The Clone Wars: Changing Tide -- Volume 9.5 --

     Flak’s helmet dropped. A blue bolt shot through his window. It shattered as he used both hands to punch through the cracked canopy. As Flak fell from his seat to the broken ground he let out a cry of immense pain which he muted beneath his arm. His leg slowly bled from beneath the plating.

“Shit! That is probably my new least favorite crash..”

     Valkier kneeling by his co-pilot, continued to check their surroundings. “Can you walk?”

Flak straightened his arms and began to push up. Shaking his head, “I can feel it bending beneath my weight captain. The damn thing is broken!”

     A few meters away, shifting rubble sounded as though a wheel was rolling over pebbles. From behind a heap of debris the rolling ball turret became vaguely visible.

     Glass panels fell out as a clone boot forcefully kicked. Crawling from the frame, the trooper ran to the mass that was Thunder 01. The light illuminated the bright green gunner paint on his armor exposing an arrow outlined on the front of his helmet.

“Krate!” Flak shouted.

“Alive and shaken!” Krate called back as he ran to duck behind cover, wavering with each step, still recovering from the crash roll his pod had undergone.

“Any word on the commander?” Krate asked with a hushed inquiry.

“Not yet. Just pulled out Flak.” Vallon spoke, tying a rod to Flak's leg.

“I’m on it Captain!” Krate stated, boldly crawling up over the broken cockpit towards the bay door.

     His hand armor clinked against the metal door as he tapped a friend identifying pattern learned from the Kamino days of basic training. “It’d be a shame to get shot by one of ours after coming out of that” he lightly spoke to himself.

     The door cracked as the seal became broken. A rough deep voice from inside spoke, “Help us with this door.”

“Yes sir!”

     A red blinking light protruded the crack as the door widened. Tank and Spitfire pushed the door as Krate pulled from above. It slid half way over until their strength had been exerted. This now allowed the city lights to illuminate the bay.

---Hell---

     The carnage contained in the bay had no descriptor. Three troopers clearly gave their lives to absorb the crashing shock to Commander Halifax by wrapping themselves around their officer as the crash occurred.

“Their embrace...we should all hope such a measure is within us.” Halifax solemnly acknowledged as he gripped the wall, lifting himself out of the hold.

     Tank, Spitfire, and Sloga gathered their weapons as they crawled out. One by one, Krate grabbed a hold of their armor or forearm to heave each from the tomb. Upon the last trooper being lifted out, Krate looked down into the bay to take a final glimpse for his fellow gunner, Tag. The opposing blast door and been mostly peeled back during the hurtling collision with the ground. As a brightly lit advertisement over head changed from deep red to light green, the smashed glass of his turret became visible. Bright hues of the art above reflect clearly off the shattered glass pieces. A solemn armored arm rested beneath the tremendous shell of the gunships hull. The sheer weight of the gunship crushed the bubble during its listing impact with the ground. Looking closer, Krate noticed the mirror like glass, speckled with the blood of his comrades. Though he knew Tag's fate before opening the door, the trooper could at least have hoped for a better death than this. His armor shin plates clicked as he collapsed to his knees, letting out a blood curdling shriek, “RaaAHH, NOOOO!!”


     Halifax and the remaining crew turned as Krate’s voice reached their ears.

“HOLDfast trooper!” the commander ordered with a raised whisper.

     The emotionally bewildered clone stood to his feet, turning to his comrades as he walked down the side of the gunship towards the cockpit. His gloved hand clutched his helmet, pulling it from his sweaty hair, his other hand raised up and pressed into his wrinkling forehead. Krate looked towards the bay before continuing forward. “They killed him! We are going to show these blasted insurgents or DROIDS OR WHATEVER THE HELL WE ….”


     One single smoking hole appeared through Krate’s chest plate, breaking his sentence. His hand moved from forehead to trace the new hole which had made its way through his armor and body.  He turned slowly towards the building where the shot had originated, “Now they’ve…” cut silent by a second sniper’s bolt through his neck, Krate’s body toppled lifelessly backwards down towards the shattered cockpit. Landing on its back plate, the body slid for a moment before coming to a halt. The two holes smoked while the survivors sought immediate refuge in a shallow crater at the ship's nose and behind the collapsed wing of Thunder 01.

“We’ll mourn for them later troopers! At the time, we have to stay alive. Make their sacrifice worth something, THAT’s an order!” Halifax encouraged the beleaguered squad.

“Yes sir!”

“Valkier, use any transponders we have available to make contact with that defensive position just across the causeway! They’re close enough to support us.”

“I’m on it sir!”

     The captain pulled off his helmet, frivolously setting to work removing plates and wiring from covered areas of the gunship. The remainder stayed vigilant, leaning against the wing, raising glass fragments only far enough to make sure no enemies were sneaking upon them. Moments turned to minutes while Valkier worked, rewiring and cutting as he needed. Halifax crouched near the captain,

“Sitrep.”

“I’m close..just need to route 2 more connections.”

     Sloga’s soft voice spoke up, “It is advisable that those connections get completed asap. Silhouettes on the horizon.” He crawled to the edge of the wing, resting his carbine against it. His armor matched the amount of shine found on Tank’s. This was the first campaign for both of these troopers. Flak pulled a rifle to his side while Tank searched for another vantage point.

Halifax took on the mystery sniper as his current assignment.

“Stay focused lads. Pick your targets.” Halifax coolly states to his men.

“Alllmost..therre.” Valkier stated tying one pair of wires, twisting them with a spark as their exposed fringes met.

“They’re rapidly approaching Commander. Permission to fire?” Sloga asked.

“Hold.”

“Closing in fast. Looking to be another batch of those suicidal commandos.” Tank added.

“Hold.”

“Sir, they’re 50 meters.” Discomfort became audible in Sloga’s voice.

Halifax encouraged their resolve, “Hold. Being steadfast is the difference between US and THEM.”

The droids picked up their pace, sprinting towards the isolated squad.

“Sir?!”

“Chose your shots….” Halifax issued the order,

“FIRE!”

     Sloga’s trigger finger firmly squeezed, seemingly popping the first droids head from its socket. Two droids broke to the left, one continued straight forward, while the last bolted to the hard right. Flak saw the two far left droids sprinting towards their position. He opened fire, but they continued to duck and dodge his shots.

“Ehh, Tank, help here would be hot!”

Tank’s rotary canon powered up, “EAT LASER!!” he shouted tearing the duo apart from limb to limb. His blue lasers hit one of the commando’s destruct mechanisms causing them to detonate suddenly, leaving behind a cloud of black smoke.

Halifax’s eyes continued searching each window.

     The far right droid rolled suddenly and began a serpentine action. Squinting, Sloga pressed his barrel against the wing, slowing his breath. Firing three shots around the droid’s head, the droid lept into another roll on the ground. During this brief moment, Sloga took the opportunity to exploit the droids inability to change direction while in a roll. The blue salvo he fired tore through the weak points near the bottom of the torso.

     The droid rose to continue its stride, but snapped helplessly in half.  Sloga was unable to contain his excitement, celebrating with a clenched fist, “Ha ha, yes!!”

Flak turned his head toward the squad uneasily asking, “Didn’t you say there were five?”

“Commander above!” Tank hollered.

     The lead commando droid leapt and stood at the tail end of the gunship, immediately bolting towards them. “SKRAG!” Flak shouted in response to imminent death, tightly closing his eyes. A single shot rang out shortly after followed by the sound of the droid’s body hitting the pavement. Flak’s eyes opened. Turning he saw Sloga and Tank crouched behind the wing starring at Valkier; standing with his sidearm drawn, still smoking.

“Radio is ready commander.” The clone pilot knelt back down, holstering his pistol.

“Well done pilot. Capable indeed. Well done lads.”

     Halifax slid back from his position putting his search for a sniper on hold. Tapping into the Battle Communications Line, Halifax began attempting to reach the nearby base of operations. “Salvo Battalion, Company B; This is Battalion Commander Halifax, CT 6378. Our coordinates are being sent your way now. We need a heavy smoke screen and a fast pick up.”

Static ensued before the long awaited reply.

“Copy that Commander! We saw your ship go down. Glad to hear you’re among the living sir! Smoke is imminent and a Saber tank squad is being dispatched now.”

“Appreciated trooper.” Halifax replied.

     Soft thuds emanated from the ground while gray and white smoke rose from the ground, shrouding the battered team. Looking through a pair of macrobinoculars, Sloga was able to see the quickly approaching Saber Tanks. “Sir, they’re almost here.”

Valkier tightened Flak's leg brace, “Lets get Flak’s leg bound. We only have a few more minutes before go time.”

     Flak growled as he pulled on his leg, “Oh gahh! Lets just get lifted already.”

Halifax calmly walked among the squad, “In time troops. Though we live war, do not forget what you learned today. Do not forget the motto we live by, Holdfast.”

     The commander strode to greet the tanks as they hovered up. Valkier and Sloga lifted Flak, keeping most of his weight off his broken leg as Tank covered their movements with his canon. Securing their positions on the sides of the lead tank, Halifax paced confidently to the hovering wing. After stepping up to wrap his arm around the large barrel he knocked twice on the plating.

     The tanks looped to turn back towards the Company’s defense zone, the newly rescued troopers starred back as the rubble of Thunder 01 faded into the gray.

     Halifax lifted his arm, his fingers straight extending from the black eye plate of his helmet; saluting the fallen…