CT-5555 (
5ame_heart) wrote2020-12-29 04:32 pm
Entry tags:
The Battle of Ryloth
The role of the 501st in the liberation of Ryloth has been mostly one of orbital support, but Captain Rex has his eye on the boys from Domino Squad. He's assigned Echo and Fives to the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps for the operation.
According to Rex, his reasoning is that as neither Fives or Echo can pilot worth a damn, they'd better make themselves useful in the ground assault. Echo is optimistically convinced this attachment to an elite Recon Unit is serving as field training for eventual promotion to ARC-Troopers. As Rex has been friendly with them since Rishi and has continually expressed his respect for them as soldiers, Fives doesn't have a reason to disagree.
A major difference between the 91st and the 501st is that the men of the 91st like and respect their Jedi General with the sort of fondness and respect that comes with reliable, understandable and well thought out plans - General Windu seems to like and respect them back, to the extent of their lives as equal to his own, and as highly as they value each other. Skywalker is the same, of course, but the 501st are generally of the opinion that a healthy culture of talking back is a key part of letting your General exactly what you think of showy recklessness.
But one way they match, of course, is that all plans are lucky if they last five minutes' contact with the enemy.
The 91st are engaged with the droid army in the approach to the capital city of Lessu. Ryloth is all mesas and gorges around here; it's hot, much drier than the jungles where they staged earlier engagements, and the ground has a bad habit of crumbling under one's feet - especially when hit by stray blaster bolts.
Fives is right by Echo's side one second, and the next he finds himself slipping perilously down a near vertical face into a gorge, sandy rocks racing past him to the sound of his name being yelled by his brother above. He shouts in annoyance and in shock, and then when his foot makes contact with a rock a few feet down, with pain.
The rocky nature of this planet acts to his advantage, Fives realises. He's sliding rather than falling, and is able to holster his blaster in time to grab another rock, which jerks his shoulder violently but stops his descent before his fingers slip and he falls again. The Force obviously has plans for him because he's able to combine what purchase he can get with what obstructions there are to turn a death fall into a painful tumble into shadow.
Eventually Fives lands hard on his feet at the bottom of a crevasse deep enough that the fighting above is only distant flashes of light, and next to the less fortunate body of a trooper who turns out to be CT-89-2874 - Fives doesn't know him and so doesn't know what his name was.
He stands up slowly, his legs screaming from the landing, his headache informing him that he may have hit that part of him on the way down. His armor is more than scratched - some of his plates have broken in clear shards, and he's entirely lost one of his He keys his wrist comm.
"Echo? Sarge? Anyone?"
But there's no signal. And there's no reason to come look for him either, so as far as Echo and the others is concerned, CT-27-5555 is one more casualty of the Battle for Ryloth.
He leans against the rocky wall, and considers his options.
And that's when he hears something.
According to Rex, his reasoning is that as neither Fives or Echo can pilot worth a damn, they'd better make themselves useful in the ground assault. Echo is optimistically convinced this attachment to an elite Recon Unit is serving as field training for eventual promotion to ARC-Troopers. As Rex has been friendly with them since Rishi and has continually expressed his respect for them as soldiers, Fives doesn't have a reason to disagree.
A major difference between the 91st and the 501st is that the men of the 91st like and respect their Jedi General with the sort of fondness and respect that comes with reliable, understandable and well thought out plans - General Windu seems to like and respect them back, to the extent of their lives as equal to his own, and as highly as they value each other. Skywalker is the same, of course, but the 501st are generally of the opinion that a healthy culture of talking back is a key part of letting your General exactly what you think of showy recklessness.
But one way they match, of course, is that all plans are lucky if they last five minutes' contact with the enemy.
The 91st are engaged with the droid army in the approach to the capital city of Lessu. Ryloth is all mesas and gorges around here; it's hot, much drier than the jungles where they staged earlier engagements, and the ground has a bad habit of crumbling under one's feet - especially when hit by stray blaster bolts.
Fives is right by Echo's side one second, and the next he finds himself slipping perilously down a near vertical face into a gorge, sandy rocks racing past him to the sound of his name being yelled by his brother above. He shouts in annoyance and in shock, and then when his foot makes contact with a rock a few feet down, with pain.
The rocky nature of this planet acts to his advantage, Fives realises. He's sliding rather than falling, and is able to holster his blaster in time to grab another rock, which jerks his shoulder violently but stops his descent before his fingers slip and he falls again. The Force obviously has plans for him because he's able to combine what purchase he can get with what obstructions there are to turn a death fall into a painful tumble into shadow.
Eventually Fives lands hard on his feet at the bottom of a crevasse deep enough that the fighting above is only distant flashes of light, and next to the less fortunate body of a trooper who turns out to be CT-89-2874 - Fives doesn't know him and so doesn't know what his name was.
He stands up slowly, his legs screaming from the landing, his headache informing him that he may have hit that part of him on the way down. His armor is more than scratched - some of his plates have broken in clear shards, and he's entirely lost one of his He keys his wrist comm.
"Echo? Sarge? Anyone?"
But there's no signal. And there's no reason to come look for him either, so as far as Echo and the others is concerned, CT-27-5555 is one more casualty of the Battle for Ryloth.
He leans against the rocky wall, and considers his options.
And that's when he hears something.

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She steps around around scuff in the dirt, trying to stay within reach of him as she does, and then halts.
"Do you smell that?"
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But before Fives can start, she stops. He can't smell much through the air filter on his helmet, but lifts his head to sniff anyway.
"Smells like... bodies?"
He's encountered a few old battlefields before, that no one survided to clear up. He remembers the smell.
no subject
"There -"
She points to a turn up ahead, where just visible from this distance, a thin black line strings out of the ground and around the corner. Once they draw closer, they should see that the line is made up of small black beetles.
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Fives pulls a face under his helmet. He's definitely seen enough battlefields to know what insects mean, even if it's different actual bugs on each planet.
He puts a hand on Hera's shoulder.
"Wait here a second," he says gently. There's no urgency - they're not in danger right now, but if there are Twi'lek bodies at the other end of this thin black line, he wants to see it first.
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She rounds the corner, where the line of beetles continues, onward toward a slope ahead of them. There aren't any organic bodies yet, but there are dark brown streaks in the dust, many of these crawling with tiny, light brown ants. And ignored by all of these insects is the upper half of a battle droid, that looks as though it were ripped off just below the torso, one of its arms lying a meter from it.
Hera closes her eyes and shakes her head again, as though trying to shake off the smell.
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"Okay, this wasn't one of us."
In case that wasn't obvious.
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But the smell, even as it gets stronger, doesn't stop her from moving forward. More than anything, it's all strange enough that she mostly feel curious. She knows the smell of something dead, though Twi'leks were so quick to burn their own dead that even at the worst times, it wasn't like this. But she hadn't heard anything new about nearby villages being attacked, and the fighters were the battle going on above them -
Hera does stop when she's close enough to the slope to see what's at the base, though she only says, softly, "Oh."
She's never seen this many gutkurrs before, and the droid pieces strewn among their bodies only makes it all look stranger.
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"Well this is a battlefield I wasn't expecting. Looks like the clankers won this one."
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"Maybe the droids attacked them."
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"Hera, where do these things live?"
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"They make dens underground," she says, "and come up at night to hunt."
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His gaze falls on disturbances in the ground - ruts from dragging things in the dirt, tracks from fast moving animals and droids. It's hectic, but there's definitely a direction.
He glances back up to Hera. "I need to find these dens."
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"Their dens?" she asks.
Because even Twi'lek hospitality has its limits, and that is definitely at 'going into a live gutkurr den.'
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"You don't have to come with me, just point me at where they are."
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She still stops short, cover her mouth and nose with her hand, but with the other she points down into a body near the edge of the pile, the dark plastoid of a vibrosword sticking out of its carapace, a BX commando droid's hand still attached to it.
"You should take that," she says. "For if there are any left. Blasters don't work."
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Fives takes the hand away, casually drops the arm over his shoulder and grabs the sword in both hands. He has to stick his boot on the rotting carapace to brace himself and haul the weapon out, but it comes eventually. Fives gives it a couple of experimental swings and discovers it's easier to wield two-handed. At least he can carry it with one, but it's already frustrating how few straps or holsters droids carry - he's running out of hands.
For now the sword is rested against hie leg while he opens his vambrace and removes his GAR commlink.
"Here, I'll give you this so you can find your people or my people, tell them where I've gone."
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"Give me your knife and I'll come with you."
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He appreciates the help, and likely will need it, but he needs her to be able to leave quickly. He puts his knbife in the same hand as the commlink and hands them both over.
"You're to run if it comes to it."
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She only nods at the instruction, and quickly makes her way back up the slope, now looking to the ground to find more blood, or other remnants of the bodies being dragged.
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He elbows her lightly once, his arm making light contact with the lekku rising out of her head, and nods a little way over.
"Patrols as well," he says. "Something's up."
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The droids did only a little to cover their tracks, the dusty soil noticeably swept around. If anything it makes the trail more distinct for her. She tries to listen for more patrols, but hears something else as they approach another canyon wall. She slows slightly, but doesn't stop, turning at the wall and moving toward the sound.
The sound gets louder as they move down the canyon wall and approach the corner, though she stops about half a meter short of it. It's heavy clanking, distinct enough that Fives likely doesn't need Hera's signal - she lifts one arm and unfolds it, mimicking the movement of a super battle droid.
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The other hand signals Hera to get down and taps his hip where her pouch is on her own, pointing two fingers like a pistol blaster.
The rifle won't have much effect at this range, other than to maybe hit him.
He draws his own pistol and listens.
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She crouches closer to him, and then waits again, listening for the sounds of the droid and picturing its movements around the corner.
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Two...
One...
As the super battle droid reaches the corner, Fives jumps away from her, using the point of the vibrosword in the ground to pivot around and give himself extra distance, firing the blaster right into the things photoreceptors has he does.
He has time to hear one of the other battle droids saying "...oh no!" as he drops his blaster and uses both hands to lift the sword up, continues his spin as he brings it up to slice into the big guy's shoulder joint, slicing off its blaster arm.
He wishes he's paid more attention to watching the Jedi do this.
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She's not thinking about that, in the moment. Instead, she thinks about the familiar rhythm of the droids' blasterfire, and where she needs to look when she's aiming, to fire sizzling bolts into each droid's plastoid chest.
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