The Legacy of Typho Raame

Character Name: Typho Raame

Species: Human

Sex: Male

Age: 34

Homeworld: Kuat

Family: Loken Raame (Father), Sylvas Raame (Mother), Tarik Raame (Older Brother)

Character Description: Fair skinned, short grey spiked hair with matching stubble, scar running down left eye, deep gravely voice, blue eyes. Standing at 6'3. Weighing 90 Kgs.

Weapons: FN Mk 17 Mod 0 SCAR-H with Mk 13 Mod 0 FN40G Grenade Launcher, MP7A1 Sub-Machine Gun, SR9 Semi-Automatic Combat Pistol, two large black combat knives, multitude of grenades.

Clothes/Armor: Multi Environment Combat Tactical Mk. IV "Chameleon" Armour and Helmet

The Legacy of Typho Raame:

Part One - Childhood and Adolescence:

Typho Raame was born four years into the Great Galactic War on the ship manufacturing planet of Kuat. The War was still relatively ripe and therefore it had not yet touched the inner Coreworlds of the Galactic Republic. However, despite not feeling the literal crush of the Sith Empire, Kuat was feeling it economically, as Republic Battle Cruisers and Starfighters were in high demand. Typho did not feel the economic problematic situations at first, while he was still in his first few years, as Kuat was still managing to do its part and wasn’t facing too many damning repercussions. He grew up in one of the southern islands of the planet, his father working as a farmer and trader, as was the majority of the male working populace in the southern island.
It was the Southerners’ responsibility to support the Food and Alcohol Resource Branch of Kuat by supplying the majority of all food, consumable liquids and alcoholic substance to the rest of the planet. In his youth, Typho didn’t know much of the different islands of Kuat, only travelling with his father to the main city of the Southern Island, where he was taught the ways of the traders. As a boy, he mostly helped around the farm, growing crops and repairing the farmhouse and barns. Surprising to most, Typho Raame led a quite simple, uninteresting life. For all he had been told, he was going to grow up as a farmer and trader like his father. That was before he turned sixteen, and the world around him changed.

Part Two - Conscription

It was the Year 8 BTC, and the Great Galactic War was only eight years until its end. However, at the time, none of the inhabitants of the Galaxy knew that the end of the War was to be coming so soon. To them, it seemed that the war would rage on until one side was completely crushed. This seemed highly unlikely at the time, as it was a dead set stalemate between both warring factions. The casualties of War had grown to a phenomenal level, and the demand of fresh raw recruits was at its highest. Conscription had come into effect in the last few years, and more and more Star Systems were feeling its bite. Typho’s brother, who was four years older than him, had already willingly signed up to the Galactic Republic Military as an Engineer two years ago. Typho and his family still received monthly and sometimes weekly holo-transmissions from him, as he constantly wanted them to know that he was alive and safe.

Typho had just returned from the capital city of the South Island with his father after a successful trading trip, where they had made a breakthrough in sales, and managed to secure a large amount of credits. Kuat was heavily feeling the strain of the War by now, after twenty-two years of bloodshed, and pretty much everything was in high demand, prominently Battleships and Starfighters. Typho’s family was doing pretty well, however, considering the ever strong demand of food and crops. He and his family rarely had to buy other things as well, as both Typho and his father were very skilled in mechanics, so whenever something broke or got too old, they’d be able to fix it up.

As Typho and his father neared their farm in their ever trusty Aratech ZF-Alpha Airspeeder, they had noticed a large Republic Trooper Transport walker in the area, with smaller Military Transport Speeders skimming around the land, visiting each farm in turn. Typho’s father seemed to know what was going on, yet he didn’t deviate from their flight course, and they soon plummeted down towards the farm.
They had barely disembarked from the Airspeeder when one of the Transport Speeders had turned up, with two Republic Troopers in the full white and orange armour that was their combat uniform. In the back of the speeder sat seven similarly dressed boys who were all around Typho’s age, give or take a couple of years. There was only a single spot left in the back of the Speeder. Typho knew in his heart, despite any protesting that was sure to come from his mother and father, that he would end up in that final spot. And that’s exactly what happened.

Typho’s father didn’t put up much of a fight, as he knew that sooner or later this was going to happen, whether Typho signed up or was conscripted, it hardly mattered. The end result was going to be the same. His mother protested as much as she could, saying that he was her last son and that she couldn’t bear to see him leave them. The hardiness and coldness of the Republic Troopers was brutal. They didn’t even hesitate.
Ordering his father to restrain my mother, one of them took Typho inside the household to collect his meagre personal belongings. There wasn’t much to take with his. Typho took only a single necklace with him, as a memento. It had the end of an Iriaz horn that he and his father had hunted and killed a few years back, indented into a Nova crystal which his mother had once found, which was set into a background of a silver coated circular pendant. It was the only thing Typho really had of value, even if it was largely sentimental.

Typho said a heartfelt goodbye to his tear-stained mother before his father took him aside and spoke to him like a man. He once served in the Kuat Militia for a short amount of time, and he gave Typho a single bit of advice that had saved his life countless times in his tours of duty: “Trust in your squad mates”. After that, he took the boy’s right wrist in a strong grip with his left hand, and Typho mimicked him, sealing a Kuati bond of brotherhood.

Typho was then led into the Transport Speeder and sped off towards the Republic Trooper Transport walker. He only spared a single glance back at his father, mother, and farm, before they disappeared out of view. Typho’s life of farming was over. His military life was about to begin.

Part Three – Basic Training

Along with the seven other boys in the Speeder, Typho was transferred onto one of the massive Republic Military Shuttles. There were around 200 conscripts stuffed into this shuttle, and they had been allocated to sit in formation with the boys that they had been shipped in with. So Typho found himself sitting around the seven other boys from his Speeder, who were to be his future squad mates, split into two four-man fire teams. He instantly struck up a connection with three of the young men there. Their names were Garviel Lucen, Dahniel Olthvaay and Aelix Collust. As they talked and discussed what life would be like in the military, their Shuttle was speeding along to the planet of Carida, where they would train at the fabled Galactic Republic Military Academy of Carida.

It took only a few hours to reach, and before they knew it, they were being ordered off the Shuttle, and into the compound, where they would be directed to their barracks. The 200 men of the area in Kuat that they were conscripted from were to be comprised into a single company, designated as the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company.



((This segment changes into a live-action story, rather than a descriptive outline))



Typho said barely a word as the Company of 200 young men walked reluctantly towards their new barracks, which would be their home for their initial training procedures. The entire recruit force was in disarray, none of them being able to march save a few. Most just walked sullenly, still thinking about what had conspired in the last few hours. When the recruits arrived at their barracks, they found it to be a bare, Spartan looking place. Rows upon rows of bunk beds were lined up on either side of the extremely long, barren corridor, fifty a side. This would be where they slept and spent their spare time whilst off-duty or not training.
Typho turned to his right to face Garviel Lucen and said in a quiet voice, “Well, this certainly looks like a comfortable place to stay.”
Garviel grinned and placed a hand on his new friend’s shoulder. “I hear you, Typho. But hell, it doesn’t matter what we want anymore. It’s what the Republic wants. They say jump, we say how high.”
Dahniel and Aelix, who had known each other most of their lives, as they lived incredibly close to one another were already playfully bickering about who would be getting the top bunk. Typho glanced at them and shook his head, before moving over to inspect his bunk closer. At the foot of his bed rested a stark white footlocker, and upon further investigation, the new recruit found a uniform of shining black military boots, a pair of black urban camouflage fatigue trousers, and a tight jet black shirt. The sleeves on shirt seemed fairly inadequate, and it only covered a third of the upper arm, revealing much of Typho’s well-toned arms, due to his experiences as a farmer, lifting and pulling things. The majority of 12th Company’s recruits were largely similar, all having experienced the same rigorous lifestyle.
“These guys sure like their black uniforms, don’t they?” Garviel asked, already peeling his shirt from his body to replace it with his new clothing. Typho nodded silently, and began to mimic him. All around them, the recruits of the 12th Company were doing the same.
Typho looked up from tying up his black boots as a loud, rough male voice blared out from the in-built comm system on the ceiling. “All personnel of 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company is ordered to make their way to Uniform Barracks F immediately. Get moving, recruits.”
Typho finished putting on the rest of his uniform, before walking over with Garviel to Dahniel and Aelix. He inclined his head towards them as a greeting, and the four recruits made their way, along with the rest of 12th Company, towards Uniform Barracks F.
What they all found there wasn’t exactly to their liking. They were split into five different lines, and ordered the front man to step forward and sit down on the five bleak, bare seats that were arrayed in front of them. Behind each seat stood another Trooper in the same black uniform, all of them carrying an electric razor. Typho knew what was happening. Sure enough, as each recruit sat down, the Troopers moved forward and began to work on their hair, running the razor through it until there was nothing left save short, light grey fuzz atop each head.
“Uniformity they call it,” Aelix said in distaste, examining his hair in one of the many reflectors that had been set up in their home barracks.
“Well, it sure looks better than that mop of fur that you called a hairstyle,” Dahniel retorted, playfully punching Aelix on his arm. “All I care about is when they’re going to start drilling us.”
“Can’t be long,” Garviel put in, lying on Typho’s bottom bunk. “We’ve been here a couple of hours now. I’d expect the drilling to start any time now.”
“As long as we all keep in line and don’t let our big farm feet mess us up, we should do fine,” Typho added, sitting up, arms splayed behind his body, propping him up from where he had been doing a few push-ups and sit-ups.
Garviel looked down at Typho and shook his head. “Come on, man, you’re making the rest of us look bad with all that working out. Take a bre-“
A loud bang at the end of the hallway interrupted Garviel’s sentence. All four men looked over and spotted an incredibly stern looking Republic Trooper, in full armour, save his helmet. He was flanked by two more Troopers, both which were clad in battle armour from head to toe, and carrying fearsome looking blaster rifles. The trio stopped in the middle of the corridor and faced the recruits.
“12th Company, ATTEN-HUT!” The lead Trooper roared, and was immediately received with all 200 men instantly bounding to their feet (the force of the Trooper’s voice making them understand rather than the actual command). However, the attention was brought in a sloppy looking fashion for the most part. A few of the men, like Typho and his friends, straightened their backs, but they were in the minority.
The trio of Troopers slowly moved along the two lines of the recruits. The lead Trooper was straightening bodies with a small metal rod. “You call this standing to attention? I’ve seen scum do a better job at it than you.”
The officers moved along the line until they came to a halt, directly in front of Typho and the rest of his comrades. The lead Trooper nodded in appreciation at the dead straight bodies and faces that were completely level. He was relieved to finally be seeing some competence. The trio continued moving down the line until they had inspected and corrected the rest of the recruits. They turned around to face the Company as they reached the end of the lines. The Trooper without a helmet stepped forward, his two comrades standing slightly back. He spoke with a heavy Corellian accent.
“My name is Drill Sergeant Styrmaad. I will be your commanding officer for the duration of your basic training. You will call me “Sir” at all times. Now, I have one simple rule. Everybody trains, no one complains. If I see any complaining, it’ll be straight to the detention barracks. Do you understand me?”
In complete unison, every single recruit of 12th Company replied, “Sir, yes, sir!”
Sergeant Styrmaad nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, let’s begin basic training 101.”

For days on end, the recruits of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company were constantly training, with barely any rest. They would get next to no relaxation time, as Drill Sergeant Styrmaad expected his recruits to soon become level with the rest of the Republic Military. They started off with basic drill training, learning how to march in formation without falling out of place. It took them constant training for many days to fully master the skill, yet eventually every single one of them was able to march like any other Trooper.
While learning to march in formation, Styrmaad and his assistants began teaching the new recruits the weapons and armour of the Republic Trooper. He had begun their first Combat Training Session by having ten desks stacked with the weapons and armour that the Troopers would be using. An assistant was stationed at each desk, while Styrmaad went through with the descriptions.
“Your basic rifle is the BlasTech SBR-500. It is a very competent weapon, with three different firing modes: Single shot, burst fire, and full-auto. Very useful for all types of encounters. It can fire accurately up to 600 metres, plus an additional 200 metres with the XRS High Intensity Battle Scope. A detachable HEG160 Grenade Launcher can be fitted onto the underside of the barrel of the rifle, as well a ND Suppressor for low profile missions. An all around versatile weapon, and a favourite for all Troopers.
“There are many different types of rifles and carbines that our forces use, but you won’t be seeing them until Advanced Combat Training. As well as the SBR-500, our Troopers are requisitioned with a large thirty centimetre bladed HK Combat Knife, three HE-50 Grenades, and a Flashbang grenade. For your sidearm, you are presented with the BlasTech SP-420 Blaster Pistol, which also can come with a ND Suppressor as well as a DVL30 Laser Sight.
“Finally, our standard Troopers are empowered with the Multi Environment Combat Tactical Armour, or the MECT Armour. It can stop most blaster bolts from a fair distance away, and has alloys that are designed to protect the wearer from all types of hostile environments, such as extreme cold, heat or altitude. A potent protection against both the Sith Empire and nature itself.
“The MECT Battle Helmet comes with the most advanced HUD that the Republic can employ. It has maps, statistics, mission data, squad link-up, everything that you need in combat. It has an incredibly powerful comm unit in-built into the helmet, so you will pretty much never be out of contact. Finally, it has three different modes of vision: Normal, Night Vision and finally Infrared Heat Vision.
The SBR-500 was a jet black weapon for the most part. The stock and barrel were both completely rectangular, ending at the front with a small circular cylinder protruding out of the barrel. This was the firing point. The stock of the gun was triangular, with around half of it cut away, leaving a small gap to connect a strap onto the weapon. It only had a single handle; the other place for the hold being an indented hand grip on the barrel of the rifle. Two small ranged sights were attached to the rifle, one in the middle of the barrel, the other at the end of the barrel, slightly spread apart from the very end of the weapon.

The MECT Armour was a piece of beauty. Almost the entire suit was covered in heavy plastoid protection, with only a few gaps, around the knees, lower thighs, elbows, shoulder sides, and the neck. However, the gaps were very minute and knee and elbow guards covered up most of the gaps. Underneath the stark white armour was the jet black combat fatigue that the recruits were currently wearing. In small places along the white MECT armour, symbols and rectangular marks of orange were painted on, predominantly the chest, a small square image on the centre of the end of the shoulder guards, a stripe on the elbow pads and knee pads, and well as some stripes on top centre of the thigh component armour. Finally, the top half of the leg armour component was completely covered in the orange paint, which slimmed out to a stripe proceeding down the centre of the leg guard, and finishing at the end of the white boots. A utility belt was strapped around the waist of the combat suit, brimming with packs of blaster clips, grenades, a short range comm device, and various other packs.
The MECT Helmet was a strange looking piece of equipment, something that the Republic had never seen in the past. It was vague similar to the Neo-Crusader Mandalorian helmets, with the same visor piece; a black rectangular vision slit, which protruded from the middle downwards, branching off into two quarter-circular lines down each side of the helmet. On either side of the helmet, there was a protruding triangular plastoid component, with an audio filter built into it. Finally, at the bottom of the helmet was a voice filter, which was displayed by three voice amplifier outputs.

Typho nodded in satisfaction, viewing and examining the weapons and armour intently, relishing the idea of utilizing them to his advantage. A dramatic change had come over the young man in the past few weeks of his military training and life. No longer was he a non-ambitious, uncaring (to the rest of the galaxy and the War) boy who’s only train of thought was farming and repairing. In the past, he had long accepted that his fate would end as a farmer and trader on Kuat, and had never even contemplated being ordered into service for the Republic.
Already he was showing far more confidence, leadership, and patriotism in his personality, always giving the recruits around him encouraging words and spurring them on. He never let anyone in his sight fall behind, always moving back in the long training marches and hikes to push the soldiers who were lagging behind forward.
Typho had been on many hunting trips with his father in the past, and was able to say without exaggerating that he was a fairly competent shot with a small hunting rifle. But his skill had dramatically improved over the last week of rifle training. He could now hit a moving target from over 400 metres away accurately, and could let off three full clips in the space of a single minute (on full automatic). He could now efficiently reload his weapon in the space of under three seconds. Typho had come to understand that it was more than just a rifle. It was a way of life. An art that one had to fully commit themselves to understand every aspect of ranged warfare. Trooper Raame was well on his way to achieving this.

Part Four – Company Command

In the following weeks since their initial presentation of the weapons and attire of the Republic Trooper, all 200 men had been split into twenty squads. Each squad was comprised of two fire teams, a Corporal and a Sergeant. Additionally, the 12th Company had been given command to one Captain Dantius Drake and his Lieutenant, Rachil Falkus. Drake was a no-nonsense leader, a veteran of over fifteen campaigns against the Sith Empire, and a charismatic man, earning the instant respect of the men of 12th Company. A man of around thirty-two or so years of age, he was dark skinned, completely bald, and his face had three long scars running diagonally from the top left side of his head to his bottom right, which he had earned from a fight with a Nexu on the planet of Cholganna in his third assignment, when he was still just a Sergeant. He held himself with utter assurance and confidence, yet not arrogance and was constantly on the lookout for any weaknesses in the Company, quickly moving to fix them, which he did without fail. His body was completely in shape. Not one ounce of fat could be found on his rock hard muscles. It seemed that the entire of his body was in perfect muscle shape and fitness. Drake was the epitome of a Company Captain.
Falkus was a woman with a similar personality. She had only been in seven campaigns, yet still bore the same veteran aura as the Captain did. She had shoulder length dark red hair, which was either tied up in a bun (when on duty) or allowed to be in its natural state, hanging loosely down around her shoulders. Her face was smooth and tanned, yet still fair, and was clearly very beautiful. Falkus’ eyes were a rich deep blue and slightly almond shape. It was clear that the majority of the young men of 12th Company had an infatuation for her, as she was still in her early twenties. She clearly could tell this, yet she never let it show, as it wasn’t good for her position to be romantically involved with any of the Troopers. Her figure was very slender, yet showed strength and flexibility in it. Falkus was the perfect soldier a Captain could ask to act as his second-in-command.
Typho could tell that under the leadership of these two individuals, 12th Company would be in good hands and prosper. Typho was assigned to Echo Squad, which was comprised of fire team Ruina and fire team Vindictus. Typho, Garviel, Dahniel and Aelix were to make up fire team Vindictus, whilst their other squad members, four men named Laarne, Poledas, Jyrmok, and Oryn were the Troopers in squad Ruina. Echo Squad’s Sergeant was a man named Varius Kibran, and their Corporal was one Solin Rexel. While the Sergeant looked like an accomplished, hard and stoic Non-Commissioned Officer, Rexel was a F.O.O.T. (Fresh Out Of Training) Greenie. Typho definitely wasn’t going to place his life in the hands of a man like that.
Kibran was a tanned man, his dark grey hair short and tight in the shape of a crew cut. His right eye was dark brown, whilst his left was a light grey colour. He had a single scar that ran down his left eye, all the way through the eyelids and the iris. It was the reason that Kibran’s left eye was light grey instead of brown. The lower half of his right arm had been replaced by an augmetic limb; apparently it had been sliced off in a fight against a Sith Warrior.
Typho knew that Kibran wouldn’t allow anything but the best, and the young man felt that the Sergeant would never let the men under his command down in a warzone.
The men had their Captain, their Sergeants and their squads. It was now only a matter of time before they were given their first assignment.

Part Five – The Call of Duty

For months on end, the members of 12th Company had rigorously and continuously trained, keeping their bodies in the best shape they could possibly be, and honing their military and weaponry skills to an incredibly experienced level. However, that was not enough. None of these men had ever been in the thick of battles, none had ever fired at a live man, nor been shot at in return. They had never heard the screams and cries of dying men, or seen rivers run red with the blood of wounded or dead soldiers, their lives thrown away so carelessly by generals and commanders. No matter how much training they undertook, every single man of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company was still a Greenhorn Rookie.

The members of fire team Vindictus had just returned from a particularly nasty hike up one of Carida’s many mountains. They were relaxing in one of the mess halls, after earning a two hour respite from their excellent form on the hike. Fire team Vindictus was already being shaped into one of the top fire teams in the entire company, yet they still had much to learn.
Troopers Dahniel and Aelix were currently situated on a couple of chairs, facing each other, a bare mess table propped up between them. They were once again arguing over who was stronger out of the two, and trying to settle the discussion with some arm wrestling. Typho never bothered to answer, when asked his opinion, as he knew it would be a matter that was never laid to rest.
Garviel, and now Typho’s closest friend, was sprawled out on one of the many rough mess sofas, his black combat boots placed on a small stool in front of him, with a dirty, charcoal coloured rag in one hand, and a case of General Issue Boot Shine in the other. The hike had done damage to the gleaming polish on his boots, and he didn’t want to be caught at the next assembly with any notion of dirtiness on them.
Typho himself was studying a military intel datapad on the many strategies that the Sith Empire Military deployed when on long campaigns and skirmishes. It never heard to read up on your enemy, and keep track of his strengths and weaknesses. Whilst he read, he absentmindedly took apart his SP-420 Blaster Pistol and then fixed all its components back into place. It was a routine that he had mastered over two months ago, and could now complete it without even thinking about it in under twenty seconds.
Aelix and Dahniel had once more started playfully insulting each other at the outcome of their last arm wrestle, when a male voice blasted over the comm system.
“All Troopers of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company, are to collect their weaponry and combat attire from the nearest armoury and assemble on flight deck Epsilon Two-Nine immediately! This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!”
Typho looked up from the datapad and over at Garviel, a grin slowly appearing on his face. He leant over to his friend, and clasped the Trooper’s right hand with his own, thumbs entwining and making a meaty smacking sound, their muscles pulsing at the hard contact.
With his free hand, Typho’s grabbed the back of Garviel’s head and pulled him in closer, so that their foreheads were touching.
“This is it,” Typho said, in a low voice. “We’re finally going to war.”
“That we are, brother,” Garviel replied. “That we are.”
Rough, calloused hands grabbed them and wrenched the two men apart, yet still retaining their grip on each other’s hand. The two Troopers looked up to see Dahniel and Aelix towering over them. Aelix laughed and whacked Garviel playfully behind the head.
“Would you two girls quit your crying, please? It’s bad enough I have to be with this lady next to me, but now you two are at it.”
“Hey, don’t blame us if you’ve been in the company of no one but men for so long that you start to picture us as women,” Garviel retorted.
“That’s ‘cause he wouldn’t be able to pull any woman anyway, regardless of the company he’s been in,” Dahniel put in, punching his best friend on the arm.
“I don’t know,” Aelix replied, lifting his hands up innocently. “Our sexy lieutenant might have a thing or two to say about that.”
“Yeah, you wish,” Typho said, enjoying the amusing atmosphere that had been generated. “She’d take a Gungan over your sorry ass.”
A shadow loomed over the four men, and they all looked in the direction of where it was coming from. Before them was Captain Drake and Lieutenant Falkus, both in full MECT Armour, save for their helmets, which hung loosely from a strap at their utility belts. Each of them carried a RAC-340 Assault Carbine, a favourite for officers and sergeants alike.
All four Troopers quickly snapped to attention at the officers’ presence. Drake waved their salutes aside.
“At ease, men. I see you were having a rather nice conversation there, including some things to do with our good lieutenant here,” the Captain said, in his deep voice.
“What they said was almost certainly true, anyway, sir,” Falkus added, winking at Aelix, causing him to grin sheepishly.
“Well, what are you men still doing here, anyway?” Drake asked. “You planning on staying behind and letting that sorry bunch of lads take all the glory? I am not letting one of my best fire teams stay behind when the shots start flying. Move your butts to the armoury. Get some, boys! GET SOME!”
And with that final order, Drake and his lieutenant saluted once more, and strode off in the direction of the flight deck, leaving fire team Vindictus to charge off, every man cheering at the prospect of fighting, towards the armoury to get suited up.

Part Six – Operation Hammer Storm

Two and a half thousand Troopers in their many different variants of the MECT Armour (Light Recon, Heavy Siege, Assault and Armoured patterns to name a few) stood silently at attention on flight deck Epsilon Two-Nine, arrayed before a multitude of Republic Military Shuttles, which were preparing to board the men onto the ten Thranta-class Warships that would take them to their destination. They had yet to find out where they were going or what their mission was; it would all be relayed to them once they were onboard the ships.
It wasn’t just the soldiers of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps that made up this Republic Attack Force. Elements from the 7th Caridan Armoured Legion, the 1st Coruscanti Recon Corps and the 10th Aureyan Siege Army were amongst the Kuati Troopers. Four Companies of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps were to take part in the campaign: The second, the fifth, the ninth, and the twelfth. Another four from the 10th Aureyan Siege Army. Three from the 7th Caridan Armoured Legion, and finally, one and a half light recon companies from the 1st Coruscanti Recon Corps.
It was a very versatile Attack Force, with elements that specialised in many different areas of warfare. However, it was up to the companies of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps to make the breach in the enemies’ defenses, should there be one, so that they could make way for the 7th Caridan Armoured Legion to push their heavy units and vehicles forward, to clear the way for the rest of the Attack Force.
In tremendously delicate and professionally designed ceremonial dress uniform, the Command Squad of the entire Republic Attack Force were displayed on a large podium in front of the Republic Military Shuttles and before the thousands of Troopers. One man stood slightly ahead of the rest of his retinue.
His name was Lieutenant General Tulrine Azakyel, a name widely known among the noble families and officials through the Republic and especially the core worlds, including Coruscant. He was decorated as a war hero and supreme strategist due to his efforts in the Eriadu Liberation Campaign and the many other wars and battles he had fought in, most prominent being the Battle of Naminthai, where he apparently orchestrated a defense of 3,000 Republic Troopers who fought off and defeated a force of 10,000 Sith Soldiers and Warriors.
That was what the propaganda had stated anyway. In truth, he was none of those things. The Troopers who fought under him called him the “Glory Boy”. He was an arrogant, ambitious, selfish bastard who cared about nothing but his own name and legend. The only reason that he won the campaigns and battles was because he sent in wave after wave of men, regardless of their specialising areas, just to win the fight. Azakyel cared not for the lives of the common Trooper, and would sacrifice thousands just to make his fame grow amongst the politicians and nobles.
Even the Battle of Naminthai was false propaganda. It was a force of 4,000 Sith that they were against, the Republic had heavy artillery, air craft and battle tanks all to use to their advantage. Funnily enough, however, his rivals, generals and commanders alike, that had participated in that battle all had either not come out of the bloodshed alive, or had died from “wounds” later on. This was just to make sure that Azakyel was the only big name left after the warfare. It seemed to happen a lot wherever he went.
The man wasn’t either a war hero or a supreme strategist. All his strategies came from subordinates who were all too scared to say anything or speak up. He never once took part in the fighting, and most Troopers thought he had never even fired a rifle.
All in all, he was a hated figure amongst the common Troopers, and even a large number of officers (Those who didn’t kiss his ass to further their careers). Azakyel would have been far better off as a politician, rather than a Military General. None of the Troopers had any respect or loyalty towards him whatsoever.
The man himself wasn’t anything special. No battle scars, no proof that he ever went into combat. He had grey eyes, and hair that was beginning to go silver. He held himself ramrod straight, but the men doubted that was from any military training. He probably had a pole stuck up his ass, or something worse.
Azakyel’s command retinue consisted of high-ranking officers and politicians, strategists and assistants. They were nothing out of the ordinary for a standard and unimaginative command squad, yet for a Republic Attack Force like this, the Troopers were expecting more of a military command squad, rather than one that was filled with men who had never set foot in a battlefield, and those who were actually military officers, and not just politicians and strategists, didn’t seem the type who knew the battle from the view of a common soldier. Due to that, they would never be able to as skilled in leadership as some of the other command squads.
The only exception was a man in the back row of the command squad, dressed in military fatigues, rather than the uniforms than the other members of the command retinue were dressed in. The man was fair-skinned, sporting a short and very neat “crew-cut”, with a tattoo of a Krayt Dragon down the left side of his neck. His muscles were rock hard, and his torso spread from a pronounced V-shape. He wore dark grey and black combat fatigues, in an urban camouflage pattern, and his military appearance sent out a far more leadership aura than the other commanders gave. His name was Colonel Zayne “Dragon” Merkoni, the grizzled and hard leader of the Elite Troopers of the Dantooine Shock Commandos, a group of two hundred hardened veterans of countless battles and campaigns, specialising in cracking open the enemy defenses with lightning fast strikes and assault weaponry, and then pushing deep into the enemy territory, carving a path for the rest of the fighting force. Unfortunately for Azakyel’s Attack Force, there would be no Dantooine Shock Commandos, despite the General’s demand of utilizing them in his new campaign.
They were currently scouting out and recruiting new members from the Troopers in Republic Attack Forces and Military Bases from all over the galaxy; an undertaking that required nearly every able soldier available. They had suffered heavy losses in their last campaign, and needed to replenish their numbers, however, Colonel Merkoni had agreed for him, and five of his best men to be transported to the Military Academy of Carida to help out in the new campaign, and secretly scout out any potential candidates for their elite fighting force. They had the official Republic Military Right of Conscription, meaning that there could be no arguments from the Trooper’s former Company or Commander, once the decision to recruit them had been made. It was one of the highest degrees of honour, duty and glory to be chosen into the Dantooine Shock Commandos and the majority of the Troopers aspired to be chosen.
Colonel Merkoni had only agreed after much demanding, and in truth, he had only come because so many different companies and armies had been assembled, so it was a great opportunity to view those who would be earlier. The Colonel had left his Commandos under the command of his many lieutenants, and had travelled here with his retinue to evaluate the Troopers after seeing them in action.
Thousands of bodies straightened even further, if that was even possible by then, as General Azakyel stepped forward, to stand in front of a large comm device, which would amplify the words into each Trooper’s audio filter. He was preparing to address the men, and inform them of the upcoming campaign that they were about to undertake.
“Attention, Troopers of Azakyel Republic Attack Force,” he said, with a voice that sounded like it belonged more at home with a politician. “You have been assembled here in preparation for a military campaign, Operation Hammer Storm, against the Sith Empire. The target location is the capital planet of the Teth System, also titled Teth. It is a jungle and forest world, however with many plains located around the planet. The Sith Empire has a substantial hold over the planet, and Republic Intelligence has revealed that this is a primary military command headquarters for the Sith Empire. Eradicating the Sith presence on the planet, and destroying the command headquarters will greatly help the Republic war effort against the Sith Empire.
“Your company commanders will brief you on the rest of the mission Intel on the way to the Teth System. Prepare to board your transports. Dismissed!”
General Azakyel smartly saluted the men under his Attack Force, turned sharply on his heel, and began to walk away from the podium towards a Command Thranta-class Warship, titled the “Liberator”, which would serve as the Attack Force’s flagship as well as being Azakyel’s own personal Capital Ship. The rest of the command retinue followed suit and become marching towards the Liberator, many wearing long military dress trench coats, adorned with medals and other prestigious awards.
With a tremendous banging sound, every single Trooper on the flight deck saluted the commanders in perfect unison, the many lines of armoured bodies rippling in a multi-coloured wave.
Flight deck officers were splitting up the forces, allocating the Troopers onto the massive infantry ramps that would allow the men to come on board the behemoth sized ships. There was a maximum capacity of three hundred Troopers per ship, not to mention the specialised transport cruisers that were designed to carry the large vehicles, tanks, munitions, and assault ships.
12th Company was being ushered onto one such ramp, and Typho and his fire team found themselves being pushed along with the rest of the Troopers onto the ramp. The men had never set foot in one of the massive Thranta-class Warships and the size of the great vessels left the Troopers in awe.
More voices were shouting out from the blaring communications speakers, hard edged metallic genderless sounds. “As soon as you enter your ship, move to your allocated barracks to await the briefing. Your squad sergeants will inform you of the mission intelligence.”
Garviel peered up at a nearby room layout, glancing to find where the barracks were located. As was usual among Republic Warships, the barracks were positioned in the middle of the ship, so the Troopers weren’t too far from both the hanger and the escape pods in the case of an emergency.
“Come on,” Garviel said to his comrades, “Echo Barracks is a little walk away. At least this press of bodies will lessen by the time we reach it. Let’s go.”
The entire force of 12th Company and half of 8th Company were garrisoned on the Thranta-class Warship named the “Freedom”. Though primarily a ship of space combat and warfare, many of the capital ships had been modified to support more troops than a normal Thranta¬-class Warship could carry. However, it did mean that the ships lacked the shielding and firepower of their brother combat Warships, and thus were more prone to be targeted. The modified variants of the Thranta-class Warships held the heavy artillery and war vehicles, including heavy tanks, mobile command centres, additional dropships, and room for more men. Unfortunately, only two of the seven capital ships were the modified “Heavies”, and thus the majority of the ships only carried the standard supplement of three hundred Republic troopers, light and medium support tanks and vehicles, as well as light artillery.
Typho followed his squad mates towards Echo Barracks, where Sergeant Kibran and Corporal Rexel were no doubt already posted, waiting for the troopers to arrive and make sure that they were combat-ready and relay the mission briefing that they would have received from Captain Drake. Kibran had a care for the soldiers under his command that few others had exhibited, in Typho’s eyes, anyway.
Troopers comradely jostled one another, and conversed in a constant, deafening din, as three hundred men began to make their way to their allocated dormitories, the cacophony rendering it almost impossible to hear one another, even though that did nothing to cease the noise.
Slowly, as men found their barracks, the noise began to lessen, and the troopers could finally begin to hear one another. The corridors and hallways of the massive warship were stark white and silver, due to the durasteel material, yet there was the constant blues and oranges of the Republic emblems and insignias, streaks and symbols that were slashed all over the ship.
The Freedom was a classy vessel for a warship, Typho mused. It seemed that appearances were a must for General Azakyel and his battlefleet, rather than the extra firepower and modifications that could have come from the credits that would have been spent on making the warships classier. Well, that apparent want for classy appearance didn’t extend towards the troopers’ barracks, as the members of fire team Vindictus entered Echo Barracks. It was Spartan, to say the least. It sported a main “lounge” room, although the troopers knew that lounging about was the last thing they would be doing. A couple of tables and ten bare chairs were stationed in the middle of the room.
Off to the side was a holovid player, although Typho doubted that it would run anything other than military briefing vids. Other than that, there was next to nothing in the main room. There were four other doorways that led off to the rest of the rooms. Through those doors lay one bathroom, equipped with a small shower and necessities, as well as three separate sleeping quarters; one for each fire team, and one for the two NCOs.
The bunks that were lined up neatly inside of the sleeping quarters were bare and looked incredibly uncomfortable, and the only thing that actually appeared to be in place for comfort was one reflector, large enough to fit the reflection of a fully grown man in combat gear. There was a foot locker at the end of each sleep couch, to hold any supplies and valuables that the troopers owned, even though there was next to nothing that they would store in there, save for their combat gear and arsenal.
Fire team Ruina were already situated lazily around one of the tables, playing some sort of card game. Pazaak probably, Typho surmised. It was a popular game among the troopers of the Galactic Republic Military, and it killed any spare time that they were allowed. It seemed that Ruina was betting on the only thing that they could: off-duty chores. Jobs like cleaning duties, punishment details, and cooking duties were the favourites to wager. While not as simple as betting with credits, they came in handy in the long run, particularly if it was something nasty.
Trooper Oryn had just lost a wager of three sets of cleaning jobs to Trooper Poledas; his comrades chuckling at the unlucky set that had shown up in Oryn’s latest hand. The trooper sighed, and then looked up as the squad members of fire team Vindictus made their way over. The men exchanged greetings, nods and friendly insults to one another.
“Tough break, man,” Aelix said to Oryn, mockingly patting the trooper on the back, as if to console him. “You sure you want to keep playing after that?”
“Hell, you guys are welcome to join in,” Oryn replied grumpily, shrugging of Aelix’s arm. “I wouldn’t mind winning a few hands off you. At least it’ll wipe that damned smug grin off your face.”
Aelix laughed and reached out towards one of the chairs, dragging it over. Garviel and Dahniel followed suit, and soon they were all talking and joking as they lost, won, and thoroughly enjoyed their fun. Typho watched them for a bit, not interested in playing. He wasn’t a betting kind of person, unless they played by Republic Senate rules.
On an impulse, the young man turned away and made his way over to one of the reflectors. There happened to be on in the main room, yet for a reason that Typho couldn’t understand. He guessed that it was for the NCOs or something, to double check any problems with their uniform. Not the most solid of reasons to invest in extra reflectors, but the trooper wasn’t one to question orders that had to do with luxury items.
Typho looked at himself in the reflectors, or more precisely, looked at the combat armour that he was clad head to toe in. The colour scheme had changed quite a bit since he had originally donned the armour during basic training, all those many months ago. Gone were the stripes of orange. They had been replaced by slashes of blood red, one the arm pieces, leg pieces, and one large line down the middle of the chest piece. Additionally, the right shoulder pad was completely painted red, whilst the left one sported a horizontal red line down the middle of it, much like the chest piece.
The standard Republic Army insignia positioned on the left side of the chest piece had been replaced by the symbol of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps: A blood red hand clenched into a fist, raised into the air. Underneath the symbol was a small twelve alongside a capital E and the number one, in perfect red military font. This signified that the trooper who possessed this armour was a member of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company, Echo Squad, Fire Team One. Finally, the helmet that Typho currently wore wielded another of these fists, with the accompanying twelve, as well as a red line sliding down the back of the helmet.
All troopers of the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps sported these colour schemes; the only variation between companies being the small numbers and letter underneath each insignia. Typho felt that he liked the look far more than the standard combat pattern, as it gave him a sense of uniqueness and belonging.
A voice behind him brought him out of his musings, making him spin around and snap to attention.
“Well, ain’t this a nice little party.” It was Sergeant Kibran, flanked by his subordinate, Corporal Rexel. Both NCOs had their helmets by their sides, and RAC-340 Assault Carbines resting over their shoulders. Kibran eyed them, the ghost of a small smile playing at his lips. “Enjoying ourselves, are we?”
“Roger that, Sarge,” Jyrmok replied, waving a lazy two fingered salute at his squad leader.
The grizzled war veteran chuckled. “I’m sure you are. Now, if you all aren’t too busy... front and centre!”
Kibran roared the last three words at his men, immediately galvanising them into action. It wasn’t that he was displeased with them in anyway; merely that he enjoyed catching his troopers off guard, to test if they obeyed his orders instantly. Evidently they did.
“Right,” the sergeant continued. “We’ve got orders relayed from command; mission briefing. Do we have a holovid player here somewhere?”
Rexel confirmed this, and accepting the small holovid disk from his sergeant, briskly marched over to the player and inserted it. Immediately, the small blue, fuzzy image of Captain Drake shot into life, his true appearance somewhat deflated due to the holovid player.
The eight other troopers in Echo Squad all gathered around the small holovid player, intent on hearing what was in store for them and their company. Hopefully they’d be seeing some damned action already. Without registering the individuals that he was speaking to, Captain Drake began his briefing to the men.
“Gentlemen, as you no doubt all know by now, the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 12th Company, along with three other of our companies, are taking part in a campaign known as Operation Hammer Storm. Republic Intelligence has discovered that the planet Teth is home to a command headquarters for the Sith Empire, as well as a large orbital defense operation, able to ship out orbital cannons, ships, as well as other supplies and troops.
“It is a remote planet, located in the Outer Rim Territories, which explains why it has escaped the notice of Republic Intelligence. A few weeks ago, that changed. Our spies and probe droids captured images and video feed of Teth, and relayed them back to the Intelligence Command located on Coruscant. Within days, an attack force was mobilised, consisting of assault, siege, recon and armoured units, with additional light, medium and heavy vehicle elements. It is quite a large task force for this kind of work.”
“Hnh, yeah. No doubt Azakyel wanted to make sure that there was no chance of him failing,” Garviel muttered, looking over at Typho. “That’s why he brought us in.”
There were hearty chuckles at their fellow trooper’s words, and numerous fist bumps. Already it seemed that the troopers of Echo Squad were quite confident of themselves. Drake continued his briefing as if there wasn’t an interruption, which in a way for him, there wasn’t.
“While our ships attack the orbital defenses in space, the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps will be sending dropships filled with troopers from 5th Company, 9th Company, and 12th Company. Second Company will be waiting on station in case we require any reinforcements. Additionally, elements from the 7th Caridan Armoured Legion and the 10th Aureyan Siege Army will be assisting us, however their support will be limited, and the companies of assault units will be required to do most of the work.
The holovid image of Drake instantly vanished, immediately being replaced by a view of the planet Teth, which zoomed into a certain location, somewhere in the north-west quadrant of the planet. It showed a vast complex of generators, heavily defended with anti-air towers, gun emplacements, machine gun bunkers, hideouts, minefields and all sort of other defenses. Drake voice filled the audio feed, continuing the briefing.
“This is the main power generator complex. It feeds power to the defenses up in the planet’s orbit. Our task force has been assigned to take it out, to secure orbit for the Republic, giving our ships a much easier time to send down reinforcements, attack forces, and other assistance. It is a vital role for the success of this campaign; if we don’t knock out these orbital defenses, there may not even be a proper assault upon the planet itself.”
The captain began relaying out the various missions for each squad under his company. The troopers zoned out for a little while, until Drake mentioned Echo Squad.
“Echo Squad and Foxtrot Squad are to take out the western machine gun emplacements of the complex, located near Power Generator Delta-Three. One the machine guns are taken out, you will receive support from a demolitions squad from the 10th Aureyan Siege Army, Fourth Company, who are to take out generator Delta-Three. This generator supplies power to the minefields located at the various hard points around the complex.
“Taking these minefields out will present us with an opportunity to bring in tanks and other mobile support from the 7th Caridan Armoured Legion. The armoured support will make things are much easier time with taking out the rest of the complex. Now, Gamma Squad is to take out...”
Drake continued handing out assignments, all the way down to Tango Squad. It seemed that all two hundred troopers of 12th Company would be taking part in this assault. If the mission turned out to be a disaster, and now evac was able to arrive in time, 12th Company would be wiped out on its first assignment. It was up to the troopers to prevent that from happening. Typho’s attention switched back to the holovid, now that their captain has finished handing out mission assignments.
“It will be a tough fight, men, but I believe in all of you. We’ve trained for this, all these many long months, and I have complete faith that you will all complete your objectives quick, hard and fast. I will see you all before we disembark. Dismissed.”
The holovid faded, and the audio feed instantly cut. Kibran made a motion for Corporal Rexel to remove the disk, and then turned to address his troopers. Unbeknownst to them all, while they had been transfixed on watching the mission briefing from their captain, the Azakyel Republic Attack Force had transitioned smoothly to hyperspace and was now when on its way to Teth, and to begin the campaign known as Operation Hammer Storm.
“Well squad, you heard the man,” Kibran said. “We’ll be having the hard slog of it, so I expect you to be staying frosty and mission ready twenty-four seven. Have your gear, equipment and weapons on you at all times.”
Dahniel and Laarne groaned, glancing at one another with pained expressions. They were the designated squad automatic weapon (SAW) gunners for their fire teams. Each trooper was equipped with a BlasTech LMG-815 Heavy Repeater, also known as a light machine gun, depending on the ammunition that was used. It could support power cells, as well as 100-round belt fed magazine clips, firing 6.23x48mm RMAC bullets.
A useful weapon for a fire team, yet it was undoubtedly heavy, and for a trooper to have to carry it round on his person twenty-four could become quite tiring and painful for him.
“Yes, that includes you two ladies as well,” Kibran told them, a glint of amusement showing in his good eye. “You’ll have to carry them in combat, so why not get ready for it now? Anyway, I expect you to also continue with your combat exercises, including firing drills, breaching and clearing ops, as well as physical exercise. I need you one hundred and ten per cent combat efficient. Alright troopers, dismissed.”
Kibran and Rexel turned to leave to head off to the NCO lounge quarters, located in the deck above the enlisted quarters, when Typho called out to them, voicing a thought that had been with him for some time.
“Hey Sarge, which fire team are you and Corporal Rexel going to be attached to?”
Kibran narrowed his eyes for a moment, his gaze lingering slightly on both fire teams before switching back to Trooper Raame. “Corporal Rexel will be assigned to Fire Team One, while I’ll be taking command of Fire Team Two.”
Typho nodded, and then saluted his sergeant. While on the outside he showed no emotion to this statement, inwardly he felt a small sense of disappointed. The trooper would have much preferred to be fighting alongside his sergeant, rather than the rookie corporal. He shrugged to himself; it wasn’t his place to question his sergeant’s orders.
As the two NCOs left the small trooper barracks, Typho turned around to see his comrades had already one again situated themselves around the tables and chairs, and were busily playing some more Pazaak. Raame hesitated a moment, then decided to join in. After all, he might come out lucky for once.

Part Seven – A Hard Landing

While many ships boasted incredibly fast and powerful hyperdrive systems, the Thranta-class Warships under the Azakyel Battle Fleet had no reason as to why they would need such speedy hyperdrives. They were not a rapid response strike fleet, and thus were able to take their time to reach their destinations. As it was, Teth was quite far away from Carida, and it would take a few days to reach the planet.
During this time, Sergeant Varius Kibran kept his squad training constantly; firing drills, tactical deployments, room and emplacement clearing. Anything that would keep his men’s minds focused and on task. It was better that they be too exhausted from their combat drills than to be thinking about the upcoming battle. Kibran knew that too many men made themselves overexcited, or in the worst cases absolutely terrified from the knowledge that they were about to go to war.
Yes, he thought to himself as he watched Fire Team Vindictus successfully perform another breach and clear simulation, much better to keep their minds on task.
An alarm suddenly flashed on his wrist-computer, signalling him that they were nearing the planet of Teth. Eyes narrowing slightly, Kibran looked up at his fire team and signalled them on the comm.
“Fire Team Vindictus, front and centre,” he called. “Fire Team Ruina, fall in on my position.”
As the two fire teams immediately stopped their exercises, and fell in to their sergeant’s location, Kibran began informing them of the new situation.
“Squad, I’ve just received word that we’re two hours out from Teth. We’re to gear up, and make our way to hanger bay one. All of 12th Company is mobilising to that location. This is, men. We’re finally seeing some more action. Fall out.”
“Roger that, sergeant!” came the chorus of replies from the troopers of Echo Squad. Slamming his right fist into Garviel’s, Typho hoisted his blaster rifle onto its sling on his back and began jogging towards the armoury, where they would stack upon grenades, med kits, and any other item that would keep them alive in combat.
It didn’t take long, and soon every member was fully equipped with their Multi Environment Combat Tactical Armour, Assault Trooper pattern, as well as their primary weapon, the BlasTech SBR-500 blaster rifle. The only troopers that differed from the standard layout were Dahniel and Laarne, who hefted the BlasTech LMG-815 Heavy Repeater, Sergeant Kibran and finally Corporal Rexel, who each carried a RAC-340 Assault Carbine. Each blaster rifle and assault carbine was equipped with a XRS high Intensity Battle Scope, and Garviel and Poledas each had a HEG180 Grenade Launcher attached to the underside of their blaster rifles.
In addition, all ten troopers had a holstered SP-420 Blaster Pistol strapped to one of their thighs, a HK Combat Knife, four HE-50 Grenades, and two Flashbangs. Echo Squad was definitely well equipped for the mission ahead.
Kibran looked at his two fire teams and growled in approval to himself. They were ready. After months and months of training, the seventeen, eighteen and nineteen year old young men were ready. “Right, let’s move it out! Go go go!”
“Hooah!” The Troopers roared out the battle cry that had been part of the Republic Army for hundreds of years, and then in two uniform lines began jogging towards the hanger bay, ready for some action.
It took them little time to reach hanger bay one; it was on the deck below the armoury, and there were plenty of turbolifts to take them to their destination. As the men exited the turbolift that had deposited them in one end of the hanger bay, a marvellous sight lay before them.
Squads from their company were lining up in order of alphabet, with Alpha lined up at the far left, then Bravo, then so on. Arrayed in full combat gear, the blood red colours shining radiantly due to the polished state of the armour, the 3rd Kuati Assault Corps, 3rd Company, was certainly ready for war.
Troopers quickly ran to and fro from the turbolifts, sighting the positions marked for their fire teams and rapidly lining up in order. It took only a few minutes for the entire company to be lined up and arrayed for battle. At the head of the force, Captain Drake, Lieutenant Falkus, and the three veteran sergeants of 12th Company, faced the assault troopers displayed before them. Drake walked forward a few paces and addressed the men, his deep voice carrying easily and resonantly to every corner of the hanger bay.
“Men of 12th Company,” he began, clenching his right fist and slamming it into the left side of his chest. “This is it. Your finally have your first assignment, and are ready to go battle. I will not lie to you. Warfare is fierce, costly and deadly. But I can fearlessly say to you know that we, the troopers of the Republic, will make these Sith bastards pay for every fuckin’ life that they have stolen from the citizens, civilians, and soldiers of this great galactic democracy.
“No doubt many of you have been affected by this war, whether they were relatives, friends, or homes. Millions have died in twenty years that this war has raged on, and millions more will no doubt still fall. But this is a new age... an age of strength, courage, and duty. The Republic is no longer complacent. We have seen the costs of that! With each fallen Republic soldier, we shall make those savages pay with ten of their own!
“You all know your objectives, and I expect you to all successfully accomplish them with all that is required of you. With hearts of steel, and minds of courage, we shall destroy the Sith occupation here on Teth, and then push them all the way back to the hell hole that they came from! DO YOU GET ME!?”
Drake bellowed the last few words at his troopers, all of which were already fired up from his battle speech.
“WE GET YOU, SIR!” All two hundred troopers under the command of Captain Dantius Drake roared the reply back to him, and he grinned savagely behind his CMECT (Command Multi Environment Combat Tactical) helmet, a fierce light reflecting in his eyes from the glare of the polished armour-clad soldiers arrayed before him.
“Then SHOW me! Get to your dropships! Sergeants, move ‘em out! GO GO GO!” Drake saluted his men once, and then turned away towards his command dropship, his retinue flanking him as he did so.
Raame yelled alongside his comrades as they all let out a mighty war cry, turned and jogged in formation towards their allocated dropship. He saw a skilfully rendered Rancor head on the side of their dropship, with the words “Deadly” printed in a bloody font alongside the hull of the ship.
Typho chuckled to himself as he made his way up the small ramp and into the dropship. The pilot sure had a battle-hardened sense of humour. Echo Squad’s dropship, and indeed all trooper dropships, was arrayed with two rows of combat seats, each one facing opposite one another and lined up against the sides of the hull.
There was no true strict order of seating, aside from the SAW gunners being closest to the exit of the ship, with the NCOs being right beside them. Typho took his place beside Aelix and Garviel, his position being second last from departing. As he passed Dahniel, who was securing himself into a “hot drop” combat position, in case they needed to rapidly pull out from the bird, should it take a critical hit from blaster fire, he slammed his fist into his comrade’s presented one, an act that had become customary for Echo Squad.
The trooper then took his place in his spot, watching as Aelix and Garviel sat down on either side of him. He similarly slammed fists with the both of them, then breathed deeply, attempting to calm his nerves, which were rapidly rising due to the excitement he was experiencing.
A calm, cool female voice started speaking over the comm, and Typho heard a slight southern Corellian accent.
“This is your pilot, Lieutenant Jess “Deadly” Heliyah, speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for takeoff. It is currently 23 degrees Celsius planet side, with bright sunny skies and not much cloud. Estimated time of arrival is six minutes. Please enjoy your trip and thank you for flying Deadly Airlines.”
The troopers locked in and ready for combat all chuckled at the Lieutenant’s words. “Deadly” always had a way to make her boys feel at ease prior to a combat drop; her piloting skills made that even easier once everyone began going to hell.
An alarm flashed on the HUD inside Typho’s helmet. Mission details were all uploading onto his data reader, including the exact location of Echo Squad’s primary objective. On the left hand side of his HUD, a small timer slowly cycled downwards, the time until the ships were ready to exit hyperspace becoming shorter and shorter.
Barely a few moments later, the mission timer his full zeroes, and the space outside of the massive hanger bay smoothly transitioned from blue flames and flashes back to normal space, with thousands of twinkling lights set into an inky sea of black. However, that wasn’t the only environment that was in the immediate vicinity. The planet of Teth was clearly visible, bright, with a purple-brown tinge.
In orbit around the planet was a multitude of space defenses. Orbital guns, small space stations, squads of Starfighters, and half a dozen capital ships all were arrayed before them. No doubt this was repeated all over the orbit of Teth. It seemed that the Republic Battle Fleet had a lot of work ahead of them. Reinforcements would undoubtedly be sent here, but it was up to the ground force to help secure this quadrant of space.
As the troopers looked out from the open ramp of the dropship and out into space, Republic fighter squadrons, frigates, freighters and capital ships all moved to engage the hostile forces in the area. That was the signal for the trooper dropships to embark on their speedy entrance to hell.
Lieutenant Heliyah’s voice sounded over the comm once more, and Typho suddenly sat up straight, knowing that this was it. “All fire teams, we are a go. I repeat, we are a go. Brace yourselves for any hard hits.”
The ramp that Echo Squad was all looking out of suddenly started to close, and Dropship Echo-One-Deadly began its slow glide out of the hanger bay and into the raging space battle around them. Although the troopers couldn’t see anything around them, they could definitely hear it. Loud thumps, bangs and screeches filled the air as all around them laser cannon fire, torpedoes and missiles whizzed around the rapidly descending dropship.
Nonetheless, the flying skill of “Deadly” was keeping the troopers currently in the clear; a feat helped by the fact that there were dozens of other dropships zooming towards the surface of the planet, and also because the ships of Azakyel Battle Fleet were engaging the hostile forces, presenting more important targets than the small dropships.
“We’re in for some chop, boys,” Heliyah’s voice filtered through the comms once more, no less calm than it was before, with a hint of amusement that only came from a war veteran who had seen it all. “Life jackets are located underneath your seats in the event that the environment outside is below sea level.”
Despite what was happening around them, the troopers of Echo Squad all felt strained smiles pull at their faces. Aelix chuckled for a moment at the lieutenant’s joking tone, and then let out a long whoop of excitement as the intensity of the drop became even harder.
“That’s what I’m talking about, baby,” the trooper yelled as he was tugged back into his seat, the g-forces pulling at his body.
“Cut the chatter, Collust,” Sergeant Kibran replied curtly. “All fire teams prepare for a “hot drop”. Weapons at the ready. We’ll need to be out of this bird ASAP once we hit the ground.”
A moment later, Heliyah was back on the comms, signalling to the trooper squad. “Boys, one minute until we hit the ground. We’re passing into the atmosphere now. We’re expecting heavy resistance, so you’ll have to clear out. Mind you, I’m not risking putting this bird back in the air once we’re down. We’ll get cut to shreds.”
Kibran replied affirmatively, and then addressed Troopers Olthvaay and Laarne. “Laarne, Olthvaay, I want you on point once we hit the deck. Remember, sweeping patterns.”
The sergeant turned to Typho and Poledas before continuing. “Raame, Poledas, you two are covering our SAW gunners. Spot any hostiles for them.”
The troopers chorused their assents, and got ready for the drop.
“Twenty seconds until landing.” The voice sounded through the comms, and Typho knew it would be the last time they heard that voice until they hit the ground. He braced himself for impact, knowing from the simulations that this was a critical moment. If you were knocked out or concussed from a hard landing, it could mean the death for you and your squad.
As soon as the thoughts had entered his mind, the young trooper felt a bone-jarring thud as the drop ship hit the ground. Normally it would slow its descent before allowing the troopers to disembark, but as this was a “hot drop”, there would be no wait. Only a last second deceleration that would slightly slow down the transport before it hit the ground.
Kibran was already out of his seat and yelling at his troopers to get into action. Cursing to himself, Typho unbuckled his protective straps that kept him in place, and brought his SBR-500 blast rifle to his shoulder, as in front of him, Dahniel and Rexel were disembarking.
“Come on. Move it out, move it out! Go go go!” The sergeant’s hardened deep voice cut through the noise around him and immediately the troopers kicked into action, fanning out, with their two SAW gunners taking point.
The immediate area looked deserted, although the occasional blaster bolt could be seen and heard through the lush trees. Heliyah had managed to land them in the middle of a clearing, which was incredibly lucky. It wouldn’t have done for them to survive an incredibly hot drop to be all killed due to them crashing into the canopy above them. Something felt wrong to Typho, as if there should have been someone else in the area, friendly or otherwise. As soon as the realisation hit him, Garviel voiced it.
“Where the hell is Foxtrot squad?” Garviel asked, his blaster rifle pointed out in front of him as he questioned his sergeant.
Kibran replied immediately, calling out to Rexel. “Corporal, get Sergeant Bruhke on the horn. Give me his location!”
Foxtrot Squad was the other trooper squad assigned to complete the mission that they had been assignment. So far they had seen or heard neither head nor tail of anyone from the squad, or indeed their dropship pilot. A large shadow seemed to suddenly pass over them, and Raame glanced upwards, his eyes widening behind his helmet as he saw what was coming.
“Sergeant, dropship coming in fast,” Typho yelled out to Kibran over the squad comm channel.
A couple of thousand metres above them, a transport was speeding towards their location. There was no doubt about it. Even without the markings and symbols that identified it, it was unmistakably Foxtrot Squad’s dropship.
“Get moving!” Sergeant Kibran roared to his men, shoving Aelix in the back, pushing him forwards. “That ship is going to tear up the area.” As fast as he could, Kibran raised Lieutenant Heliyah on the comm. “Lieutenant, you’ve got to get clear, ma’am. We have a dropship incoming; I repeat dropship incoming hot and fast. Get clear!”
“Copy that, Sergeant,” came the reply. “We’ll circle round for as long as we can then land and see if we can do anything for you and your men.”
As soon as he saw “Deadly”’s dropship begin its upward ascent, Kibran returned his gaze to the immediate area, running as fast as he could to the relative safety of the tree line.
“Keep moving, men! Don’t stop! Don’t st-”
The sergeant’s words were cut of mid sentence as Foxtrot’s transport came hurtling towards their location, flaming all the while with pieces of debris ripping off from the impact and spraying all over the landing zone.
Typho had stumbled as he attempted to make it to the safety of the tree line, yet he wasn’t fast enough. With a final sickening bang, the dropship smashed into the landing zone, exploding outwards and tossing the unlucky troopers who were too close to its vicinity into the air and away from the crash.
Raame was one of the troopers. He had a fleeting feeling of pain as a wave of heat washed over his back, before he was thrown through the air, the ground rushing up to meet him. Then there was only black...

Part Eight – First Contact

There was a dull ringing in his ears, he could tell that much, as well as a thudding in the back of his head. Propping his body up on his palms, Trooper Raame looked up from the dirt and around him. His vision was blurry, and with a start, the young soldier realised that he was missing his helmet.
He shook his head a few times to clear his vision, and it appeared that it helped slightly, although the ringing hadn’t lessened one bit. How long had he been out cold? Typho wasn’t sure, but he remembered a sudden heat at his back, then being slammed onto the ground. That must have been what caused him to be knocked out.
His senses coming back faster to him now, Typho quickly sat up, searching around for his blaster rifle. The trooper quickly spotted it and scooping it up, he raised himself upright off the ground. There were multiple fires around him, as well as much debris and torn up ground. Many trees had been shattered, and some were blackened to a cinder, sporadic bursts of flame suddenly leaping up unexpectedly.
Raame spotted his squad about fifteen metres away, and guessed that he couldn’t have been out for more than thirty seconds. Groggily he began making his way over to them, registering that they were calling out his name. The ringing in his ears as well as the thudding in the back of his head had all but abated now, and his vision had returned fully to him.
The trooper had barely gone ten steps when a blood-chilling roar came out of the trees to his right. He whipped around and tried to see who had caused the yell, but without his helmet, he was doomed to failure. A moment later, he didn’t need his helmet to see.
Around a dozen Sith Troopers came charging out of the tree-line, the closest one to Typho wielding a large vibrosword. Instantly, Raame’s combat instinct came into play, and he attempted to bring his rifle up and aim at the charging hostile. The trooper tried to send a spray of blaster bolts at the Sith’s direction, but the rifle must have jammed, for nothing came out. Typho acted with desperate reflexes, switching his hold on the rifle so that one hand gripped the stock of the weapon, and the one gripped the top of the barrel.
Raame jumped backwards at the same time, his blaster rifle held out in front of him, in an attempt to ward off the coming sword strike. He was either very lucky, or had very fast reflexes, for his defensive position did just that. By jumping backwards, Typho had forced the Sith Trooper to extend his sword swipe, lessening the power behind his strike.
The vibrosword bounced off the hardened material of Typho’s blaster rifle, and the trooper immediately kicked up and outwards, his feet impacting hard with the Sith’s chest and neck. The Imperial Trooper was knocked backwards, momentarily stunned. Typho used the pause in the combat to leap up onto his feet once more, and advanced on his opponent, continuing to hold his rifle in a two-hand grip. It would serve better use here as a club rather than a ranged weapon.
The Sith Trooper, now recovered, attempted to cut his vibrosword upwards to slice into Typho’s side singlehandedly, but the member of Echo Squad was too fast for him, swinging his rifle stock-first into his enemy’s oncoming blow. Raame had much more force behind his attack, and with one swipe, he knocked the vibrosword from the Sith’s grip. Without waiting a moment, Typho used the momentum of the swing to execute a backhanded thrust with the butt of his rifle into his opponent’s bucket-shaped helmet, which sat upon his head. The blow connected and the Sith Trooper let out a cry of pain. The jarring sensation that was sent up the Republic trooper’s arms felt good.
He charged towards his enemy, not willing to let him lose control of the fight. However, Typho must have underestimated the Sith Trooper’s endurance, and with another of his yells, he ran into Raame, arms wrapping around his waist and knocking the wind out of him, not to mention the rifle flying out of the trooper’s grip.
The two soldiers slammed into the hard dirt, the Sith attempting to stay on top as he inched his fingers towards the vibrosword lying a couple of metres away. However, he could not concentrate on both the vibrosword and Typho at the same time, and within a few seconds, the Republic trooper had forced his opponent off of him.
Raame leapt on top of the Sith Trooper, even as he continued to reach for the vibrosword. Typho turned him over, and planting both of his knees into the Sith’s arms, preventing him from reaching out any further, made a grab for the combat knife that was strapped to the triceps of his right arm.
The large blade whipped out smoothly, and taking the weapon in a two-handed grip, Typho pushed downwards, hard into the Sith Trooper’s black chest armour. Designed to block blaster bolts, and not solid weapons, it didn’t take long for the plastoid armour to crack underneath Raame’s relentless thrust and force its way into the now unprotected flesh of the man beneath him.
The Sith Trooper let out a scream of pain, then went silent as his nemesis pushed even deeper, forcing the knife down all the way to the hilt. It was only then that Typho relented, pulling sharply upwards. The combat knife came free, dark red blood coating the steel. The encounter had lasted all of twenty seconds, yet to Typho it had felt much longer. It suddenly hit him as he jumped up and snatched at his blaster rifle that he had finally killed his first enemy and humanoid.
The feeling was good, and infectious. He thought that he might have felt regret at killing someone, yet all he felt was anger, anger at the Sith Empire, and the desire to wreak more havoc among the enemies of the Republic in revenge for the terror and oppression that the Sith had planted upon the galaxy. It was time for some payback.
Typho spotted his combat helmet laying a few metres away, where it must have landed after he had been thrown in the air due to the dropship crash. He rushed over to it and, taking it in a firm two-hand grip, lifted it into the air and down hard into his head, making sure that the clamps had locked into place. The locking clamps were designed to keep the helmet upon a trooper’s head, yet the force of Echo Squad’s dropship hitting the ground, and then being thrown in the air and onto the ground must have damaged the clamps. Raame would have to be careful about that in the future.
Once more ready for combat, the trooper began to assist in taking out the rest of the Sith forces assaulting their position. No doubt it had been a search party, coming in to take out any survivors of the crashed dropship, and they probably weren’t expecting to find a full squad of combat ready Republic troopers.
Moving from cover to cover, blaster shots whizzing around him and tearing up clumps of dirt, Typho made his way over to his squad, who were taking cover behind a large piece of durasteel that had been torn of the dropship as it crashed into the clearing. It appeared to have been part of the wing of the transport, and it made quite a good piece of heavy cover.
As Typho prepared to make a final sprint towards the cover, Garviel spotted him and called out to Kibran. “Sergeant, we need to lay down covering fire for Raame.”
“Roger that, Lucen,” the sergeant replied shortly, before addressing the rest of his squad. “Olthvaay, Laarne, lay down heavy fire on mark. Three... two... one... mark!”
Typho saw the squad’s two SAW gunners pop out of cover, spraying a constant hail of blaster bolts in the direction of the Sith forces, who were taking cover behind fallen trees and other pieces of ship debris. Taking advantage of the momentary respite, the trooper sprinted as fast as he could towards his comrades. A couple of the Sith troopers, who were in a better position to fire at him, sent a couple of blind shots in his direction, but they weren’t accurate and missed him by a long shot.
Raame leaped the last few metres, over the side of the dropship’s wing, and landing heavily next to Garviel, who had been providing some small covering fire from his position.
“Good to see you here, Typho,” Garviel said in a light tone. “We were beginning to think that you were too busy to come help out your squad.”
“Yeah, well as long as I’m here to help out in the end,” Typho replied, mimicking his friend’s voice.
Rexel overheard their brief exchange and reprimanded them. “Can the chatter, you two. Concentrate on doing your job.”
Garviel made a subtle insulting gesture towards the corporal, obscuring it from him view by facing in Typho’s direction. Raame chuckled behind his helmet, then turned his view over towards the Sith troopers hiding behind light cover.
Sergeant Kibran’s voice filtered over the comm, addressing Garviel and Poledas as he did. “Lucen, Poledas, use your grenade launchers to take out those bastards.”
“I can’t get a clear shot, Sarge,” Poledas replied immediately. He had never been in a good position to even fire his blaster rifle’s regular ammo at the opposing forces.
“Roger that. Lucen, what your status?”
“I’ve got a good angle at a couple of ‘em taking cover behind a fallen tree,” Garviel shouted, having to raise his voice over the noise of the blaster fire. It seemed that his comm microphone feed had a malfunction. “Gimme’ some covering fire!”
“Solid copy,” Kibran replied, and looked left and right, signalling to the troopers closest to Garviel. “Raame, Collust, cover his ass!”
Typho and Aelix replied affirmatively, and then raised themselves slightly out of cover, firing on full-auto towards any Sith troopers that might take a shot as Garviel. As soon as he felt he was safe, Lucen lifted his head out of cover, glancing at his targets’ positions. A well placed grenade would take them both out.
Garviel aimed down his blaster rifle’s sights, and then flicked his right hand to the trigger of his grenade launcher. He took a deep breath, and made sure his aim was steady, before lightly squeezing the trigger. There was a dull thump followed by a single HVF-101 grenade being spat out of the grenade launcher. Typho’s team mate had angled the shot perfectly. It shot through the air, arcing slightly up, and then heading down rapidly on its descent, before landing smack bang in the middle of the two Sith troopers.
There was an immediate detonation, followed by a large area of dirt being flung in the air, the two hostiles hurtling with it. Pieces of dirt rained down on the environment nearby, while the remains of the Sith troopers came thudding down half a dozen metres from their previous position. One had been torn in half; the other missing an arm and a leg. They were undoubtedly KIA.
“Nice shot, Trooper,” Kibran said to Garviel, a note of approval in his voice. The sergeant glanced towards the troopers who were closest to each end of the piece of heavy cover they were dug in behind of. “We need to flank the others. Put down grenades down their throats. Raame, take right. Jyrmok, go left. Rest of you, covering fire!”
“Solid copy, Sergeant,” Typho shot back, before slinging his blaster rifle diagonally over his chest and back, then selecting one of the HE-50 fragmentation grenades from his bandoleer. The trooper waited until a heavy amount of suppressing fire was hailing the enemy position before vaulting himself over the safety of the cover and sprint to the right flank.
He moved from cover to cover, waiting a second or two at each piece he could find. There was a moment of small panic when he had to make a large sprint in a direct line from a piece of metal debris to a fallen tree; his comrades were swapping out magazines and the rate of covering fire had dropped significantly.
However, once more, luck was on his side. As a Sith Trooper took aim at Typho, Aelix finished reloading and peppered him with a storm of blaster shots, catching the unguarded hostile in the face. The Sith dropped back down to the ground, very much dead. Typho made sure that he’d thank Aelix later, and then continued on his way.
A couple of moments later, the Echo Squad trooper dived into some heavy cover, in the form of a large boulder that hadn’t been moved away from the clearing.
He peered around the side of the boulder, taking a good look at the enemy forces located there. There were six Sith Troopers left. Counting the enemy that Typho had dispatched, the two that Garviel had taken out, and the one that Aelix had killed, the rest of Echo Squad must had shot down another two. A well placed grenade could take down a few more.
Typho opened his squad comm to Sergeant Kibran and relayed his status. “I’m in position, Sergeant. Shift fire support to Jyrmok.”
He received an affirmative on the other side of the comm, and then went about taking these Sith forces out. Raame pulled the pin on the grenade clenched in his fist, and waited two seconds. It had a five second fuse overall, and judging from the distance that he was from the enemy line, it would take about two seconds to reach them. A perfect throw.
Typho drew his arm back and flung the grenade as hard as he could, at the same time yelling out to his comrades, “Frag out!” The grenade sailed through the air, and as the trooper judged correctly, took two seconds to reach its destination. It landed with a thud right in the middle of the enemy line, and then detonated. Three Sith Troopers were downed immediately; the force and proximity of the explosion killed them instantly. A fourth was flung through the air forwards, up and out of cover, right into the middle of the killing field.
He was immediately sprayed with a half a dozen blaster shots. Typho grinned savagely to himself; his grenade throw had certainly worked well. The trooper looked up out of cover, trying to see if Jyrmok’s grenade had detonated to the same effect. He spotted his comrade about forty metres away, in position and now flinging a grenade at the enemy line. But Typho spotted what Jyrmok hadn’t. One of the remaining Sith Troopers had caught sight of the trooper, and was taking aim at him, while he was throwing his grenade.
Typho attempted to call out to him, raising his voice as loud as he could, even though Jyrmok would be able to hear him on the comm. “Jyrm, get down!”
It was a valiant attempt, but to no avail. The Sith Trooper fired at burst-shot at Jyrmok’s chest and head, unprotected by the piece of cover he was behind. Two things happened. The grenade Jyrmok had thrown detonated, killing both Sith Troopers instantly. However, at the same time, the trio of blaster shots that the Sith had fired slammed into Typho’s comrade, flipping him over backwards. The shots had hit the armour around Jyrmok’s neck and upper chest. There was no way he would have survived it.
Raame let out a loud expletive, and then gave the all clear signal. “Clear up. Clear up!”
He was met with a “Clear down!” from his Sergeant, signifying that the immediate area was secured. Un-slinging his SBR-500 blaster rifle, and taking in into a two hand grip; one on the trigger of his weapon, and the other on the middle, Raame jumped out of cover, dashing towards the unmoving body of Trooper Jyrmok.
Before he even reached his body, Typho knew that his comrade was dead. He called out to the rest of his squad on the comms. “Man down! Man down! Goddamn it! Fuck!”
Even as Raame yelled out the last expletive, Kibran had moved over to where Typho stood, and took the trooper in a strong, two-handed grip, spinning him round to face him as he did so. “Get a grip on yourself, soldier! This is what happens in war. You’ve got to expect this kind of shit.”
Raame attempted to shrug off his sergeant’s hold, but his grip was like iron. The trooper took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, and nodded slowly. He knew that Kibran was right, and it wouldn’t do to let himself show so much grief over a single dead trooper. Even so, while he hadn’t known the man personally for too long, and had barely spoken a word to him, Jyrmok was still part of his squad, and a brave warrior.
Typho tried to tell himself that. Jyrmok had died in battle, taking down two enemies as he did so. It was a good death. Somehow, Typho just didn’t think so at the time. His shook his head from side to side, looking at the spread-eagled body of Jyrmok, then moved away from the scene.
The rest of Jyrmok’s fire team had now gathered round his body, and were kneeling and standing over it, their helmets by their sides. Oryn, who was closest to the trooper, had his head in his hands, as Poledas tried to console him, patting him on the shoulder as he did.
Sergeant Kibran looked at Jyrmok’s body one last time, and sighed, before raising Lieutenant Heliyah on the horn. “Echo One-Two Delta-Sierra, this is Echo One-Two Actual. Area is secured. You are cleared to land. We have one KIA. Enemy forces are destroyed. Do you copy? Over.”
“Echo One-Two Actual, Echo One-Two Delta-Sierra. I copy. Preparing to land. Over.” Heliyah’s voice once again filtered over the comms in reply.
“Roger that. Over and out.”
The rest of fire team Vindictus (save for Rexel of course), had walked over to Typho and were now surrounding him. Aelix was shaking his head at the sudden turn of events.
“Man, this is bullshit,” he said angrily. “Ruina is already down one man, and all of Foxtrot Squad in KIA. And hell, we haven’t even gotten to our objective point yet.”
A figure had silently moved up behind the fire team, and they span around to see who it was. Of course, they knew it would be Kibran. He was flanked by Corpora Rexel as always, and was looking at the squad, eyes slightly narrowed. His MECT helmet hung by a strap loosely at his waist.
“As I said before, this is what happens in war,” Kibran told them shortly. “Right, Collust, Lucen, Olthvaay, check Foxtrot’s dropship for anything that salvageable. Raame, collect Jyrmok’s weapons, ammo, and dog tags. Move it.”
There was a chorus of voices as the troopers voiced their affirmatives, and then moved off to complete their appointed tasks. Typho didn’t want to have to look at Jyrmok’s body again, but he felt it would be disrespectful to fire team Ruina if he didn’t hand the dead trooper’s dog tags in to the sergeant.
He walked over to his fellow troopers, and bent down, scooping up Jyrmok’s SBR-500 blaster rifle. He slung it over his back, then proceeded to remove the trooper’s other equipment, including his blaster pistol, combat knife, grenades, and flashbangs, as well as spare blaster power cells.
For a moment, Oryn was about to prevent Typho from doing so, then stopped and nodded slowly, changing his course of action and moving to help the trooper, by taking a share of the load of ammunition. The rest of fire team Ruina bent down to help. Raame voiced his thanks and knelt down once more, carefully pulling the combat helmet off Jyrmok’s still body.
The dead trooper looked strangely peaceful, eyes closed, his tanned skin undamaged from the blaster fire. Jyrmok couldn’t have been more than seventeen and a half; barely old enough to be fighting in a war. Typho snorted in disgust at himself. The Sith Empire didn’t give a damn how old you were. You were always old enough to fight, kill and die in the name of your faction.
Raame reached underneath Jyrmok’s neck, and yanking hard, pulled the dog tag chain off of the trooper. He stood up, and addressed Poledas and Laarne by their first names. “Jaymes, Rik, carry his body to the dropship when it arrives.”
“Hooah, Typho,” came the reply from both men, knowing that it would be best to obey their fellow trooper’s orders in this situation, despite him being the same rank as them.
Raame nodded at them, and turned away to find Sergeant Kibran, and give him the dog tags still clenched in his fist. He found the war veteran recording Jyrmok’s posthumous report.
“Deceased Republic Trooper Report: Nathin E. Jyrmok, Trooper, Fire Team Ruina, Echo Squad, 12th Company, 3rd Kuati Assault Corps. Killed in action on day one of Operation Hammer Storm. Time of death: 09:13:47, Day: Twenty-five, Month: Seven, Year: 3218 Old Republic Era. Additional notes: Died whilst providing vital support for pinned squad mates. Eliminated two Sith Troopers with fragmentation grenade before being killed in action. Dog tags and body successfully retrieved. Transmission end.”
Kibran cut off the recording and looked up as Typho approached him, dog tags presented out in front of him. The sergeant hesitated a moment, then thought better of it, and accepted the dog tags from the trooper, slipping them into a secure pack on his utility belt.
Above them, Echo One-Two Delta-Sierra (Delta-Sierra standing for dropship) came into view, its repulsorlift jets softening its descent as “Deadly” attempted to manoeuvre a safe vector to land on. Luckily, there was quite a bit of spare, untouched ground in the southern section of the clearing, and soon the dropship completed it descent, its landing struts lowering and pressing down on the hard surface of the planet.
“Echo One-Two Actual, this is Echo One-Two Delta-Sierra,” Lieutenant Heliyah announced over the squad comm channel. “Awaiting transfer of cargo. Over.”
“Roger that, Delta-Sierra,” Kibran replied, bringing his hand up to the side of his MECT helmet and comm audio receiver. There was some slight static on his end, and the extra force behind a firm hand would do the trick to cancel it out. “We’ve got some ammunition and weapons from Foxtrot Squad and their dropship for you. Hopefully it won’t be too much of a load. Over.”
“Solid copy, One-Two Actual. Delta-Sierra out.”
The sergeant of Echo Squad glanced over at Typho for a moment, assessing him, before giving him a brief nod. He signalled for the trooper to follow him over to Foxtrot Squad’s dropship. Raame obliged, skirting around pieces of debris that hadn’t been moved yet. Despite the area being clear of hostiles, it was still hot, with small fires burning, trees ripped apart and blackened, as well as dozens of pieces of durasteel littering the zone.
The rest of fire team Vindictus had been hard at work, clearing as much as they could of the downed dropship. The troopers had managed to make a large hole at the back of the dropship, where the ramp should have opened had it been a successful drop. Aelix flicked on his flashlight attached to the end of his SBR-500 blaster rifle, then tentatively made his way inside.
He suddenly recoiled back, covering his nose and mouth as the stench of death hit him. The rest of the troopers gathered round and peered inside. It wasn’t a pretty picture. Foxtrot Squad was spread all over the interior of the dropship, yet they weren’t in all pieces. One of them had been torn in half, while others were missing arms, legs and even a couple of them without their heads. A few had been severely burned, their armour barely distinguishable from the charred plastoid and flesh. None had survived the crash.
As was expected, Kibran was the first to recover, immediately ordering his troopers to search the interior as gather any weapons, equipment and ammunition that was still usable. He stopped Typho, and turned to face him.
“Raame, go get a couple of det packs from our dropship,” he ordered.
“Affirmative,” the trooper replied, and then immediately set off on a slow jog over to the dropship. Typho had an inkling of what his sergeant had in mind, yet it wasn’t the most respectful thing that they were about to do. However, it was necessary, which justified the action.
While Typho was making his way over to the dropship, Poledas and Laarne carefully and gently carried Jyrmok’s limp body in the same direction. At least that was something, Raame thought to himself. Jyrmok would be getting a proper funeral. He had earned it.
The crew chief of Echo Squad’s dropship, Warrant Officer Class Two Scyller, was waiting for him beside the ramp. He hailed Typho as the trooper approached him.
“What can I do for you, Raame?” he asked, laying a hand on the soldier’s shoulder.
“I need two det packs from the dropship’s armoury,” Typho answered. “We’ll be blowing up the remains of Foxtrot One-Two’s dropship.”
Scyller nodded. “Yeah, roger that.” He turned away from the trooper for a moment, signalling the co-pilot, Corporal Bronson, and ordered him to collect a couple of det packs for him.
It didn’t take long for the corporal to arrive, panting slightly; he was in the middle of a job that “Deadly” had assigned to him. He had had to quickly run down to the armoury, get the det packs, and then sprint to the dropship’s exit, before his commanding officer started to chew his ass out for not getting on with his work.
Raame thanked the two aviation personnel, then headed back the way he had came, noting that fire team Ruina had laid Jyrmok’s body inside the dropship, along with his weapons and equipment, and were now making their way over to the sergeant.
Fire team Vindictus were finished with their ammo detail, and had dumped the grenades, power cells, and blaster weapons that they had managed to salvage in one big pile. Kibran addressed his squad, Corporal Rexel once more at his side, like some sort of hound.
“Alright squad, listen up,” he began. “Replace any blaster power cells, grenades, and flashbangs that you had used up in the fire fight, and then get ready to move out. We still have a job to do, regardless of how undermanned we are. Our fly boys are relying on us to get these power generators down, and we’ll need to assist our forces in any way we can. Once we get to our objective, we’ll figure out a plan on how to take down those damned machine gun nests. Hooah?”
“Hooah!” the Echo Squad troopers answered in unison, and then began to refit and rearm their weapons and equipment. Kibran got Raame to hand the det packs over to Rexel, and then ordered the corporal to plant them on the destroyed dropship.
Typho had only used up one of his blaster power cells in the short fire fight, as well one of his grenades. However, his SBR-500 blaster rifle had taken a couple of bad hits from that first Sith trooper’s vibrosword, and wasn’t looking too good. The trooper remembered how it had jammed up as the Sith forces had attacked, and figured that it probably had been damaged when Foxtrot Squad’s dropship had crashed into the clearing.
He regarded the rifle for a moment, before removing the power cell that had been loaded into the weapon. He dropped the rifle into the pile of equipment, and then chose for himself the only RAC-340 assault carbine that had been salvaged. It had more or less the same range, speed velocity and power as the SBR-500 blaster rifle, yet was shorter and more compact, making it easier to wield and fire. The RAC-340’s were still in relatively short supply for 12th Company, only being issued to the officers and NCOs.
Typho was lucky to have picked one out. Captain Drake had been constantly attempting to requisition more of the assault carbines, yet his company was still green, Operation Hammer Storm being their first assignment, and thus had been constantly denied access to the more versatile weapons. Perhaps after this engagement, that notion would change.
“Det pack primed. Fall back to safe distance!” Rexel’s voice rang out, catching the attention of the assembled troopers. Sergeant Kibran relayed the order, and the squad quickly moved away from the downed dropship, taking the remaining equipment and weapons with them.
Echo Squad’s corporal tossed a detonator to his sergeant, who caught it easily and prepared to blow the charge.
“Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!” Kibran shouted, waving his arm in the air as he did so, so that no trooper would not be aware of what was about to happen.
He waited a couple of moments, before pressing down hard on the detonation trigger. The remains of Foxtrot One-Two Delta-Sierra erupted into flames, its hull instantly blowing apart outwards, and a hail of shrapnel raining down in its immediate area. More minor explosions burst, as whatever engine and technical pieces of the ship that had remained intact were destroyed. Rexel had made sure to place one of the det packs into the trooper bay, leaving no chance that the remains of Foxtrot Squad survived. It was the best they could do for a burial.
Kibran was already signalling his squad to form up, as well as ordering Bronson and Scyller to gather up the remaining equipment, and to secure it in the dropship’s armoury.
“Squad, listen up,” the sergeant said, his voice easily drowning the sounds from the sporadic bursts of fire from the destroyed dropship. “Our objective is half a klick to the north-east. Split up into fire teams. SAW gunners, take point. Three metre spread. We don’t want to get caught out by those machine guns bunched up. Move from cover to cover, and watch your squad mates. Move out.”
The Echo Squad troopers were silent this time as they nodded in affirmation, and began to fan out, heading in the direction that their objective lay. A gold beacon shone on their HUDs, flashing every couple of seconds. This was the marker for where the machine gun nests had been set up. The readout showed 470.62 metres north-east to the objective.
The exact time that Echo Squad had spent in the LZ after their dropship had successfully landed, including the fire fight and subsequent weapons detail was only fourteen minutes and forty three seconds. However, they were currently behind schedule, and thus Kibran quickly order a double time move, sacrificing the added safety of advancing slowly for speed.
In this situation, it was better that they arrived at their objective quick, as they were direly needed to knock out those machine guns and pave a path for the demolition teams. Echo Squad was finally on its way to completing its first mission assignment.