Invasion

The Imperial Star Destroyer Punisher glided through the silent insulation of space…behind it was a backdrop of the galaxy, millions of stars and galaxies stretched as far as the eye could see.  And ahead, looking over the angular gray white bow was the mottled planet that hosted the Empire’s most exacting military academy…Carida.
Above the planet stars seemed to orbit, other Star Destroyers on patrol or bringing troops for the upcoming operation, the Caridan star reflecting off their lighter hulls in brilliant sparkles of light.

In the depths of the Punisher was the weapons range, an artificially lengthened section of the ship, no more than 100 meters in length, but through holographic technology allowed much longer range shots to be accurately simulated for the onboard security detachments.

Syyl Vestor, JTS-0338 slapped another clip into his DLT-19 and lined up another shot at the shrunken holographic target simulating a two hundred meter shot.  He breathed out slowly relaxing his muscles as his finger tightened on the trigger…CHAoom…echoed down and back along the length of the range and the miniature hologram beside him changed color in a location, indicating his hit on the distant target.  He frowned and set the weapon down on the table in front of him, tweaking the barrel’s alignment ever so slightly, slipping in another condensed matter composite spacer into the tiny gap in the barrel housing, restricting the barrels ability to move even more and tightened a screw to hold it in place.  He picked up the weapon again and fired, the holographic representation changing red in the center of the target. He fired a burst of rounds with a series of red dots splashing themselves around the target.  Satisfied he proceeded to tighten all the pieces down and put the protective housing back on the weapon, before proceeding to smack the heavy weapon against the metal table and ground before beginning another accuracy test.

“Can’t you leave things well enough alone thirty-eight?”

“Not if my life depends on it.”

JT-8827 watched him finish with the weapon before continuing. “There is nothing wrong with it stock. A little spread never hurt anything.”

Vestor turned to see his squadmate in full armor leaning against a post supporting the shooting cubbies of the range.

“Its going to hit where I want it…you never know when it will scatter just a little too far the wrong way. And just like that…zap.”

“Don’t trust the armor eh?” kidded 27 with a chuckle.

“Lets just say I’d prefer not to test it to its specification limit…” Syyl replied as he pulled on his helmet.

“No kidding.  Its form up time. Gotta look all spiffy for orders.”

Syyl headed back for the barracks with 8827 falling in step. “Can’t miss orders, there’d be hell to pay.”

Twenty-Seven snorted. “Payed in pressups with jetpacks on…and that is oh so much fun.”
 
Ten minutes later the ISD Punisher had formed up with a number of other warships, Venator class Star Destroyers, Acclamator class Assault Cruisers, Dreadnaught class Heavy Cruisers, and a sprinkling of the newer Imperial and Victory class Star Destroyers, with the Punisher being one of the Imperial class, orbiting between Carida and the Imperial Academies Mascot Moon.  It would have been an impressive sight for the Stormtrooper Corps and Legions that were gathered within the bowels of the great metal beasts, had they been able to look out a viewport.  Tens of thousands of Stormtroopers of many specializations stood at rigid attention next to their bunks, the only place that every man could stand at attention onboard the ships in any semblance of order, waiting for their orders to be given to them by the fleet admiral.
With a soft pop Syyl’s comlink popped on in his ear, or rather poured sonic energy into the bone behind his ear within his helmet, allowing the sound to reach his mind even with the crash and din of battle happening around him.

::Attention…Attention… Stand by for a message from Admiral Gortrek.::

::Men of the Imperial Armed Services,:: The raspy voice of Admiral Gortrek strained in Syyl’s ears.  ::We have received word of a planet that has entered open rebellion against the Emperor and have rebelled and attacked the local Imperial garrison and are pursuing the survivors. Their losses are reportedly in excess of seventy percent at the time of the transmission.  Our orders are to relieve the survivors and subdue the planet and restore peace and security to one of these last pockets of dissension.  We will be staging to Teth, and from there launch the operation at full battle preparation. You’re individual commanders will give you your operational orders for the upcoming mission. I know you will all do your duties to bring peace and prosperity to this world as in the rest of the Empire.  That is all.  Good hunting.::

Admiral Gortrek signed off and Commander Spear came on.

::The 327th Star Corps has been given the task of leading regular Imperial Army units. You’re legion commanders will brief you further.::
Commander Spear signed off, and Commander Folt signed on.
::The Fourth Legion has been given the task of securing locations just outside of the planetary capital as landing zones for further waves of reinforcements and armored vehicles.  The Third Regiment, will be the first to go, followed by the other regiments in airborne vehicles. Individual combat plans will be drawn up when more information is available, which will happen before we launch from Teth.  Officer and NCOs questions can be directed to your unit commanders.  Out.::

Syyl relaxed from his ramrod parade ground attention, though it was difficult to tell in armor.

A modulated female voice came over the ship’s speaker system ::Attention. Attention. All personnel prepare for hyperspace.::

Syyl felt the ship slip into hyperspace, it wasn’t so much a physical jarring as an extra, slightly different vibration that ran through the ship right at the transition.

            It was the same old story, the higher ups didn’t tell you anything…and you were expected to do everything yourself.  He listened to the brief while stripping down and cleaning his blaster.

            Captain Mal began expanding on their orders.
::The Third company will be going in as the leading elements for the 817th Field Army. Make sure that we create a large hole so the normal troopers don’t get hit too hard. With them 221st will be coming down with follow on equipment of the first wave.  The rest of the unit will follow with our own equipment.  We’ll be using drop pods for the first decent and from there we’ll be air assaulting a major ground based military installation and depot, securing it for follow on forces.  From there we will be given new orders.::

::Expected resistance sir?:: asked one of the platoon lieutenants.

::Possibly heavy, though outdated equipment should be the norm and so we shouldn’t have too much trouble. Other questions?  Then prepare your gear.::

Syyl took off all of his armor, and changed into his off duty blacks while he checked the seals in his undersuit, and then inspected each piece of his armor by hand and undersuit by hand and sensor.  Every buckle and clasp was cleaned out and inspected. On either side of him other Jumptroopers were doing the same.  Many of them were GeNode clones and others were Fett clones, though the Fett clones were becoming a rarer and rarer sight as attrition thinned their ranks and more GeNode troops came in. Most of the Kamino clones were long gone, especially following Kamino’s attempted rebellion, those clones had been lost in the shuffle of hundreds of millions of Stormtroopers coming from Centax II and other clone production facilities. Birth born troops like himself, were officers, and not technically part of the Stormtrooper Corp and did not usually wear armor. An exception of course was officers that had to keep up with their troops in overly hostile environments…the extremely mobile Jumptroopers certainly qualified.

With his armor inspected, Syyl moved off to pick up a AJP-400 Jetpack, a combat version of the companies popular Hush About with twin thrusters and twice the number of normal charges 20 instead of 10.  While they weren’t technically supposed to have them before they were to disembark, the supply sergeants knew that all the equipment was checked over by the men who were going to trust their lives to that equipment.  Everything was checked out and certified of course…but redundancy was the sign of professionals, and Stormtroopers were the most professional in the galaxy.

“What do you think it’ll be like?” asked a corporal from the first platoon.

“About the same as the last ones I would guess.” Answered another.

“I meant the planet, not the fighting.”

“Who knows, probably pretty rugged, can’t imagine it’s too urban, they aren’t supposed to be very advanced.”

“I suppose…”

“No point worrying until where there.” The second corporal said as he picked up his jetpack and moved away to let Syyl check out his.  The walk back to his bunk was typical of what he had overheard standing in line. Stormtroopers bantering back and forth about what the upcoming mission would be like.  All of them were rechecking their armor and equipment again, just like the other units. 

“Hey Vestor!” a voice called out.  Syyl turned to see a 2nd Regiment Sergeant by the name of Rowen Teid. 

“Hey Teid. What straw did you guys pull?” Syyl set the jetpack on a currently unoccupied bunk.

Teid was a GeNode but you could never convince him of it. Tall and muscular with blonde hair.  He flashed a set of teeth as white as polished stormtrooper armor as he stepped to one side of the corridor  to allow others to pass without difficulty.

“We got the short straw.  Fourth wave.”  Syyl shook his head.

Syyl pitched his voice in a mimic of a drill sergeant, tilting his head in mock seriousness. “Well trooper, support services escort is a vital and necessary mission. I’m glad to know you’re on top of it.  There’s no one I’d rather trust with this important assignment!”


“You’re a rodder you know that! Let me guess that you guys got the long straw…”
“Yep, first wave…leading edge uh- the first I might add.  Tough job but someone has to set up the landing lights and mess hall for all you follow on pukes.  Cause you know how hard that support escort duty is…”

“I’m going to hold you to that. Hey I gotta go, hanger patrol at 1200.”

“That sounds like great fun…watch out for mynocks…I hear they have a taste for blondes…” Syyl said as he hefted the jetpack to his shoulder.

“Oh go jump off a shuttle! See you dirtside if I don’t catch up to you before.”

“First to jump last to die,” Syyl said clapping Teid on the shoulder with a smile as he began inspecting the jetpack.
 
Two days later found Syyl, Elmer Srives, Klev Montro, both members of his Platoon, Bander Plidmer from 3rd Platoon, Mal Greg, Elmer, and Klev’s Platoon Leader, and three other sergeants from other units in orbit over Teth.  Syyl studied the cards in his hand that flickered once more settling into new suits and values.  The new cards didn’t help at all, in fact they were now worse.  He frowned disgustedly at the new cards, glancing around the table and noting subtle changes in the other faces gathered around the small barracks table.  Elmer looked up smiling leaning forward to set his cards in the interference field when all the cards flickered again. Demise showed up in his hand, it was the fifth time in eight hands, he frowned down at it as Bander tossed down a twenty-two effectively winning the hand.  Syyl tossed his hand down disgustedly, face up…

“Demise again? Better watch your six on this trip,” said Teid frowning down at the skull depicted on the card. “How many times have you gotten that?”

“Five.”  Syyl leaned back on the bunk he was sitting on as Klev gathered up the cards to deal again.

“That’s bad luck man. That card coming to you so much,” chimed in Elmer with a serious look on his face.

“That’s a load if I’ve ever heard it. Superstitious nonsense. Stormtroopers don’t need luck, we make it!” said Mal.

“No Lieutenant, I knew a guy in the 4th Regiment, got the card 3 times and his shuttle decompressed and his suit failed, two minutes out from the ship.  After they took it off him his suit checked out with no leaks!” Klev started dealing the third round of cards.

“That’s an old mess hall tale. There’s no such thing as-”

The calm female voice came over the com system, ::Attention.  Attention. All hands to combat readiness. Stormtroopers prepare for debarkation in 4 hours.::

The troops scattered, tossing their cards onto the table, Syyl’s was Demise, and Endurance.  Elmer caught his eye as they left, and shook his head sorrowfully. “Bad luck man.”

“First to jump…last to die.”

“I’ve never liked the ending of that…” said Teid.

Syyl looked down at the skull on the card and muttered, “Yeah…me neither.” Then everyone was too busy gearing up to banter.
 
Two hours later found Syyl, Klev, and Elmer standing in formation beside their respective squads behind the form of Lieutenant Mal Greg as their mission specific information was given in a Battalion mass brief in the hanger bay.

::Our orders are to take part in capturing Renatasia III and rescuing what’s left of the Imperial Garrison.  The world is,:: an icon flashed in Syy’s vision and he winked at it, the planet zoomed into focus on Syyl’s HUD system. ::Primarily an agricultural world. However it has a number of population centers. The largest Mathilde is the current seat of government on the second largest continent in the northern hemisphere.::  The display swirled around the world and then down through the atmosphere to show an overhead and street angles of the capital city.  The structures were built up like many modern cities, maxing out at about half a kilometer in height, mostly metal and transparasteel construction with a limited form of flow to the structures that kept them pleasing to the eye without wasting too much room.

::This is the primary target compound, Mathilde Army Military Compound. All four Battalions of the Regiment are going in.:: Syyl and the rest of the troops listened to their particular target areas and structures of the base.  ::We are to hold until armored columns from the 221st Mechanized Assault Group and the 1st Imperial Infantry Division relieve us from the west. Jumptroopers!::

Syyl shouted in unison with his Company. “First to jump! Last to Die!”

“Load up!”
 
The drop pod front slide down and sealed with a clunk as it shifted towards him, and Syyl couldn’t stop the thought that it seemed like cryocoffin used to ship the dead to their home planets for burial, at least for those birth born soldiers. Now blind except information that he could call up on his HUD, Syyl could only wait for the drop to begin. While he could monitor several command net frequencies there was nothing more than commanders announcing the readiness of their troops, and on his platoon channel there was no chatter as each clone soldier and officers, clone and non clone, were shut apart with nothing but their own thoughts. Each knew that they would feel a set of mild jolts, the shock of movement by mechanical and then tractor beam would be muted by the inertial compensators built into the coffin like interior of the drop pods, and the next sensation would be an audible warning when the countdown indicator reached ten seconds before the drop pod would open and begin to disintegrate, releasing each soldier facing head down in the upper atmosphere of the planet, towards his landing zone.

The first sign of movement was that slight tremor of a ship exiting hyperspace…followed immediately by an increased vibration of the sublight engines of the ship increasing power to battle speed, and short minutes later a series of vibrations accompanied by distant booms. 

::Commander Folt says the resistance is launching missiles against the fleet. Nothing is coming through the shields. Drop is expected in forty minutes as the fleet moves into low orbit of the planet.::

That was the nice thing about Commander Folt, one of the last Kamino cloness, he thought of his troops enough to let them know generally what was going on, and he dutifully passed the information down to his company commanders, the last leg in the chain of command for such information. Most officers followed his example and allowed the information to spread down to the last man in the chain of command.

It was an eternity, and when he felt the slight tremor of movement followed by a hard jolt, it seemed that the eternity had been but an eye blink. They were now floating through space towards a hostile atmosphere. While he couldn’t see what was happening outside in the cold vacuum, he could imagine it.  Fighters would be flashing by and warships would be maneuvering as they began their bombardment of predetermined positions to support the first assaulting wave. Defending starfighters would try to strike the vulnerable pods and distract the warships. Friendly fighters would be cutting them off and pursuing them in an attempt to keep them away.

The pod began shaking hard as atmospheric entry friction built up and tried to slow the pod. A red number in a corner of his vision began counting down from thirty, and began flashing white and red every other second after the automated voice warned of imminent release.

There was time for one last long anticipation and fear filled breath before the seal above his head flashed and suddenly the pod tore itself away and he pulled his head back to get his first look “up” at the planet that they were attacking.  He saw what was expected, a few flashing starfighters, exhaust plumes chasing rockets into the sky towards the fleet, dirty puffs of smoke of detonating missiles or starfighters, flicking flashes of color as laser bolts streaked from starfighters towards missile armed defenders. Much larger bolts of colored light, green, red, and blue, cast passing fighters, smoke trails and men in an ever changing hue of artificial colors. He looked past this and was disappointed to see the target covered with thick clouds that the larger turbolasers highlighted with their passage, producing a flash of yellowish light as they struck and expending their energy into materials that flash burned seemingly without regard of their composition. 

He carefully turned his head just enough to allow his eyes to shift enough to see other Jumptroopers in rough formation falling at terminal velocity through the scattered smoke and towards the seemingly solid wall of brilliant white clouds below them.

His eye caught something large and gray and he twisted his shoulders to rotate it into view, though there was little need as the Acclamator class transport plummeted through the atmosphere trailing smoke from heavily damaged engines that appeared to have gone through an emergency shutdown.  He watched the stricken ship as it began to slide beneath the Jumptrooper formation, which was when he noticed that the ship wasn’t trailing just smoke, but something that almost sprayed out from the ship as if it had been under pressure, and this shimmered through the rainbow with the fast changing angle of the light.

With sudden horror he realized that the ship was spewing reactor fuel from a damaged fuel cell. Once free of the reactor process or the fuel containers themselves there was little danger of the fuel burning to its greatest potential…but that was merely its greatest potential. A single laser blast or missile detonation would cause the oxidation process to begin…or in other words turn the entire, still expanding fuel plume, to flash into an intense inferno that would be more than hot enough to kill.

:: Jettison all ordinance! Deploy wings!:: Suiting words to action he gave up on keeping a streamlined shape and instead tucked his chin to his chest to get a better view of what he was doing with his hands, a task that was made slightly more complex as he was blinking his way higher up the communications chain to relay the danger.  Now tumbling uncontrolled in a hunched position he tore at the restraint releases that held his combat webbing in place, the harness held everything from grenades and more powerful thermal detonators to packs of blaster gas and charge packs for his blaster. The catch came loose and he shrugged off the gear, not an easy thing to do with an attached jet pack and wings, but ditching that would be suicide. As he tumbled his gyrating vision mostly had him looking back towards the fleet.

It was an awe inspiring view. Troops were frantically trying to either dump their gear, others had deployed their wings and jetpacks and were peeling away from their course, most having a higher altitude and had a hope of detouring around the gas cloud. Beyond them towards the now hidden stars were the smoke trails from entry that the drop pods had made, now with more smoke trails of missiles streaking up either side of the drop and a ship corkscrewing about its front end, nose in the air, trying to get itself under control. A detached part of his mind noted that the Dreadnaught cruiser was doomed, only having its forward repulsorlifts working and barely maintaining its pitch, and roll, even if it was corkscrewing roughly around its nose, fighting gravity like an animal fought against the inexorable pull of a leash. And the planet was determined to bring it to heel.

He tore the last bit of gear away, and released his blaster rifle and his sidearm before he brought himself under control and extended the wings of the backpack, knowing that there was no way he could avoid the still expanding fuel cloud, it had been far to late even when he had first seen it for the majority of his battalion.

A turbolaser bolt flashed through the expanding cloud at some point and the entire cloud lit up with ring of expanding fire. Syyl’s eyes went wide, and then he clamped them shut as he fell headfirst into the onrushing flames. The flaming shockwave was strong enough to physically see and it hit him like a repulsor field, seeming to compress his entire body, his closed respiration equipment doubtlessly the only thing that kept his lungs from exploding, and his armor for keeping the rest of him intact. While his mind reeled, attempting to understand the flash and noise that was disorienting him, he vaguely understood that he was plummeting into the wall of flame in front of him, and then he could see nothing but light.

He couldn’t see it, but the flaming shockwave reached out and smashed itself against most of the Jump Troopers who where in the air. Those that had been able to deploy their wings and try to move around the cloud, were caught at the worst angle possible to go through the shockwave. The high strength wings on their backs were simply blasted off, or twisted and broken as the greatest surface possible caught the furious wave of air.  Some troopers had their entire packs ripped off, and tumbled to their deaths in uncontrollable falls. Others simply died, having their heads smashed backwards so hard that even through their helmets they were knocked unconscious, and their flights turned into an inelegant tumble that ended when they smashed into the ground three thousand meters below. Others survived relatively unscathed, being too high for the worst of the shockwave, or managing to escape with just a bad tumble and tweaked limbs as the shockwave and continuing but cooling flames licked at them.
Those troops that survived were forced to fight for control in the angry uplift of air that the airborne fire had superheated, pulling more air from around it and sending it up in a flaming column of hot air the length of the doomed Acclamator’s flightpath.  Jumptroopers tumbled, fought, screamed, and cursed at the forces that were beyond their control. The regiment was all but hopelessly scattered, the survivors that were still in the air would have to improvise their missions and fireteams as best they could. But they would, they were Imperial Stormtroopers.
 
Huddled in preformed stone trenches set in front of a series of interconnecting bunkers, Renatasian soldiers, mostly from the former Malthidean Armed Forces, waited for the bombardment to stop. One soldier with a visual and audio recording device pointed his recorder up, and it seemed that the low hanging clouds seemed to jump downwards, and then a flash that washed away the light of the yellow-white star all but seeming to burn away the clouds. Suddenly plummeting through the cloud were smoke trailing shapes that glowed, squinting the first thing he thought of was of burning birds spoken of in legend and children’s stories, commonly called phoenix throughout the galaxy. Birds dieing in fire and being reborn from the ashes. Behind them multiple flashes of detonations of smaller explosives flared and disappeared in stuttering starbursts. Backlit by the flame that seemed to be the edge of the sun come to touch the sky personally, what was left of the star soldiers looked black with glowing edges… and he whispered in awe his thoughts as the soldiers plummeted from the sky trailing smoke and fire.
“Phoenix…heralds of doom…” and then he was too busy cowering again as the earth shook.
 
The fire was incredible, it was the closest thing to being burnt alive as he could possibly have dreamed of, Syyl screamed from the heat being able to see and hear nothing but roaring and some higher pitches of his own voice and squealing comlink as it tried to interpret any signal it received, some of it being screaming from other Jumptroopers from Syyl’s platoon.  He had a vague impression of flying through white, and he wondered if he was dead, except that the burning feeling was still there and his mind followed the wonderment to those philosophical thoughts of hell…the Corellians believed in nine layers of it…were they true?

What he didn’t know was that the moisture in the clouds that he was falling through was keeping him alive, bleeding heat off his armor just enough to keep him from cooking to death as it rushed upwards, violently dragged by the demands of the firestorm above. His armor was glowing in places where the air stream directed the fuel and greater air pressure allowed the fuel to continue to burn hot, fought by the heat sucking ability of the water vapor in the clouds that followed the same paths of the fuel and air. 

His vision turned darker gray and suddenly cleared as he passed through the cloud floor and his mind fought with the fact that he was seeing an overhead view of his target.  Apparently he wasn’t dead, and the heat tapered off leaving him merely gasping in pain now instead of screaming. The screaming coming through his comlink however…did not abate.  He risked glancing back and forth and back along his stomach, his eyes wide at the sight of his armor’s edges glowing, most of the wings glowing bright red or yellow and streaming smoke. It was incredibly difficult to breath as if the air was trying to pull the oxygen from his lungs, and it only took a moment to realize that the hose that attached his helmet to his chest armor where the excess air supplies had been burned away, and the air pressure difference was indeed trying to pull air from his lungs.

He glanced left and right, this time looking for survivors as he slung his legs down and changed some vertical drop into horizontal movement. He saw troops falling uncontrollably like limp rag dolls, some were burnt and blackened, others were missing limbs as if they hadn’t been able to get rid of ordinance quick enough, he saw others though, alive, looking as if they should be dead, glowing armor that had started melting by all appearances and streaming smoke and was black streaked, some still trailing actual flame.

His training screamed at him, survive first, worry about the rest later, it felt like he was still on fire, and in all likelihood he probably was, he had to put that out and get to the ground. A brilliant flash that turned the grim day into noon in the desert, his mind ran through the possibilities now that he knew he was still alive for the moment. The Dreadnaught. The reactor must have gone critical from damage, that meant that what was left of the ship would be coming down to meet him. He saw a ribbon of water below him, that would put out the fire and put him in a defilade from the enemy, it was likely covered by something unfriendly…but he had little choice in the matter.  The screaming that had been coming over his comlink had stopped when the Dreadnaught’s reactor went critical sending a massive EMP pulse that shut down his armors systems. A beep sounded in his head, his armor letting it him know that it was overcoming the damaging electronic effects, if slowly. The land was coming up impossibly fast and he kicked down and fired his jetpack slowing him enough to safely land on his feet.

What he thought was a stream was really little more than a wet streak of grass, into which he flopped, thumps and soft thuds sounded around him, soldiers bodies and pieces of equipment smashing into the ground.

He tried to close the wings on the jetpack, having no success, and stayed on his stomach reaching for his vibroblade, praying it was there. He sobbed in relief as his hand found the familiar shape and he reached around to cut his jetpack off of him, and then a large chunk of armor smashed into the ground, throwing mud and a shockwave hard enough to have him throw his arm over his head and duck for cover. He glanced up again as his comlink beeped to scratchy life, looking around. He saw other survivors laying in the water working frantically to sort themselves out. There were more than he thought there would be, a lot more in fact, but far less than there should have been. Some were looking up and he risked a glance upwards, even though he knew he’d see nothing that was good. Aside from a few bodies still falling and bits of equipment that fell slower, bits of starship plummeted out of the clouds. If they stayed they would be dead, and they had a mission to perform.
 
The young soldier crouched in the trenches next to his comrades, equal parts of fear and practical realities of falling debris. Chunks of starship fell spewing dark smoke as they crashed to the ground. Somewhere off to the left a piece of armor slammed into the trenches sending gray and black clouds of smoke and debris chasing the shockwave that raced through the ground causing dust to jump from every surface, and knocked soldiers to the ground.  The noise was horrendous low moaning howls of torn starship racing to return to the soil, higher pitched howls of engines and screams of missiles pierced the din, and sound so deep in pitch that it was felt rather than heard thudded through the men’s chests and made the dust jump into the sky.

It wasn’t just the sounds and the falling debris that added to the deadly din. Explosions crumped distant and near, multiple flashes of explosions crackled down from above, and bodies crashed into the ground burning, allowing the sickening smell of scorched and burning flesh to pervade the air, and the soldier fought not to lose what little food he had managed to keep down earlier. Several others were not able to do so, the sound being contagious as men ripped off their helmets to vomit, fouling the trench floor and adding more stomach churning smells to the mix.

The brilliant bars of energy reached down from the sky to create massive columns of superheated air that capped at the top as the rising air cooled and spread, ripping giant sized holes in the clouds, equal only to the holes that they created. To think that all this came to pass because they had welcomed Vuffi Raa to the planet, had put all their faith in the fact that there were peaceful and more advanced beings out there that had come to help the Renatasian people.
 
::Third Platoon report!::

Four voices responded.

::Rally and prepare for attack.:: He changed channels, switching up the chain and demanding reports. He couldn’t find an officer that was superior to him up to regiment level, but that could mean many things, and not any of them good, just others not as bad as others. That meant he was the senior surviving officer, for the moment.
A hell of a way to start a first mission.

He quickly got his troops organized, at least on the comlink, he had about a companies worth of troops, only half had comlinks, but had visual contact with surviving troopers.  A company out of a battalion…and only bladed weapons.

::Close with the trenches and take them. Charge!::

He ignited his jetpack and stayed low, flying a mere meter above the ground, pieces of starship smashing into the ground around him, and flying over the dead burnt and burning bodies of other Jumptroopers.
 
With a cry the defenders leapt to firing positions, staring out into the smoke and fire strewn areas in front of them, trying to discern invaders from the landscape. It seemed incredible that anyone could have survived out there, let alone in the trenches where they had taken cover. They came in low, actually flying at great speed, most trailing smoke or fire still on them, rising out of the greater smoke and fire that had seemingly given birth to them. The sight was so awe inspiring that for a long crucial moment, all the young soldier could do was stare openmouthed at the sight of the onrushing invaders.

“Fire! Fire! Fire!”

Jerking his head as he suddenly seemed to snap back to reality, the whole line of soldiers seemingly jerked in unison and opened fire.
 
The defending troops weren’t asleep by any means, a number of positions winked rapidly at them and flashes zipped by with hisses and cracks, two projectiles stuck off his left shoulder, giving a loud plastic sounding thwack as they struck the armor plate.

He could see the enemy now, they wore closed helmeted armor just like the intel said. From the weapons it seemed that they were indeed using chemical propellant slug throwers. Explosions crumphed behind him, indirect small artillery fire not able to keep pace with his advance.  The charge was over in seconds and he veered hard to his left at what be described as a strongpoint, a small team of soldiers manning sustained fire weapons.

The soldier manning the weapon tried to yank the weapon around to put Syyl in his sights, but couldn’t do it fast enough. Syyl slammed into him and the team, the wings on his pack killing three men as he drove the gunner back into the man formed rock, hearing armor groan and bones crack. He didn’t pause though, he slammed an elbow into the soldiers face and then slammed his vibroblade up into the soldiers solar plexus before kicking away and scrambling to his feet. Another Renatasian soldier stepped down off the firing step and brought a slugthrower around at him. He ducked and turned away, giving his jetpack a burst, that threw the man back screaming in his helmet, and launched Syyl headlong into another soldier who was doing the identical thing.

He caught the man in the stomach with his shoulder and instead of trying to fight, simply turned the jetpack back on and drove him along the trench, awkwardly scraping along smashing soldiers legs with his armor’s wings. At a turn in the trench he ended in a pile of bodies, with him on one side. He saw a grenade on a harness and yanked at it with his left hand, rolling as best he could still holding the soldier he had rammed into. The soldier smashed his fist into the back of Syyl’s helmet and he lost hold of the grenade as he rolled. However the explosive was activated, apparently he had done it as an explosion hammered the soldier he was fighting with on top of him, limp and dead. Fighting to throw the body off of him he struggled to try to stand, hampered by his jetpack and wings. He got to his knees in time to see a soldier recover back up the trench and bring his weapon towards Syyl.

The weapon flashed and something hit him in the chest with a crack, and it felt like a hammer had been pounded into him. As he jerked backwards with the blow the Renatasian soldier was hammered to the ground by a Jumptrooper charging over the rim of the trench, and in a flurry of limbs was killed when the trooper repeatedly slammed his vibroblade into the soldier.

Syyl scrambled to get up again and heard a crack as projectiles slammed into the side of the trench from beyond the corner in the trench that he had not yet been able to look down. He leaned over and picked up a weapon, longer than an E-11 but shorter than a blaster rifle, he fired a burst up the trench at a soldier past the other Jumptrooper, watching him crumple before turning back and leaning back towards the corner. He peeked around the corner in time to have an explosion from a grenade tossed at him knock him down yet again.  He scrambled to his feet and leaned as far as he could to look down the trench and held down the firing stud with his forefinger, holding onto the weapon as it pushed back into his shoulder and it shuddered in his hands.

Three soldiers crumpled in front of him, and he didn’t see any others, just a formidable looking metal door below a manned bunker…whose occupants didn’t seem to have an issue with firing at him. He ducked back and looked back down the trench.

There were seven or eight Jumptroopers that he could see.

::Report!::

Sergeants and Corporals who had stepped up to lead his makeshift platoons reported in. They had lost three of their number in the taking the trenches.
“If you have non functioning wings, get them off.” The troops quickly did so, and he stepped back allowing another to take his place, guarding the corner while the other cut the clasps on his jetpack and allowed it to drop free.

He coughed and stretched before quickly arming himself with enemy weapons and quickly familiarizing himself, thanking the designers of the weapons for making them easy to learn, simple to operate and understand. While primitive they were clearly designed for war.  The weapons seemed to take projectiles encased in the propellant, and the barrel ran most of the length of the weapon near where the weapon contacted the shoulder. A bayonet was at the front, and a hard metal ridge at the bottom edge of the weapons butt, despite the weapon being only about 75 centimeters. The grenades would have to be experimented with however, unless someone knew how to make them work.

“Anyone know how these grenades work?”

Another Jumptrooper who still had his pack answered.

“You press the bar down and slide it to the side. When you let go it springs off and explodes in a few seconds.” The trooper demonstrated without arming the grenade. “It probably can be returned to safe the same way, makes it nice when you only have one hand.”

Syyl nodded, they didn’t dare linger in one position, momentum was key to an assault, and sitting here only gave the enemy time to call down their light artillery on their position.

::Stack up and prepare to assault, signal readiness.:: It irked him that as the now senior officer he needed to lag back a little, he hadn’t lived his entire life on Carida learning to not be in the action.

::Three…:: he activated and tossed a grenade around the corner, ::two…one…:: Karumph! ::GO!::

Two Jumptroopers rocketed out of the trench towards the bunker, the gunners quickly having to shift upwards and lost the troopers above their line of site. While the gunners had been distracted by the grenade explosion that had given the Jumptroopers cover, the Jumptroopers gave those that couldn’t fly any longer an equal distraction.
Syyl rounded the corner, fourth in line, weapon up sending rapid bursts of projectiles into the firing slits, another Jumptrooper two paces behind him on the opposite side of the trench doing the same, covering the first three as they sprinted up underneath the bunker and began working on opening the door. The gunner regained his nerve enough to start spraying a hail of projectiles, just in time to have the airborne Jumptroopers drop down on either side of him and hose the interior of the bunker with fire, which they quickly crawled into.

::Approaching door.::

The flightless Jumptroopers stacked in the trench waiting for the door to let them in. It only took a few seconds for the troopers inside to release the thick doorway. The troops flooded in, weapons up, sensors that were still operational, working away.

They crept up the dark, narrow hallways at a fast walk, partially crouched, staggered on either side of the cold unforgiving walls.  Running could mean life in a situation like this…but it could just as easily mean instant disaster to a mission, a mission that was more important than all of them…it always was…so claimed those that were never there.

The Jumptroopers crept forwards, nearing another door. Cautiously the man on point tried the latch, carefully easing the door open a crack. Light and distant sounds of combat drifted through.  The man opened the door a little more to look before easing it shut again.

“Clear to the first series of structures.”

Syyl nodded. “Anyone have contact with the other platoons?”

“Light contact in the trenches, two have cleared bunkers.”

“Give them a ten second count, we’re going after the structures, gain elevation and create strongpoints.”

The Jumptrooper nodded and relayed the orders.

It was a long ten seconds, the tunnel shaking and shuddering with near and distant impacts. The troops readied themselves for the charge, and then the Jumptrooper in front threw open the door and everyone was too busy to be scared.

The buildings were three story structures, made out of the same heavy synthetic stone as the surrounding trenches and bunkers. To their left and right other Jumptroopers sprinted from the trenches or bunkers, the other platoons charging. The occasional piece of starship provided cover, still smoking smashed into the flat parade ground open area. Several of the openings on the buildings winked with incoming fire, some Jumptroopers stumbled and fell, some getting back up, others writhing to be grabbed by comrades and hauled forwards. Flashes and snaps seemed to reach out and leap past the sonic cracks of the defenders projectiles.

A lance of fire seared through Syyl’s arm, just above his elbow in between the upper arm and forearm armor, he grunted in pain knowing that he had been hit, but he dared not stop.

A tremendous howl suddenly threatened to override the audio safeties and an enemy fighter flashed in front of them, smashing into the stone at a shallow angle, on fire it exploded in a long slashing wall of fire that billowed into air, a pair of TIE Fighters screaming over right behind, having chased the damaged fighter into the ground. While it had almost killed the troops on the ground, it gave them precious cover from the defenders fire.  As the troops charged through the smoke and remaining bits of flaming fuel and ordinance that hadn’t fireballed on impact, it concealed the paired streaks of missiles reaching up from the tops of several buildings to catch one of the fleeting TIE Fighters. The new Imperial fighter ran ahead of the deadly projectiles, the first one caught the fighter on the inside of its starboard solar panel, and blew a half meter sized hole in the panel and sprayed the ball cockpit with fragments. The second missile exploded two meters behind the fighter spraying it with hot fragments that punctured its port engine, and into the back of the pilot. The fighter suddenly pitched forwards and rolled and yawed hard to the left, tumbling quickly to crash onto the trenches, fireballing as its reactor cell ruptured, blasting a burning crater into the installations frontal defenses.

Syyl slammed next to the door as a Jumptrooper tossed a grenade through the firing slit. The next Jumptrooper slammed against the door, leading with his shoulder, fortunately the door was not reinforced, and it burst open under the Jumptroopers weight. Syyl swiveled around the frame, weapon up as grenades exploded in rooms on either side of the entryway.  A man scrambled out of a side door, turning towards Syyl only a step away and at half a run, Syyl simply lashed out with the butt of the weapon, connecting with the man’s jaw which shattered under the blows sending him in a heap to the floor. Syyl stepped over him, continuing forwards as the Jumptrooper behind him shot the man in the head, ensuring that there was no threat behind them.

Jumptroopers fanned out in squads, two splitting up to clear the bottom level and prepare to repel an enemy counterattack from all sides, and the last two quickly heading for the upper two levels. 

Syyl stalked forwards, pausing at a set of stairs, long enough for his men to stack up behind him, the third man in line stepping forwards to fling a grenade around the corner and up. The Jumptroopers flooded around the corner, spreading out to either side of the wide stairwell and sprinted up. Syyl had just about reached the top of the stairway when the grenade exploded, followed immediately by screams.

He reached the last step and went left, knowing the other line of Jumptroopers would cover his right flank. Going left apparently led to the stairway that would take him to the third level, and one of the fundamental rules of storming a building was to not lose momentum. Not having the ability to count on grenades to distract or kill defenders on the third level, Syyl decided in a split second that simply charging would have the best chances of success, to appear before the enemy was in position.

Sprinting up the stairway he ran headlong into an enemy soldier, both of them losing their footing and going down in a heap of kicking, punching, flailing limbs and clacking armor plates. Syyl let go of his captured rifle and slammed his forearm hard up under the soldiers helmet into his throat. The man seemed to gag but threw a hard punch into the left side of Syyl’s head, rocking him to the side and starting the pair rolling on the floor. Syyl managed to get a hand on his vibroknife with the other hand up under the edge of the soldiers helmet, yanking sideways.  The soldier responded by trying to pull Syyl’s hand off his helmet with his opposite hand, and trying to grasp Syyl with his other hand. Syyl managed to get his knife out and thrust it hard into the soldiers armpit, the blade sunk an inch and held for a moment before giving way and plunging to the hilt slicing into the enemy soldiers lungs and windpipe. The soldier immediately spasmed, his muscles contracting around the injury, his body contorting to try to get off the blade, which Syyl shoved hard back and forth, shifting the blade multiple centimeters each way in the soldiers body before yanking it out and rolling away, blood following the blade out to mix with the blood seeping from Syyl’s wound on the floor.

Around him the sharp concussions of weapons fire hammered through the air in a dizzying cacophony of sound, pierced by screams and shouted commands or cries for help. Syyl rolled to his feet, the pain in his arm seemed to be gone, the last Jumptrooper was sprinting through the landing and going left. Another Jumptrooper was down on the landing but helping him would have to wait. Syyl slipped his vibroknife back into its sheath and grabbed up the rifle again, ignoring the rasping sounds and blood that came from the soldier he had stabbed in great bubbling pink froth that piled up beside his torso as the man was taking his last breaths of life.
He ran into the next room following part of the squad, the weapons fire dying off rapidly followed by several coughing explosions several rooms away. A last burst of fire could be heard be heard in behind him somewhere.

::Clear!:;

::Clear!::

Syyl stopped. ::Report!::

::Ground floor clear, setting up defensive positions.::

::Second floor clear!::

::Third floor clear, roof remaining!::

Syyl turned around, he’d seen a roof access from the last hallway. Other Jumptroopers were already filtering back to stack up and rush the roof access.   Once in position they charged up the narrow access way, hoping that the sounds of battle didn’t have the defenders ready to mow them down. They got lucky, as Syyl stepped onto the roof behind four other Jumptroopers, a quick glance around walled roof showed that this building was now clear of the enemy. Jumptroopers quickly fanned out across the perimeter of the roof taking high ground position looking for any enemies that might be moving in on their position.

Around them other Jumptroopers could be seen coming down out of the sky. Most had carbon scoured armor from the firestorm that they had survived, and were now carrying out their orders, and assaulting the installation.  Jumptroopers spiraled down from the sky, red dashes of light showing their targets of interest. The crackling of Renatasian projectile weapons answered the screech of blaster rifles and the coughing explosions of rail detonator launchers.  Some Jumptroopers jerked and fell from the sky, smashing into the unforgiving construction material when enemy fire found holes in their armor.  The shock of seeing anyone coming out of the columns of smoke in the sky and flaming starship debris however had given the psychological edge to the invaders.

The Jumptroopers under Syyl’s command immediately shifted to putting fire against enemy held buildings that they could find targets for, trying to lay down a suppression pattern to give their incoming comrades cover.  Syyl stepped up to the wall facing the inside of the complex and fired a short burst at a Renatasian taking cover in a doorway, firing up at the Jumptroopers coming down. The soldier ducked back into the building as Syyl’s projectiles struck the thick wall next to him, showing the man with dust and fragments.

Syyl silently cursed and picked another firing slit to receive attention. Just as he pulled the trigger his head rocked back from getting hit with what felt like a sledgehammer and a loud CRACK left his ears ringing and his head buzzing slightly.  He stumbled back in surprise, taking him out of sight of whoever had shot at him. Shaking his head Syyl stepped back up the wall and looked in the direction that the shot had come from. He picked out a soldier’s helmet two buildings down, just looking over the top of a firing slit towards him.  As he brought his captured weapon to bear the soldiers weapon flared again and gray puffs of dust and synthstone fragments jumped in front of Syyl’s face as the projectiles slammed into his cover.  Syyl brought his weapons sights to bear and held down the trigger in a long burst.  Projectiles kicked dust all around the enemy until the weapon stopped firing. Syyl ducked down to reload as he moved several steps along the wall before popping back up.  He didn’t have to fire again as he could see a smear of blood sprayed along the floor inside the firing slit, but he couldn’t see the enemy soldier.

Jumptroopers, far fewer than Syyl had hoped to see, were putting boots onto rooftops now and fighting their way inside the bitterly defended structures.  Enemy fire had tapered off to a few scattered shots, but none were aimed in his direction, and even those tapered off to muffled pops as Jumptroopers cleared their buildings.

Syyl was able to turn back to his own company.

“Check wounded, positions, weapons, ammunition!”

Jumptroopers scrambled to obey, knowing his men knew their business he sat down and pulled his helmet off and began working on his helmets communications. Not being able to check on now his company on his own, wasn’t an option. He quickly opened up the compartment and looked inside. Things didn’t look bad and he pulled out a spare fuse and replaced the damaged one. Instantly his helmet comlink began chattering with Jumptroopers giving orders and updates.
He quickly pulled his helmet on. :: Company report!::

::First Platoon building forty-seven secure, fourteen effectives, five walking wounded.::

::Second Platoon, building thirty-six secure, sixteen effectives, seven walking wounded, two non responsive wounded.::

::Third Platoon, building forty, ten effectives, three walking wounded, six unresponsive wounded.::

::Fourth Platoon, building thirty-seven, nineteen effectives, three walking wounded, two unresponsive wounded.::  he finished letting the other platoon leaders what was going on.

Above him the battle continued to rage, turbolaser strikes from orbit flashed down from orbit, and artillery from other sources thudded and flashed in the distance. To the north was the city of Mathilde a series of taller sky rises and a number of surrounding large buildings, much smaller than those of Coruscant or other modern cities, but they were no slouches.

To his east lay the rest of the military complex, mostly storage and logistics buildings, that he no longer had the troop strength to take. To the west was the way they had come, and to the south was scattered smaller towns or cities.

He was concerned about his third platoon, a low number of effective troops and a lot of injured troops to defend.

::First Platoon, assault to building forty and join up with Third Platoon.::

::Copy.::

A Jumptrooper kneeled next to him. “Your arm is still bleeding sir.”

Syyl looked down to his left and saw the blood from his arm dripping onto the rock covered roof, the end of a red trail down his armor. Now that it was mentioned and the adrenaline slowly ebbed, the arm started aching horribly from shoulder all the way through the ends of his fingers.

He reached over and pulled the armor off and rolled back the undersuit, allowing the medic to stem the flow of blood and wrap it in a bacta field bandage.  Syyl nodded his thanks and put the armor back on as he tried to contact command with no success.

He could hear shooting and faint explosions drift through the wind, First Platoon’s attack to Third Platoon’s position, from the chatter they were not meeting much resistance and hadn’t heard of any new casualties.

::First Platoon to Fourth Platoon, mortar position clear!::

That was good news.

::Acknowledged One.::

Then he heard a low humming, a sound that Imperial troops could pick out a long way off. Help, a ride into and out of battle, the sound of hope, MAAT gunships. Thank whatever gods existed that someone in the command chain had seen the initial disaster of the jump and sent reinforcements.

::All units, mahts coming in from the west, be prepared to mark positions and provide cover fire!::

He looked to the west, leaning his left side against the low wall, his captured rifle in his right hand.

::Red Wing One, three three eight over.:: No reply, his long range comm must still be out. He could see the triangular shapes with their inverted V wings now, coming in low and fast towards the trenches.

Rockets reached out from the MAATs and impacted against bunkers on the defensive line, green bursts of forward laser cannons chewed up the defending trenches and remaining defenders there.

A whoosh to his right pulled his attention to the building to his north, a building that hadn’t been actively resisting, and one no Jump Troopers had landed on. A pair of barely visible exhaust trails streaked away towards the incoming gunships.

Simultaneous cries of “Contact!” issued from multiple vocorders and comm links and the Jumptroopers on all sides opened fire on the Renatasian soldiers that had just appeared above the low wall.  The volley of projectiles suddenly stopped when a soldier with a rocket launcher jerked and pitched forwards, followed by a burst of rocket smoke and a massive explosion that doubled and then tripled in force, blowing a whole third of the roof into a massive cloud of gray dust and black smoke.

An explosion popped out where the MAATs should have been and Syyl turned in time to see a MAAT gunship drop and summersault into the ground, end over end before rolling across the ground, wings snapping off as the heavy craft tumbled, coming to rest fetched up against the building to their left on its side.

Despite the loss, MAAT gunships landed all over the place, on the ground and roofs of structures, pouring Stormtroopers and Jumptroopers into the area.  Syyl headed back down to the ground level to find who was in charge. On his way down he noticed that the wounded Jumptrooper had been removed from the landing, but the Renatasian soldier had simply been pulled to one side, a small pile of pink froth lay where the soldier had died, a red smear of blood showed the drag path.
At the ground floor he spoke to the sergeant of the first squad.

“Pass the word, gather indigenous weapons and ammunition.”

“Yes sir.”

He stepped outside, and headed for the downed MAAT where a number of troops were swarming it, removing wounded and needed equipment.

“Who’s in charge of the Jumptroopers here?”

A Stormtrooper turned to see a Jumptrooper who looked like he’d flown through hell. Syyl could only imagine that he looked like his other Jumptroopers looked, armor burnt and blackened, melted in places and pocked with projectile impacts.

The Stormtrooper pointed, “Major Dribit. Building nineteen.”

Syyl nodded and headed off collecting a number of looks as he went. It didn’t take long to find the Major, his command center set up in one of the smaller but sturdier constructed buildings. Unlike the Stormtroopers and frontline Jumptroopers, Major Dribit wore a standard Imperial officer uniform.

Syyl came to attention in front of the officer’s holographic representation.

“Sergeant Vestor, Jumptrooper zero three three eight reporting sir.”

Major Dribit looked up from his clean holographic chart at the Jumptrooper that couldn’t get much dirtier if he tried.

“Unit and mission…eh…” the Major looked closer.

“Sergeant Vestor, First Battalion, Third Company…”

The Major interrupted him. “Ah yes, you’re the battalion that was supposed to have cleared out this position. Clearly you failed in your mission.”

Syyl didn’t disabuse him of his idea of success…

“Where is your Battalion Commander, Sergeant?”

“Most likely dead sir, along with most of the battalion.”

“And you are the ranking officer?”

“I have not encountered any higher ranked officer sir.”

“Hmm…” Major Dribit looked down at his holographic representation of his defense. “What positions are you occupying?”

Syyl stepped forwards and extended his hand into the hologram, which winked and shivered before clarifying around his hand. “These three structures here, we’ll need equipment and replacements as we are only armed with indigenous weapons. We have not had a chance to reorganize the other survivors of the battalion that landed at the end of our assault.” He stepped back and waited.

The major stared at the hologram for a bit and then looked up.

“You’ll have to draw equipment in shifts from the dead. With only a company to defend what should have been a battalion… The Two Twenty First Mech is expected within the hour…and the First Infantry Division should be landing as we speak, they should have the equipment you need. Take up defensive positions here,” he said indicating a set of three consecutive structures. “And prepare to support the trench positions.”

“Yes sir.” Syyl turned and left, comming ahead to relay the orders, as he watched an Acclamator land on the parade ground, the only place big enough inside the perimeter to land.

Syyl lost sight of the ship as they dropped below the buildings from his point of view, by the time he got around the last building that brought the whole of the ship back into view, long squared formations of Imperial Infantry were marching down the ramps of the ship. Syyl stopped, waiting, knowing that the load masters on the ship would be too busy to give his men equipment.

“Sir?”

Syyl turned to see several of his squads lined up behind him, the squads were from all the platoons, their platoon mates preparing the buildings that they were assigned for defense.

“It appears we’ll have to wait a little to get our supplies. What news of the rest of the regiment?”

“Not good sarge,” said Tee Six, a Centax II Fett clone.  “From our squad its just you, me and Tee Four. For straight numbers the regiment is down to a hundred and eighty fighting men.”

“A hundred and…the Major wasn’t joking about having a company from a battalion. Any officers?”

Tee Four nodded. “Captain Paran of the First Company made it. A couple from some of the other battalions. Mostly Majors and above who didn’t go in with the jump.”

Syyl shuddered. 91 percent casualty rate on the first jump. “Are we going to get any wounded back?”

“Most of the wounded I saw come in with those who missed that big fireball should be back real quick. A lot of dislocation or mild concussion injuries from when that shockwave hit everyone. Including battle wounded that we should get back, injuries like yours sarge, we should be back up to fifty percent by tomorrow.”

“What about serious wounded.” He knew he shouldn’t have asked, but something told him he had to.

Tee Six shook his head speaking for the first time. “Twenty, thirty men at best.”

Syyl took a deep breath and turned back towards the Acclamator without seeing it, his eyes lost somewhere in between his visor and the hull. Jumptroopers usually took higher than normal casualties…but this jump had gutted them.
 
To Syyl’s right several stormtroopers were escorting a few prisoners. One of them was very young, and he looked over at the blackened Jumptroopers with a mix of pure hatred and unabashed awe. The young soldier couldn’t think of anything except his first impression of flaming birds.
 
Flying through Mathilde’s now smoky atmosphere Klyn Shanga looked to his left at the aircraft flown by Bern Nuladeg, spread behind and slightly around them were sixteen other heavily loaded strikecraft. Ahead was the Mathilde Military Supply Complex that was now taken over by the out system invaders, one of their starships was settling to the ground in front of him…it would likely have to lower its cursed shields to offload men and equipment, something that would allow he and his flight to kill it, but that would only be a bonus to killing the ground troops, this flights main target.

The ground streamed below the nose of his craft, pieces of smoking starship lay in various places that it had crashed to the ground, marring the once beautiful landscape. It would be the responsibility of his flight to revitalize the soil with the invaders blood.

A wolfish smile split his lips beneath the concealing helmet as he reached forwards to flick his running lights on and off, getting a response from the other craft as he reached down to arm the missiles under his fighter. 

The offworlders wouldn’t know what hit them, not yet having a chance to set up their defenses and caught still trying to debark their ship…

::Fiiters comen don!:: Curses, the enemies craft had detected them moments from weapons release.

“Far weapns firsd!”

The target indicator clicked down rapidly, and prompted weapons launch just as a series of green flashes started streaking between his flights craft from the attacking starfighters. Two of his squad exploded as his craft leapt upwards, freed from a third of its weight, he yanked his craft around, one craft continuing its path burning, following its missiles into the tightly packed formations of dark uniformed troops. But now his job was to survive to kill more.
 
“Fighters incom-!”
The Jumptroopers dove to the ground as the multiple thunderclaps smashed through the compound followed by sheets of flame as dozens of missiles struck.  Troops flew or crumpled, riding rock hard compressed waves of atmosphere, or cut down by debris accelerated to shrapnel speeds by the bombs. The faces of structures shifted or buckled, and entire buildings erupted in flame and dust, instantly blanketing the entire area with more dark smoke and cast the hellish scene into darkness illuminated only by the flames of burning material. 

Syyl risked looking up as a last fireball smeared itself across the synthstone surface, causing him to slam his head back into the ground as pieces of flaming debris sprayed across the parade ground once again. Syyl once again cautiously raised his head as sound returns to the abused air.  Screaming and moaning from wounded men, or ones still on fire. He activated his helmet’s short range radar hoping to penetrate the dark smoky atmosphere as he climbed to his feet, followed by his Jumptroopers.
The ghostly blue hue that his vision took on showed a wing of an enemy fighter craft burning on the parade ground amidst the craters.  With the sound like a shrieking demon of legend, the starboard wingtip of the Acclamator sagged and broke off, tearing metal until it snapped or the ground took the weight.
Syyl made a decision.

“Gather weapons and gear for everyone, as much as you can carry, don’t stop to help the wounded. They’ll be coming at the perimeter soon. Grab what food and water you can find.”

The Jumptroopers fanned out through the mayhem, Syyl stepping over the bodies of the wounded and dead, the wounded unconscious, sitting there in shock, or screaming in pain from their injuries. Reaching down Syyl picked up a DLT-19 from an Imperial soldier, slinging it over his shoulder while taking the bandoliers of power packs from him. Stepping over a wounded soldier he reached down and took a dead soldier’s canteen, food rations, and power packs. He wandered through for a few minutes ending up with as much gear and weapons as he could carry and moved back towards the line of buildings he was ordered to defend. 
 
Syyl climbed up to the second floor of the three floor building, almost staggering under the weight of two DLT-19s, two E-11 blasters, a PLEX missile launcher with 12 missiles, and assorted grenades and thermal detonators, not mentioning the food and water that he had gathered.

It felt like he had lost 200 kilos…and in reality it was quite possible that he had. It was the nearest thing to walking on air yet still ready to collapse. It was hard to believe that it had only been an hour and a half since they had been launched out of the Punisher, it seemed like a lifetime ago. He sat down on a table to rest for a moment. The primary goal of establishing a beachhead had been achieved, the secondary goal of denying the enemy supplies was never a bad idea.  If he were the natives…he would throw everything he possibly could at the Empire’s beachheads, before they could continue on to their own goals.

“Sergeant?”

Syyl looked up to see JT-5822, Kelben Santo, another GENODE Jumptrooper standing in front of him holding a Jetpack in one hand.

“Found this for you sir. Now we’re all back up to jump readiness…more or less.”

Syyl nodded his thanks and stood to have Santo help him put on the jetpack. It was extra weight, but what good was a Jumptrooper that couldn’t jump? After getting the pack on and diagnostics run he nodded his thanks and got an update on what defenses were set up.

One of the Jumptroopers had found several crates of directional command detonated mines in one of the structures, and after a bit of examination had sorted out how they worked, and sown a number of them in front of the buildings hidden in debris, and all entry points were barricaded, except for selected entry and exit points.
Syyl approved of the disposition, 1st and 2nd Platoons were in the two buildings to either side, and 4th Platoon shoring up the weakened 3rd Platoon in the center as the main strongpoint of the line. With things settled, he ordered lookouts onto the roof, and a rest for everyone else.  With his time he took off his helmet, and continued to work on his long range comlink.

Ten minutes later he was called by a runner to a regimental briefing.

Syyl entered the room, and glanced around at who was there, or more importantly, who wasn’t. While he wasn’t completely familiar with all the officers of his regiment, who knew just by the large amount of lower rank officers, and even traditionally noncommissioned officers like himself.  Syyl counted six of the original twenty-one commissioned officers that the battalion had jumped with, the other battalions seemed to have faired better, the first battalion having been devastated by the randomness and lethality of their jobs.

Colonel Destiv called attention and the officers and non commissioned officers alike snapped to parade ground attention, despite their armor being anything but. Colonel Destiv wasted no time in getting things underway.

He began by looking over his remaining troops before speaking.

“We all know that the First Battalion has suffered heavy losses, and for now we’ll be moving non commissioned officers who have survived up into command positions at brevet ranks. Captain Paran will take over the remnants of the First Battalion, and other junior officers and sergeants will move up. Sergeant Vestor has shown considerable leadership ability in rallying the First Battalion and will have the brevet rank of Captain. The survivors of the First Battalion will be organized into five above average strength platoons until suitable replacements can be made available. Reinforcements will fill out the ranks as soon as possible. For now our mission is to hold a line of structures facing the city until relieved by the 221st Mechanized Infantry, which will be landing after the 1st Infantry is finished landing.  ”
Colonel Destiv paused for a moment before continuing.

“The second, third and fourth battalions are at eighty percent strength and will be supporting the first on its flank in defensive positions here.”

A hologram appeared out of Destiv’s upraised palm glove, indicating a line of structures on the city side of the base.

“You all know what to do. Dismissed.”
 
Back at building 37 Syyl found his makeshift platoon had taken care of evacuating the wounded and setting up initial barricades, camouflaging directional mines along the front of the building and in choke points and deep inside entryways.

“What happened Sarge…er Captain.” Rax Trenon started.

“We’re to hold this position until further orders is what it boils down to. Looks like things are set up well.”

“Good thing to,” Rax said as he peaked through a firing slit. “The natives are getting restless. Scanners are saying there is some massing just outside of range.”
Syyl glanced out a different firing slit, not expecting to see anything.

“Why hasn’t artillery been called down yet?”

“No idea. Rumor is they don’t want to depopulate things to much, still hoping to-” Rax’s voice trailed off as both of them could see movement at the edge of cover.
Suddenly things were a frantic with Jumptroopers rushing to their defense positions as the light of the planet started to fall into the darkness of night.

Syyl took the stairs two at a time, silently cursing the speed of the Renatasian response as he checked the power level on his DLT-19’s power cell. Scrambling onto the roof and to his left he tucked into cover behind a revetment and set up his sights on the still out of range enemy.

::Platoon report if you aren’t in position.::

His comm remained silent and so he switched up to the command frequency and reported his positions readiness, getting an acknowledgment but no orders.  He switched the channel back to his platoon, and set the command frequency to monitor.  Movement with his helmets sensors was now clearly visible, and it looked like a lot of Renatasian’s were coming out for the attack. It dawned on him that the Renatasian’s had let them take the supply base, had in fact used it as bait to assemble as much of their enemy in a single place, relatively uncoordinated on the ground after the initial assault, and trying to organize follow on forces for further attacks and in poor defensive position with their troops exposed in either parade type formation, or not yet set up in hardened defensive positions.

Even as this thought happened an Acclamator was lifting off, and another setting up to land in its place, the thrum of their repulsorlifts adding a slight feeling of shaking as power was increased.

“Everyone off the roofs immediately!” His troops didn’t question his hurried order. Rax to his right moved away from the low wall immediately, quickly followed by others.

::Command, Captain Vestor.::

::Command. Go ahead:: came Major Paran’s voice.

::Command recommend immediate abandonment of rooftop positions. Enemy likely to have location zeroed in for artillery fire.::

::Explain Captain.::

Syyl gave one last glance as he too scrambled down the stairway, heading down to the third floor, bypassing the fourth and pulling his troops off it as well as he explained.
::Enemy resistance was lighter than normal. Enemy movement makes me think that they have far to many troops available for this not to be a trap. Light artillery and hidden heavier artillery are likely to aide in a frontal assault.::

Syyl slipped up to a firing slit and looked out, seeing streaks suddenly start reaching for the sky, enemy missiles and fighter efflux. Doubtlessly the enemies attempt to keep the Star Destroyers out of the fight for the charge.

Paran was quiet for a moment.

::Concur. Command to all units, abandon top two levels of defense line until absolutely necessary.:: Paran dropped off the net, doubtlessly moving the thought up the chain of command.

Even as Syyl watched the entire horizon seemed to come alive with the flashes of explosions from orbit, but even more frightening for the ground troops, the mass of movement seemed to surge forwards behind a series of flashes and long fast moving candles of flame.

“Incoming!” screamed a dozen men as they all dove away from the walls to the floor.  The detonations of missiles striking the building force fed dust into every room and down every hallway, the deep kaRUmph lifting those too close to the explosion off the ground.

After the initial wave of missiles a steady stream of thudding explosions continued to sprinkle across the area, the building shaking and shuddering, a particularly bright flash and thunderous explosion caused the entire building to quake with the hit, bits of synthcrete rattled down the stairwells from the fourth floor, some as large as a man’s head. Any troops on the roof would have been dead.

As the heavier explosions ceased the Jumptroopers knew it was time. Syyl climbed to his feet and moved to his firing slit, shoulder to shoulder with T-6. What greeted them was right out of the manual…in a worst case scenario kind of way.  Thousands Renatasian combat troops dressed in dark camouflage suits charged forwards at a hard run.  The bunkers and trenches now being manned by Imperial Infantry with a sprinkling of Stormtroopers spewed red energy darts into the charging ranks at maximum range.

The order to fire at maximum range didn’t have to be given. Blasters screeched repeatedly into Syyl’s ear as he started sending bolts downrange on automatic. The flashing lights gave a disingenuous feel of incoming and outgoing fire, the bright red beams of blaster bolts, being answered invisibly in the failing light by slugs and flechettes from shoulder arms, and the occasional yellow candles of rockets or missiles.  Explosions flowered at Syyl’s headlevel and shrapnel rattled against the face of the building, but worse, rained slivers of metal on the relatively unprotected Imperial Infantry in the trenches.

Syyl took a moment to glance down at the line as blaster bolts seemed to slack off from the trench line. What greeted his eyes was about what he expected. Infantry was mostly at the bottom of the trench, huddled tightly together with as little exposed unarmored parts as possible open to the deadly fragments coming down. While the troops had blast vests and helmets, that didn’t do much to protect their arms and legs, and the lip and bottom of the trench were scattered with dropped weapons and blood.  Only the Stormtroopers that were sparingly mixed in to rally the infantry were still returning effective fire as the light bombardment continued to keep the infantry pinned.
Syyl refocused on the advancing line of Renatasian infantry were within only a hundred meters of the trench line and the light bombardment instantly ceased, but Syyl knew as his finger tightened on the trigger once again, that there would be no stopping the trenches from being overrun.

As Syyl and T-6 continued to fire Syyl noticed the pattern of the attack shift slightly as a number of troops held up behind the front wave and soldiers flowing around them.  As Syyl shifted his aim as one of the stopped soldiers put a tube to the top of his shoulder.  The bolt caught the soldier in the shoulder and the burst of exploding flesh and blood violently threw the soldier’s torso backwards, and a rocket leapt from the tube and soared off at an angle across the battlefield. That didn’t however stop the other rocket armed Renatasians from launching their weapons at their targets.  Flares of light came to life all along the line as rockets flew at both bunkers and the first line of buildings.

::Incoming!::  Syyl shouted into his comm as he and T-6 dove away from the wall and towards the ground.  He hit the ground with a clatter of armor as the missile struck a meter to the left of the firing slit and the explosion threw chunks of synthcrete across the small room at a high velocity.  Syyl and T-6 scrambled back to their feet and moved back to their firing slits, shouldering their weapons once again.  Syyl opened fire once again, trying to pick out the rocket armed infantry whenever he could see one. But the damage had been done.  Renatasian Infantry had overrun the trenches and as he fired again the fighting in the trenches was a massive brawl of hand to hand and short range combat.  The bunkers had fallen to the massed rocket and overwhelming numbers of the attack, but the Renatasians had paid a heft price. Their dead lay sprawled out across the field and heaped at the top of the trenches. But now all that separated them from the rest of the base where their remaining numbers could decide the battle, even with the first infantry division being tossed directly into the fight.

The Renatasians suddenly seemed to surge to the edge of the trench and opened fire with everything they had, the trench lip seemed to sparkle and the smacking impacts of projectiles. A hammer crashed into his left shoulder as a projectile skipped off the burnt plate, shoving his aim off center, and another projectile hit his twisting T-21 and the weapon stopped firing.  Dropping it Syyl stepped back and pulled the E-11 from his side and started to turn back to the firing slit when T-6 suddenly cannoned into him.
 
::Incoming!::
 
They both crashed to the ground and covered their heads with their arms and rolled facedown as a number of explosions from rockets smashed into the side of the building.  The floor shook and bucked and dust choked the air leaping off the walls, floor and ceiling.  Syyl and T-6 untangled themselves, their helmets automatically switching modes to allow them to see clearly.  Using his left hand pushing of the floor Syyl slipped up the now considerably larger firing slit, ears ringing even with the helmets protection, and aimed at an angle out the opening and began firing at the charging line of Renatasian troops who were already nearing the building at a dead sprint, firing on the run.  In his peripheral vision he saw T-6 take up an identical position in front of him, crossing his line of fire with his own scarlet bolts of death that left a bright line in Syyl’s vision, but it hardly mattered, the angles involved still allowed a far higher number of hits than firing straight on at the enemy.  When the Renatasian lines reached twenty meters from the building Syyl figured it was close enough.

::Defend the lower floors!::

With that he twisted to his right, grabbing a thermal detonator and heaving it out the opening, a movement mirrored by T-6, bending to stay low, T-6 right behind him, and they headed for the lower two floors, sprinting down the stairway, a chain of crackling explosions of thermal detonators snaked through the air, quickly followed by a daisy chain of exploding directional mines that had been set up the debris at the base of the building.

At the bottom of the stairway Syyl grabbed a support, spinning himself around and down the next set of stairs, T-6 right on his heels, other Jumptroopers from the third floor pounding down the stairway behind them, those coming down from the fourth and roof after the bombardment were hopping off the stairway behind them to spread out along the second floor to reinforce the firing slits. As Syyl turned and started moving to the front of the building he heard a second series of explosions, indicating the second of three chains of directional mines had gone off, the sounds of blasterfire increasing quickly as troops stepped up to the firing slits next to their comrades. As Syyl caught a glance out a firing slit at the black mass coming towards them, he knew they weren’t going to hold the building where they were.

::Room defense!::

He turned and stepped into a doorway quickly his E-11 pointed down as the Jumptroopers darted past him, taking up positions to fire on the openings, preparing to defend the first series of rooms, the third and last chain of mines buying time for the troops to disengage for a few seconds. As the last Jumptrooper slipped past Syyl he brought his E-11 up, a second Jumptrooper kneeling underneath him, two others mirroring the position on the opposite side of the hallway, and further back as well. Two Jumptroopers holstered their weapons and prepared fragmentation grenades, and got ready to pull a wounded comrade back or take their place, others quickly replaced spent power packs. They didn’t have long as grenades and bursts of fire signaled the start of the bloody room to room fighting that would follow.

Two grenades came arcing into the room and Syyl stepped back, dropping his arms and hands down to slip behind the protection of the wall, that being the signal for the Jumptrooper to toss one of his grenades around the corner just after the entry grenades exploded.  Syyl waited for a heartbeat, listening to the troops to charge into the room, and right into the fragments of the first set of grenades.  Syyl and the other Jumptroopers leaned around their protection and opened fire. The screams from the wounded and the screams from those charging in mixed with the higher pitched shrieks of blasters and the thunderous concussions of automatic projectile weapons.  Several Renatasians writhed on the ground, but Syyl was more concerned with the Renatasians pushing their way into the room four at a time, surrounded on all sides by others who were firing at anything that looked like it was an enemy, trying desperately to give cover fire.  Soldiers folded and tumbled to the ground, others would have pitched backwards had the troops behind them not been pushing in behind them.

Syyl’s head snapped back with a loud plastoid THWOC as a projectile found its mark. Yanking his head back on target he continued to fire until his weapon buzzed in his hand that the powerpack was low.

“Loading!”

The Jumptrooper holding the grenade tossed it around the corner, letting Syyl duck back, dropping the powerpack as the Jumptrooper who tossed the grenade stepped up to take his place.  Even before the expended powerpack hit the floor Syyl was sliding the next one in place, reaching down to tap the Jumptrooper in the kneeling position to let him know that he was ready to take his place to let him reload. The Jumptrooper slipped back and Syyl knelt in his place.  Across the way a Jumptrooper jerked back falling onto his back, reaching up towards his throat.  He saw the flash of an arm throwing a grenade and the Jumptrooper was pulled back into the room as the thunderous flash was muted by the bodies and gore on the floor. A grenade bounced in, rolling close enough that ducking around the corner would do no good, and reaching for it to toss it back would have been suicide from the amount of fire going both directions down the hallway, and it could explode in his hand.

“Grenade!”

Jumptroopers on both sides cringed down, leaning into the grenade, a maneuver taught to close any gaps in their armor that were necessary for movement. The explosion rocked him back enough that he lost his balance falling awkwardly into the room, but thrown into the room having braced for the explosion, shrapnel that had come with the shockwave had slammed into his right side armor, and he felt a lance of pain in his right upper arm. His ears ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear the comlink if he wanted to Syyl ignored the pain and scrambled to get up.

The momentary break in the firing gave the Renatasians the opportunity that they needed, a second and third grenade followed in close succession and Syyl, still struggling to get up, simply dropped back to his belly as the grenades went off, his head pointed towards the grenade, leaving the least amount of him exposed as possible. The grenade rolled just past the doorway before it went off, once again spraying synthcrete fragments into the room in a spray, the third one rolling further down the hallway.  Syyl scrambled back to his feet, the Jumptroopers on either side that had managed to duck out of the way while still standing spun back around the corner firing as they turned. Syyl scrambled to a knee, pulling another fragmentation grenade as he came to his feet and tossed it blindly around the corner just as the standing Jumptrooper on his side jerked back as several projectiles found a hole in his armor between the shoulder and torso armor, and his throat, dropping him to the ground with a gargled scream of pain. Syyl brought his E-11 up to fire and fired a trio of bolts into the first black clad Renatasian only a few feet away. But the next soldier was right there behind him flashing across the hallway before Syyl could trigger another bolt, arm raised with a short weapon with a heavy looking blade on the end, bringing it down towards the Jumptrooper across the hallway. Syyl started to shift his aim but already knew he didn’t have time.  The Renatasian was not unnoticed by the Jumptrooper who twisted, trying to bring his weapon around to fend off the strike, managing to do so, shoving the weapon wide to his left, but the Renatasian simply let his weapon get carried away as he brought up a single handed projectile weapon and slammed it into the unarmored throat and pulled the trigger as he slammed bodily into the Jumptrooper.  A series of bolts intersected the soldiers body as he and the mortally wounded Jumptrooper crashed back into the room, and Syyl was forced to turn his attention back to the opening. 

::Fall back!::

Grenades arced past him and the other two remaining Jumptroopers in the hallway, exploding in the first room, allowing Syyl and the others to step into the hallway and rapidly back away, firing on automatic, Jumptroopers behind them stepping into the center of the hallway, to keep up a continuous heavy fire, while presenting as much armor as possible to hostile fire.  The series of grenades helped, but that didn’t stop the next group of Renatasians from taking advantage that their fallen comrades had created.  It didn’t seem possible, but as Syyl ducked around the corner into relative momentary safety the volume of fire coming in increased.  Syyl took the opportunity as the other Jumptroopers ducked out of the hallway back to more cover, to glance at his right arm and the blood snaking down his burnt and scorched, white flecked armor.  The piece of shrapnel was still embedded in the plastoid armor, and breaking it off on something would be more painful than yanking it out.  The pain brought spots to his eyes as the fragment came out with a plasticy squeak. He shook his head to clear the pain and the spots as he tossed it to the ground, and looked towards his troops.  They were still firing madly away, tucked tight into the wall, showing as little of themselves as they could.

An explosion shook the ground, but Syyl was at the point of ignoring such things, the whole battle had seemed to be a continous explosion. What got his attention though, was the rush of dust, followed by a series of other thudding explosions and suddenly dust gushed into the hallway from the first series of rooms.  He glanced at the walls in fear, how thick were they? Obviously not thick enough.

::They’re coming through the walls!::

He took a step back just as three places on the wall bowed and ripped apart in large chunks riding bursts of dust. He pulled his blaster up and triggered a burst as dark figures boiled from the hole, catching the first soldier high and slamming him to the ground on flashboiled bursts of his own bodily fluids and armor. The second dropped to the ground, spun around by a bolt in the shoulder, the third got through clean, the fourth went down with a bolt that blew through his helmet and head, spraying gore downwards and out accompanied with a puff of smoke. The soldier that had escaped the blaster turned and slammed into Syyl, not even bothering trying to stab or shoot him, he bodily launched both of them into the other reacting Jumptroopers, spilling both of them into the hallway in a pile of flailing limbs, armor, and weapons, knocking Jumptroopers into flailing stutter steps to keep their balance.  Syyl ended up on his back the jump pack creating an awkward balance point that quickly rolled both Syyl and the black clad soldier to the left, further into the hallway. The roll gave Syyl enough momentum as he spun to slam the Renatasian soldier’s head into the synthcrete floor, the helmet making a lighter sound amidst the yelling, screaming, and thunderous sounds of weaponsfire.  The blow didn’t do more than twist the soldier’s helmet as it smashed into the ground, and Syyl threw out his right leg which halted the roll with Syyl on top, both his hands tight around his enemies head, he yanked back and frantically smashed the soldier’s head into the ground again, smashing one hand into the side of the soldiers head, he threw a short savage strike into the soldier’s throat feeling his fist sink in unarmored weakpoint. He felt some resistance for a split moment before his fist sunk in deep with his second punch, the soldier beneath him tried to pull both hands to protect his throat. 

A flicker of motion caught Syyl’s notice and he jerked back, raising his hands to the left. The short axe of another Renatasian soldier glanced off of his forearm armor and thudded into the torso of the gagging soldier, despite the attacking soldiers attempt to rein in his blow.  Syyl yanked his right arm down leaning to his left as he did so to smash his forearm into the soldier’s elbow forcing him to lean down further. Reaching up with his left hand Syyl grabbed the soldier by the back of the neck and threw his weight into trying to stand up, pulling his attacker down off his feet, impaling him on the sharp spike that protruded out the back of his own weapon, partially trapping Syyl’s right arm underneath, with him leaning over the dying soldier.  He again looked left and saw another soldier bearing down on him, rifle raised and visored helmet locked on him. Syyl knew he was gone, but the soldier beneath him bucked hard, trying to pull his dying body off the sharp implement that stabbed into it. The thundering roar of the enemies weapon seemed like a physical hammer in the air, a rapid fire fist slamming into Syyl’s chest as the projectiles bounced off his chest piece and then were plowing into the dying, quickly dead soldier with the short axe in his chest.

            Time seemed to slow as the wall to Syyl’s left seemed to break apart and leap out to engulf his attacker, the same shockwave from the explosive reached out to claim him, hammering him back to his right rolling him violently to fetch up against the right side of the hallway hard.  He shook his head trying to clear it as he started to push himself to his feet, his everything sounded muted, despite the protection that the helmet had provided him, the world seemed far away, almost as if he were watching some kind of high definition holo film.  He shook his head a final time trying to stand up when something hammered into his back with a plastic crack and a shock of pain slammed its way through his body over his left kidney and he went back to the ground.  The gravel and debris filled his vision as he lashed out with his left hand and leg trying to connect with something, anything. He fought against the instinct to roll to his left away from the pain, and instead rolled to his right, being aided by the soldier who had struck him who was trying to yank the short axe’s sharp point out of Syyl’s armor.  Being yanked over onto his back Syyl kicked out, catching the soldier in the left knee, the knee collapsed and the soldier dropped to the ground with that knee.  The soldier lunged forwards, abandoning his attempt to pull his weapon from Syyl’s back, it now being trapped by his body, and landed on Syyl and tried to lock his hands around his throat, trying to fight past the defending left arm.  Syyl tried to keep his left hand in front of his head as best he could as his right frantically searched for something, anything.  The soldiers hands slipped past his defending left arm and locked around his throat, his head being pulled up and slammed into the ground once, twice, the third time brought stars to his vision as the animal instinct and training took over and flailing right hand locked on his sheathed vibronkife.  The next thing he knew the soldier stiffened his arms above him before violently yanking to the left, Syyl’s right hand following his head down, the knife buried up to the hilt in Renatasian’s neck. Quickly rolling he rolled on top of the Renatasian and plunged the knife into him repeatedly blood spraying as he tore at the partially exposed throat and flailing arms that were rapidly losing speed and strength.

            A hand grabbed him by the back of the armor, the rim just below the helmet, yanking him up.

            ::He’s done three eight, c’mon!::

            Syyl fought to gain his balance as he was pulled to his feet.  He turned towards the Jumptrooper who had pulled him up, staggering slightly as his feet shifted on the rubble that was strewn about.  Slowly the world came back into focus and some of the sounds of combat came back, the screeching of blasters and the sharp crackle of thermal detonators mixed with the loud rapid pops of Renatasian assault weapons and sharp bangs of grenades. He glanced up and down the dust choked hallway as the Jumptrooper leaned over and grabbed an E-11 shoving it into his hands.

            ::Turn around, this is going to hurt!::

            A sharp pain squealed through Syyl as the Jumptroooper wrenched the short axe from his back.  He grunted and blinked hard to clear the dark spots that danced in his vision. The sound of something under pressure being discharged hissed and a cold sensation filled his wound for a moment before going numb.  It must have been Srives, JT-2823 from first squad, one of the medics.

:: You're lucky, just the tip got in, flesh wound only.::

Syyl nodded but his shoulder still ached dully from the pain.

            ::Situation.::

            ::We’ve lost buildings on our flank and the line is broken. Another enemy wave is incoming I can see them moving forwards.::

            ::Three eight to surviving Stormtroopers and Jumptroopers,:: he stepped up and peered down the hallway and out the hole blasted in the wall.  ::On my signal take the trenches and reform the line!::

            He got acknowledgment from a number of sergeants and acting sergeants as he leaned against the wall for a moment, reloading as other Jumptroopers formed up and did the same.  Srives shoved the short axe into Syyl’s belt in an empty loop.

            ::Souvenir.::

            Syyl nodded.

            ::Go! Go! Go!::

            He rolled around the corner and sprinted up the hallway, dancing and vaulting over bodies and equipment, six Jumptroopers behind him.  Emerging from the dust choked building at a run he was aware of white, or mostly white, armored bodies off to either side of him running, more or less in a line, dashes of red light spitting out on automatic from the hip, or simply firing.  In a headlong charge like this, aim wasn’t quite as important as psychological impact of seeing a seemingly unstoppable enemy defiantly charging your position. 

            The Renatasians who were in the trenches were actually in the process of trying to cross it, instead of defending it, attempting to simply catch up with the troops that had broken through the line or were just trying to keep the remaining defenders pinned down so they could be later destroyed.  Syyl ran, loosing a burst of bolts into a group of soldiers trying to cross the trenches to his left, several of them crumpling to the ground, others tried to stop and shoot back while others quickly dived for cover.  Syyl winked twice at an activation icon and the rocket pack on his back ignited, launching him into the air. As he quickly soared twenty meters into the air his view shifted to looking down into the trenches, now having a smoother and slightly less jarring motion he was able to aim with considerably more accuracy, his bursts of blaster bolts flashing down into the piles of dark armored troops.  He watched as their collective gaze and weapon sights came up, tracking him, and began twinkling towards him.  Hisses and snaps zipped by him, accompanied by the sharp crack of projectiles that found his armor.  His momentum started carrying him over the top of the trench and he watched as a Renatasian soldier stood and raised a grenade launcher at him.  Syyl started bringing his weapon around when a bolt struck the soldier underneath the chin, blowing vaporized steam and armor out the top of his head.

            Others started to pick their weapons up aiming at Syyl and the other airborne troops, and the Jumptroopers were fulfilling their roles, creating an elevation advantage, but elevation worked both ways when it came to weapons fire.  He and the other Jumptroopers became virtually the sole targets of the entire scrambling line, just in time for numerous white cylinders to bounce or roll into the trench line.  The loud thwacks and sharp bits of pain stabbing at Syyl increased for another moment, until the trench erupted in a piecemeal fashion into blossoming spheres of white energy, dust, and pieces of soldiers.  Syyl cut back on his engines and landed on the top of the trench, hopping backwards to land on the firing line.  Other Stormtroopers and Jumptroopers scrambled onto the line and began pouring fire at the next wave of Renatasian troops only a few hundred meters away. The sounds of blasters screeching was halfway deafening, and then a welcome sound, the whining thump of AT-STs.  Syyl looked back long enough to see two AT-STs moving up from the interior, already battle scarred and blackened. He got their attention and quickly directed them to reinforce the line in weak spots, warning them about the missile teams that had been present in the first wave.  Despite the warning there was nothing that could be done for the left AT-ST as a Renatasian anti-vehicle missile struck it just to the right of its twin blaster cannons, and the vehicles cockpit exploded into a short lasting energy inferno.

            Syyl grimaced and turned back to the firing line.  Two other missiles streaked by, missing the AT-ST by mere meters. Any missile teams that showed themselves received special attention from the troopers on the line, they knew that the AT-ST might be the only thing that saved them this day, and even that was looking impossible.   His rifle clicked empty and he ripped the expended power pack from the weapon and slapped a new one in, and depressing the trigger again, letting bolt after bolt travel downrange into the oncoming wave, a wave that was getting ever closer as fire from the line slowly dwindled as Stormtroopers and Jumptroopers had projectiles find joints in their armor.  A familiar howl suddenly enveloped the battlefield and Syyl glanced up in time to see a ragged and partially broken line of TIE Bombers begin to release their proton bombs arcing down towards the onrushing Renatasians.

            ::Danger close! Incoming!::

            The troops all ducked away from the firing line, trying to gain what little cover would be available and prayed that the worst pilot was good enough.  The ground shook everyone off their feet, and then bounced them up and down, it felt like the very earth was kicking them in the stomach.  Brilliant flashes of light that polarized eyepieces and closed lids couldn’t keep out blinked in rapid succession, shockwaves filled with dust ripped across the trench and swirled into it, instantly changing a messy smoke filled atmosphere, into an ash and dust choked twighlight.  Debris rained down and the heat from the thermal blooms drew back air from the opposite direction.  Syyl shook his head and let his arms fall away from where they were wrapped around him in the fetal position, protecting his exposed neck. He groped for his weapon, quickly locating it amongst the debris and standing back up.

            If he could hear past the ringing in his ears he would have only heard the sound of small bits debris and the receding sound of TIE engines, being chased by Renatasian atmospheric fighters.  He couldn’t see anything through the dust, switching over to his armor’s radar, looking out towards the Renatasian positions…or what was left of it.  The radar was good enough to paint the picture of the aftermath. What few Renatasians had survived the bombing run, were retreating, often alone or in small groups.

            ::Command, jay tee ess zero three three eight, enemy third wave repulsed. Setting up a defensive line.  What is the situation inside the base?::

            ::Copy zero three three eight. Situation still developing. Initial attack repulsed. Friendly forces beginning encirclement and destroy operations.::

            ::Copy.:: Syyl quickly dropped back to a local net and began trying to get control of the situation. Looking over his shoulder he could see two Stromtroopers trying to cut open the hatch of the second AT-ST that had been knocked over by the proton bomb blasts, the hatch getting wedged shut from the fall.

            ::Major Paran, Captain Vestor reporting.::

            ::Report.::

            ::Trenches are held. Estimate fifty percent casualties. Making mix units of Jumptroopers and Stormtroopers and organizing defenses. Request shield generators immediately.::

            ::Prepare defensive positions, and prepare for handoff. We have been put on alert for attack. Details will be passed on when available.::


Two hours later Syyl was standing in the back of a MAAT, with one hand holding onto one of the support bar that ran across the top of the craft. Looking out the open bay at the deceptively quiet cityscape he considered the mission at hand. They had been tasked with going in to capture the planetary government, apparently considered by the brass to still be in the fortified central government building within. Like all the buildings of the local architecture it was built more like a large bunker than a business building in the rest of the galaxy. Once the complex was secured a ground force lead by AT-ATs and accompanied by AT-STs and supporting infantry would come and extract him and his Jumptroopers.

Below parts of the city were burning, or at least slowly smoldering where fighters had crashed or missiles and turbolaser strikes had gone errant, or missed their intended targets. There seemed to be little activity down below, a few abandoned vehicles could be seen, but even fewer people. The intelligence that he had seen said that there were only humans on the planet, so alien species werent an issue. The planet was also only recently united under a single government, and it was hoped that by capturing the planets leadership the opposition would lose its cohesion and eventually cease with less fight, at least that was what he surmised.

Looking down again through the smokey air that he and his men would soon be jumping into. The craft was quiet, even inside the white helmets with their internal comlinks. The jump in had been bad, and a lot of the chatter and good natured teasing that had occurred before an operation, had been lost somewhere between the entry pods and this mission. Familiar landmarks began to make themselves out, the jump was coming. Anti-aircraft fire began streaming up from the ground, and black ugly puffs of flak bursts, throwing red hot fragments in all directions. The MAAT below and behind Syyl's craft took a direct hit and came apart, men, and parts of men fell away from the flower burst of what had only heartbeats ago had been an Imperial machine of war.

Syyl's breathing increased, his apprehension slowly rising as he could see the jump point coming up.

::Here it comes. You know your business. I'll see you on the ground.::

With that Syyl let go of the overhead bar and stepped out the side door of the MAAT. His stomach fell out from underneath him and he tumbled for a moment before angling himself to recover from the single flip, ending in a slightly head down orientation. Anti-aircraft fire continued to come up towards the now retreating MAATs, but still posed a danger to the Jumptroopers who were now free falling in rough formation towards the ground. At a thousand meters Syyl shifted, curling his body slightly and moving to a feet down position, with a whoosh he ignited his jetpack. It felt like his armor was picking him up, and more or less it was. He brought his RT-97C heavy blaster rifle into both hands and sighted down towards the roof of the large flat topped building that was his objective.

Streaks of light reached up at them from below, accelerated towards them by rapidly blooming and dying flowers of yellow fire. Dirty puffs of gray appeared instantly overhead, realizing the end of the chemically coated projectiles that burned as they went past. The explosion at the end of the streak of light throwing splinters of red hot fragments in all directions, trying to bring down the air vehicles that had just unloaded their troops. As Syyl fell feet first he took aim at the anti-aircraft emplacements and opened fire. Other red streaks of blasters and the occasional missile reached down towards the batteries that were already lowing their aim away from the retreating aircraft and towards the descending Jumptroopers. While made for shooting down vehicles and not as accurate at tracking individuals, the heavy weapons were able to kill more easily all the same. The last of the Jumptroopers to leave the MAATs were hit hardest, but Syyl couldnt consider them right now, he was too busy trying to stop the rest of them from joining their comrades.

His bolts seemed to arc as he fell, and he was constantly shifting his aim to continue hitting his target, a four barreled weapon that seemed to only have a front plate of metal for protection. He watched his blaster fire kick up dirt and turn armored plate into hot vaporized puffs of metal. This was the worst part for the crew. They seemed to have open faced helmets, instead of the closed helmets of the combat troops that they had faced before, perhaps they were only militia or simply didnt rate the grade of protection as line troops did. Even at over half a kilometer from the ground he could clearly see the gunners grabbing at their faces and writhing on the ground where the molten metal sprayed across their faces instead of a bolt hitting them directly. Syyl switched targets as he continued to fall, two buildings on the left had several round emplacements that protected sustained automatic weapons that Renatasian soldiers were already firing in his general direction.

With a couple of blinks and a voice command the rocket mounted on the hush about jet pack on his back took an independent route with a whoosh and a glare of yellow rocket flame, arcing up and nosing over towards the sustained weapon position. Either the soldiers manning the station did not see the incoming projectile, or they deliberately chose to remain and operate the weapon as long as possible. The weapon struck half a meter to the left and exploded in a dirty yellow flash, spraying fragments through the two Renatasian soldiers who crumpled instantly. Free of the withering fire of the weapon Syyl was able to turn his attention to the armored, and still defended rooftop. A few flurries of bolts later and the roof was free of Renatasian soldiers, but it was far from safe. In the last few meters Syyl fired his pack one last time, allowing his velocity to slow and turning off the jet of hot air just before impact, and bending his knees as he struck the solid ground, tucking into a roll, using his forearms to brace himself into a roll to spread out the impact of his landing, just as he had been taught, and done hundreds of time in both simulated and actual training, but the first time in actual combat. The shock of the impact that normally ran through his body seemed to not occur, of course the landing could have been better as he rolled to far and ended up flat on his belly armor instead of gracefully on his feet, which was just as well as well the air sang with projectiles hissing and snapping overhead as Jumptroopers continued to land and take up covering positions and return fire.

Syyl crawled to the low wall at the outside edges of the roof and started returning fire for a moment, simply cover fire before he turned, placing his back against the synthstone wall.

::You!:: he said pointing at a trooper across from him. ::Breach this roof.::

The soldier nodded acknowledgement and pulled a thermal detonator from his harness. The Jumptrooper scurried to the middle of the roof and placed the cylindrical white thermal detonator on the roof.

::Fire in the hole!:: He glanced to his left and right and repeated the warning before activating the bomb and scurrying away.

Jumptroopers flattened and cringed away from the blast. Despite thermal detonators abilities to confine their blast, they couldnt do anything about the air displacement, and the entire roof disappeared into a huge cloud of dust.

::Breach by level, drop them in!::

Other Jumptroopers scrambled forwards, one at a time, and dropped thermal detonators into the gaping hole, staggered, they created a hole through each layer of the government structure from roof to underground levels. The structure shook at first, and as the detonators moved deeper into the reinforced structure, the shaking turned into shivers instead.

::Teams clear floors by number. Team One go!:: Syyl gestured towards a sergeant to his left that was