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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The question seems strange, like it should be obvious what he is, and what he does. Maybe she isn't using the right words, but if so he's not what the real question is.
"I'm a soldier," he says, and jerks his head up to the fighting above them. "At the moment we're trying to get the Separatists out of the city for you."
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She turns her head up toward the sky as she tries to think of how to say it. "Do you - tell others what to do? Or go in first before them? Or - pilot, or um -"
Hera moves her hands as she speaks, as she pictures the weapons, "- shoot from a - turret? Or ... from a long distance?"
Her miming of a sniper rifle as she says this is pretty accurate.
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This makes more sense as a question, but if it's supposed to be unusual for civilian kids to know these things, Fives doesn't realise this. It's just a language barrier, he guesses.
"I'm one of the ones going in first." Which is true both in his current role as a infantryman and his training track as an ARC Trooper.
He taps the side of his helmet, just to the edge of his visor. "Soon I'll be going in long before everyone, doing the planning. Do you know the word 'recon?'"
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The kind of fighters Hera's most been around tend to be looser in using military terms, and often speak among themselves in Twi'leki rather than Basic, but they've worked with Basic speakers enough that she can recognize the word once Fives says it.
She touches her head, mirroring how Fives touched his helmet, and asks, "Is that what it means? On your helmet?"
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Fives had just meant to represent seeing things, so it takes him a second. His fingers walk along his helmet until, through the gloves, he feels the change in texture that represent the layer of paint.
"Oh, the eel?"
And off comes his helmet again so he can look at it, and then holds it down to show her.
"No, that's personal. Um, it's a cave eel from the Rishi moon."
It's not the only part of his armor that's painted - his right shoulder bears a more detailed painting of a cannon, with a caption in Aurebesh, but he's so used to it - like a tattoo - that he forgets its there.
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She continues walking, turning a corner as she thinks, and as she lets the silence linger a little to check for any other sounds around them. "My - friend," that's the best Basic word she can think for it, anyway, "she has bird on her shoulder, a jart, when it hunts it flies really high and then it dives -"
She moves her hands again, miming a sharp, quick drop. "She has it because she um -"
Hera presses her memory harder for the word, and this time comes up with it. "- sniper."
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"Some of the lads do that, yeah," he says, casting in his mind for examples. They're not as common as you'd think - clones' identity is already tied up in their function.
"But one of these eels killed my brother. I wear it to honour his sacrifice."
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Then, as she's still facing ahead, she says, "I'm sorry. My brother died, too."
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"Sorry to hear that," he says quietly. He's used to death, naturally, but Cutup being killed by an eel while trying to secure the outpost, and a Twi'lek child, are worlds apart.
From behind her he reaches a hand towards her, almost like he's going to touch her on the shoulder, and thinks better of it - she wouldn't want sympathy from a random clone, after all.
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"Oh wait -" she hisses, before launching into a soft-footed dash along the canyon wall and then, suddenly, throwing herself down on the ground against it.
And then she's yanking something by its scaly tail out of a burrow at the base of the canyon wall.
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But when her hand disappears into the burrow he stops, and when she pulls out an animal, he feels like a full fledged idiot.
He pulls back until he's sitting against the canyon wall, and lets out a laugh.
"Let me guess - good eating?"
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"I'm sorry -" Her own voice is sheepish as she sits up and starts to stand, the now third dead lizard dangling from her hand. "They move so fast..."
Hera relaxes at his laugh, even smiling briefly before she answers. "I can't get the bigger ones by myself, but it helps."
Even a small gruuvan lizard means a day she doesn't have to take from the fighters' food, after all.
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But he absolutely will do it again, and he knows it.
"Nice reflexes though," he allows. "Could have taken you for a Jedi for a second."
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"Because Jedi are fast?"
She's seen a few, even one pretty close up, but the only other thing Hera really knows about Jedi is that they lead the clone troops and carry those shiny 'lightsabers.' Everything else is secondhand or old stories, about other Twi'leks being taken from Ryloth to join them, or warriors who could move mountains with their hands.
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She slips back along the canyon wall, briefly glancing back up at the sky.
"I won't do it again," she says, as she looks back down. "Three is good, especially if the droids, um -
With another glance back at him, "- if you make them leave."
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He says this with not the slightest doubt. It's what they do, after all. "With help from your people, of course."
He says not a word about her clarification, except to remind himself that perhaps hyperbole is just for clones.
He slips back behind her, following her carefully, but frequently glancing up, as the canyon is wider now, and there's more fighting to catch a glimpse of.
And it looks like it's getting closer to the edge.
"I don't like this," he muses out loud. "Feel exposed."
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"It's that one next, I don't know about trying the others..."
There are several other canyon paths, narrow and wide, that branch off, but Hera doesn't know them all, and doesn't want to turn down one and then have to turn back.
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He makes more of a point now of staying close to her, ready to reach out and grab her if he needs to, and letting the spatial awareness of her physical presence - which is complicated by the double handicap of no force senstivity and being human - lead him. His visual attention stays mostly pointing upwards.
"Keep walking. We should be okay."
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But she does notice that how close his pace stays to hers now. And maybe because of his gesture earlier, or because of how quickly he'd grabbed for her when she'd jumped for the lizard, Hera offers her right hand back to him.
Her footsteps don't slow as she does it, there's only a quick glance back.
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He's not sure if she needs reassurance like civilian kids are meant to, or if she's thinking he needs to be lead, or if she knows that he's thinking of keeping her safe. Or maybe all three.
They've only gone a few meters when he uses that physical contact, pulls he back sharply as a bolt above their heads dislodges a piece of the wall and a chunk of rock tumbles down to the ground ahead of them.
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And she doesn't resist when he does pull her back. Her arms move instinctively to cover her head, and she flattens as much as she can back into the canyon wall.
Her arms lower as the sound of rock fades, and she tilts her head up. "Do you think that was at us?"
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"If they'd seen us, we'd know. Just a stray bolt, which will come more often as the fighting gets closer."
Nevertheless, he draws his blaster in his spare hand.
"I say 'run,' you go for our target," he says after a moment's though. "'Cover' - you run for the nearest passage on this wall. 'Down' - like you just did, but on the floor. Okay?"
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"It's okay, I do it all the time."
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But he's a soldier and this is what he was made for. And she's a child and Fives' very existence is so that she shouldn't have to do it at all, let alone all the time.
They'll get those karking clankers off this planet if he dies doing it.
He nods forward, indicating she should lead the way, keeping his eyes up on the noise above them.
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