The General's plan was a stupid one.

Crosshair was no strategist (that facet of their training had always been handled by Hunter) but even so, it was easy to come to that conclusion as he stood by the side of the road and stared in the direction of the Capital.

Marching straight down the main road and right up to the front door was...suicidal. A fact that the reg Captain was desperately trying to stress to the Jedi, without much success. In the man's defence, he looked about as happy as Crosshair was about the proposed course of action.

"But, Sir," Rex said, his voice almost level, though he was unable to keep his disapproval from bleeding through. "If we come in from the main route, they're likely to engage us in a full frontal assault."

Crosshair kept one eye on the argument, because he did not like turning his back on his enemy. He wasn't yet certain who posed the biggest threat: the General or the regs. But, either way, he was not prepared to let his guard down around either.

The Besalisk drew himself up taller and sneered down at the blonde clone.

"Change of plans, Captain." He almost spat the last word, as though it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Crosshair watched as the reg hesitated, his gaze darting between the Jedi and the rest of his men, who had gathered nearby. In the end, his eyes tightened and he set his jaw in determination.

"With all due respect, General, we don't know what we are up against. It might be wiser to think first."

The Jedi visibly bristled, his brows drawing down as he rounded on the reg. Crosshair was mildly impressed that the man didn't flinch, because Krell's face was wild with fury.

"Are you questioning my order?" he growled, baring sharp teeth as he loomed over Rex.

The Captain opened his mouth as though to respond, but in the end he hastily closed it again with a snap, sensibly swallowing down his immediate reply.

"No, Sir."

"Good. You will take the main road to the capital. You will not stop, and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?"

Captain Rex studied the besalisk's expression for a moment before pursing his lips.

"Yes, Sir," he said, voice taught with anger.

"Now engage!"

The reg saluted briskly, before turning on his heel to join the rest of the troopers. Crosshair caught the fleeting look of worry that crossed his face right before he pulled his helmet on, and an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

...

Captain Rex knew that his platoon was on edge.

He could feel it radiating off of the troopers like the fog that rolled from the scrub land on either side of the road, sending tendrils of unease that seemed to settle heavily on anything it touched.

This plan was utterly mad, but not the same kind of insanity that many of General Skywalker's plans possessed. With those schemes, at least, Rex trusted that his Jedi had the safety of the clones at heart. The same couldn't be said for Krell.

Rex glanced back at the troopers as they assembled themselves in a patrol formation, waiting for his command to move out. They were hungry, scared and exhausted, a deadly trio on the battlefield, and one which would undoubtedly lead to the demise of a vast proportion of his men.

And there was absolutely nothing he could kriffing well do about it.

Rex ground his teeth, grateful that his bucket hid his expression.

"Alright boys," he said firmly, drawing his pistols and adjusting his grip. "Let's move out."

He did not fail to notice the hesitation, nor the dedjected slope of their shoulders. Sighing loudly, Rex cast a look over his shoulder, quickly deducing that Krell was out of earshot. None the less, he lowered his voice as a precaution.

"Look," he said quietly, his visor sweeping over the assembled troops, "I know you're all tired. But the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all get some rest."

There was another brief pause, before the men reluctantly began to move off. Rex caught Fives' eye and the ARC trooper shook his head from side to side, as though irritated by Rex's compliance with Krell's orders.

Rex sighed once again, a tension headache already beginning to form behind his eyes. Fives could be angry with him all he wanted, but when all was said and done, the only thing that mattered right at this moment was keeping his men alive.

...

Crosshair's finger ghosted the trigger of his Firepuncher, the safety of which was off.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the platoon slowly, cautiously, made its way towards the capital. The air was heavy and still, the only sounds being the scrape of boots on the roadway and the muted chatter of some of the more nervous troopers.

Crosshair's senses were sharp and focused, and he was primed and ready to squeeze the trigger at a moment's notice. Taking a deep breath, he was surprised to find himself calm, his heart rate steady and not so much as a tremor in his hands.

He was not afraid.

Any sense of fear seemed to have deserted him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was surrounded by regs, who would no doubt fall first if the shooting started. Perhaps it was confidence in his own abilities. Or perhaps it was simply that death held no fear for him anymore.

Despite his courage though, there was still an underlying sense of unease. He really did not like Krell's plan, and he was most certainly not comfortable being out in the open like this. He was a kriffing sniper, supposed to be far away from the action, hidden from sight, a deadly spectre capable of killing without detection. But right now, marching down the middle of the exposed road, flanked on either side by dense cover, Crosshair felt acutely vulnerable. Any number of Umbaran's could be hiding behind those trees, and even with his exceptional eyesight, in the gloom and the murk, it would be difficult to detect them unless they made a sudden movement. Even the thermal imaging on his helmet was useless at this point, seeing as the general mugginess of the planet blurred everything in the scrub to an orange haze.

Crosshair's gaze was so focused on the treeline that the first explosion caught him unawares. By the second, he had dropped to one knee, rifle pulled tight to his shoulder as he swept the sights from side to side. But there was nothing to see, save for the regs and the stunted shrubs.

There was yelling nearby, and, deciding that there wasn't much to see in the darkness, he lowered the weapon and lifted his head to spot two clones lying prone on the ground, while the remainder of the platoon stood frozen to the spot.

"Mines! Nobody move!"

Icy fingers ran down Crosshair's spine as he unintentionally found himself tilting his helmet downwards at the ground beneath his feet. Out of all the ways to go, getting blown up was not high on his list. He did not enjoy the idea of dying in such a clumsy manner.

A couple of the troopers cautiously made their way over to the downed men, before confirming that they were indeed dead. With a grimace, Crosshair reached up to pull down the viewfinder on his helmet, switching to infrared on his HUD and sweeping his visor from side to side. Sure enough, there were at least a couple dozen mines scattered about the road, some mere inches away from troopers that had fortunately stayed rooted since the initial detonations.

"There are more," he called to no one in particular, slowly rising to his feet.

The Captain and the ARC trooper named Fives turned to look at him.

"Booby traps?" asked Rex grimly, his head tilted to one side questioningly.

Crosshair grunted an affirmative.

"Oh great," said the trooper with the Republic insignia on his helmet. "Just what we kriffing need."

"We can find a way through," said Fives, reaching into one of his pouches and pulling out a portable mine sweeper. "Crosshair, you're with me."

The ARC trooper jerked his head towards the open road. Under normal circumstances, Crosshair would have told the guy to kriff off as he was most certainly not in the habit of taking orders from regs, and certainly not one's that weren't even officers. But he wasn't prepared to start an argument, just in case things got physical. He wasn't prepared to get blown to smithereens tussling with a reg.

Gingerly, he made his way over to Fives, squinting through his viewfinder as the pair of them made their way carefully through the minefield.

"There's more over here," called the ARC trooper, pointing out the potential threat to the rest of the platoon as they followed the same path. "Looks like the whole road's been booby trapped."

"Don't know why the Umbaran's would bother," grumbled the clone with the cog. "I doubt they'd expect anybody to be so stupid as to waltz right up to the capital via the main road."

Fives huffed a chuckle as they cleared the last of the mines, though the Captain did not show any signs of amusement, his shoulders tight and his back rigid.

"Watch it, Jesse," he said, casting a glance behind him as though expecting Krell to be right there.

Jesse straightened indignantly, no doubt preparing an argument, when suddenly there was a deafening roar, followed by the sound of an explosion.

Crosshair flinched at the sudden noise, freezing in place and hastily sweeping his gaze about in panic. It took him a few seconds to realise that the noise had not come from a detonated mine, but that they were, in fact, under attack.

Yelling reached his ears and he caught sight of movement from the treeline as the Umbaran's sprung their ambush.

Taking a deep breath, Crosshair brought his rifle to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.

...

Hunter cocked his head to one side and strained his hearing for any further noise.

Unless he was very much mistaken, that was an explosion that had reached his ears on the slight breeze, though whether it was Republic or Umbaran he couldn't say. He wasn't certain that it mattered at any rate, because at least it implied the existence of other humanoids beside the three of them. They'd been trekking alone for so long, he'd begun to panic that perhaps they really had died in those trenches, and that this was some kind of purgatory.

Both Tech and Wrecker, realising their brother was no longer beside them, had halted and turned back quizzically.

"What is it?" Tech asked, his tone a mixture of wary and curious.

"I...thought I heard...something..."

Wrecker shuffled almost nervously, eyeing his feet and the nearby ground as though worried that another one of those tentacle monsters might try and eat him.

"What?"

"It sounded...like a detonation."

Tech cocked his head to one side.

"From up ahead? If your tracking skills are as accurate as you believe, that would suggest that we are close to the battalion."

Hunter huffed indignantly at the apparent skepticism at his abilities, but tried not to take it personally. Tech always needed proof before coming to a conclusion, and as they had yet to test his senses in the field, his suspicion was a fair response.

Hunter hummed in reply, a mingled sense of relief and trepidation flooding him. He picked up the pace to a slow jog, assuming the other two would keep up.

He'd made it almost to the edge of a nearby forest when he abruptly skidded to a halt. Every hair on his body was standing on end, and there was an odd ringing in his skull.

Both Tech and Wrecker had stopped beside him and were poised and ready to follow his lead. Which was a heartwarming show of trust, though Hunter didn't get much chance to appreciate it. Tech moved closer, resting a hand on his shoulder bells.

"Hunter...?"

This time, the blast was unmistakable, rattling the trees and setting the ground to a tremor beneath their feet.

"Even I heard that!" Wrecker exclaimed, tugging off his helmet and propping it atop his head.

Following the initial explosion came the unmistakable sound of blaster fire and a good deal of yelling.

"That's the battalion alright," Hunter said, relief hitting him like a tidal wave. He was tired of being in charge.

"They're in trouble!" yelled Wrecker, slamming his bucket back on and grabbing his blaster.

"It might be wise to circle around and get a better grasp on the situation," said Tech matter of factly.

Hunter shook his head.

"No time. We'll just have to stick together and hope we catch the Umbaran's off guard."

With that, he was off, running at full speed towards the commotion and whatever carnage lay in wait.

...

Rex's pistols were hot from overuse, burning his hands even through his gloves.

This was a kriffing nightmare, though he didn't know what else he expected at this point. It was an utterly stupid plan, so why in the galaxy had he thought it would go any different?

He should have insisted they take another route. Face the consequences of disobeying Krell's actions. Because right now, his men were dying, and he'd take any amount of reprimanding or harsh words if it meant saving just one life.

"We're completely exposed!" Fives yelled hoarsely, as he did his best to keep the enemy at bay.

There were dead men everywhere, dropping at a terrifying rate. Rex made the call.

"Everyone! Fall back, now!"

But it was too late. The Umbaran's had them completely surrounded, cutting off the route back to the General and the rest of the battalion.

There was nowhere to go.

...

Crosshair knelt on the ground behind a fallen AT-RT, rifle tight to his shoulder as he squeezed off bolt after bolt.

Twisting, he swung the weapon around to fire in the opposite direction, not prepared to leave his flank exposed. Something brushed against his leg and he glanced down to see a dead reg lying crumpled beside him. More were falling all around, some screaming, some flailing, some dropping to lie motionless on the cold ground.

Crosshair's heart was pounding in his chest, though his hands and his breathing remained steady. Which was a blessing, because it ensured that every shot hit its mark. Not that he was capable of single handedly taking out the entire Umbaran force, but if he was going to die, here and now, then he certainly wasn't going out without a fight.

The sound of boots behind him had him swivelling, Firepuncher raised defensively, but it was only the ARC trooper Fives, who dived down beside him and hunched behind the sparse cover offered by the downed mech.

"We need to punch a way through!" the reg yelled, nodding his head in the direction they had marched mere minutes before.

Crosshair grunted in response, downing another four Umbaran's in rapid succession.

"If we concentrate fire on our rear, we'll be overwhelmed on all other sides," he snapped bluntly.

Fives growled in his throat, the noise one of accute frustration.

"We need a distraction!"

Crosshair swung the rifle about again, the muzzle mere inches from Fives' head as he squeezed off a few more bolts.

"Got any ideas?"

"I'm working on it!"

Crosshair scoffed, resting the barrel of the Firepuncher on the ARC trooper's shoulder and angling it to shoot a man that was hiding in one of the nearby trees.

"Thought ARC troopers were supposed to be smart!"

"Hey!" the reg snapped indignantly. "I don't hear you coming up with any constructive-"

He was abruptly cut off by an almighty crash, which echoed through the trees to one side of them. The pair shared a look, before squinting into the darkness nervously.

Through the sights of his rifle, Crosshair caught sight of the branches swaying violently, as though something large and bulky was moving speedily through the foliage. He thought for a moment that this must be some other aspect of the enemy ambush, but the Umbaran's nearest the commotion had suddenly ceased firing and turned to face whatever was making the noise, some even going so far as to back away from it.

Abruptly, a hulking mass smashed its way through the undergrowth, yelling wildly and swinging for the nearest Umbaran, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him bodily into four others, sending the whole lot of them tumbling like pins. With a roar, the shadow stepped closer to the road, blaster held by the hip as a steady stream of plasma ripped into the enemy, who seemed to be in a great deal of confusion.

Crosshair's heart practically climbed into his throat.

It was Wrecker.

Panic had begun to spread through the Umbaran's as they turned to deal with the new threat, leaving their flanks exposed and dividing their attention.

"Now's our chance!" said Fives, half standing so that the surviving troopers could see him. "Fall back!"

The regs didn't need telling twice. The distraction offered by Wrecker created enough of an opening for them to break through the enemy ranks. Fives made as though to join them, before hesitating, tilting his head to regard Crosshair.

"Didn't you hear me? We need to move!"

Crosshair shook his head firmly as he continued to squeeze the trigger.

"I'm not leaving Wrecker alone!"

"He's not alone."

Raising his head, Crosshair spotted another two figures appearing from the treeline. By the way they moved, they couldn't be anyone other than Tech and Hunter.

They were alive. His brothers were ALIVE.

A quick succession of intense emotions buffeted him like the waves against Tipoca City. His mind momentarily shut down, and he merely stayed, crouched and frozen, unable to fully process what was going on.

Fives watched his short catatonic episode, pausing for another few seconds, before sighing loudly and hefting his blasters.

"Fine."