Chapter VIII

On a Jagged Sky

There is no 'prescription' for Ixetol, Private Versio. It's a surgical painkiller, not a cabinet medicine. Rori recalled a conversation with the medical droid after he was discharged from the infirmary. A tremble rocked his wrist. The rifle felt heavy in his hands.

"Shit, boys. Look what papa found!"

A few of the men had taken to picking apart the 'rebel' camp before it was time to move out. Several troopers were still making their way through the passageway, and rather than split up the platoon, Kelleon decided to look the other way while Aurek took what they could find.

"Careful with that shit. They aren't called Death Sticks for nothing."

Death Sticks. The words reverberated in Rori's mind. Distilled Ixetol. Its purest form.

The smell returned. Nothing in this vast, empty chamber could have caused it, yet there it was.

At the edge of his vision, he noticed a shelf carved in the stone, giving a perfect vantage point on the platoon. A rookie sniper could have pinned them down for hours. How was he to survive a firefight in this state? What excuse do I have?

"Iden, it's time. Bring your brother."

She entered the nursery to find Rori still in his crib, eyes shut. "He's asleep," she whispered in Father's direction.

"Wake him. I want you both to see this."

Carefully, she reached up to press a button on the top of the crib. She had to stand on her toes. The rail between her and her brother descended, allowing her to scoop him up in her arms, swaddling a thin blanket over his head to shield him from the chill.

"Come quickly. It's about to start."

She walked into the cockpit to see Father leaning against the empty pilot's chair, gazing into the distant nebula. Warm tones of magenta swirled against hints of yellow and green, as the cosmos danced for the amusement of none.

Father took note of Iden, then leaned down to hold young Rori in his arms. The infant cooed as he woke up to his father's imposing visage. "The Chancellor has finally granted my commission." Pride ebbed from each syllable, as he stood back up. "Admiral Garrick Versio."

Iden looked out the glass shield, and at once, a distant cruiser emerged from hyperspace, near the edge of the nebula. Another streaked in near the center, still a planet's length away; followed by several more, dotting the nebula. Each Venator a dark gray, bisected with a long, crimson stripe, jumping into the sector at varying distances. Some landed only several kilometers from their shuttle, blocking out entire sectors of space in an instant.

"This is your name, young one," Father waxed under his breath, as still more cruisers streaked in, blotting out the violet nebula with hulks of gray durasteel and red paint.

A silent tension built, as Iden pictured one hitting them; their tiny shuttle sprayed across the hull of a flagship like a bug on a landspeeder. Her heart sunk as each one filed in, still ever closer than the last. She gripped Father's hand, tightly, squeezing as if to siphon his courage.

"This is our legacy."

At last, a single cruiser jumped in, its massive bridge landing mere meters from her view, blocking out the nebula entirely; its guidance lamps shining into the shuttle like a second sun. Iden let out a scream, ducked for cover under the console, releasing Father's hand in the process.

Father only raised the hand to further support his son, granting no affirmation to the frightened child hiding beside him. "The hand that mocked… the heart that fed," he whispered to himself, gently rocking Rori as he started crying.

Finally, the turbolaser guns on each ship swiveled forward, locked on a point right behind the Versio shuttle. Iden ventured a peak, as she crawled out from under the console.

"...And on the pedestal, these words appear…"

The fleet opened fire as one; each bolt of royal blue plasma shot past their shuttle, each shot aimed so flawlessly as to never graze the shields, flying past them towards…

A spark went off in her mind.

Iden raced to the other end of the shuttle and activated the aft viewscreen. Thousands of bolts of blue shredded the abandoned station behind them; the one she had called home for the last year. Its observation deck came detached, and flew off as it became ensnared by the gravity of a distant star.

"Regard my works, ye mighty…"

She sat on the cold floor, staring into the viewscreen, as Father stood on the opposite end, comforting his son.

"...And despair."

A sustained series of shots hit the station's main reactor. A fireball quickly blew apart what remained of her home, even if it was but a husk.

Iden watched as bits of stray slag and debris harmlessly ricocheted off the shuttle's energy shields. Like a bug on a landspeeder…

Iden took note of the cavern walls. Tiny indentations left in the corners were indicative of newer Imperial mining lasers, while older Separatist models left no such markings. The marks could best be seen under close light, but even the naked eye could spot them with practice.

"Wonder 'ow they dug all this," Butch mused.

"I have a few ideas," she hinted. She kept the unit marching forward, although thusfar there'd been no further contact beyond the few hostiles in the first chamber.

"Ma'am…" Butch spoke up, after another minute. "Permission 'a speak freely?"

Iden turned to shine a light in a tunnel to her left, before confirming it was a dead end. "Make it quick."

"You hesitated."

"Excuse me?"

"The woman with the grenade. You could'a shot her, or just given the order. You hesitated."

Iden signaled the team to pick up the pace through the next stretch of tunnels. "I know." She swallowed a breath, pushing through her regrets. "I had to make a call, and…"

"And all you cared abou' was the bloody kid."

"If Johan was wrong, or there was some kind of mistake…"

"That's war!" Butch violently tugged at her shoulder, forcing her to stop, as he stared through the visor of her helmet. "Civvies bloody die. Your job is 'a keep us alive."

Iden's face curled into a scowl, as she shoved him away. "You've said your piece! Now get back in line, or I'll have you cited for insubordination!"

An unnatural light flicked on at the end of the tunnel, in the edge of their peripheral vision. The icy blue of the tunnel faded to sickly yellow in the warmth of this new lamp. Debate ceased. The men took cover in small nooks in the walls, as Iden maneuvered to get a better look. A cheap wooden door covered a hole in the ice, near the light; likely installed recently and hastily.

A little voice hissed in her ear, Take the shot, ma'am… She loosened her grip on the gun, waiting for the voice to pass, the urge to fade. Her light footsteps crunched on the snow, and the thin layer of gravel beneath it, as she inched toward the door. Don't hesitate.

The ground before her seemed to soak in a deep crimson hue, as blood flowed from the gaping, open wound in Johan's arm. He looked up at her, wordlessly, his face suddenly taking the shape of…

She turned her radio back on. There was still no signal, but the static helped clear her head. Johan isn't here. The ground reverted to its normal color. Ahead, shadows danced behind the door. Whoever was in there, they were moving.

That's war.

Reflexively, she squeezed the trigger. A volley of hot plasma shattered the flimsy wooden door, bathing the tunnel in the lamp's saffron glow. A second volley followed, aimed at the panicked humanoid figure behind it. The third and fourth shots hit the target's center of mass, sending his body to the floor, lifeless.

"Clear." She signaled her men to move up, as she moved to investigate the body. It was a blue Twi'lek, male, unarmed at first glance, although a quick inspection revealed a small sidearm. Her head turned toward what remained of the door. Behind was an open latrine pit, left uncovered by the man who'd used it last.

The voice returned to her head. "Nice shot."

She turned to see Butch standing to her right. He tapped her shoulder with his fist, and moved on with the rest of the men.

"Let's go find Neppy."

Rori let himself fall to the rear of the platoon, as they advanced further in the caves. Frigid water sloshed around his ankles, soaking the insulated fabric beneath his armor. His left arm fell asleep again. The injection site still hadn't healed. A tiny drop of blood dripped from the pinprick in his forearm.

He didn't feel the way he'd expected. His senses were heightened somewhat, but the anxiety hadn't faded. Perhaps it was normal. Taking Ixetol in a hospital bed was obviously different from taking it before combat.

A blaster shot rang out, near the front of the line. Not a soul reacted. The troops kept sloshing forward, as the water grew deeper with each passing step.

"Eyes forward," came a hushed voice to Rori's left.

He did as asked, flicking his left arm forward quickly to keep the blood flowing. His feet had long gone numb, but for the creasing of shriveled skin in his soaked toes. He looked to his left to face the man giving him orders.

"Private Able," the mystery soldier introduced himself. "Been with the 9th since before Felucia. You from the 212th?"

Rori steadied himself, feeling the drug start to kick in. "No sir, I'm uh… I joined right before we got here."

"No kidding? So you're the shiny everyone's been talking about."

Rori replied wordlessly.

"The one Corporal Gomen, uh…"

"I don't wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you."

Able nodded. "Fair enough. But take some advice, shiny. Army's not too hot about people breaking ranks. So whatever you're about to see, keep your eyes forward, and don't say a word."

"What do you mean?" Rori craned his neck to the right, just in time to see over the next man's shoulder. Two troopers stood resting in an alcove just out of the stream, warming their feet… in the sliced stomach of a fresh corpse.

"Eyes forward," Kelleon echoed Able's advice from the front of the line.

Rori couldn't make out what species the corpse was. He thought he saw a lekku, but it was hard to tell. Warm blood bubbled up from the open wound, soaking around the armored boots of its killers.

"You ever been to Naboo?" Able changed the subject. "I grew up in Dee'ja Peak. Prettiest place in the universe. The waterfalls-"

Rori's balance faltered, as gravity pulled him straight into the knee-deep water, splashing down with the weight of a full Imperial kit. Able quickly knelt down to help him back up. Rori bobbed up and down as the stream rippled around him.

"Stay with me, shiny…" Able knocked on his helmet, beckoning him back to the land of the living.

Rori's vision started to distort, as water soaked into his helmet's electronics. He stared up at Able's helmet, amidst the backdrop of the cavern roof, feeling the rhythm of the water flow beneath him. The world seemed to stretch, vertically.

"Leave him, we've got bigger problems."

Everything felt a little longer, little by little.

Able looked forward, then back to Rori.

"IIIIIII saaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiddddd lllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaavvvvvvvvvvvvvee hiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"

Greens and blues faded from sight, leaving only a dark red. Reflections of ripples danced across the icy walls of the riverbed.

Able seemed to mouth reassuring words, but all that could be heard was a low groan. He pat Rori on the chestplate, before grabbing his rifle and running off, splashing water on Rori's visor.

Still more men ran past. In the distance, he could make out distinct echoes of blaster fire. Panicked men yelling words his brain simply couldn't process.

It's time, he thought. Fight or die.

Summoning every ounce of strength in his body, he struggled against the hard riverbed, trying only to push himself back to his feet. Adrenaline could handle the rest. Blaster bolts cruised over his head, one landing inches away. The flow of the river itself kept him moving faster than he ever could. Limply, he pushed against the floor, as though he were fighting the walls of a trash compactor.

What excuse do I have?

Invigorating his will, he gave the ground one more mighty push, lifting himself to his feet, grabbing the blaster with his other hand. Color came back to his vision as the helmet rebooted. Immediately, he took cover behind the closest ice wall, firing a suppressive volley over the side.

None was returned. The battlefield fell silent, but for the flow of the river. A small insect harassed the private, drawing his vision to the defiled corpse a few feet away from his hiding spot. More bugs buzzed around the gaping wound in its torso, seemingly undisturbed for hours.

Reality began to sink in, as he trudged forward. The water ahead took on a crimson hue, as vital fluids mixed in with the subterranean river. Just beneath the surface, a cathar body, clad in simple robes, bled through a gaping hole in its skull. More bodies could be seen, intermittently, through the riverbed. None carried any sort of armor, save for one near the edge of his vision.

Sharp pains tore through Rori's head. His armor did its best to regulate his body heat, but he had no way to know how long he had been soaking in that water. He could no longer feel his feet at all, and was scared to even think about them. His mind was invaded by the memory of blood pouring out of Gomen's disfigured leg.

And yet, all he could do was trudge on, sloshing his numb feet through knee-deep water, watching the icy blue mix with crimson red, marbling into complex patterns before homogenizing into a thin, cloudy murk.

In the distance, he heard more blaster fire. By his guess, it could be up to a half a mile away, but he could close the distance if he kept his wits about him.

"Going somewherrrrre, sennnntient?"

Rori turned and leveled his blaster, greeted by the grotesque apparition of the cathar body from earlier, now standing right before him, still dripping from the hole in its head.

"You'd besssssssst make hassssste, sentient. Your frrrrrriends could use a hhhhhhand."

"You're not real." Rori lowered his weapon and turned around, trying to tune out the mirage.

"Nothhhhhhhhhhing gets passsssst you." It slid next to him, keeping pace. Its legs glided beneath the surface, not leaving noticeable waves. Its mouth, what was left of it, moved only to keep its tongue from falling out the side. "What am I, thhhhhhhhhhhhhhen?"

"I'm seeing things. Something was in those death sticks…"

"Then that mmmmmust be it. The irrrrrrrrony that you nneeded them to fight, and they lllleft you an invvvalid."

Rori trudged along, wiping his blaster to occupy his mind. At the edge of audible range, he could faintly hear the strained note of an uncanny instrument.

"You rrrrecognize it." It craned its neck to look for the source of the noise. "It ssssspeaks to you."

"It?"

The corpse's remaining eye opened wide. "The Ffffffforce."

"Now you're saying I'm a Jedi?"

It let out a low cackle. "No. Thhhhhhat would be much too ssssssssimple."

On the right side of the riverbed, a humanoid figure appeared from thin air, clad in a robe and blindfold, sat in meditative pose, holding an otherworldly instrument. The strained note intensified.

"Therrrrrrrre he is…"

Rori paused, no longer sure what was the death sticks talking, and what was real.

Come closer, child. The figure seemed to speak directly into his mind, without the need of sound. Let me look upon you.

Cautiously, he approached, keeping his blaster tight in his hand. The figure's robes floated atop the stream, soaking in the polluted murk.

The figure waved its hand, and Rori felt his gun drop into the water. It will be returned to you… when you need it.

The corpse looked into Rori's eyes, and grinned. "I'll give you some sssssssssspace." It floated back upriver, leaving a trail of blood in the process.

The figure addressed Rori. He seemed to be an old man, iridonian, but ravaged by age. His horns had grown past civilized lengths, cracking off near the top. His hair was white, unkempt, and scraggly. His shriveled hands slid across the instrument, playing a softer tune to put the young man's mind at ease. Sit, child.

Rori looked at the frigid water flowing over his boots. "I'll stand, if that's alright with you."

If that is your wish.

"Who are you?"

A good question, with an answer long forgotten.

Rori tried a more direct approach. "Are you a Jedi?"

The iridonian scowled. It is… a difficult tale.

"How? What makes it difficult?"

Many questions, does this one ask. He let a strained note hold in the air, almost visibly. Yet little, does he tell.

Rori sighed, nodding in acknowledgement.

We have crossed paths, whether you know it or not.

"I've heard your song before. It sounds… unique."

You need not spare my feelings, child. The music of mine fingers is crude and unpracticed.

"So you play for fun?"

The old man looked up at him, through his blindfolded eyes. If that is how you understand it. Much history lives in this world. Buried beneath layers of stone, snow, and too much blood. I play to soothe the world itself.

"That doesn't…" Rori stopped himself. "Do you mean the Force?"

The old man grinned, slightly. The essence of life. Past. Present. Future. It lives in the depths of Ilum. Picture a graveyard of the spirit. Caskets empty to your mortal eyes, yet overflowing with intangible sentience.

"So, the Force," he attempted to summarize.

An overly simplistic term, for a larger subject.

The cathar corpse allowed itself to sit on the bank of the riverbed; returning to death, once more.

"Why can I see you?"

Are you not simply hallucinating?

"I heard your music earlier. I wasn't hallucinating then, and I don't think I am now."

Your perceptions serve you well. This is good.

"So you're real. You're a spirit of the Force."

The old man continued to strum his instrument.

"If I can see you, does that make me a Jedi?"

The old man paused, then motioned an inaudible cackle. An improbable conclusion, to a riddle you do not yet understand.

Rori's temper flared. "Maybe I would understand your riddle if you would just ask it, old man."

I already have, child. He dug the instrument into the ground, and rose to his scraggly feet. There is grander purpose to your life. However, make no mistake. You are not, and will never be, Jedi.

The Private bit his lip, unsure if he was disappointed, or relieved.

If you should return to the capitol, bring me what I have asked for.

"You didn't ask for anything."

The old man walked downstream, using the instrument as a cane. Follow my song.

Rori stood still, watching the old man walk away.

In the meantime, you had best return to your friends. You will need their help. Consider this a helping hand.

"What the hell are you…"

"Rori!?" A familiar voice interrupted him from behind.

His focus broke, and the man was gone before he could blink an eye. He turned to see a small platoon of troopers, led by none other than

"Iden!?"

"Rori, we've been looking everywhere for you!" Iden charged at him, exhausted. "What happened here? Where's your unit?"

He bent down to grab his blaster out of the river. "I…" He hesitated, realizing the absurdity of his story. "There was an ambush. We got separated."

"We need to find them quickly," Iden warned, "The enemy are posing as civilians. They're booby trapped!"

"They're… what?"

"I saw a Zabrak mother blow herself up just to kill one of us." Her upper lip twitched as she recounted the event. "If Kelleon tries to rescue civilians, it'll be a bloodbath. He may be a pig, but even he doesn't deserve that."

Butch stepped up and took point, shoving the cathar corpse out of his way with his boot. "'Nuff squawkin', Neppy. Let's get movin'."

"Sniper team, are you in position!?" Kelleon shouted into the radio as plasma bolts barely missed his head.

Partisans were dug in along the other side of the central chasm; while Aurek Platoon assaulted from the riverbed. The chasm itself let down to a geothermal vent; one of the few sources of natural heat on Ilum. The river opened into a waterfall over the vent; as the cascading water descended into the planet's mantle, and rose back up in the form of hot steam. The edges of the chasm were only crossable along narrow catwalks, making the area easily defensible. A DF.9 turret placement on the partisan side effectively covered both catwalks, while infantry took potshots behind sandbags to prevent Aurek from setting up anti-armor.

"Sniper team, Second Squad needs cover! Do you read!?"

The radio returned static and feedback. Able fiddled with the signal, attempting to clean it up.

"-niper team here. We're pinned down along the western ridge… Need fire support!"

A blast from the turret impacted mere feet away from the Major's position, spraying him with bits of rock and debris. "I'll send a fireteam immediately. How long can you hold out?"

"Long as it takes, sir. We ain't goin' nowhere. Over."

"Able, get on the horn with Fireteam Dorn. Tell them to get their arses to the eastern ridge."

"Eastern, sir?"

"Where the hell do you think they're gonna shoot from? Let's go, chop chop!"

"Yes, sir." Able dutifully got back on the radio.

The eastern ridge offered a small, but noticeable height advantage over the opposing western ridge. Both were only accessible through the caves, however, and only the western ridge provided a good vantage point on the partisan positions.

"Sir." Able took his headset off, pessimistically. "Just got word from Cresh platoon"

"And?" Kelleon peeked over his cover, nearly catching a blaster bolt for his trouble.

Able simply shook his head.

The Major's eyes widened. "What!? All of them!?"

"Only about three survivors, sir. They're trying to medivac through one of the alternate exits."

"What about Besh?" Kelleon inquired.

"Still can't raise Sergeant Versio," the other explained. "I don't wanna be here when you tell her-"

"What that prissy schutta doesn't know can't hurt her."

Fog dissipated from Rori's brain, bit by bit. The occasional apparition, easily recognized as a hallucination. He felt the present time, unfazed by the past and future. His hands steadied, eyes focused forward. For the first time in his life, he felt like a soldier; like he could take on the whole rebellion by himself. His legs splashed rhythmically through the shallow riverbed, its crimson hue growing thicker with each splash.

"Not much further," his sister assured. "Be ready for a fight when we get there. It won't be pretty." She paused, holding her hand to her helmet. Her other hand signaled the others to stop.

Rori and the others stood by, waiting for new orders, until she finally got moving again.

"Change of plans, boys," she broke the silence. "Finally got word from Aurek. There's a network of caves ahead, to our right. The men in there need support."

The cave entrance could be seen closeby. A simple hole in the wall, just above the waterline. One of the rare caves too small to be the result of Imperial mining equipment.

"This be'er be the last bloody cave…" Butch swore under his breath.

"Last push, big guy." Rori checked his weapon, as men started filing through the cave entrance, single file.

Iden, Butch, and Rori were the last to enter, each one leaving crimson bootprints on the fresh layer of ice. The walls were barely five feet apart, reminding the latter of his squeeze through the crevasse. Yet he felt no such fear this time.

"Clear!" One man shouted from the point.

"Clear!" A second man yelled, echoing through the narrow passage.

Blaster fire erupted immediately after, painting the walls in various shades of bright red. Men scrambled for whatever cover they could find. From Rori's place, he couldn't even see the enemy yet.

"Is there another way around!?" Shouted Iden, over the carnage. A trooper fell beside her feet, stone dead.

"Not that I can bloody see!" Butch primed a thermal detonator, ready to throw it into the horde.

Her eyes widened as she saw the grenade. "What the hell are you doing!?" She wrestled it away from them, forcing the switch back off.

"Someone has 'a save our bloody skins!" He protested, his breath steaming out the bottom of his helmet.

"An explosion like that'll cause a cave-in. You'll kill us all!"

Every inch of open terrain turned into a killzone. Blaster fire singed past Rori's face several times, each closer than the last. Adrenaline surged through his veins, vision narrowed to a thin tunnel. Instinctively, he flipped his blaster to full auto. What excuse do I have?

He pulled out of cover with his blaster raised, unloading a full magazine into anything out of uniform. His senses honed in on every detail. His aim struck true, scorching the partisans' center of mass; each one dropping into a disheveled pile. Blasts surged past him harmlessly, each one missing by a mix of carelessness and serendipity. By the time his mag dried up, the enemy had already retreated several feet, allowing the others to pursue them further down.

The cave opened up a bit from there. Rori refocused, realizing he stood atop the bodies of three other troopers who weren't as lucky.

Butch nudged him to the side. "Kick arse!" He said, before running to the front with the rest of the team.

Iden ran up next, turned to acknowledge her brother, concealing… something behind her expressionless helmet; before charging into the fray like the rest.

"Get those rockets in place!" Kelleon barked over the cacophony of death that filled the chamber.

Three troopers emerged from cover with RPS-6 rocket launchers in their hands, quickly dropped to one knee, and took aim at the turret. It turned deliberately, like a slumbering krayt dragon, taking aim at its assailants. A shot rang out, eviscerating the first trooper. His weapon went off in his hands, launching a sidewinder rocket into the cavern wall.

"Fire!"

The second trooper quickly fired off his rocket, discarded the empty launcher before he could see it land. The missile impacted on the side of the turret, barely damaging it. The final trooper waited till the last fatal second for a target lock, firing off a sure shot. The turret erupted in a magnificent fireball, as the trooper raced back to cover; felled by a sniper's blast through the back.

The fireball dissipated, revealing a nearly intact structure behind it. The barrel bent upward by a scant few degrees, necessitating quick repair, and allowing Aurek a chance to regroup.

"Turret's down for now!" Kelleon barked, "Everyone out of the cave! Find cover, and keep a base of fire on the sandbags!"

"Sir," Able interrupted. "I have word from Besh. They've made it into the caves. They're headed to the eastern ridge."

"Excellent. Keep me apprised."

"There's one other thing, sir," Able added, pensively. "Rori's with them."

The Major paused in thought. "I'll have a word with Thire when we get back to base. He'll see my side of the story."

Iden ran up the steep floor. To her left, the cavern wall ended, opening up to a view of the battlefield below. Across from that was the elusive western ridge. Entrenched enemy positions pinned down the Imperial sniper team, while the battle raged below. The DF.9 turret had turned all the way around, while its barrel was being replaced by the ORLF engineering team.

Iden took potshots at the engineers. They flew wide, hitting nothing but rock. Partisans on the ground took note, and shot back up at her, forcing her to retreat back. The rest of her men finished the climb and joined her on the eastern ridge.

"We made it this far," Rori noted. "Let's keep going through the caves. Flank 'em."

"Can't take that risk," Iden countered. "They might be booby-trapped. We need to help Aurek from up here."

"Way ahead 'a ye'." Butch cackled as he opened his pack, unveiling half a dozen thermal detonators. He grabbed one from the top, primed the lever, and held it over the edge."

"Wait," Iden interrupted, holding a hand in front of him. "Aurek needs this place intact. If those catwalks are damaged, they can't advance."

"I'll be careful." He shoved her to the side and tossed the detonator over the side, landing just behind the sandbags to the west.

Before the partisans knew what was happening, the grenade went off, enshrouding them in a massive fireball. Butch chuckled characteristically, as Iden watched her worst fears confirmed. The western catwalk collapsed and fell into the chasm, leaving only the eastern one standing. The men caught in the blast had no visible remains.

Butch looked on, speechlessly. "Well shit," he admitted.

"No more bombs," Iden admonished. "Engage enemy positions on the other ridge. Help the sniper team settle in so they can cover Kelleon's advance."

Blaster fire poured in from the opposite ridge, interrupting her orders. The crew dove to the ground, making good use of their height advantage. One trooper peered over the side, taking pot shots at the enemy. A bolt of plasma sped past Rori's head, missed by millimeters, scorched the rock wall behind him.

The DF.9 turret started turning again, its barrel now fully repaired.

"Fire!" Kelleon yelled.

Another salvo of rockets barraged the turret, this time leaving the troops ample opportunity to get back to cover. Each one struck true, tearing holes in the already beleaguered armor. Sparks flew from the thin seam between the rotating cannon and lower mechanism. The motor jammed as it attempted to complete its turn, leaving it stuck aiming eastward. The blast must have jammed a bearing into the mechanism.

"Damn thing's still up!" The major secured his helmet to his armor, activating the air seal. "Only one option now."

Able nodded. "Gas out!" he relayed. "Secure air seals and filters, gas out!"

The remaining troops secured their air seals with a click, as two men affixed launchers to the barrel of their weapons. In an instant, canisters flew over Able's head, across the pit, and onto the opposing fortifications. They clanked against the ice, before releasing a thick, grey cloud of pressurized dioxis, spinning in tight circles as their contents escaped.

The partisans covered their faces with cloth, trying to keep the fumes out, to little avail. One valiantly picked up a canister and threw it into the pit, only to be met by gunfire from the imperial side, striking him in his unprotected chest. Two more canisters landed by his dead body, mocking his dying efforts.

Able's eyes watered as his filter struggled against the thick fumes. His optics switched to thermal, automatically picking out targets through the noxious haze.

"Push forward!" Kelleon ordered.

The men emerged from cover with their guns blazing, forcing the rebels back into cover as they made their way to the remaining catwalk. The metallic walkway, rusted and scavenged from an old starship, creaked and strained under their footsteps. A few partisans managed to land shots on the advancing stormtroopers, killing them instantly; their bodies either falling into the abyss, or serving as obstacles to the man behind them.

The first few troops made it across and scrambled for cover. The gas was still thick enough to suppress the insurgents, but not for much longer. Two more canisters landed by the catwalk, extending the smokescreen for the time being.

Able changed the frequency of his helmet radio. "Rori? Come in buddy, I know you're there…"

Blaster bolts flew over Rori's head as he lay prone in the snow. The air suddenly felt wrong. A foul stench wafted up from the center pit.

"Rori? Come in buddy, I know you're there."

He quickly affixed his air filter before replying. "Able!? I thought you were dead."

"Not quite. Listen, we're filling the place with dioxis. Tell your team to affix air filters."

"Who's that!?" Iden shouted from a few meters away, before popping back up to fire back at the other ridge.

"No time! Seal your helmets! Dioxis!"

Butch was the first to react. "Oh shit…" He hastily pressurized his armor with a swift click.

Iden calmly sealed her armor. "Whoever the hell that is, tell them we're pinned down! We could really use a hand here!"

Rori nodded. "Able, we're in deep shit over here. We need fire support on the western ridge. Anything you can spare."

The feed turned to static as Rori regulated his breathing, trying to let the filters do the work.

"No can do," came the reply, "You're supposed to be our support. We need every man for this push! Sorry."

"No good," he relayed to his sister. "We're on our own."

Iden took a minute to gather her thoughts. "Then we hold out here!"

Another squad ran across the catwalk, laying suppressive fire on the enemy. A few partisans, suffocating, opted to retreat back into the caves. The majority stood their ground, firing through the noxious fumes at anything that moved.

Suddenly, another gas grenade flew over the chasm, missing the rebels entirely and landing in the cavern behind them. Pressurized dioxis sprayed out, spinning the grenade in a neat circle.

For the partisans, the choice became clear: retreat now, before the cave filled with gas, or stay until it would be too late. A clean rout soon followed, each man taking turns spraying a volley of cover fire as the man behind him escaped.

Blaster fire chased them in the caves. Troopers pursued their prey, their skin shielded from the fumes.

Back behind the catwalk, Kelleon ordered another charge. The rest of his men readied their weapons, and pressed forward.

Bright red bolts flew by her face, leaving sublimated divots in the ice behind her.

"Their line's breakin'!" came a rough voice to her left.

She hazarded a peak, noticed neat rows of white armor running over the catwalk, unopposed. Across the chasm, her assailants saw the writing on the wall, retreating back in the caverns with their comrades, before they could end up encircled.

Butch rose to his feet, taking potshots at the routing enemy. One blast struck a rebel in the back, sending him to the ground, smoke rising from his scorched spine.

And at once, a brief silence hung in the air. The threat abated, but not over. The situation came into focus once more.

"Sarge!" Butch exclaimed. "The civies!"

Iden desperately flipped on her radio. "Major!"

Only static greeted her back.

"Able! Anyone! Anyone in Aurek Platoon, do you read!?"

The pattern did not break.

"Shit!"

Her brother chimed in. "They're going to be bogged down in those tunnels. If we hurry, we might be able to catch them."

She nodded, leading the charge back into the tunnels. "Move it! We might only have a few minutes!"

Frigid wind blew into Spinner's cockpit. A thousand feet below his LAAT gunship, the rear exit of the cave complex stood wide open. Each alternative exit had been hunted down and collapsed with mass driver fire, leaving only a barrel for the proverbial fish. The exit opened to a wide open plateau, lacking any sort of cover, surrounded by a wing of gunships.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Boss," the side gunner reported in, "Looks like the party's starting."

Spinner checked thermals. Several heat signatures had started pouring out of the caves, easily distinguished over the sub-zero air around them. "Looks like it."

"General says we should capture them."

Spinner scoffed. "You gonna turn me in, core slime?"

"Oh no, I saw them shoot first. Go ahead, boss."

Spinner flipped several switches on the dashboard, then pushed on the yoke, diving low for his first pass. "Thought so."

Iden led her men through the thick dioxis gas; now a dense fog that one could barely see through, let alone breathe in unassisted. "Careful, stick to the center of the catwalk. One at a time."

Ahead stood the abandoned ORLF fortifications. Bodies of both sides littered the terrain. The men simply mantled over them, disturbing their rest with clumsy footfalls. A human skull, corroded by gas and cooked by blaster fire, collapsed under Iden's boot, coating her leg in red sludge.

An unpleasant memory returned to Rori's mind. He shook his head and pushed through. Just don't think about it. Don't think about anything. He reassured himself. Almost out of this forsaken hole.

"Still can't raise that bastard Kelleon," Butch put in.

"Keep trying," Iden answered, calmly. "Until then, one last cave to clear."

Distant blaster fire echoed through the hazy cavern entrance. Screams of terror, mainly female, followed close behind. Rori couldn't shake the feeling that something wicked was waiting inside. He recalled the small tube of plastic and chemical he had stashed in his kit bag.

Amidst the steady rev of the engines, and the intermittent hum of the side laser cannon, the act of killing was as disconnected from its perpetrator as a man from his estranged son. Through the cockpit glass, all Spinner could see was the terrain he flew above. It was his gunner committing the act, after all, not him.

"Need some tunes back there?" He asked, simply.

"None of that leap-jump bullshit." The cannon fired off again, sundering a surrendering man's torso in twain.

More gunships joined in the slaughter, firing on anything that moved.

Spinner chuckled. "Well fuck, man, that's all I got."

A putrid stench wafted from the stretch of caves ahead. Worse than death. So pungent that even the life-saving filters couldn't dull its bite. The sound of blaster fire had long since faded, and screams hadn't been audible for several minutes. Rori noticed a tiny, green crystal sticking out of the rocks to his left. Without thinking, he scooped it into his kit bag before anyone noticed.

"Smells like shit in here." Butch broke the silence.

"Now's not the time," Rori replied.

"It's not a joke. Goddamn place. Whole thing smells like shit."

A swarm of flies buzzed ahead. Tropical flies that normally wouldn't survive in this climate. The caves started to get warmer, as though they were approaching some kind of artificial heat source. The ice around the walls slowly thinned in favor of simple rock.

"We might be coming up on living quarters," Iden guessed.

"But why's it smell so bloody bad?"

The miasma thickened with each step; a blood-curdling stench mixed with noxious dioxis fumes. Yet notably absent was the smell of blood, nor the sound of sentient life. Only the fiercely buzzing flies kept them company.

Iden raised a hand signal to stop, as they came to a corner. The team stood by, as she signaled Butch to take point. Reluctantly, he raised his blaster and hugged the ice wall, cautiously peeking into the room ahead.

"Anything?" Iden whispered. A fly worked its way under her plate armor, biting her in the chest.

Butch remained silent. Speechless. Motionless, but for a subtle tremor in his leg.

Iden waved away at the swarm as it buzzed in front of her visor. "Butch, do you see-"

Butch's legs gave out as he fell to the ground, violently gagging and wheezing for air.

"Check his filters!" Iden quickly rounded the corner with her gun ready, stumbling into a scene of unspeakable horror.

Blackened corpses filled the living quarters, their hands tied behind their backs, their eyes blindfolded as they sat on their knees. All were either women or children. A few had scorch marks on their heads, others appeared to have had their throats cut. Still others simply succumbed to the gas. They had all died very recently. Far too recently to have decomposed.

"The smell…" Rori pondered, his eyes darting back and forth. The ground was covered in a thick, brown sludge, especially near the heating device toward the back of the room. Flies swarmed about the room, landing on bodies, puddles of filth, anything but the heater itself.

Butch kept gagging as a squadmate attended to his air filters. They weren't damaged, but he had vomited in his sealed helmet, and it couldn't be drained without letting the gas in. He lied on his back to allow an air pocket to form by his mouth and nose, breathing through that.

Iden turned to Rori, nudging his shoulder to break his focus. "We can't stay here."

He stared into the carnage, focused on a little girl in the center of the room, with a scorch mark on the back of her head.

"HEY!"

Rori blinked his eyes, returning to life.

"Let's get the hell out of here. There's nothing we can do for them now." She turned and continued into the caves.

Rori steadied his breathing and followed behind her. "Did Kelleon do this?!"

She let the question mull in her head. "I… I don't know. Maybe the ORLF killed them. Maybe it was the gas. Maybe it was a mercy killing."

"Why would they kill their own hostages?"

"I don't know!" She picked up the pace, looking for some pocket of fresh air so she could take her damned helmet off. She didn't even feel the cold anymore, all that mattered was the fetid miasma clogging her air filters. "I've served under Kelleon for years. He's a pig, but he's not capable of…" Her mind trailed off in thought. "We need to get out of here and call in a medevac for Johan. Butch will be fine as soon as we find some fresh air."

In the corner of her eye, Iden noticed a thin sunbeam streak through a tiny, adjourning chamber. It came through a hole in the ice, no bigger than a pinprick. Without a second thought, she leveled her weapon and fired a volley at the hole, shattering the ice and revealing the sprawling snowfield behind it. Clean, frigid air spilled in as the miasma slowly dissipated. The hole was about the size of a fist, but it worked. The rest of the ice looked too thick to shoot through. She would need another solution.

"Tell the men to grab the heater from the other room!" She ordered. "We're getting out of here!"