CT-5555 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
5ame_heart) wrote2020-12-29 04:32 pm
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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Fives' distraction doesn't translate to his body at all. He charges forward, plunging the sword directly into the creature's neck, widening the gash already made and spraying him with blood, and the lunges again with his fist, punching the thing right in the eye.
It staggers under the weight of the man, and unbalanced from the attack on its foot it tumbles to the ground, where its claws flail wildly.
Fives's armor slices embarrassingly cleanly, but the claws can't get through to him beneath is. Still, the violent swing does throw him bodily against the wall.
He doesn't stop, drawing his blaster and rushing forward again, firing at the bleeding eye like he's Rex taking down a Rishi eel, and then again into the wound left by the sword, until eventually the creature stops moving.
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"Are you okay?"
A thin trickle of blood drips from Hera's shoulder as she approaches again. She takes the time to pull out one of the remaining leaves from her pouch and start chewing on it, and to pick up the cord from the dirt that held her two lizards and droid head, and wrap it around her waist again. She knows her wound should be wrapped or, if they had any, coated with bacta, but it's not an option right now, and there's something else to worry about.
"Maybe they left it here, like a guard."
She only waits long enough for Fives to start lighting the way again.
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His head hurts again from another impact, but he's grateful as he's ever been for the armor, despite the back being dented enough that he can feel the concavity against his own back.
He turns his head down to watch her chew the leaf, grateful that his helmet hides the genuine concern he's feeling. He really ought to send her back.
But instead he looks up to light the way, and picks up the pace a little more, keeping just within what he judges she can keep up with.
"I just hope it's the only guard we have to deal with."
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There's a bitterness in her voice that hasn't been there before. Not that she pities the gutkurr much, but the droids lined villagers in front of their tanks, and worse - she doesn't think much of their bravery.
She lets Fives pass in front of her again, staying a pace or so behind him until a faint web of multicolored lights comes into view. It takes effort to not let curiosity get the better of her, but she still stays behind him, looking away from the lights to try to listen for anything else around but all she can here is the beeping, growing rapider, and the vibrations beneath them.
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He notices as he passes, the room set in the side of the tunnel, bones scattering the floor, the mechanism in the floor where a ray shield has been set up - something keeping the gutkurr back that had been released when they approached.
"There's the guard post," he remarks.
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The web of lights is stretched over a large, rectangular device, its noise getting loud enough as they approach that it's hard for her to hear anything else. Hera looks down to the way the dark steel cover of the machine curves down to the soil - she kneels down and carefully touches it where it meets the ground. Nothing happens.
She looks down and calls to Fives, her voices pitched up loud enough so she can be heard over the vibrations, "I think it's buried deep."
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Fives kneels down beside the device, and peers at it through his helmet's visor. Decides there's nothing usual his visual display can give him and removes the helmet to get a better look, setting it on the floor beside him.
"This is a remote," he says out loud, touching two fingers lightly to a small plaasrtoid box in the corner of the web of lights. He follows some of the lights over the surface of the machine and realises what he's looking at.
"Oh fuck," he swears, in English. (Thanks, SecUnit.)
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Her hand does also move slightly away from the machine, though she otherwise doesn't move.
"What?"
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"And it's been activated. But there's nothing down here to blow, unless..."
He glances up at the ceiling of rock above them, lays out the map in his head based on their previous route. His thoughts are racing, faster than he has time to put into words.
"Unless it's really kriffing big." And the only reason the mountain hasn't come down on their heads must be because it's on a timer and as there's no interface on the device, there's no way of finding out how long the timer is or how much time they have left.
He cannot let this thing blow.
Fives opens his vambrace and pulls out his hydrospanner again, scanning the device for some bolt, some connection, anything.
"Hera," he says levelly. "It's time for you to leave."
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"If it's that big I won't outrun it."
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As he works, he explains: "No, but things like this usually have a smaller explosive device attached to the timed detonator. When that goes it'll ignite big brother. The timer's tricky, but if I can get the explosive away..."
He glances up at her, and jerks his head back towards the exit, scowling at her stubbornness for not leaving.
"But I've got to stay here until I know the big one's safe, do you understand? You can't help me with this."
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"I can find the timer," she says, "then I'll go."
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"You can?"
Inside the box it's more lights, some of which bright enough to hurt his eyes, and Fives has to nearly lie down to get a look inside.
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Look is barely a glance here. With smaller mines or explosives, the shape can be enough to figure out how it's made, but that's obviously useless here. And no bomb has something as helpful as a bright countdown. Smell isn't much use either, not with something like this.
But listening - she leans close to the panel, trying to hear beneath the beeping and vibrations. The beeping stays loud and frustratingly even, but it's not a ticking or beat she's listening for. Her friends who scrapped - and built - explosives helped her learn to listen for a ringing, a very faint but shrill electric whine where circuits converged -
"Under there." She points to a row of blue lights in the lower left corner, and then reaches to him to put the vibroknife in his hand.
"Force be with you." And, finally, Hera runs.
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Not now, maybe. And maybe not ever. He clutches the hilt of the knife for a second, letting his hand brush hers as she hands it over. Then when she runs he leans back in, and finds out that she's right - there's a device there sunk into the lights with the faint outline against the plastoid that he recognises as a fairly generic explosive device - a circle about 25cm across, welded into place with a softer substance that the hard plastoid attaching the timer to the smaller explosive.
The vibrokinfe cuts into the welding substane with some effort, and it's half an agonising minute before Fives has the device in his hand, cutting clean though the gel-filled hosing leading deeper into the device.
The blast radius of these things is about fifty metres. Add fifty for safety.
One hundred meters before he can drop it. Another fifty before he can hope he can survive.
Fine.
He leaps up into a sprint start and races down the tunnel.
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She doesn't bother trying to keep her steps quiet now, hoping any more droids would have already cleared out.
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Fifty, seventy five.
Fives has his helmet jammed back onto his head, and the charge clutched to his chest as he runs. His long sprint stride slows down only to swoop down to the ground to leave the charge, and then once again as he pounds up behind Hera grabs her around the waist in one arm and sweeps her up into his arms before resuming the pace.
One twenty. One thirty
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And then she's on the ground. She doesn't hear the blast, doesn't remember falling, though her headache is enough to tell her what happened. It's not quiet, though - now it feels like the whole cave is vibrating. Dust hits her lekku, and she struggles to push herself up. Her eyes open to the glow of sunlight, right ahead of them.
She can't get words out yet, but she manages a loud, guttural sound from her throat as she struggles up.
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Then he's lying sprawled on the ground, would be eating rocks if he didn't have his helmet on, finding himself unable to move, in too much pain to know if it is the pain stopping him or something else.
The plastoid on his back has melted, fused through the fabric of his body glove, and further into his skin.
He can shift his head to the side, just enough to look for something that isn't the ground.
The sound he attributes to Hera is a welcome sound. It means she's alive.
"Hera?"
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And once she does, takes one of his hands, the one that looks less burnt, and tugs at it.
"We have to -" she loses breath quickly "- get up there -"
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"Right," he agrees. "You go. Call your people. Or mine."
The latter would be preferable actually, as he needs a bacta tank and who knows what else.
He folds one leg up and starts the painful process of standing. It turns out that the muscles on the back are used for every part of that process.
"I'm right behind you."
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But she does immediately take the commlink, her fingers fluttering over for it a few moments, and then she's speaking in rapid Twi'leki. A woman's voice answers in the same, the conversation is quick, no more than a few words in each response between them.
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He doesn't speak a word of Twi'leki, languages not being in the general clone repertoire, but he's relieved to hear someone else's voice, and to see Hera making contact.
He staggers over to her, each step needing a second to recover between until he finds a slow rhythm. He'd take his helmet off again, but he doesn't want to move his arms more than he has to.
"Everything okay?"
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"They're coming," she says, switching back to Basic. "They can call your people, the Jedi."
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He listens as he takes each slow and painful step, but he can't hear anything behind him. The thing is still there, but he's certain it hasn't ignited.
"Any word about the battle?"
Not that she should know, but it would be good to know how it went.
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