Chapter VII

What the Dormouse Said

First light. An orange glow soaked into the deathly, white haze. Primordial weather patterns had placed the northern mountain ranges under a constant snowstorm for the past 50,000 years. The Republic, for reference, only lasted half as long.

On the eastern horizon, a dozen LAAT Gunships flew against the squall, their avian formations set against the hazy shimmer of the rising sun.

Inside, Iden checked her equipment one last time. She'd led squads before, but never an entire platoon. She suppressed an inkling of doubt as the gunships neared the cliffside. Butch and Johan sat across from her; the latter stared at the wall, locked in thought, while the former kept eyes on her. She wasn't sure if he had something to say, or if he was simply eyeing her up. Now was not the time to ask.

Not a word was said since they'd left Nar Skocha. Only the muffled roar of repulsorlift engines deafened the silence. Whenever she'd dropped in the Outer Rim, someone always had a joke to tell, an anecdote to share, a song to sing. A fog still hung in the air from what happened last night. Nobody wanted to talk about it.

She went over the plan in her head one last time. Besh Platoon was to infiltrate the western tunnel, sweep the complex, link up with Aurek and Cresh, and push the partisans out through the northern tunnel. Rules of engagement: assume hostiles.

A part of her wished Rori could be in her platoon. This would, obviously, violate regs, and impair her decision-making. Instead, he was assigned to Aurek platoon, under Kelleon. My brother's life is in that pig's hands. She let herself brood, a knot forming in her stomach.

She heard a sharp woosh of air as the side doors opened, sliding back to reveal the battlefield: A flat, frozen plateau with a single hole in the middle. She wasn't sure what to expect, but it probably wasn't this. Butch grabbed the climbing gear, as the gunship hovered in place. Two more gunships stopped beside them, letting troops off on the plateau. Iden, Butch, and Johan joined them on the ground, stepping off the shaky gunship, and onto terra firma.

The hole was little more than a meter wide, but deep enough to appear bottomless. Butch set to work unspooling the rope, while Johan drove a stake into the ground next to the hole. There was only one way down. Iden grabbed a flare from her pack and twisted it, lighting it a bright red. She let the flare fall, deep into the hole, the walls briefly glowing deep crimson as the burning object shot past them. For several seconds, it fell, reaching terminal velocity without even a sign of ground. Walls stopped glowing, as it became a little, red dot in her vision until it finally bounced off the ground, settling in a tiny crevice of ice. The floor could be seen from where Iden stood, but little else was discernible.

Butch fastened the rope to the stake, as everyone readied their gear to rappel down.

"I'll take point," Iden offered, breaking the silence. Butch nodded, silently, as she hooked up to the rope, noting the thin fibers of carbon built to support the weight of machinery hundreds of times her weight. Standing at the edge of the hole, she leaned back, letting the rope go taut in her hands. In another moment, down she went, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The first several meters felt almost claustrophobic; the walls of the cave closing in on her body, inch by inch, as she occasionally slowed her fall by letting her feet touch the sides. She focused her eyes downward, on the flare still burning on the ground below, its sparks casting light on a tiny slice of the cave.

"Aurek Platoon is in, over," came the Major's voice over her commlink. Her team was only a few minutes behind them.

"Cresh checking in. We're about to land. Over."

"Besh beginning infiltration," she said, between steadied breaths. "Keep this channel open, over."

"Copy that, Besh. Over."

At once, her feet failed to meet a wall in the darkness. Her descent sped up and her balance faltered, briefly, until she gripped the rope as hard as she could, stopping her fall altogether. She gave herself a moment to steady her heart, then activated the flashlight on her gun. The claustrophobic cavern she had entered through was now a dozen meters above her, and she was now hanging in the midst of a large, open chasm. The nearest wall was probably 50 feet away or more. Any movement was inadvisable, given the massive icicles protruding from the ceiling. Above her, another man started his descent.

"Careful," she warned. "You run out of wall pretty quick."

Stowing her gun, she loosened her grip on the rope, letting herself fall a few meters at a time. The flare still burned bright as ever, though she was still too far away to feel its warmth.

"Cherek wing in position." Spinner's voice greeted her over the commlink. "Have eyes on northern tunnel. No signs of movement."

"Copy, Cherek," Kelleon acknowledged.

Iden felt colder the further she went. Little light made it down this far, and few humans cared to explore it. At last, she saw the ground approach. Sliding down the rope one final time, her boots touched the icy floor, sliding an inch or two before she corrected herself. The flare yet burned, casting her in bright red light. A small puddle of water had formed underneath it, as the ice reluctantly thawed.

She grabbed her gun once more and flipped on the light, gazing around the cave as men slid down behind her, one by one. One man failed to slow himself, and ended up flat on his back when he landed, barely missing a stalagmite. Thankfully, he wasn't injured.

Each man took position after landing, joining Iden with their weapons ready and flashlights on. 16 stormtroopers in total slid down that hole, including her.

She tapped her commlink. "This is Besh Platoon. Infiltration complete. Beginning sweep." She received only static back. Ahead was a smaller tunnel. No indication the partisans had used it, but no other way out of the chasm either.

Johan took point, crouching down with his rifle pointed straight ahead. Iden followed behind, with each man following in single file. The tunnel narrowed to barely more than the width of a man, its ceiling tightening on their heads. Tiny toolmarks could be seen in the ice, indicating someone had been down here before. Who, or when, was not known.

"Was that you?" A woman's voice could be heard echoing from ahead. "Who's playing with the light?"

Iden signaled the team to turn their lights off, and switch to thermal vision. A reflection might have alerted whoever was at the end of this tunnel.

Johan inched forward. The ice cave opened up into a wider chamber, this one sparsely decorated with flags and propaganda flyers. A banner had been strung above the opposite door, bearing a simple slogan in a language nobody could read. On the ground were two rows of cots, mostly unoccupied. An Iridonian woman stood in the center of the room, questioning someone in one of the beds. One other bed, on the left end of the room, was occupied by someone who was fast asleep. Johan only saw these three people inside.

Iden signaled Johan to move in, quietly. It was too dark for anyone inside to notice him. He skirted along the right side of the room, keeping his gun raised. Behind him, Iden crawled out of the tunnel, and Butch followed, skirting left.

"If I catch you with a flashlight again, you're going to end up…" The woman continued. The troops didn't pay attention, as they continued sneaking in.

Johan held his breath as he crept along the side. He'd reached the right ice wall, and delicately brushed his hand against it to guide him forward… until he felt something crunch under his boot.

"Who's that!?" The Iridonian drew a pistol in Johan's direction.

"Lights!" Iden yelled. "Hold fire! Hold fire! Use your lights!"

A shrill shriek came from the center of the room, as five troopers all turned their flashlights on and waved them at her.

The woman dropped her pistol and fell to her knees. "Please! Don't shoot! I'm unarmed!"

Iden ordered the rest of the men to halt. "We're with the Empire." Only now did she realize that there was a child in the bed next to the Iridonian. Her son, likely. The man in the other bed had woken up, and had his hands raised high. "Lie down. We're here to help."

The woman stroked her son's head with one hand, and kept the other raised. "Thank the force!" She finally exclaimed. "They've been keeping us here. They tied us up. They did unspeakable things."

Butch kept his gun trained on the man to the left, just in case.

Iden lowered her gun. "Ma'am, we want to help, but we need to secure you and your son for exfil. I need you to stay put."

The woman kept talking over her. "I thought you'd never come! My son is sick! He needs medical attention!"

Iden signaled Johan to move in and tie her down. He let go of his gun, letting the strap hang around his shoulder, as he produced a set of stun cuffs and advanced on the hysterical civilian.

Iden continued to defuse the situation. "Ma'am! Calm down! You need to lie down!"

Johan grabbed her left arm and tried to fasten the cuff, only for her to immediately break free. Before anyone could blink an eye, she'd turned around and swung both arms around him, squeezing as hard as she could. He felt a small, metal ball in her right hand, pressing against his back. "BOMB!" He screamed. Pressing both hands against the woman, he forced her arms off him and tried to push her back.

The child hid his head under his pillow and screamed.

The man on the left drew a pistol and fired three rounds at Butch. He was met with five in return, striking him in the center of mass.

Johan finally slammed his armored forehead against her bare face, staggering her and allowing him to follow up with a hard push… If only a millisecond too late.

A loud bang in the center of the room sent shrapnel… fire… bits of ice, rock, and flesh… flying through the room. Iden and Butch dove for cover, while Johan was caught in the center. The left half of the Iridonian's body disintegrated immediately, as the right half was blown to the ground. Nothing remained of her head, and her torso was too disfigured to ever identify.

Johan, comparatively, got off easy. The blast shredded his left arm to bits, but his head and vitals were spared. His armor did its job. He collapsed to the ground, nursing what little remained of his arm.

A medic immediately rushed over to him with bandages and bacta. "Hold still."

Johan couldn't help but scream. No training could prepare him for what he felt. Each piece of shrapnel dug into his mangled limb like a vibroblade. His elbow had blown out completely, leaving his forearm dangling limp on a tiny shred of skin and muscle, barely connected to the rest of the arm.

The medic stopped the majority of the bleeding, then moved to amputate the disfigured forelimb.

Iden carefully approached the scene to check on the child. On closer inspection, the kid was human, and could not have been related to the suicide bomber. His head still hid under the pillow, a small pool of blood leaking out the bottom. He did not move or breathe. The man to the left had died before the explosion, shot in self defense.

Johan wept in pain. "WHY THE HELL DID SHE DO THAT!?" The medic finished amputating and dressing the wound, and moved on to setting up a bacta IV.

Iden swallowed a breath, collecting her nerves. "These bastards are brainwashed, but we didn't see anything this bad in the Outer Rim campaigns. They must have a new leader."

"Ye nee' a' radio the otha's," Butch put in. "They's walkin' to their bloody deaths."

Iden nodded, and tapped her commlink. "Aurek and Cresh platoons, come in!"

Static.

"This is Besh. We made contact with the enemy! Civilians may be booby trapped!"

Static.

"This is Besh! Any imperial forces on this frequency, please respond!"

Static.

"Damn it!"

A tense pause lingered in the air.

Johan broke the silence. "What the hell do we do now?"

Iden took a moment to think. "Third squad, you stay with Johan. We'll send someone back for you. The rest of you, come with me. We need to link up with Aurek before…"

"'Fore yer kid brother croaks," Butch interrupted, cynically.

Iden turned around and advanced on Butch, violently shoving him against the wall. "When I give an order, you follow it!"

Butch did not reply.

"If they didn't know we were here before, they do now. The mission hasn't changed. We link up with Aurek, and push forward."

Each man agreed, filing behind her as she took point.

"Move out!"

"Just static on my end, sir." Able fiddled with his commlink, trying to clean up the transmission. "Must be something in the rock that's distorting the signal."

Aurek platoon was, by far, the largest of the three, comprising 40 men, assaulting the widest tunnel.

The caves seemingly went on forever, snaking along, east and west, with any deviations quickly leading to dead ends. Nary a sign of life thusfar, but for the occasional blismal scurrying across the ground.

Kelleon motivated the team. "We still have a long way to go. Can't worry about the radio right now."

Rori knelt down as his feet had started to hurt. He started rubbing his ankle, until his mind visualized the foot falling off in a bloody mess, the bone protruding through the skin. Gomen…

"Keep moving, soldier," the Major ordered.

Rori snapped himself out of it and kept pace with the rest of the platoon, pushing through the pain. He wasn't injured; merely sore. What excuse do I have? He thought, He rode for 4 hours to keep me alive, with a broken leg. What excuse do I have? The pain seemed to subside over time.

A few minutes later, the tunnel closed in to a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for a single man, if he squeezed through sideways with his chest sucked in. Crags and jagged rocks jutted out from either side, making for an uncomfortable journey. The platoon stopped there to catch a breath. Rori sat on a relatively smooth stone to relieve his feet.

Able shined his flashlight through the passage. Vaguely, he could make out a piece of machinery on the other side, far in the distance. "There's something on the other side."

"Partisans?" Kelleon asked.

"Probably. Some kind of machinery. First sign of life we've seen all day."

Kelleon nodded. "Rori, take point. Everyone else, you'll have to squeeze in behind him. If we're lucky, we'll still have the element of surprise. If not, we can't afford to be outnumbered in our first firefight."

Rori looked up to see the Major's eyes on him, staring down into his soul. What excuse do I have? He rose to his feet and shouldered his weapon, as he took his first steps into the passageway.

The gravely floor parted under the weight of his boot, in stark contrast to the hard rock of the rest of the cave. Crags scraped and pushed against his chestplate, shoving the metal armor against his lungs, compressing them unnaturally. Breaths were short and unfulfilling, made worse by an unpleasant stench emanating from the other end of the passage. He turned his head left, facing toward the exit. Only more rocks and crags could be seen. Another trooper entered the passage behind him, moving at the same pace. He used the palms of his hands to guide him, trying to grab onto individual rocks and shimmy forward. Light became a luxury. Even with his helmet's night vision mode on, seldom a single ray made it to his eyes.

His mind envisioned a bug crashing against a lightbulb, recalling the superhuman senses he had in the hospital bed. The insect's carapace warped and cracked as it fruitlessly fought its glass nemesis. The microscopic hairs on its abdomen stood tall in anger.

Brought back to the present day by a sharp crag scraping across his visor, distorting his night vision. Any vision he'd once had was now gone, obscured behind a deep scratch down the center of his field of view, as static engulfed his electronics. At least he could still hear, but nothing was worth hearing. Only the crunch of gravel beneath his boots, intensifying as each man filed in behind the other.

The unpleasant smell grew into the unbearable, pungent miasma of death and rot. Each step only pushed him closer to its source, blooming and waxing in the few centimeters of space available.

A crag scraped under his armor. Thankfully not sharp enough to break his skin, but sharp enough to tear the fabric lining, letting in cold air. For a moment, the passage expanded, allowing him the room to take a full breath for the first time in what felt like ages. This blessing turned into a curse, when he found himself with a lungful of that damnable stench. He coughed, throwing his head forward hard enough to crack a small rock against his helmet. The sound only blended with the ceaseless shifting of gravel, each step nearing them all to the center of the gundark's lair.

If it was ever possible for the naked eye to see the end of the passage, it was impossible for Rori. His vision was blocked, his hearing jammed with the incessant gravel, his nostrils clogged with miasma. He could only feel with his gloved palms, each jagged rock about to poke and prod at his already compressed body. Even this grew less reliable as the cold came for his fingertips.

Sensation faded in tandem.

It slammed against the light.

His chest compressed once more, restricting breathing to a brief puff every few seconds.

Its spiny carapace deformed from the force.

Locked in place like a specimen betwixt glass slides.

Microscopic hairs…

Shuffling gravel…

Eyes bulging in anger.

…A reprieve.

His hand felt the edge of the passage. Behind it; open air. No more crags. No more rocks. He waved his hand a little, feeling only the empty, open air that he craved more than anything. He still could not see, hear, or smell this freedom; but its touch carried him forward the last few steps. Once his left leg broke free, he pressed his arm on the edge of the wall, forcing his head and chest through as well. His remaining leg quickly followed suit.

Immediately, he dropped his helmet on the stony ground, buckling to his knees to breathe in the rancid air. The stench nearly overpowered him, but not enough to overcome his relief. He could see. He could hear. He could breathe.

A second man followed, rushing over to help his comrade. "Easy there, shiny. You okay? Breathe."

Rori coughed and gagged. "Don't you smell that shit?"

"Smell what?"

Rori steadied his breathing, finally grasping his surroundings. A single sound reverberated through the open cavern: the slow, predictable drip of water into a stagnant pool.

Each drop came at least 10 seconds apart, yet echoed loud enough to be heard through the entire chasm. No running water could be heard. No replenishable source fit for human consumption.

No smell either. The chamber was nearly empty, but for abandoned machinery and camping equipment. Someone had been here… and they had left.

It slammed against the light.