It would seem rebel slicer Crish’s efforts had been successful, causing the doors to suddenly slide open without warning. Security must have been much easier to crack than anticipated.
What awaited them on the other side, what caught the team completely off guard, were six Imperial Range Troopers arranged in-front of an armored Imperial 1-M Repulsortank.
A flurry of blaster fire sent the Rebel Commandos scrambling. Chell saw a shocked look consume Crish’s face, realizing the slicer had not yet finished his specialized task. The door had been opened from the inside.
“It’s a trap!” Chell yelled, burying himself in the mud to avoid the sudden reverse-foray.
Crish and the other Human rebel, Delloo, went down, tools tossed aside as they were pumped full of energized Tibanna.
Behind them, Barrion roared as he swung his chaingun to face the surprise ambushers.
Spinning to life, a hundred blue bolts erupted from the end of the repeater, instantly assailing the tank and its six-man escort.
Even heavily armored Imperial veterans were no match for the unavoidable swarm of blaster fire that met their attempted counter-attack. The Range troopers were all promptly downed, shredded by gaseous heat and kinetic energy. Unfortunately, the majority of the bolts that made it past the falling troopers deflected off the slanted bow of the repulsortank, the others leaving only small burn marks on its titanium hull.
Free of the friendly obstacles before it, the tank’s mounted turret swung downwards to suppress the remaining rebels, while its upper turret took aim at the large Elnacon. For a split second, Chell felt relief, knowing Barrion’s heavy armor plating could probably withstand the tank’s heavy repeater which was probably no more imposing than his own. However, as Chell wiped mud from his bulbous eyes, the cannon’s immense size erased all traces of reassurance from his mind.
This was not a standard 1-M rapid-fire upper blaster turret. Some bored sap must have spent his abundance of free time tinkering and customizing the base’s only tank, removing the repeater and installing… a heavy laser cannon.
There was a flash as a half-meter wide ball of energy streaked from the end of the turret, the recoil sending the tank violently flying back down the hall as the projectile struck its target. Detonating the cluster of explosives Barrion had been carrying, a substantial cloud of light appeared where the Elnacon once stood. After a brief moment, the explosion bloomed outwards, scorching everything in its proximity, sending anyone still standing, Imperial sentry and rebel sniper alike, hurtling to the ground, and filling the squalling skies above the base with black smoke.
For an indeterminate amount of time after the explosion, Chell found himself unable to move. Between the staggering ambuscade, the weighty mire, and devastating shockwave, he just couldn’t convince his body to initiate fight or flight. Three men down, a quarter of their explosives gone, and they still couldn’t contact each other or HQ over their comms.
Commander Halberd leapt to his feet, dodging the 1-M’s light repeater spray while taking potshots with his longrifle, attempting to slip a bolt through one of the small viewports on the front of the tank and land a hit on an operator.
Midnight Company’s leader was one of the best sharpshooters Chell had ever met, but given the extenuating circumstances, even he couldn’t stop the raging AFV before them.
He called over to Chell, “Captain, the best I can do is lay down covering fire. I have their attention but I don’t know how long I can hold it. You better think of something and fast to deal with this tank.”
“Yes sir,” Chell replied, still huddled against the outer wall of the base. He looked around him for any way to realistically deal with the tank, taking note of his half-clogged blaster, Crish’s tool belt, and Polobarb, another one of the Dresellians, crouched beside him, trying to tend to a burn on his shoulder. Nothing he considered seemed pertinent to the situation at hand.
The young former Jedi reached around behind him, once again feeling the hilt of his energy blade. It was possible he could pass his saber through the a viewport and dispatch the tank’s inhabitants, but the tactic would be risky, and would leave him completely exposed to the line of fire while he leaned out to see the precision of his attack.
Any move requiring his lightsaber also poses the obvious risk of enemies and allies alike learning of his status as an ex-Jedi, bringing the full attention of the Empire down on himself, or worse, the ire of the “Black Ghost” himself. Chell didn’t want to have to deal with any pesky Jedi hunters, especially not THE Jedi hunter.
Now was not the time to worry about Dark Lords of the Sith, however. Now was the time to think of a plan, and think it fast.
Glancing back over at Halberd, who was still attempting to deflect the incoming barrage with his small forearm-mounted energy shield, Chell felt around on himself, catching the strap to his bag full of timed explosives. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to utilize them as bombs due to them all being linked to a singular universal countdown. And if they all went off now, failing their objective of destroying the base would be the least of their immediate problems. The only way he could make use of the individual explosives was if-
Looking near his knees, he saw the furled belt of slicer tools. “I bet you’d get a kick out of this, Crish…”
Quickly reaching for the leather scroll, he fumbled with it’s contents, coating the various tools and trinkets with mud.
“No, no, no, maybe…?”
Chell pulled a small device up and out of it’s woven compartment. The tool was a spanner-like device with a thin adjustable bit and a layered sprocket dial. He fished two rounded bombs out of his satchel, a small price to pay if they could eliminate this roadblock, and nested them in his large, webbed hand.
He pressed the singular toggle on the side of the five-centimeter wide explosive puck, a red timer displaying the numbers 180 on it’s face. Carefully spinning the protruding button, he unscrewed it from the device, revealing a tiny hole.
“What are you doing?!” Halberd cries out, trying to glance at the Captain who was taking his sweet time preparing a solution.
“I think he’s got a plan,” Polobard called out in return, sparing the young Mon Calamari from breaking his focus, “and I think I know what it is!”
Halberd grunted, attempting to vent his blaster while deflecting the heavy laserfire.
Fortunately, it seemed the gunner was ancy about firing the heavy cannon again this close to the base’s entrance. If their attacker had been any bolder, they’d already all be dead.
Careful not to instantly fill the small opening with the filth that now coated his body, Chell inserted the fine prong into the first explosive. He took a deep breath, then turned the knob on the device.
In place of a sudden explosion, the number of the volatile fab simply decreased by an increment of around thirty, before ticking down one number a second. Turning his attention to the second bomb, Chell was relieved to see that it had not armed itself. He now had complete control over the individual explosives.
“Why would the Order even teach us stuff like this?” Chell questioned under his breath as he wound the timer down to just under a minute, doing the same for the second magnetic bomb a few moments later.
Before he could leap to his feet, a blaster bolt struck the mud less than a meter from his foot. Looking up he saw a number of troopers had regrouped on the parapets above them, the smoked now depleted enough to restore their visibility.
Fortunately, their secondary ambush was short lived as as their numbers were depleted once again thanks to suppressive fire from the groups two snipers. The pair of ranged commandos were quickly closing in on their position, flanking the smoldering crater where Barrion met his end.
“It’s now or never, Captain,” Halberd bellowed a second before his shield gave out and a squarely-administered blaster bolt put him face-down in the mud.
His rifle in one hand and both explosives in the other, Chell closed his eyes, letting the Force consume the hectic world around him. With the calmness came stillness, and with the stillness came a sense of slowed time.
As if each raindrop had been frozen in place, Chell took stock of his surroundings with the Force. Had he been able to continue his Jedi training in a proper manner, he was sure he would have been able to feel the layout of the entire complex and every soul inside it. But given his stunted, restrained practice, the best he could muster were tendrils. Vines of Force energy that spread out in all directions, allowing him to feel snippets of his environment and make approximations based on what aspects he could glean.
Driving his tendrils down, he rooted himself, preparing to leap into action. He remembered all of his previous engagements. The Heist on Corellia, the Skirmish above Protobranch, the Battle of Mygeeto, and even his first training field trip-gone-wrong.
The Force had gotten him through all of it, and he hoped it’s will remained streadfast and unchanging now. He was alive for a reason, and he didn’t think it was just so he could die drowning in sludge.
His Master had also been with him throughout those previous escapades. How he wished his Master could be with him now. Even just to hear an assuring word in his ear. But that was not a liberty he was being afforded now.
Feeling the exact distance between he and the tank, the height and width of the halls, the gas swirling in his blaster, and the ticking counter on the two live explosives currently grasped within his palm, his Master’s repeated training resonated throughout his head.
“Eyes closed. Just breathe. Controlled, fluid motions. Muscles firm, arms out, feet set apart, knees slightly bent, back taut and straight. Trust your mind more than your eyes. Focus on my words first, then your surroundings and body, and lastly your thoughts.”
Chell exhaled, then opened his eyes.
With a burst of speed unheard of for his species, the young Captain Raddus sprung from his shielded position, sprinting full force at the repulsortank. They swiveled their turret to accomodate, aiming down their new target. But just as their stream of fire reached his position, he used the Force to push himself to the side, leap out of the line of fire without losing an iota of speed. He repeated this maneuver twice more, causing the tank gunner to clearly panic as the tank began to reverse down the hall.
Gaining on them rapidly, Chell slid one of the explosives between two of his fingers while he kept the other pressed firmly between his palm and thumb. He slung the front disk towards the front of the tank and prayed it was the one with the least time remaining.
It slammed into the tank’s hull, just between the viewports, clattering down onto it’s chassis. Two seconds later it detonated in a blinding light, Chell managing to shield his face and preserve his vision. The Imperial drivers were not so lucky, the tank beginning to swerve as it scraped against the wall.
The explosion had also sent the forwardmost light turret reeling upwards, directing the spray of fire away from him and giving him the perfect opportunity to act.
Springing onto the front of the tank, he level his blaster with the viewports and eliminated both operators.
A hatch on the upper back portion of the tank swung open and a third occupant, an officer by the looks of him, began to climb out in a fluster.
He turned just as Chell leaped up to greet him.
“No, wait-!”
With a jump spin heel kick to the head, the officer crumpled back down into his metal tomb, the second explosive following him on the way down.
With a flick of the wrist, Chell closed the hatch before dismounting on the other side of the tank and rolling away.
There was an echoing pop, followed by streams of smoke rising from the various slits and ports on the machine.
This fight was over.
Reaching back around him, Chell slid his finger across the metal rod hidden under his coat. It comforted him knowing that it was still there, but that he once again did not have to use it.
The four remaining rebels trotted around the now immobile tank.
“And that’s why you’re Captain, Captain,” Polobard said, attempting to catch his breath.
“Fine work,” Halberd said, surpring Chell with a Pat on the back. Chell turned to see their commanding officer still wiping mud from his face, a blaster mark on his chest plate that had stopped just milimetwrs from burning all the way through.
“But we don’t have time to celebrate yet,” the Dresselian Commander said, “we’ve got a mission to complete and hopefully just enough explosives left to do so.”
The commandos all pulled up their handheld holographic maps, showing where each explosive was to be placed.
“We’re amending the plan,” Halberd ordered, “Captain, you and Dono take the lower level. Use your own descretion when choosing which targets to attach an explosive to. Teedo will place the ones across the upstairs complex and generator room, and Polobard and I will secure the comm center. The hammer should be wearing off any second now, so we haven’t a moment to lose.”
The men all nodded before splitting up down the gaping hallways.
Chell breathed a sigh of relief. The hard part was over, now they just needed to eliminate any stragglers and plant the remaining detonators.
Breaking away from the Dresellian sniper Dono, Chell began sprinting down the left cooridor. The map highlighted all of the key points of structural integrity for the base. The original goal was to place a detonator on each, but the Mon Calamari was forced to only equip the explosives at every other position and hope the reactor room explosion was enough to bring the mountainous outcrop down onto the base, rendering it completely unusable.
Holding down the side button for three seconds caused the magnetic back to activate, allowing Chell to simply toss the detonator at the wall without ever slowing down his pace. He had already expended half of his supply when something suddenly caught his attention.
For a moment, he thought it was a smell. But then he realized it was the Force. There was a presence somewhere nearby. And it felt… familiar?
He continued down his designated path as the feeling only grew stronger. As he grew closer to the source, he could discern additional details about the person’s aura.
It was… it was a clone.
He had felt the essence of clone troopers utilized by the Grand Army of the Republic many a time during his three years partaking in the Clone Wars. Their presence had become a familiar one to him, all very similar yet infinitely unique. But there was something different about this one. Something special.
He knew this clone.
One of the 73rd perhaps?
One he had served with?
Here? Now?
What were the odds?
This was when he found he had diverged from his alotted route. Before he had even realized it, he was sprinting counter to the map.
He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He needed to locate this person. This clone. Who could it be.
The characteristics were faint, and his discernment rusty. But it felt like someone he had known well. An old friend. A friend turned enemy.
Betrayal.
He felt betrayal. And guilt.
His own? Or this man’s?
He still couldn’t tell, but he needed to find out.
If only he could contact Master K’batha. Ask him who he thought it could be. If pursuing this was even wise. He knew most of the clones he had developed close bonds with were…
Rounding another corner, he could now feel the figure clearly. There was a man-sized cluster of… nostalgia? Comfort? A time long past? He had never sensed an invisible presence so clearly.
He reached the door to the room housing this clone.
He shot the control panel.
The door slid open.
Chell cautiously stepped in to see a man sitting at a table, his back facing the .
It was someone’s personal quarters; an officers based off of the liberal decor.
The man, old and disheveled, began to turn and face the disguised Jedi who had just burst into his room.
Moments before their eyes met, the spiritual dots connected in his mind.
Chell fully remember the identity of this commanding aura. It was oozing bygone confidence and a once by-the-book nature.
It was none other than the once-Commander of the 73rd Occupation Regiment.
Chell’s piscine jaw dropped agape.
“Frank?”
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