I'm back...finally. Sorry for the delay everyone. I'd planned on getting a new chapter up before now, but I've hardly had time to get on my computer for the last few days. At least I have a few days of inactivity ahead of me, so I can post a few chapters and write a little on the sequel to this story. So lets jump back into the story. Hope you all enjoy this one!
Drakken stood at the base of The Huntsman's boarding ramp, holding onto the strut as Delta-7 boarded for the mission. He bore a grim expression as he recounted the mission parameters and his earlier briefing. Vader had ordered him to take his team to some world in the Mid Rim and eliminate a Rebel training facility. Vader had been clear with his orders. No one is to be left alive. This must be a message to all who are considering joining this band of traitors.
Tharcourt exhaled and shook his head. Another assignment for the Dark Lord's personal death squad. He found little comfort in knowing that a rebel training facility would likely harbor few if any civilians. He began considering a very dark positive to what was about to happen to the recruits. In a few hours, they would no longer have to worry about reaching his numbed and tattered age, nor about having to live with the images of the brutal and terrible things he'd borne witness to in war. They would all be dead, and the dead know nothing other than it's better to be alive. Drakken took a look around the hangar, turned and boarded the shuttle.
"Ye feelin' alright, Drakken?" Freya asked as he sat down on the bench beside her. "Sure ye can do this?"
"Yeah. I'm good." He replied gruffly, and stretched his left leg. "It's been a week and a half. If I'm not healed up enough to get shot again, I never will be." Thorne nudged him with her shoulder.
"Dunnae say that." She stated bitterly. "Ye know I hate it when ye talk like that." Drakken nodded contritely.
"Sorry…" He muttered. "Just not looking forward to this is all." He added in a whisper. Tharcourt leaned his head back against the bulkhead as the shuttle lifted off and began to drift free of the hangar. He glanced momentarily at Felian, and the sergeant caught his eye and nodded.
"Remember the score, Sarn't." The commander had told him in private after the briefing. "After we clear the battlespace, collect all the credits, blasters and supplies you can. I'll have some empty containers in the cargo holds. Just put some in the starboard-forward box for me and Thorne…" He scoffed. "Guess it's our retirement package."
The shuttle took three hours to reach their destination, and during the trip, Tharcourt went over a holomap of the terrain and the Rebel facility one more time in great detail. They discussed their plan for the operation, along with secondary and tertiary strategies in case anything went wrong. Finally confident that each and every trooper knew exactly what they were supposed to do, Drakken reclined in his seat and smoked a final cigarra before the mission. The call of 'Three minutes.' came from Ekks in the cockpit, and he briefly took Freya's hand in his and gave it a squeeze.
"Back into the breach." He said. "Ready, sweetheart?" Freya pulled on her combat helmet and tightened the chinstrap before giving Drakken a grin.
"I was born ready, me love." Tharcourt took a deep breath and rose to his feet.
"Alright troopers. I want this done clean and I want this done right. We have a ways to walk, so get off this ship and start walking." The shuttle came in low over the trees and descended into a clearing, the cloaking device and frequency jammers activated. "Ekks, don't let me down."
"When have I ever done that, boss?" The pilot returned through the commander's earpiece. "I'm gonna have lunch and I'll meet you at the Rebel base in one hour."
"One hour." Tharcourt repeated. The ramp began to lower, and he didn't even wait for it to lock into place. "Go, go, go!" He called out as the team evacuated the ship, hopping the one meter down to the ground below. Freya jumped down after the rest of the unit, and Drakken followed. The ship instantly began to climb, the ramp closing into position as Ekks piloted The Huntsman over the trees and into the distance.
They made the five-kilometer hike to the enemy position in under an hour. Tharcourt especially was thankful that they still had eight minutes before the action truly started, and lay back on a small bed of moss underneath a tree as the rest of the team took up positions in the forest, observing the perimeter of the rebel installation over a hundred meters away. Thorne sat beside him, stretched heartily, and took a drag from her electronic cigarra.
"Must be nice." He whispered.
"Wot, love?" She returned.
"Still being young." He said. "When I was your age, I…well I did what I still do. Anymore, I do it, and I'm sore for two days after." She pat his leg.
"Aw…yer not that old, love." She said reassuringly. "An' I personally think you can still have a lovely go in a fight." He smiled a little, and Freya leaned in close and whispered. "An' ye look pretty kriffin' good fer an ol' geezer."
"Ugh…alright…" He grunted irritably, sitting up. Thorne giggled. "Come on, Let's get this over with."
He motioned for the team to get into their positions for the assault about to be triggered. Gallen lay prone on the hillock, the muzzle of his blaster peeking out over a fallen tree. Everyone else knelt on either side of Tharcourt and Thorne. They soon heard the low hum of their shuttle coming in as Ekks made his approach for his attack run on the Rebel base. Tharcourt brought the small microphone on his helmet to his mouth.
"Execute." With that single word, The Huntsman swooped in over the Rebel training facility like a giant bird of prey. The first thing to be destroyed was the communications tower, which fell to a proton torpedo. Three A-Wings at the side of the low structure received a long burst from the twin blaster cannons and dual laser turrets at the front of the shuttle, and exploded on the ground. The same fate befell a pair of X-Wings nearby. By now, Rebel troops were rushing out of the compound to meet their attackers. A group of them dove to the ground as a small supply building was blown to rubble.
Ekks drifted the shuttle in a tight turn, and angled the cockpit at the mass of rebels who were now trying to fire on the ship. He let fly a deadly fusillade that mowed down a dozen of the armed fighters, then flew to the other side of the base. The remaining few rebels gave chase, joining up with a small band of their comrades at the back of the facility. Drakken raised his arm into the air.
"Squad forward!" He called. "Double time…move to contact…move!" With that, the team rushed from the trees toward the building in a V formation. Two rebels exited the front hatch of the structure, and one immediately fell dead from a bolt fired by Gallen, still in his overwatch position. The other was hit by a concentrated mass of fire from the eight Imperials closing in on the facility. They reached the open hatchway, and split into two groups, one on either side of the doorway.
"Flashbanger." Thorne stated. Felian lobbed two of the devices into the opening. A second later, they popped, and the two squads entered the building. Daraay fired a salvo into three young Rebel recruits who emerged from a room. On the opposite side of the entryway, Felian and Mets took down another two men in tan uniforms. Drakken, Freya, Dall and Daraay went to the right, and Felian led Mets, Coleth and Lago left.
The squads moved with droid-like efficiency through the building, clearing room after room. With most of the enemy soldiers having rushed outside when Ekks attacked the compound, they found only fourteen Rebels inside the small training facility. By the time they had linked up in a long corridor at the rear of the building, Ekks broke in over the net.
"I'm clear up here, Boss." He stated. "There's nothing left to shoot at."
"Building clear." Tharcourt reported back. "Stay aloft, and keep an eye on the perimeter. We're going to make a sweep of the place. Gallen, you watch the entrance."
"You got it." Ekks returned. Drakken turned to Felian and Daraay.
"Alright. Like I said, I want a sweep of this structure. Round up all the enemy supplies you can. Weapons, rations, gear and even the credits out of their pockets. Store it all in the cargo bays of the shuttle." He knew that the two scout troopers and Dall were not yet apprised of his scheme, and offered an explanation everyone could agree with. "When more Rebels come to check this place out, I want it sanitized. Nothing they can use. All they're going to find here is corpses. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!" The team barked.
"Go." With that, they headed off through the building to accumulate as much of the enemy's weapons and accoutrements they could find. Tharcourt looked down on a dead Rebel officer and shook his head. "What a waste…" He muttered as he knelt down and started rifling through the dead man's clothing. "This guy might have made a good farmer."
"Drakken?" Thorne asked inquisitively. Tharcourt pulled a leaterette bundle of credits from the Rebel's vest. He sighed.
"A farmer, a navigator on a transport…a famous musician…" He explained. "Man like this could've done anything with his life. He had to join these idiots, now look at him." He took a small knife from the man's boot and picked up his DH-17 from off the floor. Drakken tossed the blaster to Freya and stood up. He dropped the bag of credits and the knife into a pouch on his belt.
"Ye…want me to…" She motioned toward another dead rebel nearby. He shrugged.
"Might as well." She crouched next to the body, and brushed open its jacket with the muzzle of the captured blaster. She gingerly reached in and fished about in the inside pocket of the garment, and came out with a thin metal credit wallet. She tucked this into her belt-pouch, then carefully poked around on the rest of the dead man's clothing. Tharcourt scoffed humorously.
"I don't think he's going to bite, sweetheart." He commented. Thorne huffed and shook her head.
"I was raised wot t' respect the dead…" She countered. "Not t' mention…they always gave me the jeebies."
"What…bodies?" He asked incredulously.
"Aye…" She admitted as she pulled a commlink from one of the pockets and stuck it in her own. "Always thought they'd 'ave a right mind tae get back oop an' come after me." Drakken lowered himself beside her.
"You're pulling my leg."
"Och…I 'sure ye I idn't." Drakken reached over and patted the man's trouser pockets. He felt something inside one, and dug out an electronic light stick and a ration bar.
"Here." He said, handing them to her. He then picked up the dead man's blaster, another DH-17. "Can't have those damned ghouls nibbling on my girlfriend." She snorted.
"Crivens…the only ghoul around here is ye, Drakken Tharcourt." She stated, and gave him a playful slap. Then her smile quickly faded, and Freya let out a loud sigh. "Wot kinda life we gotta live where we're laughin' and jokin' around on top of a dead bloke?" Drakken looked down at the man.
"Ours, I guess." He muttered. "Dank Farric…"
"What?"
"I think this one could have been a good Imperial Officer." He said disappointedly. They stood, and she looked down at the body.
"Why'n the Hell ye think that now?" She shot. He grinned darkly.
"Look how good he was at dying."
Half an hour later, the team was loading a glut of supplies into small containers inside the cargo hatches on the shuttle. Among the siezed Rebel property was two dozen of the DH-17 blaster pistols, the same number of blaster rifles, a pair of small hideout blasters, ten thermal detonators, sixteen medpacks, and assorted supplies like light sticks, rations and power cells. As Felian closed up the last hatch, he turned his head back to his commander, the black scout trooper helmet nodding gently.
Rix felt less like a soldier and more a common pirate for what they had just done. Still, he knew if they were to escape from their deadly situation, they needed equipment and credits. What the commander planned on doing with all of this stuff, he didn't want to warrant a guess, but Felian had a notion that it probably involved Ekks. At least the container meant for his two trusted officers now had five hundred credits and some of the blasters inside for when they made their move. Felian scoffed as he made his way toward the ramp at the front of The Huntsman. He could not imagine the commander without at least a few blasters.
"Mount up!" Drakken called, a half-smoked cigarra dangling from his lower lip as he stood on the ramp and motioned for his troopers to board. They all clammored into the ship, and within moments, they were airborne, slowly disappearing into the sky above the base.
"And this one reb comes out with two pistols…two!" Coleth narrated with a grin. "He was all 'Death to the Empire! Didn't get a shot off. We lit him up. Lit…his dumb ass up!" Mets and Gallen laughed at the story. "He must've thought he was the Old Man or something, the way he came charging out with those two little blasters like that."
"Whoo! Another easy mission." Mets commented, putting his arms behind his head. "You see the grafitti I left back there?"
"Oh yeah!" Coleth answered. Tharcourt cracked open an eye from his resting position.
"Grafitti?" Gallen queried.
"Yeah." Mets explained. "Wrote 'The Immortals' and a big old Imperial Cog right on the wall of the mess hall. That ought to scare the shaz outta whoever goes in there." They laghed again.
"You did what, trooper?" Felian said irritably. The three comedians sat up straight and fell silent. "Since when do we paint immature mottos on buildings during an operation?"
"Sorry Sergeant." Mets sounded. Drakken heard Freya growl, and glanced over. She had her eyes closed, and was breathing deeply.
"I don't want to catch you maggots doing that again." The sergeant went on. "If our commander wanted us to advertise, he would put up a screenboard, wouldn't he, troopers?"
"Yes Sergeant, he would, Sergeant." Mets, Coleth and Gallen barked. Thorne stood and walked to the back of the bay. She opened the door to the quarters/holding area, and went inside. Tharcourt looked back to the trio of vandals.
"And since when are we immortal?" He asked in a low voice. All heads now turned to him.
"It…it was a joke, commander, sir." Mets said. "Like a pet name for the team we came up with…cause you know, we keep thrashing these rebels, and they can't touch us." Tharcourt let out a sigh that sounded almost like an animalistic growl.
"Oh really?" He returned. "Like my almost getting killed last week proves we're invincible? I remember Daraay getting shot in the leg a while back, and she's the most elite of any of us. Oh, and what about Thorne…that time she got broken up like a Kly'uush egg killing that big alien?" He shook his head. "We're not immortal."
"But…we've always come out of everything on top, haven't we sir?" Gallen spoke. "Like, we've all got tagged at one point or another, but we're the best there is, aren't we?" Drakken was now in a dark mood, and stood from his seat, intent on checking on Freya.
"I dunno, trooper…" He grumbled. "Ask Walker."
Freya sat on the small bunk, her legs lightly kicking as she stared a hole in the deck. As if she didn't have to worry enough about what she and Drakken were about to do, she'd just had to listen to her own people talking nonsense about them being unkillable. If anybody knew better, it was her. She'd had her own scrapes with death on a few occasions, and she was still emotionally dealing with almost losing Drakken. The hatch to the small room slid open, and Freya looked up to see the object of her thoughts step into the tiny quarters.
"You okay?" He asked softly. She huffed and nodded to the affirmative. He sat down beside her.
"Not th' first time their mouths gone flappin' without their brains attached about that." She said. "Sorry I bailed on ye love…" She sighed. "I jes' got a lil' bothered…notions of immortality an sech." Drakken nodded and gave her a gentle nudge.
"What was it you said? The more you win, the more you think you can't be beaten?"
"Aye." She answered glumly. "We 'ave nae met our match yet, but I'm afraid we might some day soon, Drakken." He put an arm over her shoulders.
"We'll be long gone long before then." He assured her. "We got a big haul, and Ekks is taking all of this stuff to a new cache on Tatooine. That gives us three supply dumps. One in the Outer Rim, and two in the Mid Rim. We can look at retiring soon." She leaned onto him, resting her head on his left shoulder.
"This whole thing's makin' me a nervous wreck." She breathed.
"I know." He said. "Same here. I'm trying to get everything squared away though. If it makes you feel any better love, I put in for a three day leave for both of us next month on Coruscant. I also filled out all the forms to buy my own personal ship while I'm there. I'm gonna pull out all of my credits, and I'll have a good, credible reason too." He smiled. "We'll be set, Freya." She allowed herself to smile a little.
"We're still getting' our own ship, right?" She asked in a hopeful whisper.
"You bet we are." He answered. "Much as I like this old girl, I'm pretty sure the Empire'll have an easy time finding her. Guess I'll turn The Huntsman over to Ekks and we'll get our own." Freya hugged him close.
"Can we get a right pretty, fast little ship?" She asked. She looked him in the eyes playfully. "Ye know, somethin' fer us tae have all our amazin' adventures in?" Drakken kissed her on the forehead.
"Freya, I'll get you the fastest, prettiest little starship in the the galaxy…if it makes you smile like that."
"Och, Drakken…yer too good t' me." She cooed.
"Well you're better to me." He replied. "You keep saving my life. I just promised you a ship."
"Yer life is worth more'n a fleet of ships." She said. Drakken scoffed.
"What? A commander worth more than a fleet of ships? Now I know you're a terrible Imperial officer." He quipped. Thorne snorted and gave him a playful slap on the arm.
"Oh ye think yer so funny." She snarked. "Whew…we're makin' our big break soon…" She took a deep breath and let it out. "How long, love?"
"Dunno." He answered truthfully. "Like to get in another mission or two at least. Still need to get our credits." He thought for a moment. "Two weeks?" She sat up and rubbed one hand in the other.
"Two weeks…" She muttered. "…a fortnight an' we'll be a couple a' fugitives." She shook her head. "Lady Thorne…Ex-Imper'l officer, bounty hunter…mercen'ry and wanted criminal." She snickered. "I get back hame, an' I'll ne'er hear the end o' it." Drakken frowned.
"You think…will your family be mad at you?" She giggled.
"Stars no!" She returned. "Me, a bounty-huntin', gun-slingin' former officer? Och…me daddy'll tell e'eryone in the county an' their dog! Me ma'll scold me somethin' awful, but I'll nae be able t' walk doon th' street without all me people gantin' fer me autograph an' tryin' tae buy me a pint." Drakken laughed. "It'll be th' grandest ting anyone's done in th' distric' in about a hunner-million years, but."
"Really?" Tharcourt asked. He thought back on all the things she'd told him about her home world. "I thought your people liked it when one of your own went off to become great warriors and bounty hunters and stuff." She shrugged.
"Aye. It's always a big thing." She said. "But ye know usually, they either come back after a few years an' settle intae some life in th' military or the constibulary. Some of 'em ne'er come back. Find themselves a more excitin' life out there in the stars than wot can be found in the borin' ol' fields back hame. That's when they actually grow th' nerve t' leave in the first place." Freya sighed thoughtfully. "Me people dun like getting' involved in the grea'er galaxy. We ne'er joined the Republic, not with those Seperatists, and I dun think we e'er joined with th' Empire neither."
"Probably for the better…" Drakken mused. "How did you people manage to stay out of the war?" She let out a proud laugh.
"Too far out, me love." She stated. "Til' now, I think those posh lil' core worlds didnae know we e'en existed." Her head drooped a little. "Drakken?"
"Yeah?"
"I lied wen I said t' ye Breoh'Lar was in the Outer Rim." She admitted. "We're I s'pose technically in Wildspace. I uh…I only say I'm from the Outer Rim so people don't go thinkin' I'm some backwards illit'rate lil' bumpkin…or a boggin' ol' savage." He smiled.
"Like that means anything to me." He replied. "I've never been, but I still think your people sound like they're more civilized that the rest of the galaxy."
"I love you, Drakken." She said softly. He pulled her close.
"I love you too, Freya." He returned. "We're gonna make it, sweetheart."
…
Sergeant Felian watched Mets and Coleth as they stripped their blasters, small boxes of cleaning agents and bore brushes next to their left feet. Rix let his brown eyes fall back onto his own weapon. He examined it like a jewler examining an inticrate bejeweled necklace for appraisal, his gaze settling into every crevice, over every line and curve. He detected the slightest smudge of a fingerprint on the E-11's left receiver, and frowned disappointedly before wiping it clean with an oily cloth. A small amount of satisfaction crossed his face as he mentally rendered the blaster perfect. Only perfect blasters win battles. Only perfect blasters keep you alive.
The same could be said about soldiers. Only through meticulous training, learned skill, natural talent and discipline could a soldier hope to be victorious in battle, and live to see another one. It was something he had been told by his father, and something he had learned through a dozen skirmishes, two rebel ambushes, countless scouting and guard missions, and finally over a year of intense combat assignments in Delta-7. As important as all of these factors were, there was one more that reigned supreme in a professional soldier's mental toolkit; adaptability. Now that it seemed like the whole game had changed, that fealty to the flag he'd sworn to make war under would mean certain and meaningless death to himself and his squad, that adaptability was a necessity. It was as clear as wolf tracks in newly fallen snow; The Empire was not a true military. It did not protect and defend. It only destroyed. It killed innocent people, and wasted the precious lives of valuable soldiers to do it.
He knew the commander was right. It still didn't sit right with Felian, but he knew they all had but one option. In a way, he was glad it was Tharcourt, and not himself who had to bear the weight of the decision to desert. Rix could only imagine how hard it had been for the dedicated and unfaltering Commander Tharcourt to risk everything to not only cut and run, but to try and get them all out as well. Felian felt that the man had to be strong indeed to not betray the anxiety and uncertainty he had to be feeling. The lieutenant too. Thorne was a strong and intelligent young officer, but somewhere inside, she had to be afraid. Rix respected both of them all the more, and decided that now was the perfect time to start doing his new duty.
"So, troopers…" He began. The two scouts glanced over at him as Felian sat his blaster in his lap. "…I've been meaning to ask you both something."
"Sure sarge, what is it?" Mets returned, dropping a freshly cleaned and oiled trigger pack back into his own weapon.
"Is there anything either of you would change about this job?" Felian queried, carefully testing the waters. Sometimes talking to troopers took yelling and oaths. Other times, it took a certain amount of finesse. "If you could."
"I'm A-One good to go, Sarn't." Mets answered dogmatically.
"Same here." Coleth agreed. "If this is about the grafitti…"
"No, no, no." Rix waved. "You two aren't in trouble. This is one of those…mental exercises as the Commander calls them. It's healthy that a soldier can think as well as fight. I just wanted to know…what would you change about this assignment."
"Huh…" Coleth thought out-loud. "I mean, this is a totally fun and intense job for sure. It's what I signed up for. I guess…if I had to change one thing…maybe it would for us to have more action against the actual rebels?"
"How do you mean?" Rix asked, the twenty-three year old sergeant feeling more like some wise old man as he reclined back on his seat with an open, attentative posture.
"Well sarge…" Coleth continued, the man only two years younger than his sergeant, but speaking like a kid explaining himself to a parent. "We get these missions, right? We go in, expecting a fight with a big-bad enemy cell, and it turns out it's just a few squiddy rebs…or worse, a bunch of civilians. I'm not blaming the Old Man. I know he gets the orders same as we do, but as hardcore as we are, they shouldn't be using us on raids and DA's some regular company could do."
"Yeah." Mets spoke now, emboldened by his longtime friend and teammate. "And we shouldn't be killing civilians and unarmed people…kids and junk. That stuff don't really seem right." That was it. The door was opened.
"You two don't think we should be doing some of the things we've been doing?" The sergeant asked.
"I mean…if we're ordered to do it, it has to be for a good cause…right sergeant?" Mets said, his tone sounding anything but sure.
"That's…what they said in the academy, wasn't it?" Felian replied, remembering the almost droid-like way the instructors laid it out. "If you are asked to perform duties or actions that you feel are immoral, remember that it is for the good of the Empire…it is for the stability and strength of our galactic society, and for the glory of our beloved Emperor."
"Yeah…" Coleth sighed. "And all that stuff about our officers always being right. Commander Tharcourt doesn't think he is though. And I don't…" The scout trooper paused a moment, as if he felt like he was treading on dangerous ground. "…I don't think he and the Lieutenant believe in some of the stuff we've been doing either." He looked tentavely at Sergeant Felian. "That doesn't sound too…treasonous, does it, sarge?" Felian took a deep breath.
"If it is…then I guess I'm a traitior too." He stated. "And that would make Commander Tharcourt and Lieutenant Thorne downright rebels. No…I believe that some of the things we've been doing are wrong, Mets…Coleth…and not just morally, but strategically and rationally as well."
"And…the commander thinks so too?" Coleth asked. Felian nodded.
"That's a big affirmative, trooper." He said. "Now a further question. If you knew that we as a unit would be sent on bad missions much more in the future, and you knew almost for certain that we were going to get slaughtered, that those two officers you all worship were going to die with us…what would you do?" The two troopers were dead silent for a few moments.
"We're expendable…" Mets finally answered. "That's what they told us. That we're just like little bitty parts in the whole thing, and getting killed fighting for the Empire…" He trailed off.
"You think you getting killed for the Empire is honorable, Mets?" Rix spoke. "Glorious? What about me? If I got killed in action taking down a house full of babies, would that be a good death? If the Old Man got blasted because his superiors just wanted to see if he would….would it be worth it?"
"Naw…no…" Coleth said quickly. The usually boisterous and ephemeral trooper seemed lost in deep thought. "Is that…what it's like…coming to, sarge?" He huffed. "It felt like we were…I thought it was just me." Mets put a hand on his friend's pauldron.
"Not just you." Felian pronounced. "I think it's all of us. The people upstairs think Commander Tharcourt and Lieutenant Thorne are traitors, and this unit I think is being used to find one rebel, and kill everything between us and him…soldier and civilian, animal, vegetable and mineral." He let that sink in for a while, then spoke again. "So I will ask you two…as your sergeant, as a teammate and as a brother in all this…do you two want out?"
"Out?" Mets shot back. "Like…as in committing full-on treason?!"
"You just did with this conversation." Felian said back. "It doesn't take much to be a traitor these days, boys. But yeah, I'm asking you here and now…if the chance arose, and some of the team were making a run for it, would you go too?" The pair were silent again.
"The Old Man has a plan, doesn't he?" Coleth said curiously. "He does…and I might be game for it."
"Well…if you two are going…" Mets announced, "…and the commander's going…I'm going too." Felian smirked. Sometimes, being a good sergeant was just about knowing how to word things the right way…
This is getting heavy, isn't it? At least now we know to whom most of the team pledges their true loyalty. I know you can all feel a palpable tension building now, and I won't keep you waiting long for the next chapter. I'll update in the next day or so. Until then, please send me your thoughts, reviews and comments.