Geonosis was a wasteland of a planet. Giant factories dotted the rugged landscape of rock and sand, filling the atmosphere with a persistent brown haze. Even the planet's sun struggled to shine through—it cast a vivid orange glow across the western horizon.
The command shuttle touched down several kilometers from the target, concealed behind a large rock formation. A transport took a small group of us to the top of it to get a good vantage point. I used my binoculars to survey the factory as Ren and a handful of crew stood nearby, discussing our strategy.
"We think the control room is on the ground floor. We can perform a twelve-hour scan to get a better layout, Lord Ren."
"Unnecessary. I've already detected twenty-five lifeforms inside. All on the upper levels."
I handed Vegas my binoculars with a skeptical frown.
He took them slowly. "You look worried," he mumbled.
I tried to school my expression. Even under the cover of darkness, slipping sixty-four people in and out of the facility undetected would be difficult. Then again, Ren planting all the explosives by himself was probably the riskiest part of the plan. The Stormtroopers establishing a safe perimeter on the ground floor was merely a fallback measure.
When I didn't take the offered binoculars, Vegas jabbed them into my red shoulder guard.
"I trust Ren," he said under his breath. "Do you?"
I turned away, making sure the wind was at my back before answering. "You must admit he is...impulsive at times."
Vegas openly glared at me in response.
"He's young," I qualified hesitantly.
"He's wise," he shot back. "Like the Supreme Leader."
Not wanting to argue with him, I nodded.
"Besides, if things do go sideways, he'll do most of the heavy lifting."
Killing, my mind interpreted.
The sand on our boots crunched on the metal ramp as we boarded the command shuttle. As dusk approached, the Troopers geared up to move out. I double-checked the new combat knife strapped to my thigh, unsure if I even knew how to use it. The blaster rifle had become my weapon of choice on the range. I shoved as many extra clips into my belt as I could.
Our helmet's enhanced optics were rudimentary, but they did help us navigate the rocky terrain under the moonless sky. I felt adrenaline humming through my veins, also heightening my senses. As we neared the factory, the sound of whirring generators and shunting hydraulics filled the air. The two unit leaders raised their fists, and their Troopers tightened their ranks. When Ren veered off to the side, Vegas followed. I did, too.
"Keep them quiet," Ren ordered. The bag slung over his shoulder was filled with explosives. "I'll give you the signal to move out."
Vegas nodded. "Yes, sir."
He withdrew into the shadows and out of sight.
The side door we entered was unguarded. Even inside the building was dark, confirming the limited number of operators within. The wide open space had a glass room in the middle with dimly glowing control panels. Nondescript storage containers, some quite large, were scattered about. Large vents in the ceiling occasionally exhausted hot steam from the heavy machinery above. The first unit made quick work of securing the control room—
Ptchew! Ptchew!
My breath hitched as I whirled around. I ran toward the glass and peered at the gathering crowd of Troopers. Two Geonosians, insect-like aliens with wings and scaly skin, lay dead on the ground. They looked flimsy enough.
I jumped when Vegas came up behind me.
"One unit inside, one unit outside. Take your pick."
I glanced at the cramped room. "Outside."
Ten squads of three patrolled the wide space around the control room. Every entry and exit point was secured. Blaster drawn, I stood outside the glass door and scanned this way and that. When I spotted Troopers walking under an exhaust vent nearby, I ordered, "Stand clear." They hurried on, and I enjoyed a rush of empowerment.
Time passed, and my anxiety passed with it. I checked in with Vegas every twenty minutes. On my third trip, we received a com on the local frequency.
"Charges planted," Ren ordered. "Standing by for all clear."
Vegas raised his wrist to reply as he signaled his unit leader. "Copy. Withdrawing all units now."
The outside unit rallied as the others filed out of the room. I scanned the group, counting heads to make sure there were no stragglers. Suddenly, we all heard a loud sound overhead that startled everyone.
It was not an explosion...
A ceiling vent suddenly fell off and clattered to the ground. At least ten Geonosians poured out, tackling the Stormtroopers immediately underneath. I gasped and aimed my blaster as screams of pain met my ears. Their talons were slicing through the gaps in their armor like knives. I breathed in and held my breath. Shot—kill. Shot—kill.
"Take cover!" someone yelled.
A warped energy field suddenly flew by me. It was dark yellow and traveled slower than a normal blaster bolt. As I took cover behind a nearby storage crate, the Stormtrooper beside me was shot with the same kind of weapon. He was knocked back and on the floor immediately with a gaping wound on his chest. Instead of blood, brownish sludge oozed from the wound. I gasped.
Atomic disrupters. Banned technology.
Another vent hit the ground, and more winged creatures flew through the air above us. This group was armed, and they let loose a volley of fire. It rained down on the retreating Troopers as they rushed for cover. I leaned out of cover and took aim. Shot—kill.
There were too many of them. As our numbers dwindled, I began to frantically search for Vegas. I caught a glimpse of red across the room as he stood out of cover and fired on an advancing alien. It crumpled to the ground, and he looked for his next target. A Geonosian was approaching him from behind. "Vegas," I breathed, heart dropping.
And then my feet were taking me out of cover and across the room. I fired a volley of blaster bolts, one after the other. Shot—kill.
When my empty clip ejected, I automatically grabbed another one as I took cover beside Vegas. Vegas crouched again, breathing heavily. In the brief respite, the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber could be heard somewhere nearby. Thank the stars.
Suddenly, I heard insect wings flapping overhead. Vegas was then pushing into me, shoving me out of cover. I rolled onto my left side as I felt a searing heat graze my right arm.
"No!"
A burning hiss, and then an alien arm and blaster fell to the ground in my peripheral vision. Another, and a severed head appeared. I turned my head slowly.
Vegas lay on the ground, and Ren stood over him with his lightsaber raised defensively. Vegas had a gruesome wound on his abdomen. He wasn't moving.
"No..."
Without a word, Ren tore off to engage more enemies. I dropped my blaster and hooked my arms under Vegas' shoulders to pull him into better cover. I shoved some storage crates closer together. And then I fell to my knees beside him. "Vegas," I said, rubbing my fist into his chest. No response.
I pulled off his helmet, and his head lulled to the side. Leaning down, I hovered my ear above his mouth. I couldn't hear or feel anything. I ripped off my gauntlet and ran my fingers over his neck, trying to locate his pulse. Dread gripped me. "Vegas—"
Then, everything was quiet save for the hum of machines overhead. The lightsaber drew near, and then it retracted with a conclusive hiss.
"He's alive," said Ren's mechanical voice behind me.
Relief rushed through me as I sat back on my heels. My hand on my thigh was damp with Geonocian blood. As I turned my head, the room seemed strangely empty. I stumbled to my feet. Sixty-two Stormtroopers lay scattered, dead and maimed.
Once the command shuttle landed closer, I helped the ship's crew drag the bodies to the incinerator in the half-empty cargo bay. The smell of burning ash made me sick. By morning, my head was throbbing and my bowels were churning with nausea. All that was left behind was a bag of metal plates bearing their designations and serial numbers, taken from their helmets. The factory erupted into a ball of fire as we flew into the atmosphere.
"Ma'am, please move out of the containment field."
I begrudgingly complied with the medbot's repeated order. The room within the medbay was walled off for the purpose of clean air filtration. I moved to one of several windows outside and continued to gaze at Vegas's face, barely visible behind the oxygen mask.
His condition was dire. He needed a skin graft and a hydro bed, neither of which were available on the command shuttle. Tight stitches lined the discolored and inflamed skin on the left side of his torso, which was left exposed to the air. He was receiving multiple blood products through tubes in his arms. Other tubes were draining toxins from his blood. Though the medbot said he was stable, the wires drilled into his chest delivered an electric shock every now and again to keep his heart from stopping.
I stared and stared, blinking only when necessary.
Heavy footsteps behind me announced Ren's arrival. He stood beside me with his hands behind his back.
"Five days to Ilum," he said.
Less weight makes for faster hyperspace travel. I nodded numbly, staring straight ahead.
"He has a thirty percent chance of survival," I murmured.
"That is a meaningless number from a computer program."
I clenched my jaw.
The sound of his mask decompressing took me by surprise. I looked up at him as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and tucked his helmet under his arm. His eyes, dark brown in the dim lighting, studied my face.
"You're upset with me."
I blinked, trying to think through the fog in my brain. "You don't care about him," I blurted out.
He raised his chin. "I care about him deeply," he stated evenly. "I've known him for five years."
"Then...then why would you...?"
"What?" he whispered.
He moved a step closer, his eyes flashing with challenge. I gritted my teeth as I maintained fierce eye contact.
"What, Caltrel?"
"Why would you be so reckless?"
His gaze wavered slightly, softening his expression. "Casualties happen," he hedged. "Vegas knows that."
I felt hostility spill onto my face. I glared at him brazenly, thinking about all the things I would say to him if I could. He thinks everyone is disposable. My balled hands ached to push him and my heaving lungs ached to scream. Even Vegas.
His lips parted in captivation.
"Phasma was right about you," I said scornfully.
He didn't flinch as I breezed by him.
Somehow, my headache turned into a throbbing migraine as I made my way to my quarters. The ship felt empty, desolate. I lay in my bed with my fingers digging into my temples, willing myself to sleep. I had almost slipped away when I heard my door signal chime.
Knowing it was unwise to keep him waiting, I quickly shrugged into my uniform blouse and rushed to the door. I breathed in through my nose and mustered an insincere apology in my addled brain. When I opened the door, no one was there.
A meal tray sat on the floor.
