Chapter 24 - Urban Combat and Other Bad Ideas
Captain Mithel and Black Squadron slowly leap-frogged their way down the street, using volume of fire to keep the rebel shooters at bay as they did. Major Gaunt, having patched up his injured subordinate, was still by the stairwell he'd taken cover behind while the former mercenary Rosh had charged up those self same stairs and emerged on the roof to provide sniper support.
Barely halfway to their destination, they'd been forced into a corner and used an ad hoc parade as cover, for all the good it did them. Now they found themselves in the middle of a fire fight a stone's throw from the Debate Rotunda, the center of Chandrilan political discourse.
Mithel would be the first to admit his surprise. He knew the rebels were jumpy, but to think they'd go so far as to attack in the middle of civilian crowds. That seemed a step too far, even after the events at the production plant on Coruscant. But here he was, knee deep in street to street warfare. As if that wasn't bad enough, he had Lord Vader's orders to secure Tanis Mothma, mother to the famous senator, by the time the Sith arrived from his trouble at the military academy just outside the city.
"It'd make me feel better to know someone else is having a worse day, somewhere out there," he grumbled.
"Mine ain't great, if that helps, Captain," Neel, one of the other Black Squadron members said. Ducking behind a small data kiosk on the side of the road, he shrunk himself a bit as blaster fire peppered the ground around him. "Are they even targeting the rest of you!?"
"No, Neel!" Ada shouted, sarcasm dripping with every word. "The rebels hate you personally! They like us just fine! Shut up and return fire!"
"Stop bickering," Major Gaunt's command came in through the comms. "We have your backs, so focus on moving forward."
"Aye, sir." Mithel acknowledged and leaned out of cover, sending a burst of fire from his carbine at the first rebel unfortunate enough to peek from cover at the far end of the street. The poor fighter took a bolt of red laser straight to the chest and tumbled over.
Unlike Mithel's latest victim, most of the rebels occupied the high ground, raining fire down from vantage points well above street level. This meant the Imperial forces found any progress stymied by the need for substantial cover, not just from the front but something that could shield them from above as well. Rosh might be their own elevated sniper, but he was one man.
"Ada," he said, coming to a decision. "We've been stuck here long enough. You're weapons free. Use the micro-rockets."
"Haha! Yessir!" Ada said with glee. As the resident bomber pilot and all around explosive enthusiast, Ada loaded her custom fighter with more than its fair share of ordinance, and that obsession extended to ground combat. Apart from her carbine, pistol, and a bandoleer of grenades, the young woman carried a special toy. The Kelvarek Industries MM9 Mini Concussion Rocket Launcher, better known as the Wrist Rocket. The gauntlet mounted system Ada wore on her left arm was a one shot system, needing a reload after every round, but when it came to range and fire power in a small package, nothing beat it.
"Gimme some cover," she said while prepping. The rest of Black Squadron, along with Gaunt's team, burst out of concealment, hitting the building at the end of the street. They sprayed, tracing laser fire up and down the facade, guaranteeing anyone who stuck their neck out, from street level up to the roof top would get a face full of it.
"Incoming!" Ada shouted and fired her rocket.
It screamed off her wrist, leaving a little trail of smoke behind it. The payload raced down the small street, aimed dead center towards the source of the rebel ambush. When it hit, the projectile buried itself into the stone, then it went off with a crack.
The front of the building burst in a gout of explosive fire, raining debris all down the streets below. Black Squadron was ready. The smoke and chaos meant little to their helmet sensors and they quickly picked out the still living rebels who hadn't fallen to the concussive force or plummeted to the street below. Trained under the Inquisitorius to push their minimal Force connection to its utmost, Mithel and his team made short work of the enemy. Precision blaster fire took down the rebels who were only light armor, if they were lucky. Most, moving in disguise as civilians, wore little more than street clothes. Nothing substantial enough to stop the sort of firepower trained Imperial soldiers possessed.
Within seconds, they took out every hostile that remained. After a moment, the street went quiet, only the occasional bit of rubble disturbing the silence.
"New contacts?" Mithel asked?"
The Imperial entourage swept their weapons back and forth, looking all around for new threats, but found none.
"Then we-" Mithel started but a red bolt flashed over head and a man screamed as he fell from a window above Neel and Ada's position.
"Got 'em," Rosh called from the roof. "Saw two more through that window, hold on." The merc slung his carbine over one shoulder and took a few steps back until he felt his heel touch the doorway leading back inside. Then he pushed off, sprinting across the roof. The sole of his boot slammed down on the ledge and he pushed off, sailing over the alleyway separating his temporary sniper nest from the rundown apartment next door. As he flew, the two rebels burst through a rusty door onto the roof and froze for a half second as they watched the black armored figure land and roll in a smooth fluid motion. As they tried to bring up their blaster pistols, Rosh ripped his vibroblade from its sheath. He shot out his free hand, grabbing the first rebel by the wrist and redirecting the barrel of the weapon away. A quick thrust and twist and the first was dead.
"Aaaaggghhh!" Screaming the other rebel unloaded his blaster, the reckless abandon and fear spraying his shots across the roof. He couldn't even speak to curse the Imperials. It was only the mad voice of terror.
Taking the blaster from a limp hand, Rosh used the first body as a shield and two precise shots silenced his final foe.
"Done, Captain."
"Good work. Stay topside. As long as you can jump from building to building, do it. Makraven, join him. We need at least two in case one of you goes down. Everyone else, check your gear and get ready to move."
At Mithel's orders, Black Squadron burst into action, keeping a cautious eye out as they did.
"Well done," Gaunt said from Mithel's side.
"Lets save the shoulder patting until we get the job done, sir."
"Worried about more rebels?"
"No, I'm worried what Lord Vader will do to us if we don't secure the Mothma Household by the time he arrives."
###
Kshhhhhh
Grunting, Vader shoved dirt and debris aside. Calling upon the Force, a twisted piece of armor plating fell away. Mechanical limbs grating with the sound of metal on metal, he stood to his full height. The self destruction of the tank left a crater behind, but the Sith remained. Glancing down, he saw pitting and cracks across his armor, and he knew he needed to make repairs sooner rather than later. On his left arm, a chunk of metal protruded from where it hit his prosthetic and tore open the reinforced fabric. Ripping it out, he peered inside, looking for damage to the function of his limb. Seeing none, he quickly tore cloth from his tattered cape and tied it around his forearm with one hand. It would do to hide the damage, at least.
Striding through the wreckage of the battlefield, Vader paused when he heard a wheezing gasp.
"A survivor." His helmet sensors allowing him to quickly zero in on the sound, he walked to a gutted troop transport still belching smoke from an engine crushed by the might of the Dark Side. Using the strength in his mechanical limbs, Vader wrenched the metal aside to reveal a soldier, little more than a boy really, younger than Anakin Skywalker when he faced his first Sith in combat.
Kshhhhhh
"Tell me what you know," Vader demanded and lifted the survivor up by his throat. Blood streamed from a dozen wounds. Punctures and lacerations like this were a death sentence without medical aid. After all the battles the former Jedi took part in, he knew enough to recognize the signs of imminent death.
"Ggghhhhkk. It- it doesn't matter. Even… if we die. The Par-partisans will… keep coming. One of us… will get lucky…" Light left his eyes and Vader released his grip, letting the corpse drop.
He turned towards the city.
###
"Sir, the Imperials made it out of the Comarc estate and into the city. We've already lost contact with the first ambush group. And we've confirmed both the destruction of the armored division and the Emperor approaching city limits."
"I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. After all, locals wouldn't be able to handle trained Stormtroopers, let alone Vader. Unfortunate, but a necessary sacrifice to revive the Republic and ensure the Galactic Empire's death."
In the center of the Mothma family mansion, where the rebels created their ad hoc headquarters, the leader paced back and forth in front of a screen full of data on the results of every action taken to kill Emperor Vader and his subordinates. Sweat beaded on his dark skin and rolled down his forehead, soaking a small bandage above his left eye. A minor cut he received when taking control of the estate and subduing the Mothma family guards. At the far end of the room, well out of the way from the hustle and bustle, Tanis and her kin were bound and tied to utilitarian metal chairs.
"Why the glare, Tanis?" the man asked as he locked eyes with Mon Mothma's mother. "We want the same thing. An end to Vader's tyranny."
"Perhaps," she answered. "But I won't sacrifice the innocent to do it. I can't believe the hero of Onderon has fallen so far. Would your sister even recognize you, Saw Gerrera?"
Anger flashed in the man's eyes. He marched across the room and raised the back of his hand forcing Tanis to flinch away. "Another comment about Steela and you'll get more than a threat. My Partisans and I are doing what no one else has the stomach to accomplish! You think this can end peacefully!? We've all seen what Vader is capable of. Sheev Palpatine was one thing, but this monster can't be reasoned with!" Quickly hitting a few buttons on his gauntlet, Saw keyed in a code and brought up a hologram of Vader's deadly reprisals against the varied parties who tried to fight him on Coruscant. "Does this look like a politician to you, Mothma!?" he shouted, shoving the image at her face.
"Yes, he is harsh and maybe we should stop him, but you spend lives like credits."
Gerrera clicked his tongue and turned away, dismissing the image of the Dark Lord carving through men and droids alike. "You bureaucrats always want to keep your hands clean. Always thinking you can get away with a bloodless conflict. It's ironic, but I'd probably get along with the damned Sith! Ha ha ha!" Saw Gerrera's laughter died and he turned back to Tanis. "None of you know what needs to be done, what needs to be sacrificed, if you want to win the war. But the Partisans do, and we'll get the job done, with or without you."
Saw strode back to the display and leaned over for a closer look. "Unit three, I want you to intercept the Stormtroopers. We need them taken off the board before they link up with Darth Vader. Everyone else prepare to take on that damned Sith. If he sets one foot on this estate, we hit him. Even a Force user can't block everything."
###
Diving into a blind alley, Neel barely avoided another ambush from the rebels. "C'mon! How many of them are even on this planet!?" he shouted in aggravation. Rolling upright, he swung his blaster carbine around, shouldering the weapon and edging closer to the mouth of the alley. Smoke and chaff grenades clattered off the asphalt and spewed thick fog with metal particulate into the street, blinding the Imperial Forces visually and electronically to whatever was beyond it, but blaster fire rained down upon them all the same.
"Doubt these are the actual rebels," Cive Rashon guessed. "Probably locals with an ax to grind." Sticking her pistol around a corner, she fired blindly into the distance.
"She's right," Major Gaunt agreed over comms from further back down the street. "We can expect the main force to be far better prepared when we arrive at the estate."
"I hate this planet," Neel grumbled.
Before anyone else could add on, Rosh and Makraven, who'd been hopping from building to building to act as sniper and spotter, called out a new threat. "We've got incoming, and these jerks look like they mean business."
Over the course of the last few hours, as the Hanna city enforcement officers helped clear the streets, Black Squadron made slow, but steady progress towards their goal. Now they were mere minutes away from the edge of the Mothma Estate. At least, minutes away under normal conditions. Weathering regular attacks and ambushes, along with the slow progress of those expecting new attacks from any and every shadow meant a single city block was potentially a new conflict. And even if it wasn't, the stress of moving through unfamiliar, hostile territory, took its tole. By now, the Imperial soldiers were exhausted, And exhausted soldiers made mistakes.
"Agghhh! Dammit!"
Even knowing the attack was coming, Ada took a blast to her shoulder as she peeked out from behind a low wall to take a shot. Instead, a lucky bolt, one of dozens peppering the intersection they found themselves in at this latest battle, fount a minute gap in her armor.
"Report, Ada!" Mithel yelled over the chaos from his own position across the street. He took a chance to look back at Ada and saw her slumped over, clutching her left arm.
"Sorry, Cap. I think arm is outta commission for now."
Mithel narrowed his eyes as he glanced at his helmet's tactical display. All the data from every member of Black Squad feed into his helmet. From there, it collated and a feed gave him everything he needed to direct their operation. And it spit out a grim picture. They were outnumbered, out gunned, and now one of their own was limited to a pistol, far weaker and with extremely limited range compared to her carbine.
Makraven and Rosh provided what they could from the rooftops, but with only two of them… Meanwhile, the other members of the Squad along with Major Gaunt's team were doing all they could, but Captain Mithel was forced to admit that Quantity provided a quality all its own, and the rebels had numbers.
"We've got them!" A voice shouted from the enemy lines. "For Stoneface! For the Partisans! For the Republic!"
A grim smile spread across Mithel's face. Keying in a simple command on his suit's computer, he directed his Heads Up Display to find the source of the voice. Maybe the Force was with him after all. "Idiot shoulda stayed quite," he muttered. "Rosh, you receiving? Shoot this bastard if you can."
From the rooftop team's end, Mithels's data streamed into their own visors and the Imperial systems zeroed in on the likely location of the voice. Those grenades might block out visuals and electronic sensors, but the audio systems could still pick up sound. Even something as minute as a voice on the battlefield.
"Alright," Mithel said over the comms. Black Squadron, focus on blind firing towards the enemy positions. Don't take risks, we just need to give our friends upstairs a chance to cut off the head of the snake."
"Roger," came a chorus of replies and every member of both Lord Vader's personal unit along with the diplomatic corps unleashed a volley of fire in the direction of hostile forces. Not a single shot connected with any rebel, but it achieved the desired result. The Imperials forced rebel heads down, allowing Rosh and Makraven the chance to scope out enemy positions and wait.
"One of them has armor and an old Dc-17m from the Clone Wars by the looks of it. Definitely the guy leading them," Rosh said as the latest round of smoke grenades ran dry and the air cleared.
"Lay off the cover fire," Makraven added. "First time he peeks out, me or Rosh'll get him. See how these bastards do without one of these 'partisans', whatever the hell that is, leading them."
It was standard battle doctrine. Take out the command structure and the entire formation could crumble in seconds. And after a few minutes of intermittent fire traded between the two groups, to no effect on either side, Rosh and Makraven saw their chance.
"For the Republic!" the leader called again, and stepped over a low garden wall. As he vaulted a blast from Makraven hit him in the thigh and he stumbled, spilling over the edge into a heap.
"Gotcha!" Rosh shouted and the sniper pair unloaded on him. Armor or not, the volume of laser shots more than guaranteed he would never get up again, and with the leader down it was only a matter of time before the rebels broke apart. At first it was at the edges, those least committed to the cause. Slowly, in ones and twos, they bleed off, turning tail and vanishing into the deeper city, making their way into alleys and vanishing into whatever holes they could find, but as the structure of the rebel forces failed, they lost their overwhelming numbers until eventually Black Squadron was able to pop up and force them back. As more and more of the enemy fell, more and more decided escape was their best bet.
"Keep moving forward," Mithel ordered. "We aren't here to take prisoners and I doubt they know anything anyway."
The lethal march through Hanna city was coming to an end. They were now well within sight of the Mothma estate perimeter. The city fell away and opened up onto the more bucolic rural landscape Chandrila was so well known for. To one side, the sunlight sparkled off the waters of the Silver Sea. Behind them, the bodies of these Partisans who were too unlucky to escape littered the street.
"Sure is a lotta open ground up this hill." Rosh observed from the rooftops.
"Yeah, you two keep up there and give us a shout if you see anything. When we reach the outer wall, we'll cover your run. After that, we hit them."
###
Outside the tall, ornate stone walls of the Mothma family home, Black Squadron and the Imperial diplomatic corps were baffled to find… nothing. No rebels, no defenses, not even auto turrets, land mines, or even the most basic of barricades. The main gates weren't even closed. By all appearances, nothing was amiss. For a moment, more than one member of the elite group wondered if they'd stumbled into the wrong stead.
"What in the hells is going on?" Makraven asked.
"Damn good question," Gaunt said. Any of you pick anything up through scans?" The major, having only the basic Stormtrooper gear, lacked the more advanced equipment installed on the spec-ops helmets Black Squad used.
"Faint life signs inside," Mithel stated, "but nothing out here. No electronic counter measures, not even any traps as far as I can tell. They might as well have thrown out the welcome mat for how little they've done to stop us."
"A trap?"
"Maybe."
"Or perhaps," Gaunt mused, "they lack the numbers for a battle of attrition. So far everything seemed a half measure. A hope that they could use the locals to take us down. Now they're down to only themselves, so choosing the ideal battleground is a necessity, rather than a luxury."
"So we've got more ambushes to look forward to?" Neel said with a sigh.
"Yeah, well," Cive snipped, "What would you do?"
"Call in aerial bombardment from well behind the front lines."
"Right, Neel," Ada said. "The boss would be real happy with you blowing up the primary. This is a rescue mission. Remember?"
"Enough chatter," ordered Mithel. We're moving in. Fan out and take a wide approach. I want as many angles as we can manage. Can your team provide cover fire from here, Major?"
Gaunt looked to his own troops. Apart from lacking the more intense Inquisitorial training Black Squadron went through, his diplomatic corps was just that. Diplomats. Officers more used to trading words than blaster fire. Receiving nods from his team he said, "We can manage. We'll follow at a distance."
With that, Mithel popped his head over the top of the stone wall and scanned the front gardens of the manor. Neither his eyes nor any of his helmet's sensors picked up a thing, but he wasn't a fool. More than a few bounty hunters over the years had the brains to use a mix of optical and electronic camouflage. Moving slowly, he crept along the edge of the main path into the property and kept low. As he made his way closer, he swept back and forth across the gardens and the front of the house, looking for any sign of hostiles. Particularly, he watched the windows. Given how easily they could give the rebels both a superior vantage along with plenty of cover, Mithel was sweating at the mere thought of having to take the house through a firestorm from the upper floors. It was one thing dealing with lightly armed and armored rebels in the city. That was still awful, mind, but nothing compared to an entrenched enemy with near-peer weapons and armor.
However, his senses weren't sending up any warning bells, so maybe it wouldn't be a problem.
At the halfway point he looked around, and with no hint of any threats, he booked it the rest of the way to the ornate double doors marking the entrance. Grabbing the handle, he gave them a tug. "How's the arm, Ada," Mithel asked.
"Sore, but it works," she answered, rubbing the place where a lucky shot hit.
"Good, get up here. I need a lock picked. Your way."
"Nice!" she said. Under her helmet, an unseen smile almost glowed as Ada trotted up to the doors under the watchful eyes of Black Squadron. Standing before the entry way, she titled her head side to side, giving due consideration to the size of the doorway. Looking carefully, running her hands along the metal and wood, even tapping it with a knuckle, she finally pulled out her demolition grade explosives to breech it. "This should do the trick. Anyone directly behind these babies are gonna need to move quick or catch a pair of heavy doors traveling at escape velocity."
Rigging her custom det-cord, she motioned Mithel back behind cover. A pair of ornate pillars supporting the awning served well enough and both troopers put their backs to them before Ada glanced at the Captain. "Keep non-hostiles alive for questioning. Only take out the threats," he ordered. She hit the switch.
Protecting them from the horrific noise of the explosion, the helmets, both white and black, shut off the sound for a fraction of a second. When it returned, they could only hear screams of pain, surprise, and alarm.
"Hit 'em," Mithel ordered. He and Ada swung out of cover, blasters ready. The explosives expert tossed a pair of grenades, one a smoke bomb and the other an old droid popper. The first concealed their entry while the EMP would disrupt anything electronic in the vicinity.
Black Squadron hit the enemy hard, taking lethal shots at anyone they saw with weapons in hand. Per Mithel's orders, only the unarmed were to be spared, and no one matching that description was in the main hall. Instead, the Captain and Ada charged in, taking out every figure who held a weapon. Their blasters flashed as they spun around, taking out one enemy after another. In seconds the rest of Black Squad shot through the door, supplying backup and finishing off any Partisans still standing. The entryway, a grand hall with stairs to either side leading up to the second floor, was all but lined by enemies, but the Force guided the Imperials, and when the smoke cleared, they remained standing whilst their foes were dead or incapacitated.
"Good work," Mithel commented. "Now, find Mothma and secure the site."
Gaunt's team came in behind them and carefully checked the Partisans for anything useful, but not a one of them carried data of any kind. "Clever," was all the Major said. IT was wise to keep all information to only a few. He considered that the rebel activity might be decentralized, but that sort of analysis would be dealt with later. Shaking his head, he dismissed the thoughts and focused on the here and now.
As the Imperials combed through the mansion, the found nothing. No more enemies, no sign of the Mothma family. It was as though, with the exception of the rebels in the entry hall, the entire estate had been abandoned. After nearly a half hour of searching from top to bottom, they were back were they started, surrounded by dead rebels. And as they searched to no avail, annoyance and short tempers started to flare. It poked and prodded at the back of their minds, like an itch they couldn't quite scratch. Snide comments between the teammates, cold looks, and grumbling under their breath grew in volume and frequency. For Captain Mithel's part, he wasn't looking forward to telling Lord Vader he'd failed and there wasn't a trace of Tanis Mothma to be found. A few terse commands sent the rest of the Squad complaining while they scanned the building for a third time. It wasn't until Cive Rashon spoke up, the rest of Black Squadron noticed it.
"Makraven if you don' stop staring at me…"
"Are you simple!? I ain't looking at you!"
Major Gaunt stepped in, saying, "I don't want to hear it. Get back to work!"
"No, they're right," Mithel said, noticing the source of his aggravation for the first time. Something was screaming at him to pay attention. It was the Force.
Mithel stalked around the main hall, staring at the pair of stairways leading up to the second floor. Then he trotted around to the side, making a fast circuit through rooms until he'd looped all the way around the ground level and back into the entry. "The size doesn't make sense. "What's behind that wall?"
"Drawing room." Rosh answered.
"Then how thick is that wall?"
Rosh tilted his head and quickly made the same circuit Mithel had, and when he came back he was counting off his steps. "A dozen strides. That can't be right, can it?"
"Everyone out of the room, now," Mithel said as he pulled his last fragmentation grenade off his hip. The diplomats and Black Squadron scattered and as the Captain stepped out the front doorway, he rolled the explosive across the floor. It bumped into the wall, coming to rest for a heartbeat. Then it exploded.
When everyone returned and the smoke cleared, the electronics and mechanisms of a hidden door sparked and puttered. Inside, was a small room with a stairwell leading down into some basement.
"Musta been fried by our EMPs," Ada said. "That's why we couldn't find it. Clever set up."
Narrowing his eyes, Mithel took the lead and motioned for the others to follow. Without a word between them, Black Squadron fell in behind him and Gaunt's team right after. In a half crouch, he aimed his carbine down the stairs, making cautious movements as he carefully aimed the barrel of his weapon. Every few steps he looked up and down, as if slicing off a new angle of attack. They eventually reached the end of the stairs and stepped into the basement.
"Nothing, but I still feel eyes on me. Any cameras?"
"Nothing obvious, Captain, but if any home has electronic countermeasures, it would be the Mothma estate."
A long hallway was before them. Moving with care, they searched every room along the way, but found nothing until they came to the final door. It opened at Mithel's touch and a portal to darkness lay before them. As they entered, their helmet HUDs went dark. For a fraction of a moment panic griped them, then the explosion consumed their senses.
###
Bloodied and gasping for breath, Mithel was the first to rise. He caught site of the Partisan leader as he jammed a blade between armor plates, into Major Gaunt's stomach and shoved him aside, turning to focus on Neel who did his best to crawl between the rebels and Ada.
"H-hey," Mithel tried to shout. Instead it came out like a wet rattle and he coughed up a spatter of blood onto the dusty concrete. "I ain't done," he managed at last. A quick glance told him he was the only one still standing, surrounded by rebels and with only one good arm. He drew his vibro-blade from its sheath. If the Partisans were going to kill him, they'd have to earn it.
"You're determined I'll give you that," Gerrera said. "But it won't matter. We've proven the Empire bleeds. And if it can bleed, we can kill it." He stepped over Gaunt, pool of dark blood spilling from the Major.
"You want me to handle him, Stoneface?" a rebel asked from where he leaned agaisnt one wall. Before Gerrera could answer, the entire room rattled. Dust fell from the ceiling and holo-displays flickered for a moment before it stopped. Everyone, rebel and Imperial alike glanced around, unsure. One long moment of silence dominated before Saw said, "What was-"
A black fist crashed through the wall behind one rebel and clamped around the back of his neck.
Kshhhhhh
The concrete exploded outward in a display of power and the Dark Lord of the Sith stepped through, lifting the rebel into the air as he strode into the room.
"Your training appears insufficient, Captain," Vader said without looking at Mithel. "And I see you yet live, Saw Gerrera. Impressive." With a casual twist, he broke his victim's neck and released the corpse, allowing it to crumple on the floor. "But this rebellion is at an end."