A Trooper Tale: Wreaking Havoc

[Daekarus]

This is a short, informal/fun story I wrote during downtime at work. I didn't see too many Trooper stories, and this one sort of flowed out of my fingers, there are some elements that are blatantly ripped from the films, and extra points if you know where the names for Bert and William came from. This story is addressed to and will mean the most to someone who has played through the Trooper storyline and who knows the companions. I also hope that readers will notice some familiarity with abilities used during combat. Please, leave comments!

 

Major Pekra Daekar felt the heat of a passing blaster bolt as she ducked back behind the wall and signaled for Sergeant Jorgan and the others to halt. The spray of brilliant green energy continued for another moment before ceasing, stray shots striking the blast doors and bulkhead that now separated Havoc Squad from their Thunderclap assault ship.

 

"Well," said Jorgan from behind, "we weren't expecting a warm welcome anyway."

 

"Odd," she replied, "to me, this seems a bit too warm."

 

From the back of the group, M1-4X piped up, "No matter how high the temperature, these Imperial cowards don't stand a chance against the cold justice of our righteous cause!"

 

Another pattern of green bolts played over the bulkhead from around the corner, and Vik just held his face in his palms in response to the enthusiastic droid.

 

"So what are we looking at?" asked Jorgan gruffly.

 

"Standard welcoming party," said Pekra. "Looks like a handful of plain battledroids and a pair of turrets right here, but you can bet there will be more of them." Raising her voice to cut through the chatter of the others, Pekra belted out orders: "Dorne, Vik, Yunn, take the left. Jorgan, you cover me on the right. Fourex, make sure the ship stays in one piece. It's our only way off this damned tin can."

 

"No low and dastardly enemies will lay a finger on it while I am on duty!" came the metallic reply.

 

The other members of Havoc wordlessly took their places, awaiting the signal to move.

 

It was given. Activating her shield generator, Pekra leaped around the corner with blaster rifle in hand, immediately moving to activate the mortar attachment she was so fond of. As she saw Dorne duck behind a crate with a kolto unit in one hand and a blaster in the other, a shower of mortar shells rained down on the group of droids standing at the entrance to the main hangar. Their threat-detection algorithms immediately designated her as the primary target, and Pekra rushed up to the group, her own blue blaster bolts flying towards the enemy as her shields absorbed the green. Before she had a chance to discharge her stock capacitors into the nearest droid, the swooshing of a charged bolt from Jorgan took it in the shoulder, and she had to change targets on the fly, pivoting so as to keep momentum, such that an instant later the head of another droid was crushed and crackling. Looking up, she saw that Yunn was dancing around one of the turrets, staff flickering, while Vik was standing arrogantly with feet apart as he smashed the other with impunity. The last droid continued to fire on Pekra, but she casually retrieved a grenade from her bandolier and lobbed it at the machine. Its threat systems overrode other priorities and the droid tried in vain to remove the "sticky," but the explosion from that ordinance only added insult to injury as a burst of fully-automatic fire tore into the droid chassis from Jorgan's cannon.

 

As quickly as that, it was over. Dorne holstered her sidearm, and Pekra signaled that they were to converge behind a pile of crates.

 

"Well if they're all that easy, we're going to need some exercise when we get back," said Vik. "I've got a buddy who needs a Rancor stolen that we might...." Vik trailed off as all the heads of the team turned slowly towards him.

 

"Not now," said Pekra firmly. “You can cause trouble later.” She peered around the corner of the crate against which she was leaning, took in the Imperial shuttle docked some distance away, the forcefield keeping in the atmosphere, and the two other entrances to the hangar. "Dorne, you take the boys across to the left door and see if you can get to the tractor field generators. If we don't take those down, it's going to be a real short trip out of here. Jorgan and I will take the far exit - we should be able to reach the bridge. Any questions?"

 

The vibrating tones of Yunn's voice came over the helmet comms. "Yunn, I'm sure you'll have no trouble destroying the generators, you do have Vik with you." After a short series of clicking and vibrating sounds, Yunn fell silent. Lieutenant Dorne saluted and turned to lead the other half of the squad down to the generators, and Vik only hesitated a moment to shoot Pekra an insolent grin before following with Yunn taking up the rear. "If that guy weren't so good at blowing things up," she said to Jorgan, "he would almost be insufferable."

 

"Yeah," answered Jorgan, "but he is good."

 

"As good as you?"

 

"Well, maybe not that good," he grinned.

 

"All talk and no walk makes Jorgan a dull boy," she taunted.

 

"Bring it on," grunted the Cathar, who stood up to take in the hangar again.

 

The pair moved rapidly across the wide open space of the hangar, stopping briefly to dispose of the shuttle guards who were nearly asleep at their posts and totally unaware of the chaos that had occurred across the way moments before.

 

"Might as well collect on that ship bounty," said Jorgan, attaching two timed mines to the engine cowlings of the shuttle.

 

Pekra gave him a look. "Make sure it's thirty seconds this time, not three."

 

"That was only once," said Jorgan sheepishly, "and Vik had set the timers." In their minds, an Imperial comm tower once again imploded behind them, showering them with shrapnel.

 

"That figures," said Pekra. "Ah well, at least this time I won't have to fill out the paperwork explaining how every damn one of us had the same damage pattern in the back of our armor. Let's move."

 

As they approached the far entrance an Elite-series battledroid crab-walked its way into view, and Pekra lost no time in storming up to it, slamming her buttstock home and releasing a high-impact bolt into the lower armor of the droid. It focused its long-duration beams on her, slowly burning through her shields, but the chatter of Jorgan's cannon rose to compete with them. Suddenly, a lift appeared in an adjacent alcove, and a large group of humanoid battledroids poured into the passage, blasters firing. Dodging away from the huge Elite droid, Pekra managed to hit it with a cryo-grenade, immobilizing it just as a hail of bolts passed through the space where her head had been a second before. Reaching down to her belt as she ran towards them, she pressed a button that released a massive stunning blast in all directions, rendering the large group of droids temporarily motionless. Making use of the moment this bought her, she lowered her rifle and released a massive blast of electricity, enshrouding the entire group of droids in writhing charged particles that turned them to slag. She turned to see Jorgan standing against a hail of fire from the Elite droid, the end of his cannon red-hot from continual blasting, and she dropped a smoke bomb followed by a sonic grenade. The slow beams ceased to push back at her Sergeant, and instantly refocused - or tried to refocus - on her, but for a short duration were unable to resolve their target in the smoke. Pekra slammed her rifle stock into the central chassis of the droid before the effects of the smoke dissipated, and to her surprise the armor buckled and the droid folded, almost collapsing on top of her.

 

Jorgan glanced at her, and said, "What, did you think I was just going to stand there while you smacked things with your rifle?" Pekra looked at the fallen droid and then at Jorgan.

 

"I have got to get one of those cannons someday..." she muttered.

 

"What was that?” he said, swiveling his hips a bit. “You like my big gun?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all macho on me."

 

“Hey, it’s not my fault Vanguard training is a bit heavy on beating things with objects better suited to shooting.”

 

Pekra smiled and gave him the one-fingered salute before she walked over to a security terminal just inside the threshold formed by the door to the hangar, and activated her helmet comms. "Fourex, do you copy?"

 

"I'm here, sir!" came the reply.

 

"Can you send a slicing spike to my armor computer? I'm at the security terminal in the hangar, and I don't want the whole blasted station coming down on us if I can avoid it."

 

"But of course! My state-of-the-art Republic..." Pekra cut the helmet speaker on mute for about 15 seconds, and then cut it back on. "... can expect the spike you requested any moment, sir!"

 

"Thanks a bunch. Keep me informed if anyone tries to take the ship."

 

"Will-do, sir!"

 

Listening to the exchange, Jorgan just shook his head. She suspected that he had not turned his helmet comms on mute, and had been privileged with the full force of the propagandistic droid's transmission. Pekra went over to the security terminal and navigated through the interface until the system was ready to receive the spike. "You know," she thought, "breaking into a security system should be harder than this." It did not prove any harder, however, since the security status changed after a few minutes to "Unsecured -Maintenence Mode." From here on in, there would be no alarms to bring the entire security force of the station down on their heads.

 

As they moved through the corridors of the station, the various automated and organic defenses employed by the Empire for its security presented themselves, sometimes coming on the pair during a patrol, sometimes being taken at their posts. As usual when they were running this type of mission, they were hugely outnumbered, but the enemy was so comparatively ill-trained and ill-equipped that they both felt it was almost unfair. Of course, that didn’t stop them from blasting their way through where they might have slunk by unnoticed – Jorgan did so enjoy leaving that trail of dead Imperials for some poor sod to find after they were gone.

 

They were just stepping off a lift onto the bridge level when Lieutenant Dorne hailed them on the radio. Her transmission was broken by blaster fire, crashing metal, and yells. “Sir, ple - come in!” came her impatient voice. “Can yo - u - ead me?”

 

“Daekar here, report.” Moments of static and blaster fire came over the comms, followed by Dorne again.

 

“ – inned down. There are – tledroid –chasm – reach them. Need supp – immediate – Do you re –“ The transmission cut off.

 

Pekra and Jorgan glanced at each other. “I always told those crazies that real soldiers fight with guns, but they never listened,” said Jorgan.

 

“I’m surprised Yunn at least hasn’t started carrying a blaster,” she replied. “He is the sensible one.”

 

“Yeah well, sensible or not, let’s go haul their bacon out of the fire.”

 

Pekra pondered for a moment. "We’ll never reach them in time… but the briefing schematics showed the droid control center only one level down from the bridge. That’s our best shot.”

 

They did a quick about-face and returned to the lift, impatiently mashing the buttons as the lift went back into motion, downward this time. The doors opened, and Pekra felt relief flood through her at the sight of the nearly-abandoned droid control center. She and Jorgan slipped out of the lift and went around separate sides of the massive column that bisected the entrance to the room, each coming on a guard unawares and dispatching them. Pekra heard the wet thud from the other side of the column that meant the barrel of Jorgan’s assault cannon had met with the other guard’s head just as her target fell in a twitching heap away from her rifle stock. They met on the other side of the column and turned to face the empty room, stepping down onto the main control-room floor together. The moment their armored boots touched the surface, a klaxon rang out.

 

“Just freakin’ great,” muttered Jorgan.

 

Before she could reply, Pekra saw that out of the many grate-covered holes around the ceiling of the room were coming countless fist-sized floating spheres, each covered in sinister-looking spikes and other implements. As they drew closer, tiny darts and flashes of green blaster fire flew towards the two troopers, peppering them.

 

“Stupid… freakin’… Imps,” gritted Pekra as her shields flashed and she aimed her blaster rifle here and there shooting down the droids. “It’s always something new.”

 

Jorgan muttered something inaudible as he took cover behind a computer console and commenced to pick off droids as fast as he could, sweeping his assault cannon back and forth and spraying a hail of blaster bolts into their foes. They fell four or five to a heartbeat, sometimes taking their nearby brethren with them, smashing onto the floor until it was littered with sparking remains. Even so, the droids had multiplied from a small group to a flood, and the two were obliged to change tactics. Pekra fell back to a position behind Jorgan and launched a barrage of mortar fire at the ceiling next to a dense collection of the little droids, flashing a grim smile as they scattered and fell with the debris from above. Jorgan took the last of his sticky-grenades and threw them at different droids spaced around the group – each took a number out with them as they exploded. These measures were not enough, however, and try as they might, the pair could not keep the droids from closing in around them nor keep their attacks from taking their toll. Pekra was starting to feel weak, and she could see that Jorgan could no longer hold his cannon up properly. Tiny craters pockmarked the plates of their armor, and numerous darts had managed to become embedded in each of them.

 

“Get behind that terminal!” Pekra shouted.

 

“What!? No, you need – “

 

“Now! That is an order, Sergeant! Move!”

 

Jorgan cursed at the top of his voice and moved painfully to dive behind a bank of interfaces, leaving Pekra alone with the converging swarm of droids. As soon as he was clear she activated her emergency shield and slapped a long-acting kolto injector into her thigh, feeling a rush of strength flow along her body as the chemicals closed seared gashes and counteracted the poisons that had been delivered via the darts of the droid swarm. She could tell from the warm feeling in her back that Jorgan had activated his own backup medical kit and was feeding her stims and kolto through his cannon. With a savage glare she stood up, tall among the legions of attacking spheres, and set her teeth. Blaster bolts flashed, waves of fire washed over the metal cloud, and the smell of ozone drifted into the corridor behind as the air was rent with the deafening sizzle that signaled the Empire had finally aroused the wrath of Havoc’s leader.

 

Lieutenant Elara Dorne rested against the durasteel support that served as her cover against the incoming fire of the battledroid platoon that had taken up a position across the artificial chasm. Even before her defection to the Republic, she had never been able to understand why it was that Imperial designers insisted on including these kind of impractical features into the plans of their facilities, but she had a feeling they had never expected them to be this effective in defeating an enemy intrusion. Their entry into the tractor generator area had nearly ended in disaster when they found their way unexpectedly blocked by the chasm – the retractable bridge was operated from the other side. The battledroids, seeing that the Republic forces were next to a hard place, had called for additional droid reinforcements to act as a rock, and more than once Elara had needed to patch up a wounded Vik or Yunn as they desperately fought to clear the two entrances that led into the area before the chasm of three- and four-legged behemoths.

 

Even now, the two helmetless troopers were each keeping watch over the doors, vibro-weapons at the ready and looking now and again towards their Lieutenant. Green blaster bolts flew past the edges of her cover, and upon their disappearance, Elara risked another look around the edge of the durasteel. Sending a flurry of shimmering blue streaks from her blaster to buy time, she noted that the enemy forces had increased in number rather than decreased. The few she had been able to pick off at this range had been quickly replaced, and they had no way to cross the chasm while under enemy fire. Vik and Yunn’s melee weapons had been no help in clearing the obstacle.

 

Bracing herself, Elara crouched and rolled out from behind the pillar of metal with her blaster drawn, taking aim and with several shots dropping a humanoid battledroid armed with a blaster rifle. She was forced immediately to roll back into cover by focused return fire that left the floor burned and pitted where she had lain. This was getting them nowhere; they would eat through their emergency rations before they got out of here.

 

Into the silence which followed the volleys of return fire, a voice crackled into life on her helmet comms: “Did somebody order backup?”

 

Elara breathed a sigh of relief. “Sir, with all due respect, it is about bloody time,” she replied.

 

“Apologies, Lieutenant,” said Major Daekar, “We got hung up with a swarm of… well, forget it. If you give me a second, I'll make your friends a bit easier to handle.”

 

There came the sounds of a computer interface, followed by the sound of a blaster being fired.

 

“You can thank me later. Now get that tractor beam generator disabled.”

 

“But sir – “ It was then that Elara noticed Yunn and Vik had moved out to stand out next to the chasm’s edge, away from any cover. She turned to look across, and was surprised to see that the droids were completely motionless.

 

“Dorne?”

 

“Nothing, sir. Moving towards the objective.”

 

“Great. Call if anything goes wrong. And Dorne… get those two some damn blasters, will you?”

 

“Of course, sir. Good luck.”

 

“Daekar, out.”

 

Taking out the grappling cable from her belt, Elara signed for the other two to do the same, and said, “If I see you two stroll past every droid over there without picking up a blaster, you’ll be doing PT until you can’t see straight.”

 

Vik had the grace to look abashed. Clearly, he had been planning to do precisely that. Yunn chirped, buzzed, and vibrated for several moments, looking at Elara.

 

“No, you don’t have to take a rifle, but a blaster pistol won’t get in the way of your staff. With the way you spin that thing, and you won’t have any trouble. I’m not going to be the only one with a blaster again.”

 

There was a trio of metallic clanks as their grappling hooks caught on a conduit above the chasm, and the three turned to swing over the abyss. Vik kicked the broken arm of a droid over the edge as he swung, and his laughter followed it into the darkness. On the other side of that chasm was a tractor beam generator, and Tanno Vik was going to blow it up. He couldn't wait.

 

Hughson Tamarind liked bridge guard duty. It made him feel in-touch with what was going on around the station, as if he were somehow apart of something larger, and it meant he knew about important decisions as they were made. As he preferred to think of it, he got all the benefits of being in charge and almost none of the responsibilities. The other Imperial troops that hailed from the ships that docked with Rentar Station often had different opinions of the post, since the bridge was where the fury of an antagonized visiting Sith was often released, but Hughson had never seen a Sith before. In fact, he felt that if he managed to complete his entire tour of duty without encountering one of the Emperor's volatile servants, he would be quite pleased about it. Leaning against the power monitoring console behind his position, he reflected on the irony of that sentiment. "Still," he thought, "even a few raving Sith are better than those worms running the Republic." He'd heard rumors about the moral and social chaos that supposedly reigned throughout the Republic thanks to its tradition of rule by the masses, and considered himself very fortunate to have been brought up in the sections of the Galactic Rim where there was still some appreciation for tradition and order. "A place for everyone, and everyone in their place," he had been taught, and Hughson had taken it to heart. He knew he wasn't fit for great leadership, and his marks in the academy had reinforced this belief, but he took pride in his position on the station. He had worked hard for it, and his determination had landed him a humble measure of authority as head of the bridge guard.

 

Hughson saw that a pair of his men were completing another circuit of their patrol around the bridge, and signaled for them to halt a moment to talk.

 

"Bloody slow day," offered Bert.

 

"The slowest," followed William.

 

"Feels like they put all the chronometers on half-speed," said Bert.

 

"Quarter-speed," said William.

 

"You should be thankful," chided Hughson. "The last time you complained about a slow day, Admiral Forrest arrived not half an hour afterward and we were standing inspection 'til we couldn't stand inspection a minute more. Me, I prefer the quiet life, if you please."

 

"Yeah," said Bert.

 

"I suppose you've got a point," said William.

 

"It's just, it's so blasted boring around here," said Bert.

 

"Yeah," said William.

 

The three chatted amiably for a few minutes, although with no real improvement in topic. Bert offered his assessment of one of the latest series of holos to be released by the FMS (Fleet Morale Service), during which he brought to bear his most colorful vocabulary, and William expressed the sentiment that he would have preferred if the programs had been a good deal shorter.

 

"Why don't they give us some holos with real action in them!" said Bert, pounding his fist into his palm.

 

"Yeah, I want to see some blasters," said William.

 

"Some real excitement!" said Bert.

 

Hughson was quite sure that if Bert and William ever encountered any real excitement, they would be anxious to get back to boredom. Just then, he noticed with curiosity a flashing indicator light on the secondary droid control console across the entryway that he was fairly confident should not be flashing. "How long has it been going like that?" he wondered. He was about to point it out to his malcontented colleagues when he heard the whistling blast of an unfamiliar mechanism behind him, and turned to see a pair of helmeted and armored figures standing down the hallway. Their armor was unlike any he had seen worn by Imperial troops assigned to the station, and among the green accents he saw that both suits bore the emblem of the Republic. One held a blaster rifle braced against the shoulder, and the other bore an almost unbelievably large cannon slung low and still moving in recoil. Hughson had just enough time to feel an amused regret that his fellows would not get a chance to enjoy the excitement that would undoubtedly follow. At that moment, the double-volley of mortar shells that had announced the presence of the newcomers impacted the bridge deck amidst the trio, and shockwaves of plasma from the blast shook them to the floor. After the volleys ceased, none of them stirred.

 

Pekra quickly glanced around the bridge as the last of the entrance guards went still under their mortar fire. "You know, we should attack backwater stations like this more often," she said.

 

"Where's the fun in that?" replied Jorgan, surveying the bridge in turn. "The way this is going, we're going to need Vik's buddy and his Rancor just to keep ourselves busy."

 

"I can't think of a better way to piss off General Garza."

 

"So what's the downside?" said the Cathar.

 

She stifled a laugh and motioned for Jorgan to move up the right side of the room. As Pekra moved towards the main consoles and the observation ports, she heard a sound of exclamation and a laugh from Jorgan. "What is it?"

 

"Pair of protocol droids hiding behind a terminal scared the hide off me. You want me to... fix 'em?"

 

"No, bring them over here. Last thing I want is to get caught with my pants down while we root around in the computer for those nav coordinates. They'll know where to look."

 

Jorgan made violent motions with his blaster cannon, and two silver protocol droids of standard Imperial manufacture appeared from behind a computer station. He followed them over to where Pekra stood, looking imposing.

 

"Right. Can one of you tell us how to access the hyperspace coordinate databanks?"

 

One of the droids immediately began to speak. "You will never get any information from us, Republic scum!"

 

Right on top of his twin, the other droid replied, "Oh dear, oh dear."

 

Jorgan looked at her. She knew he was grinning inside his helmet. He leaned towards the first droid and lowered his voice to a growling rasp, "Republic scum, eh? Well, this piece of Republic scum has been looking for a droid for damage endurance testing. I think you might do nicely."

 

The first droid stared back at him, undeterred. "The brave soldiers of the Empire will not be daunted by your barbaric threats, nor will I! The full weight of Imperial justice will rain down upon you and crush your insignificant forces."

 

Pekra laughed. "This one should get together with Fourex. They'd wear each other out arguing."

 

"That walking tri-pod is is obnoxious enough as it is." replied Jorgan. "And only a little bit more useful than this one. Then again..." He pulled out his sidearm and pointed it at the troublesome droid. "... I'm allowed to shoot this one."

 

"Oh my goodness. We'll be turned into scrap," came the voice of the second droid.

 

Pekra turned away from the propaganda droid to face its companion. "You, what is your designation and primary function?"

 

"I am B2-1A, steward and protocol droid. My primary function is to oversee maintenence and ensure that this station remains functioning at the greatest possible level. I may add that you have already caused me extensive difficulties... I am not at all sure I will be able to return the station to its original state."

 

"So... you must do whatever it takes to keep the station in good condition?" asked Pekra.

 

"That is correct. As I have already stated, the maintenence and operations of this station are my primary functions."

 

"So if you were put in a position to stop, say, catastrophic damage to the bridge..." She left the sentence hanging.

 

"I would be bound to take whatever action is necessary to prevent said damage," replied B2-1A. Pekra waved to Jorgan and he pulled the trigger of his blaster pistol. The chassis of the uncooperative droid made a resounding clatter as it fell to the deck of the bridge.

 

"Well, B2, I feel like those consoles are in the wrong place. You see, I'm trying to find the coordinates for a certain system, and they keep on flashing and distracting me." She raised her blaster rifle and released a brief burst of fully-automatic fire into the control consoles across the room. "I do have such trouble concentrating."

 

"Oh!" B2-1A turned around to observe the damage and quickly responded, "Oh yes... of course... I see. Well, I might.. that is, if you..."

 

"Go on," said Jorgan. "But hurry it up. I'm having trouble concentrating too."

 

"I see, yes. What system is it about which you desire data?"

 

"Well we're not sure, are we Jorgan?" The Cathar shook his head. "All we know is a codename... what was it?"

 

"Powderkeg," came the reply.

 

"Oh, yeah, that's it... Powderkeg. You wouldn't happen to know where that is, would you? I'd look myself, but those other consoles are so distracting..." She caressed the barrel of her rifle.

 

"Yes! yes, it will only take a moment." B2-1A sauntered over to a different terminal and began navigating through the menus. "Oh bother! I don't..." The droid turned back to them. "I regret to inform you that the information you requested in restricted. I am unable to ascertain what level of clearance is required to access it."

 

Pekra sighed as she activated her helmet comms. "Fourex! Do you copy?" The synthesized voice of the droid came over the channel.

 

"Yes, sir! What action can I perform in service to the Republic?"

 

"I need another spike. This time I need to spoof clearance to access the objective, something pretty tight. Can you fix me up?"

 

"But of course, sir! It is standard Republic procedure to equip all capable droid models with..." Pekra didn't mute her comms this time. After hearing his evil-twin a few moments ago, there was a sort of charm to Fourex's ramblings. When the spike arrived and the droid wound down into silence, she set to work. "Thanks Fourex, we should be done soon."

 

"It is a pleasure to serve! M1-4X out!"

 

After a period of seeming inactivity, the system responded to the spike, and Pekra gestured to B2-1A to resume the search for Powderkeg. In a few moments, the droid said, "It appears that the Powderkeg system is not a system at all, but is in fact another station. According to the data, it is located in a sector of space devoid of other features, presumably to conceal its position. I have loaded the coordinates and hyperspace jump parameters into this data disc. No other information regarding the station is available."

 

Pekra took the disc from the droid. "It kills me we came all this way for coordinates to a station we know nothing about," said Jorgan.

 

"We know nothing about it," replied Pekra. "That doesn't mean General Garza knows nothing. Come on, let's get the hell out of here."

 

"Oh to be a soldier," muttered Jorgan. As they turned to leave, Jorgan fired a few more volleys of mortar rounds at random around the bridge, leaving an air of general devastation. He raised his voice to call to the droid. "Tell your boss you need a new decorator! This one stinks!" With that, they walked out of the bridge and towards the lifts.

 

C2-N2 again reviewed the calibration data for the air circulators on board Havoc's Thunderclap. Somehow, perhaps as the result of some damage during an attack mission, the simulation of Alderaanian nectar in the vessel's air supply had been disrupted, and the scent now bore a distinct resemblance to Corellian nectar. Hours of interfacing with the ship's computer had yielded no solution to the problem, and C2 was at the end of his emulated patience. At this rate, the team would return to the ship before the seats had their new cushions added, and the captain's quarters still hadn't been dusted. Just as he was about to begin reviewing the simulation code line by line all over again, the holocom crackled to life behind him. C2 turned, and saw that General Garza was staring grumpily at him.

 

"Greetings, General. How may I be of service?"

 

"You can be of service by telling me where my team is. How the hell long does it take to raid an enemy station?"

 

"According to the logs, Havoc Squad departed this vessel precisely 2.87 standard hours ago. As it is standard procedure to observe radio silence between the ship and the team while it is away, I'm afraid I have no progress to report. Major Daekar did not leave any data regarding expected time until mission completion."

 

"Fine. Tell the Major to report in as soon as she arrives back. I've got a pack of meddling Senators breathing down my neck and I need those coordinates." Garza reached for the terminal in front of her to cut off the holocall.

 

"You mean these coordinates?" called Pekra. The sound of the team tromping up the boarding ramp rang through the interior of the ship, and the Major walked into the scope of the holoterminal holding aloft the data disc she had claimed from B2-1A. "I've got to say General, there better be something good on this station or Jorgan is going to blow a gasket."

 

"Sergeant Jorgan will do no such thing, regardless of the station's contents. Major?"

 

Pekra inserted the card into the holoterminal and uploaded the contents to General Garza.

 

"Excellent. SIS operatives will be en-route in less than an hour. We will contact you with further mission information as soon as it is available."

 

"Wait, that's it?" asked Pekra. "General, throw us a bone here."

 

"You'll get your briefing when you get it, Major. In the meantime, why don't you go find a nice space outpost or convoy to destroy? There is a war on, you know."

 

General Garza's imaged flickered out. "She is... the biggest... " Jorgan struggled with himself for a moment, then shrugged. "She's right, I'll go prep the missile bay. There's bound to be something we can destroy to pass the time."

 

Pekra turned to C2-N2. "C2 - take us out."

 

The Thunderclap smoothly disembarked from Rentar Station, and quickly moved beyond the range of its defensive satellites. After a few moments, the rotated to a new trajectory and in the flash of an instant, seemed to stretch into the infinity that preceded hyperspace.

[Morgani]

Fem!Trooper is my main and I absolutely loved this, even though my Ipha is Commando. Love your descriptive battle scenes. I took some notes for the next time I need to write fighting.

 

You pinned Forex down to the vocal nuances. I could hear his voice in my head when I read his dialog. Vik was pretty on too. I didn't spend much time with him leveling up because Jorgan and I just tore through things while I quested.

 

Speaking of Jorgan, loved loved loved the way you wrote him. When I write him he comes off grumpy and stuffy but you had this friendly tone with him, a little competition. Great stuff, took notes there too.

 

Totally fun read all the way through. Awesome! Thanks for that.

[iamthehoyden]

“Hey, it’s not my fault Vanguard training is a bit heavy on beating things with objects better suited to shooting.”

My main is a van (Jesana/Sana in my fic) and may I say I laughed way too hard at this line. Loved the story, we need more trooper stories! Also <3 your Jorgan, cause he's got an awesome attitude.

[Daekarus]

I'm glad you liked it! When I first started playing I didn't like Jorgan, but as the story went on I started to appreciate him. I have to confess that I didn't put much intentional though into the characters, they just came out of my fingers as they exist in my brain from the game story. I think that means I liked the Trooper companions and story. :-) I feel like so many of the stories written are nice and emotional, deep and well-developed, but are not closely tied to the game... that's what I wanted to do.

[mustardcheese]

Nice little story.

I for one hate the Trooper story, but I'm glad you like it.