I hope." He turned to Vespan. "When was the last shipment jacked?"
"Three weeks ago." The captain replied.
"Good. They're slacking." Drakken said. "Tomorrow, I want you to run a full convoy of six vehicles. Six there and six back. Really give them a target they can't refuse."
"You're asking me to sacrifice an entire shipment of rhydonium, commander…"
"No." Tharcourt interjected. "Well…hopefully not. My team will be on those transports, and we'll either manage to fend them off, kill them or…"
"Or what?" Freya asked.
"Or…we'll all get blown to bits by rebels and unstable fuel…" He breathed, then looked at Captain Vespan. "I take it you're willing to take that chance?"
Drakken looked up at the massive, muti-wheeled vehicle in front of him. One of six such transports idling outside of the facility, the cargo vehicle sported five sets of rubber tyres, each axle supporting a single segment of the articulated behemoth. He looked down the line of vehicles as pairs of his troopers climbed aboard their own transports for the mission. From the transport closest to him, Gallen gave a friendly wave as he and Daraay climbed the ladder to the cockpit. Drakken let out an audible sigh before turning to Freya.
"What did I talk myself into this time?" He grumbled, and pulled on his helmet. She made a small laugh and shook her head.
"Och…after all the craziness we been intae, yer stressin' oer a dozen rebels, love?" Thorne put on her own helmet. "Or do ye think it's gonna be like that?" He simply stared blankly at her for a moment, put his hand on the ladder and started climbing. Thorne huffed and glanced down at the ground, kicking at a small pebble with her toeless boot.
"Och…it's gonnae be like that…" She muttered. Freya grasped the first rung of the ladder and nimbly hefted herself up.
In the cockpit of the large transport, Drakken was dropping into a seat next to the driver, an anonymous man in a two-piece Imperial Combat Driver's helmet and mask. The headgear, along with a grey plastoid chestplate over a light grey flight suit and engineer boots identified him as not just a normal transport operator, but a combat driver. Drakken gave him a cursory inspection as the soldier began flipping switches on the console.
"Been doing this long?" The commander asked. The driver looked over, and Freya swore she could almost feel the man staring at Drakken with the look of a condemned man.
"Four years, sir." He answered, and went back to readying the vehicle for its trip.
"So…how many of these damned runs you survive, son?" Tharcourt asked. The driver sighed behind his mask.
"Seven, sir." He replied. "I just transferred here this month, sir." Tharcourt scoffed.
"Lucky you." He quipped. The driver looked over. "Nervous?"
"No sir."
"I'd be." Drakken countered. The man tapped the console with his knuckles. "If you have something to say, trooper…you'd may as well spit it out."
"Sir…with all due respect, I have my issues with driving right into the enemy and getting attacked on purpose." The driver stated. "I'm following orders, sir, but I don't think I have to like it…sir." Drakken chuckled.
"What's your name, trooper?" He asked.
"Kresavarnian, sir." Drakken cocked up an eyebrow.
"Alright, Varney…get us underway." The commander said. "Tell you what, try to drive good…and I'll try to keep you from getting killed. Deal?"
"Wha…Kriffing Hell, sir…yeah that's a deal!" The driver exclaimed, and shoved the throttle forward. The transport lurched once and began rolling. The second transport in line moved after the first, with Daraay and Gallen aboard.
In the third vehicle, Tharcourt had positioned Ekks and Lago. Immediately, the Corellian began to dislike the idea of being stuck in a craft bound to the ground with only two axes of movement. The fact that he was not in control of said movements only made his temperament worse. As soon as they had climbed into the transport, Ekks dropped down into the assistant driver's seat and began his tirade on the poor driver.
"Hey. What's your name, pal?" He asked almost as soon as he had seated himself.
"CD-3692" The driver answered. Ekks shook his head. Damned Regs
"Trade me seats." He said.
"What?!" The driver asked. Ekks took off his helmet. "Hey, helmets on inside the vehicle." The man in the white helmet and mask tapped a small plate on the console that merely repeated him, only in Aurebesh, complete with a childishly simple picture of a head in a helmet.
"C'mon, don't gimme that bantha crap." Ekks returned. "I'm special forces. I'm a corporal. I'm one of the best pilots in the galaxy…and I'm a Corellian." The driver sighed. "Now move over. There's gonna be some crazy holofilm-level shooting happening, and I'm driving this rustheap." The driver of the transport shook his head to the negative.
"Nobody…drives this rustheap but me." He growled. Ekks smirked a little.
"Wellll…so, it's got a personality under that bucket." He taunted. "It got a name to go with it?" The driver huffed."
"Corporal Samman Grieg." He stated.
"Kriffin' lousy, ain't it, Grieg?" Ekks asked as the driver pushed the throttle forward and the vehicle started to move.
"What is?"
"Bein' a corporal in an officer's army." The Corellian grinned. Corporal Grieg slowly turned his head to look at the pilot.
"Yes…it…is."
Behind Ekks' transport was a vehicle with no team members aboard. The fifth was manned by Mets and Coleth, who had their speeder bikes hidden in two of the articulated segments with special large side cargo hatches. Both scouts had brought heavy blasters for use on the rig, as well as a pair each of heavy blaster pistols and two E-11's for use on the speeder bikes.
The last transport in the convoy contained Felian and Dall, along with a special rear car. Under Tharcourt's supervision, a port had been plasma-cut out of the rear of the wheeled container. An E-Web was bolted to the floor inside the container, positioned to be easily swiveled out of the port when needed. In addition, smaller shooting ports had been cut into the walls of this section. Inside, six Army troopers from the compound were assigned as guards, with two more to utilize the heavy repeating blaster cannon. Dall and Felian rode in the cockpit with the driver, the scout sergeant armed with a scoped DLT-19 and the medic with a holstered SE14r. A grenade launcher was leaned next to his seat.
The six transports steadily picked up speed as they moved away from the compound and down the packed dirt road leading across the grassy plain. As soon as they were out of sight of the Imperial base, every member of Delta-7 began scanning the surrounding landscape. Everyone knew the rebels weren't going to attack an empty convoy, but their eyes searched the grass and trees for any sign that they were being watched by anyone, or any indication of disturbances in the ground near the road. Drakken frowned as he peered out of the windscreen. There was no obvious sign of the rebels, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that someone knew they were there.
On a wooded hill, over a kilometer away, an imposing figure stood, watching the transports moving along the road through a pair of electrobinoculars. Shrouded in a dark fur cape and bedecked with a great horned helmet and almost tribal-looking armor; for several moments, the figure stood motionless. Finally lowering the electrobinoculars, it turned to two others wearing equally-peculiar armor and carrying long cycler rifles.
"This will be it." The armored figure spoke. "Our final shipment. Ready the riders." One of the others nodded and jogged off. The leader turned back and raised their binoculars again. "Six transports. Why do they have no guards…" The leader turned their helmeted head slightly. "We'll all go in. They may be up to something."
Loading the six vehicles at the mining and outprocessing facility took three hours. It was early afternoon when the convoy began its return to the Imperial base. Tharcourt had little doubt that the rebels would attack them on the return trip. He ordered the troopers in the rearmost car to be ready with the E-Web, and Daraay performed a final inspection of her own small arsenal before the transports began their sixteen-kilometer trip back. The huge vehicles lumbered out of the well-guarded gates of the mining compound, and Drakken closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
"You ready for this, love?" He asked. Thorne, sitting behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Donnae ye worry, Drakken. I got yer back." She returned. He reached up and squeezed her hand gently for a moment.
"Damned glad somebody does." He said with a small smile. Tharcourt noticed the driver glancing over at them and scoffed. "Any rule against a man courting his subordinate in this place, trooper?"
"N..no sir…I mean…I think so sir…" The man sputtered. "But I…don't think it means…" He coughed. "I didn't see a thing, sir." Drakken chuckled.
"Welcome to my world, Varney." He said, then pointed ahead. "Keep your eyes on the road, son. Don't you know that's how accidents happen?" Varney snapped his head forward, focused on his driving. Then Drakken heard a muffled snicker from inside his mask.
"Ye got somethin' on yer mind there, driver?" Freya inquired.
"No ma'am." He barked. A few seconds later, he spoke again. "Just seems like your guys' outfit is a fun one to be assigned to, ma'am…sir." Freya giggled.
"Well don't get any bright ideas." Tharcourt advised, scanning their surroundings as they drove along. "We'll try and get these rebels, then you just do your time and get out." He motioned to Freya to watch the port side of the vehicle.
"Take it you don't need a driver sir." Varney commented.
"Nah. This is actually my first time in one of these wheeled contraptions." Tharcourt answered. "What about you, Freya?"
"Huh. Guess it is fer me to." She said. Drakken peered out at a dark mass in the brush ahead. As they got closer, he realized it was just a clump of dark moss on a rock beside the trail. He exhaled.
"We usually fly." The commander continued, trying to alleviate the feeling of encroaching violence with small-talk. "Or we walk more than sentients did before they invented repulsors." The driver laughed. "So stick with what you got…unless you like long hours, lousy pay and getting shot at constantly." His commlink crackled to life.
"Delta-Seven-Three to Delta-Seven-Actual…" Felians voice spoke. "We have zero-three speeders coming in bearing two-hundred."
"See what I mean?" Tharcourt grumbled. Thorne hopped over into the left-side rear seat, cranked down the window and craned her head out to the rear to get a look.
"Copy that, Felian. Prepare to execute defensive measures on my mark." Tharcourt ordered. "Don't fire until we have them all on the field."
"Roger that, commander." Felian answered.
"Drakken, we got company." Freya called, her head still out the window.
"Commander…speeder off our port side." Daraay reported over the commlink. "Two riders."
"Everyone get ready." Drakken said over his device. He drew one of his SE-14rs and checked the weapon. "Varney, whatever you do, don't stop driving. You understand?" The driver nodded quickly. "Drive like hell and keep your head down." He looked to the right and saw another speeder bike swoop in from a clearing in the trees on his side of the transport. Two rugged-looking men in helmets and armor were atop the speeder. The passenger turned his head and met eyes with Drakken through the window.
"Oh krink me…" Drakken sighed. The man on the speeder raised a blaster pistol. "Contact!" Tharcourt yelled, drew his second pistol and dropped sideways in the seat, his shoulders against Varney's right arm as he fired both of his blasters through the window, shattering the clear plastoid composite. The speeder lurched to the right and banked upwards.
Freya yelped as a round skittered off of the light armor of the transport right above her head. She drew herself back inside long enough to pull her own blaster. She leaned her head and arm out the window and fired at the speeder on her side. The nimble craft drifted and yawed in a serpentine motion, avoiding her rounds. She fired twice more, only to drop back inside as more red bolts came her way.
"How many to the rear?!" Drakken demanded over his helmet's mic.
"Three sir!" Felian returned instantly.
"Deploy the E-Web! Execute! Execute!" At the rear of the column, the muzzle of the E-Web was lifted and rotated out of the slit in the back of the cargo car by two Army troopers. No sooner had it cleared the lip of the opening, the gunner squeezed the trigger, and the weapon began to belch out a torrent of red bolts. Two of the speeder bikes broke away to the left and right, but the speeder in the center was caught by the fire and exploded.
Drakken began to hear tell-tale pings on the roof of the cockpit of his vehicle from someone firing on them with a light weapon. Only a second later, a speeder bike shot forward of the transport and dipped down ten meters in front of them. The rebel on the back of the craft pivoted around with an E-11 carbine aimed at their windscreen.
"Cover!" Drakken called, and as Thorne dropped to the floor panel, the commander grabbed the driver's shoulder and pulled him down with him. The windscreen shattered, and red bolts peppered the inside of the cabin. The fire stopped, and Drakken risked a look over the dashboard. The speeder was moving to the right again, and he fired at them, only to duck again.
"I can't see where I'm going!" Varney cried out.
"Straight…you're going straight, void-kriff it!" Tharcourt yelled. "Daraay! Gallen! Get this mynock off my ass!"
"I was waiting, sir." His Death Trooper simply said. In the second Transport, Daraay picked up a shoulder-firing rocket launcher and Gallen sat his scoped heavy blaster rifle down and took up a short-barreled slug thrower he had mounted a holographic sight upon. They nodded to one another, and Daraay threw open the roof hatch of the cockpit. She hauled herself onto the roof, and a couple seconds later, the marksman joined her. They could now see the commander's own bolts arcing out of the cockpit of the transport ahead of them as the speeder accelerated in front of the lead vehicle again. Gallen dropped to a prone position and Daraay knelt to his left.
The man on the back of the speeder turned back and fired into the cabin of Drakken's transport again, but only managed to get off two shots before a lead slug tore into his back between his shoulder blades. The rebel exhaled his dying breath a split second before a rocket impacted the rear of the speeder. The small vehicle became a ball of fire and shrapnel. The lead transport drove through the flame, knocking what was left of the enemy speeder aside.
"Gah…" Varney complained at the jostle. Something on the console beeped dangerously. "Sir! We can't be shaking around like this! You hear that?" He sat back up fully in his seat and pointed at a gauge cluster, where an arrow was coming down from a red marking to a yellow and slowly falling. Drakken looked at the dial. "Yeah…see, we bump around like that, this whole load is going to blow sky high."
"What d'ye mean a wee bump'll blow us to the eternal halls?!" Freya demanded.
"Rhydonium is unstable as hell." Drakken explained, checking the power cells on his blasters. "Jostle it too much, and it goes reactive. I made a sep shuttle go supernova once with the stuff."
"Och! Fer feck's sake, darlin'…ye couldae told me afore we got intae a firefight sittin' pretty on a bloody bomb!" She exclaimed. Drakken winced.
"Uh…eheh…oops?" He offered before receiving a light slap to the back of his helmet.
In the rear transport, the Army troopers were firing out of their shooting slits as a third speeder took the place of the one they had destroyed. The rebels had almost immediately made note of the E-Web's funnel of fire, and kept clear of the heavier weapon as they attempted to take the large vehicle in a swarm attack. The riders on the rear of the speeders began firing slow, accurate shots, some of their bolts passing through the firing slits in the sides of the container. One Army trooper went down dead, then another wounded. Then another.
"We're taking casualties." The sergeant in command of the squad called into his commlink. In the cockpit, Sergeant Felian gave Dall a light slap on the pauldron and picked up his heavy blaster rifle. He threw open the roof hatch and popped out, preparing to engage the speeder bike off their port side. Meanwhile, to starboard, another speeder pulled alongside Dall's window. The pilot and passenger both looked over, and Dall tapped his pauldron with two fingers. They did a double-take and the medic held up a first-aid kit. He dropped the window down.
"Medic!" He shouted to them, then gestured to himself. "Medic! Non-combatant, you know?" He called. Doctoosa…um…Sesk'ryvak?" The two masked rebels stared blankly at him. "Medica man-a heela yoosa guy?" He sighed. "Beep-boop-bop?" The one on the rear started to raise a cycler rifle. "Oh kriff it…" Dall growled, and pivoted his grenade launcher out the window. He pulled the trigger, and the weapon emitted a 'blump' sound a second before the speeder bike detonated, throwing the two now burning riders into the air. He chuckled. "You had your chance…"
Felian low-crawled along the roof of the transport. He could hear the troopers two cars back trading blows with the rebels. He raised up onto his elbows and knees, his rifle already planted against his shoulder. Peering through the scope, the driver of the speeder was enlarged to the point where it almost didn't feel sporting. Felian squeezed the trigger and a powerful green bolt struck the rebel in the forehead. He slumped forward, throwing the speeder bike to the right and into the wheels of the transport. The entire mass of man and machine was ground instantly into the dirt. Felian started to take aim on the next duo of mounted rebels, when a line of bolts stitched the durasteel beside him.
"Yeah, commander…twelve…" He grumbled as two more speeders came streaking in from above. Felian hopped to his feet and fired at the nearest. One of his bolts hit the underside, and the speeder jolted and began streaming a plume of smoke. He ran for the cabin, a line of green bolts passing on either side of him as the other rebel speeder buzzed the vehicle. Felian jumped down into the cockpit and slammed the hatch shut.
"Problem, sergeant?" Dall mumbled, now wondering if he'd brought enough bacta.
"No…no problem at all, doc." Felian returned, dropping down into his seat behind the driver. An explosion rocked the vehicle and the console screamed out its warning before the rhydonium settled down. "Just out for a walk. Fresh air is healthy, right?" The medic racked a fresh round into his grenade launcher.
"Nothing healthy about this job." He said.
In the lead transport, Tharcourt was doing some quick calculations in his head. Through his earpiece, he began to put together what the entirety of the situation looked like. Four enemy speeders had been destroyed. From what he could gather, five more were either attacking the convoy, or within sight of it. Ekks and Lago were currently in a shootout with one speeder, while Daraay was engaged with another. Three were still at the back of the column. He heard a high whine, and another came out of the trees to their right.
"So much for a dozen rebels…" He groused. Drakken haphazardly fired a few errant potshots at the newcomer. "Keep driving."
Talk about being in the thick of it, eh? Looks like the team are in another mess like the one they just got out of! How will they win this fight, and who are these strange, speeder-bike-mounted rebels who waylaid them like common highwaymen? If you think you know, post it in the review section. I have a show this weekend, so I'll try to post one more chapter before I have to go. Until then my loyal readers, Cheerio!