Chapter 12. Nar Shaddaa: Parting Gifts

 

 

Jorgan called me from a little side office in the spaceport. When I showed up I found Jonas Balkar there, too. Jorgan looked pleased, or at least neutral with a touch of extra energy, when I showed up. That probably meant that some combination of extra info on the M1-4X mission or our extra services in Shadow Town had persuaded Balkar to start a search for Jorgan's Deadeyes.

 

"Lieutenant!" The glib warmth of Balkar's manner when we first met had given way to respect. After his mission support I was inclined to return it. "Walk with us. There's something I want you to see before you ship out."

 

We talked about nothing important while we walked through the crowded spaceport. Then he rounded a corner and brought us into a smallish warehouse or a biggish supply room.

 

Where M1-4X was standing, shining in a fresh paint job with Republic-insignia overlays.

 

The missile turrets weren't out and Balkar seemed pretty relaxed. In fact, he took out a datapad and read off "Republic war droid M1-4X is to be repaired and direct control transferred to Havoc Squad's current commanding officer immediately."

 

"Balkar. You shouldn't have." I paused. "Seriously, I don't know what other surprises he's been programmed with."

 

M1-4X waved. "I assure you, sir, my loyalty to the Republic is unshakeable!"

 

Balkar grinned. "We wiped him and gave him a more trustworthy system image we, ah, recovered from early design sources."

 

"And the rest? How did you even…?"

 

"Apparently you weren't nearly as thorough as you could've been." I think that smile actually qualified as roguish. "You really ought to be ashamed of yourself."

 

I frowned. "I knew I should've brought the flamethrower."

 

"We don't have a flamethrower, sir," said Jorgan.

 

In fact we didn't. "Let's get the honorary supply officer on that, eh?" Dorne had earned the position by liking paperwork much more than either I or Jorgan did.

 

"I'd love to see what she lists as a justification."

 

"Should be good. Now. This." I took a step toward the war droid, which still didn't seem inclined to kill me. So far so good.

 

"Unit M1-4X reporting for duty!" said the droid.

 

"Uh, welcome to Havoc Squad."

 

"I must say, Lieutenant, I'm very pleased to see you again. Your work in disabling me was incredible. Republic soldiers obviously are the best in the galaxy." He bowed. He actually bowed. "It will be an honor to fight alongside such an exceptional servant of the Republic. Together we will crush the mindless hedonists of the Sith Empire!"

 

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or…well, laugh. I suppressed the urge, anyway. "You and me are going to get along," I said.

 

Balkar spoke up. "It's been a pleasure, Lieutenant. Sergeant." He nodded at Jorgan. "I hope next time we meet I'll have something more for you."

 

Jorgan nodded back. "Just get me a direction. I'll do the rest."

 

"Come on, Forex," I said. "Let's show you around the ship."

 

"It will be a pleasure to return to the service of freedom and democracy, sir!"

 

No matter how bouncy his enthusiasm, I didn't laugh. The sentiment was right on, after all. "We're glad to have you."

Edited November 4, 2012 by bright_ephemera

I'm pretty sure 4X's boss fight is one of the funniest in the game. Never had a character so glad to be defeated, lol.

The entire M1-4X recruitment line was hysterical. Definitely a highlight of the Trooper story.

This is so great. Keep it up!

Chapter 13. Between Assignments: Nagging

 

Crossposted from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread.

 

 

 

"Sir."

 

I looked up from my console. Jorgan was leaning in the doorway.

 

"Jorgan," I said.

 

"What do you think of the new guy?"

 

"I think Forex is amazing. I had no idea you could put that much personality in a droid and still have room for missile turrets."

 

"Hm," he half laughed. "That's so. Impressive tech overall, and quick on orders. Should be good for us."

 

"Absolutely."

 

"I'm curious how things'll work in the field. Every new addition changes the dynamic. Sets our style slightly different."

 

"Yeah, I know." I hated it when he got pedantic. He knew my background, already knew I was a veteran. This could only mean he was angling toward something.

 

"And this may come as a surprise, but I'm pretty sure you're up for adapting to it. You've done better than I expected with that, all in all."

 

"This is your way of jabbing me about Sergeant Dorne, isn't it. You are not starting this." He did something once or twice a week that was a roundabout way of prodding me to make Sergeant Dorne part of the team. Rah rah, Havoc spirit, or something.

 

"I'm just saying. We're functioning as a unit a lot better than I feared when I found out this woman you think is your archnemesis was coming on board."

 

"She's not my archnemesis. Archnemesises...is…are unique, or at least uncommon. She's one of billions."

 

"She's on our side, and she's got the skills to hold her own. Which is good. Havoc needs to be at full strength. And I'm glad you've been all right about letting her work."

 

"Well, thank you very much for that pat on the back. Anything else you want to cover, Sergeant Warm Fuzzies?"

 

"I thought we might invite her next time we're out for dinner."

 

"You already invite her every time. She's always busy with her reading."

 

"We might invite, Savins. It'd mean something coming from you."

 

"I would rather bring Forex to the cantina than her."

 

Jorgan shrugged, unruffled. "We can invite him too. Make it a welcome party or something. Just ask her. Just the once."

 

"I don't want to be her buddy, Jorgan. There's nights I just play her voice over in my head so I can practice not wanting to shoot in its direction when I hear her accent in combat. When the firing starts…you have no idea. That's not the stuff friendships are made of."

 

"Well, you're not shooting her when you hear her accent in combat, so something's working, at least."

 

"Anybody ever tell you you're a terrible ambassador for unit cohesiveness? I don't get it. You're the guy who went out of your way to piss me off, for weeks, when we started working together."

 

He suddenly got shifty-eyed. "Yeah, well, you rubbed me the wrong way."

 

"So get off my case about her rubbing me the wrong way!"

 

"Furthermore," he said loudly, "I didn't think you had the discipline to hold a real squad together. Which is why I stay on your case about it."

 

"You want to talk about happy squads, friends getting along, we can reprogram Forex to sing holding-hands campfire songs. Actually, I would love to hear that done in his voice."

 

"Yeah, well. Maybe screwing with him will give you something to do other than complaining about her. I'm looking forward to it." He stood up straight. "About time we got some new blood in here in any case."

 

"Droids don't have blood, Jorgan."

 

"You know what I mean, Savins."

Chapter 14. Between Assignments: Jorgan's Secret Skill

 

Cross-posted to the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread.

 

 

I was in the mess getting acquainted with a manka sandwich when I heard it. A noise coming from the direction of Jorgan's quarters. A noise that immediately dragged a smile out of me. Not a particularly nice smile, but a smile.

 

He stepped out with his usual quiet movement, except he was still singing. He made it halfway across the holo room before he noticed me standing in the mess doorway.

 

He stopped. Quickly looked around as if wondering whether it was too late to hide. Started a preemptive scowl.

 

I figured I could start the torment from the beginning. "Were you just singing?"

 

He gave me his best angry-resentful look. "No, sir."

 

"You were singing. Wow. I mean, if I had a baritone like that I would sing more myself."

 

"Can we move on, sir? You didn't hear anything."

 

"Right, right. Moving on. What's the occasion for the not-singing?"

 

He eyed me warily. "Good news from the girl back home. She's successfully defended her thesis. One new degree in the bag." He smiled a little in spite of himself by the end there.

 

"That is good news. Tell her congratulations."

 

"I'll do that."

 

I grinned. "To celebrate, we should start a band. Or half of a barbershop quartet. The awesome half, whichever half that is."

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," growled Jorgan, "and I really wish you'd stop talking about it. Sir."

 

"Fine, fine. Sorry to bother you." I stuck my hands in my pockets and sauntered back toward my own quarters. Halfway across the room I started whistling, then quietly singing. "My-y heart goes back to Ord Mantell, to the girl I left behin-"

 

I didn't even know we had a rolling pin until it whizzed over and hit me in the back of the neck. I laughed and kept on walking.

Flashback 3: Loss

 

Crossposted to the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread.

 

 

5 ATC

 

I woke up in the makeshift hospital the resistance ran outside West Ford City. It had been thirty-five Imperials, give or take, since Illyris had been arrested and disappeared into the big Imperial prison of West Ford City. I wasn't counting days just then. If I concentrated I could still feel her hair brushing my face, the back of my hand.

 

What is there to say? She was a student, brilliant, fearless. A resistance sympathizer and occasional combat support, one who could place a blaster bolt with the best of 'em. She had this fine long hair, like white aurodium that'd flirted with gold just enough to keep the people who were truly dead to poetry from calling it colorless. There've been other girls, but never one quite like her. She wasn't the one who should've been taken when the op went wrong.

 

Thirty-five Imperials later, give or take, and this op went wrong, too, and here I was, unable to feel half my face.

 

I blinked a bit with the eye that wasn't bandaged. There was somebody sitting by my cot.

 

"Mama?" I said. "You shouldn't be here."

 

"I got approval," she said sternly. She always did have a way of giving orders fifty times her size. "Lie back, Vierce."

 

"How'd the rest of us make out?"

 

"Kino and old Greggs died in that blast. Imperial losses at eight or more in addition to some equipment. The rest of our people got out…though I'm told they had to drag you away. You were going about half blind, putting blaster fire into any Imperial helmet you saw, whether it was moving or not."

 

"Oh."

 

The space where Illyris wasn't burned at me. People didn't leave the prison she'd gone into. We could only hope that when the occupation was gone we could sort out the…what was left. If I had been there in the team that got taken…but I wasn't.

 

"In fact, Vierce, they had to knock you out." Mama pushed her graying hair back. "It makes no sense to fight your own people like that."

 

"They were holding me back." I did remember that much.

 

"That's not the way these matters get solved."

 

"They get solved by me going out and fixing it, Mama."

 

She patted my hand softly, but there was nothing of gentleness on her face. "When your father died I wanted to avenge him. It ate at me night and day. I wanted to set it right, or at least hurt anyone who had ever had anything to do with it. But I couldn't. They were too big, I was too small. To try would have done nothing except get me killed."

 

I didn't answer that.

 

"Kirsk is gone," she said. "He left no word, I've no way of knowing if he's ever coming back to this planet. And your father is long dead. You're all I have, Vierce."

 

"But I don't…she isn't…I won't even know what day she died on. Maybe I can't make all of them pay, but I have to do something."

 

"You'll do what you have to. I expect no less from my boy. But you listen to me." She gripped my hand harder and leaned in, driving each new word with a force I hadn't known her capable of. "You do not have to die."

 

I guess the look on her face then is what got me through the rest of it.

 

*

 

"You never did tell me how you got so pretty," Jorgan said. We were doing a last rifle check before we went out on the hunt.

 

I raised a hand to the burn scars that stretched from temple to jaw on one side of my face. "Roadside bomb," I told him. That's what I tell everyone.

Chapter 15. Interlude: The Cloaking Device

 

 

 

The call for the next step finally came in.

 

I quietly signaled the crew while I brought Garza up on the main holo. She started in right away. "Lieutenant. I've just received some intelligence that I want Havoc to act on immediately. It's Tavus."

 

My stomach went all twisty.

 

"He and a team of commandos just raided a Republic research center on Cularin and stole a prototype cloaking device. But the prototype contains a tracking beacon. We now know the exact location of Tavus's ship. This is it, Lieutenant."

 

"Excellent. I can move on his location immediately, General."

 

"Tavus's ship is currently sitting alone in an empty sector of space – most likely waiting to rendezvous with a larger vessel. You have to get there before that happens, Lieutenant."

 

"Consider it done."

 

"This is Harron Tavus himself, Lieutenant," she said. Like I needed the emphasis. "Succeed here, and everything else becomes an afterthought."

 

"I won't fail," I told her.

 

"That's why I'm sending you. Be sure to secure the prototype cloaking device after you've dealt with Tavus. If it fell into the Empire's hands, it could be…disastrous. I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now. Effect entry to Tavus's ship, then do whatever is necessary to neutralize him and retrieve the prototype. Good hunting – Garza out."

 

I turned to my squad. "Well, that's a trap."

 

"Yes, sir," said Jorgan.

 

"Let's slam it."

 

He grinned slyly. "Yes, sir."

 

"Yes, sir!" echoed M1-4X.

 

"Yes, sir," Dorne said quietly, but I couldn't tell whether she was just muttering it to fit in or what.

 

*

 

The ship was abandoned. I mean practically drifting, alone in the middle of nowhere, with no response to our approach, no resistance to our docking, no crew. I almost declined to board. The place was probably rigged to explode.

 

But I had to get that cloaking device.

 

We stayed tightly grouped as we searched the place, room by room, until we came upon a chamber crisscrossed by brilliantly glowing forcefield walls.

 

"That's probably it, sir," said Jorgan.

 

The console by the wall was beeping.

 

"This is somebody's idea of theatrics," I said. "Great."

 

"Means they won't kill us yet," said Jorgan.

 

"A lesser man would consider you a morale liability, Jorgan."

 

I hit the console. Right on cue, Commander Tavus's image came up.

 

And he was ready to ramble. "It's good to see you again, Lieutenant. It is lieutenant now, right? You're doing so well for yourself – I'm very proud. I have to thank you for working this little meeting into your very busy schedule. It took me some trouble to arrange."

 

"You could've just called me, you know. I'd be happy to see you again."

 

"I'm afraid I'm some distance away at the moment – and coming in person would waste your precious time. You have caused me a great deal of difficulty, Lieutenant. Some have even called you my nemesis. Was that your goal?"

 

"I would really need a better man than you for a nemesis. I'm here for justice. What've you got?"

 

"My goal – our goal – is to fight injustice. To destroy the greatest murderers of all. Needles, Andrik – they were heroes, Lieutenant!"

 

"Your squadmates betrayed the Republic. Just like you."

 

"You're a fool!" He paused, composed himself. "In my entire career, only one other enemy has been as difficult as you: the Imperial Shadow Fist. One of the most elite commando units in all of the Sith Empire. Five of the Emperor's deadliest agents."

 

"Uh-huh."

 

"Havoc Squad and the Shadow Fist fought many times, Lieutenant. We battled to a standstill over and over again. We were the worst of enemies. But times have changed. Meet my five newest friends."

 

It was halfway through that last sentence that I snapped "Cover" and let my squad scatter. People started dropping out of stealth around us.

 

Tavus kept talking. "You're overdue for a painful death, Lieutenant. Goodbye."

 

Was this Shadow Fist tough? Yes. Were we tougher? Yes. I'm used to scrapping in warehouses and other busy indoor locations. Jorgan's used to kicking a**. M1-4X is used to being indestructible. I still wasn't quite sure what Dorne was used to, but winning appeared to factor into it.

 

Still, in the end, we didn't have Tavus.

 

"Grab their tags and let's get this cloaking device out of here," I ordered. "As traps go, this wasn't that bad."

 

Dorne hurried to stay in step with me on the way back to our ship. "So that's Harron Tavus. That's really what he's like. The arrogance, the trickery. The access to considerable Imperial talent."

 

I thought about spitting, but decided it wasn't worth it. "I've had worse."

Edited November 6, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Chapter 15. Interlude: The Cloaking Device

 

 

I turned to my squad. "Well, that's a trap."

 

"Yes, sir," said Jorgan.

 

"Let's slam it."

 

Is it asking too much to have lines like that in the game? Is it? I'd pay real dollars for being able to sound like a bad*ss who's not a fool, instead of 'uh gee general it sounds like a trap... GO ANYWAY...'

 

<3'ing the Vierce

Is it asking too much to have lines like that in the game? Is it? I'd pay real dollars for being able to sound like a bad*ss who's not a fool, instead of 'uh gee general it sounds like a trap... GO ANYWAY...'

 

I had a few headcanon policies going on while I was playing through Vierce's storyline. One, the "herp derp" option on the scroll wheel was always (in my head) something interesting or at least a halfway intelligent observation on the situation. Two, I always, always went for cover 10-15 seconds before my cutscene avatar did. Because otherwise Vierce would have a lot worse than burn scars all over his face. Three, I sent cheap astromech droids to cut things out of mysterious drifting space hulks. Because let's face it, if it weren't for plot requirements every player character in game would be dead six or seven times over from stepping onto abandoned ships that some intelligent enemy had simply rigged to blow.

Edited November 5, 2012 by bright_ephemera

One problem: It's Needles and Andrik, not Needles or Gearbox. They fixed that line.

One problem: It's Needles and Andrik, not Needles or Gearbox. They fixed that line.

 

I was staring at that upon review, thinking, "Wait, why is he mad at me for Gearbox? Did I punch Gearbox before Alderaan? When did I punch Gearbox? Oh well, I'll just trust Tavus on this one..."

 

.......what? I can be taken in by the enemy at times.

I was staring at that upon review, thinking, "Wait, why is he mad at me for Gearbox? Did I punch Gearbox before Alderaan? When did I punch Gearbox? Oh well, I'll just trust Tavus on this one..."

 

.......what? I can be taken in by the enemy at times.

 

Yeah, that was a...glaring error. Maybe they originally planned for Gearbox to be on Nar Shaddaa, to spread out the companions a little more? I dunno.

Totally agree with Kabe - we need more lines like that in the game. Too many 'why, yes, I'll board-the-seemingly-deserted-wreck, follow-the-conveniently-activated-signal, click-the-harmless-ancient-device-surrounded-by-dead-bodies.'

 

Also, this:

"Means they won't kill us yet," said Jorgan.

 

"A lesser man would consider you a morale liability, Jorgan."

is really really funny

I like Vierce. Like all of your characters, he's definitely a guy with a lot of depth to him. I'm enjoying his adventures, even if I have to occasionally skim some Trooper spoilers in a half-hearted effort to save the storyline for myself... Anyway, keep up the good work!

Thanks, all!

 

Once again I'm publishing four, and this time it's post #2 (Chapter 17) that's entirely new. I'm slowly chugging through the tremendous Nar Shaddaa/Tatooine backlog to get to Alderaan, which at the moment is a terrifying expanse of things I haven't written even for the Short Fic thread...

 

 

Chapter 16. Tatooine: Community Service

 

Crossposted from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread. No game spoilers.

 

 

We hit the ground on Tatooine ready to hunt, but our local contact didn't have any leads to start with. We ended up riding out to check some of the farmsteads outside Anchorhead in the hopes of hearing some news of Imp activity. That's how we found one woman out fiddling with a hand scanner near one little homestead.

 

I took off my helmet and tucked it under my arm as I approached her. "Ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Savins, with the Republic Army. Can I ask a minute of your time?"

 

She shook her head at me. "We have to be inside by nightfall. Please go."

 

A little kid, no more than eight years old, ran up to her side and gawked. "Wow, Mister! You're done up like Havoc Squad!" He gestured at the spot on his shoulder where my insignia would be.

 

"That's because we are Havoc Squad, kid."

 

"Whoa–"

 

"Inside, Devy," said the woman.

 

"We got half an hour ‘til sunsdown, Mom."

 

"Inside. Now. The Sand People don't always wait until full dark these days."

 

That got my attention. "Um. Sand People, ma'am?"

 

"Yes. Natives, savages. There's a band that's been raiding farmsteads all around here for weeks. You understand, I have to get my family to shelter now."

 

"But they're Havoc Squad, Mom! They've got a battle droid! I bet they could take the Sand People."

 

That really depends on their numbers, how well supplied they are, what the terrain around here is like, whether we can find a spot to fight that doesn't give them comfortable sniper sights – and good luck with that, they know this country better'n we do – what kind of vehicular and droid support they have…

 

The kid was alternately staring at our uniforms and admiring M1-4X with big brown eyes. I like kids. There's a light in their eyes that goes out somewhere on the way to growing up, and no one ever gets it back. I try to delay that moment as long as I can.

 

"I bet we could take those Sand People," I said. I looked around at Jorgan, Dorne, and M1-4X. "Optional assignment, guys, I know it's off hours. Anyone who stays, I figure we'll find a place nearby to lay up and watch, clear out anything that tries to hit the place."

 

"Such a gesture of goodwill toward the potential allies of the Republic is an excellent idea!" announced M1-4X.

 

"I'm in," grunted Jorgan.

 

I waited for Dorne's recitation of all the reasons it was irregular and therefore bad. "We're all in, sir," she said instead.

 

I hid my surprise as best I could. "That's what I like to hear." I looked to the woman. "Ma'am, if you don't mind me talking to your son." I knelt to meet the kid's eyes. "We're going to need a decent place to watch from, someplace we can view the whole perimeter of your house and where it'll be hard for anybody to sneak up on us from behind." Kids can think in those terms when they're horsing around; grownups don't always do so. So I asked the expert. "You're my scout here. Got any recommendations for me?"

 

Devy didn't hesitate more than two seconds; he scampered off in one direction and I followed, making sure to keep a pace his mother could keep up with. She still seemed on edge. I guess I would be, too.

 

The kid brought us to a sweet spot on a low rise with its back to the city. Good visibility, enough rocks for cover. "Here's where I would go if I were gonna shoot 'em. If I had the blasters," he said.

 

"You've got a real good eye, kid. And luckily we do have the blasters."

 

Devy surveyed the landscape and smiled a gap-toothed smile. "Can I watch?"

 

"No," his mother said quickly.

 

"I'm afraid you'd better stay inside and look after your mother," I told him. "It may sound boring, but making sure things stay safe and quiet on the inside's just as important as shooting the bad guys on the outside. Each of us doing what's needed, that's what makes us a team." I nodded to his mother. "You'd best get him home, ma'am. If there's any trouble we'll clear it out from here."

 

We didn't have to wait long. The last sliver of Tatooine's second sun was still clinging to the horizon when thick shadows started scudding between the rocks a little ways around the complex. I heard one of M1-4X's missile turrets swinging into position beside me.

 

The action was surprisingly short; I don't know how Sand People usually fight but this was a small and not very well-coordinated group. We cleared the field in minutes and immediately set about gathering the bodies to burn.

 

We had just gotten that under way when running steps came up behind us – too light and irregular for a fighter's. Devy ran up close to us and stopped short, staring at the slowly catching fire.

 

"Did you kill 'em all?" he asked, wide-eyed.

 

"Sure did. It's nothing pretty to look at, Devy. But I can tell you they won't be bothering you any more. You did good, showing us the right place to watch from so we could catch 'em."

 

"Jint and Leese are never gonna believe Havoc Squad got rid of the Sand People."

 

"Not gonna believe you, huh?" I took off my helmet and knelt to face Devy. "You can just show 'em this." I turned the helmet around and gently placed it on his head.

 

The second my hands were clear he yanked it off again and stared at it. "C-can I keep it?" he squeaked.

 

"Sure can. You helped Havoc Squad get the job done tonight. You earned it."

 

He ran back off toward the house, clutching the helmet tight. I stood up and nodded at his approaching mother. "We're in town a few days longer, ma'am. If any other trouble comes of this, call Anchorhead's mayor, he'll get you in touch with us."

 

"Thank you," she said quietly.

 

"Just doing my job. Good health to you and your son."

 

With that the four of us started on back towards Anchorhead. I freed up a hand to run through my hair, letting the startlingly chill nighttime wind ruffle it further. It felt good.

 

"I like that part of my job," I said to no one in particular.

 

"I'm not sure running yard maintenance for non-citizens in the back end of nowhere is part of our job, sir."

 

I rounded on Jorgan, ready to tell him exactly what I thought of his grumbling, and found him looking at me with a gleam in those wicked yellow eyes.

 

I rearranged my attitude around that and returned his sly smile, then gestured on towards Anchorhead. "Let's pack it in, people."

Chapter 17. Tatooine: Personnel Division

 

The only spoilers are for Dorne's Act 1 personal quest conversations.

 

 

 

"Excuse me, sir. May I have a moment of your time?"

 

I stopped what I was doing. Sergeant Dorne and I hadn't said a whole lot to each other since dealing with her brother on Nar Shaddaa, an incident where I mostly stood there waiting to shoot any Imp who put a toe out of line and she talked her Imp brother and his disavowed-by-the-Empire squad into coming over to our side. That was just about the least pleasant noncombat experience of my life, but Kirsk's presence had kept me in line and Dorne had had the sense not to try to get cozy over it. "All right," I said.

 

Dorne nodded thanks. "As a condition of my service in the Republic military, Personnel Division requires that I report regularly on my activities."

 

Really? So there is somebody else in the service who worries.

 

"However, my Havoc Squad missions are classified and cannot be shared with Personnel Division." More and more concern crept into her voice with every word. "I'd like to ask if you would vouch for me when I report in."

 

I wasn't afraid to speak directly to her experience with me. "Sure. I can do that."

 

She avoided eye contact as we made for the holocom and she placed a secure call. "Captain Kalor?" she opened. "Elara Dorne, personnel number 22-795, reporting as per regulation 449."

 

"Please, Elara," said the balding Mirialan, "you don't have to give me the full rundown every time. I know who you are. How are things?"

 

She had a friend. Interesting.

 

"Well enough, sir," she said cautiously. "Allow me to introduce you to the commander of Havoc Squad – my CO. Sir, this is Captain Kalor, Army Personnel Divison."

 

I nodded. "Good to see you're on top of things, sir."

 

"Perfectly normal process, Lieutenant. Thanks for your time." He turned his attention to Dorne. "Tell me about being in the top squad in the Republic, Elara. You must be keeping very busy."

 

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said in her best rules-stickler voice, "but you aren't authorized to know the details of Havoc Squad's activities. My CO will have to vouch for me from now on." Again with the dread.

 

"What?" The Mirialan scowled. "Elara, I don't want to be a hard case, but rules are rules – this 'top secret' junk won't fly."

 

Oh, that wouldn't do. "Top secret is a rule, too, Captain," I said, "and it's one neither the sergeant nor I can break. All Havoc Squad operations are classified, but I can tell you Sergeant Dorne has been well behaved." Well behaved enough that even I couldn't fault her for anything she'd done so far. I wasn't sure what else to do with this process, but the personnel guy clearly wasn't satisfied. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience," I added.

 

"Heh. Inconvenience." His manner was rapidly dropping into angry territory. "Just carry on, Elara. We'll talk about this later, after I've had a word with my superiors. Kalor out." The holo turned off.

 

Dorne looked a little green. "I wasn't expecting him to react so strongly. Surely he didn't expect me to report on classified information?"

 

"He's probably not used to keeping tabs on Spec Forces. Not too many defectors end up there. But I'm guessing regulations are on your side."

 

"Yes, sir. I'm just surprised the captain didn't agree."

 

"He questions you like that, he's questioning Havoc Squad. That won't fly."

 

She nodded, but she didn't seem very reassured. "In any case, thank you for your time."

 

"You let me know when he calls back." I didn't want to be surprised by any explosion that came of this. Plus, that captain was challenging my role as well as hers. If he wanted to pick on her he'd better pick on her on her own merits, not some trumped-up excuse involving Havoc Squad.

 

"I will," she said. "Thank you."

 

That had turned from a routine job detail into a favor pretty quickly. Not something I wanted to make a habit of. But things were settled for now. So I moved on.

Chapter 18. Tatooine: Fuse's Tip

 

Crossposted from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread. Main line Trooper Tatooine plot. I think hereafter the convention will be "I will only make a special note for posts that *don't* have main-Trooper-plot spoilers."

 

 

 

About six hours later, after a very interesting partial work day, I ran into to the mayor's office dust-covered, sweating, and carrying a whole lot of questions.

 

"Mayor, I know you said this morning that there's been activity like this, but that attack…those explosions were beyond reason."

 

Mayor Klerren peered anxiously at me. "Is anyone else…?"

 

My team filed into the mayor's office as I spoke. "No. We intercepted a couple of droids carrying additional payloads, but we neutralized 'em. Did your man say there were sixty-four dead and wounded from just the first one of those today? And there's been more than one wave of this?"

 

"Yes, you heard right."

 

I looked back at Jorgan. We had a bomb expert on the list of Havoc Squad defectors. Name of Fuse. If there was sudden new high-yield bomb activity at the same time as vague reports of a former Havoc man here…well.

 

The mayor's man skittered in from the inner office. "Sir, there's someone on the line. He claims to have vital information about the bomber's identity."

 

What? Really," said Mayor Klerren. "Put him through."

 

The assistant routed something onto the holo. A pale nervous-looking Zabrak showed up. "Ah! Uh, hello there, Mayor Klerren, sir. My name is Vanta Bazren, and I have vital information for you regarding…" Then he noticed me. "I'm sorry, is that…Sergeant, is that you? It's me, Fuse! From Ord Mantell, remember?"

 

I avoided laughing, but only barely. "Yeah. I don't forget." I turned to the mayor. "Sir, this individual has sensitive information I'm going to need to extract. Would you mind excusing us? I promise to get all the information he has on your bomber."

 

"Er, yes, of course." Mayor Klerren gestured to his assistant and the two left.

 

"Now, then." I turned back to Fuse. "I was saying. I remember you and Ord Mantell very well, Fuse."

 

"I…I'm sorry. I-I don't know what I was thinking."

 

"As I recall, you were thinking 'the Empire respects its warriors' and you were eager to bring them a 'present' to help them with it. Anything else you need your memory refreshed on?"

 

"I know, uh, you might not believe this, but…I'm really, really glad you're here. If anyone can shut down the Imps and stop the bombings in Anchorhead, it's you."

 

"Shutting down Imps is a specialty of Havoc Squad."

 

He swallowed hard. "Please, I-I don't have much time. If they catch me transmitting, they'll, uh…it won't be good. The Imps brought me here to design bombs. Desert planet, middle of nowhere, makes sense, right? Then Colonel Gorik, the Imp leader, wants to test the bombs. But, he wouldn't use the empty deserts – he wanted a live testing ground. He chose Anchorhead."

 

"He just decided to go testing your inventions on the nearest innocents?" said Jorgan.

 

"That's the Empire for you," I said. My throat felt tight.

 

"Not every Imperial officer is a murderous psychopath, but still. Yeah. Pretty horrible. As soon as I found out…I told Gorik I wouldn't do it. Never. So his men locked me up in here. Gorik's afraid of Tavus, or he would've just killed me. Only you can stop Gorik now. Let me help you – let me tell you who's putting the bomb droids together."

 

"You'll tell me a hell of a lot more than that, Fuse."

 

"I will! I'll help you find Gorik's base, I'll turn myself in. Just please, stop the droid production first so they won't hurt anyone else." He started typing at the console on his end, sending information about the droid facility over.

 

"Fine. I clean that up. Then I take you into custody."

 

If he had stuck around on Ord Mantell he might know me well enough to know exactly what I meant by "take into custody." But he hadn't. Instead he sounded relieved. "Yes, sir. – I have to go now. Fuse out."

 

I grabbed the name and coordinates he sent us, loaded that up to my own datapad. Then I turned to the rest of the squad. "We move. Now."

Edited November 6, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Flashback 4: Apropos of nothing, brotherly competition

 

Crosspost from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread. No game spoilers. This one is from guest Kirsk Savins (alias Kirsk Volheis)'s POV and it's set while Vierce is still working with Jorgan on Coruscant.

 

 

I'm not saying my big brother is better than me at everything, because he isn't. He's terrible with women and with letting go of things. And with anger management. And he keeps loaning me credits. I'll pay him back someday, but everybody agrees he's still an idiot to do it.

 

I know, he's the shining commander of Havoc Squad. He's good at it, too. All do-goodery. I know he's taller, tougher, better-looking, at least prior to the incident involving a fit of angst and an Imperial explosives shipment. Maybe people trust him more. Maybe he's the one who earns respect. Maybe he can do the tough-guy hard decisions.

 

But I can at least rest knowing that I'm better at bumper ball.

 

The arcade downtown, and later the resistance base outside town too, had a rotating inventory of bumper ball machines. We would spend our whole allowances side by side, slamming buttons, then switching off. Vierce would always methodically study each one, playing over and over to map the tricks and rewards. Then I would step in and whip him. Hey, even before I got the cybernetics in, machines loved me.

 

Fast forward. Vierce called me out of the blue a little ways after he joined Havoc Squad. And the first words out of his mouth were "Seven hundred and sixteen million on Mynock Patrol."

 

"Like hell," I said. Mynock Patrol was just about the hardest machine we ever had. It was dark, disorienting, with this voiceover in which comic-book caped crusader Mynock kept calling creepy cryptic crap. Vierce was terrible at it.

 

"I saved the high score," he said, waving a datacard.

 

"You sliced it."

 

"No, sir. You're the slicer. I earned this one."

 

"Where did you find another arcade with Mynock Patrol?"

 

"Little place by the Senate Building here on Coruscant."

 

"I'm going. And I'm blowing your initials off that high-score list."

 

He laughed a bit, then looked off holo. "Blast. I have to run, Kirsk." Then, with one of his ultra-rare wide smiles, heavy on the smugness this time, "Just remember who beat you."

 

The second he vanished I went for the bridge and changed course: to Coruscant.

 

Because if Vierce held the high score at bumper ball, my entire childhood was a lie.

Well, our stories may end up having a chapter that's the same. I am doing my Tatooine portion and I did the direct scene from the game where you rescue "him" (you know, since you didn't do Tatooine yet and I didn't wanna copy you). Who knew?

Well, our stories may end up having a chapter that's the same. I am doing my Tatooine portion and I did the direct scene from the game where you rescue "him" (you know, since you didn't do Tatooine yet and I didn't wanna copy you). Who knew?

 

Haha! That's the adventure (or downside?) of doing the class line as fic - you get to see individual players/writers' takes on the same limited set of game-scripted events.

I was thinking about Vierce at work (cause it seemed like a good use of my time) and he reminds me of a person I know who tries really hard not to take out her bad moods on people who don't deserve it. The flip side of that is that those who DO deserve it get it with both barrels and then some. Makes for some interesting blow-ups.

Chapter 19. Tatooine: Direction Finding

 

Crossposted from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread.

 

 

 

The bombing-droid factory Fuse directed us to was entirely run by Geonosians. I would've liked to get some information out of them, only they didn't speak Basic. They didn't really speak at all so much as shoot at us.

 

I can work with that.

 

We cleaned the factory up, swiped what few files we could find to upload for analysis. There were no immediate signs of how they had gotten their orders and payments. So we headed on back to Anchorhead.

 

Fuse was on the line when we entered the mayor's office. He was apologizing. Again. I wanted to deck him. Again.

 

"I'm so sorry, Mayor Klerren. I, uh…I just, I never imagined it would come to this, you know? Innocent people dead, all because of my designs. I…I was so stupid."

 

"Can't argue with that," I announced as I walked into holocam view. "Droid factory's down. The Geonosians were working for the Imps, all right, but I couldn't get much more from them."

 

Fuse looked miserable. "I know it's…well, thanks for trusting me, after everything that's happened. I really do want to help. Colonel Gorik is…well, he isn't pleased about you being here, Lieutenant. He has the entire operation on high alert."

 

"He's right to be scared."

 

"Yeah, I'd say so," said Mayor Klerren, looking at me.

 

Fuse gestured vaguely. "I, uh, I think it's actually going to help us. See, the location of the base they're holding me in is a total secret. I have no idea where we are."

 

"You have got to be kidding me." If I could've killed him by stare alone I would've. "How do you pull together the brainpower required to breathe?"

 

"I, uh. I – look, there's not much time. Gorik's got commando teams patrolling the whole region; if you hit one they should have the coordinates. I can describe the patrol stuff I overheard, I hope it's enough for you to locate them. It, uh, it may not be long before Gorik decides to pull out entirely, Lieutenant. He's worried that more Republic reinforcements are coming. So try to move fast."

 

"I'll do that, Fuse. I am really, really looking forward to seeing you in person."

 

The mayor was eyeing me uncertainly. "You're heading out, then?"

 

"Looks like it."

 

"Good luck out there. You'll need it."

 

I led the squad back out into the glaring daylight. Fuse's stupid stuttering was still echoing in my ears. "I am going to kill that Imp-loving embarrassment," I said.

 

"At least he's sorry," said Jorgan. "With any luck he'll bring something useful back with him when he surrenders."

 

"I'd be surprised if he manages to bring both his own boots with him. Why would we take him in alive?"

 

"He is helping us. Look at him. He's got nobody in there, and even knowing we're not friends either he's trying to do the right thing. Takes guts. He could make out all right at court-martial, maybe do something with his life after. He sounds like a good kid."

 

"Jorgan. Don't say that again."

So about that keeping it under control...

 

 

Chapter 20. Tatooine: Combat Prep

 

Crossposted from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread. No game spoilers.

 

 

 

Stand still. Shoulders back. Deep breath. Hands still. Straight-up Imperial raid. Look over the site map. Three buildings. Civilian buildings. Fourth is Imp-occupied, fair game. Remember where you are. Tatooine, here, now. Your targets are in uniforms. Fire at the uniforms, not the accents. Three friendlies with you. Remember her voice. Friendly. Republic uniform. Don't shoot.

 

Remember where you are. Tatooine, here, now.

 

One more time. Here's the site. Civilians present. Fire at the Imp uniforms. You have three friend–

 

"Sir!" roared M1-4X. "All systems are at optimal power! I am fully prepared to bring freedom–"

 

"Blast it, Forex, do not interrupt me when I'm…" I swallowed hard. When I'm standing still doing nothing? "When I'm prepping for the job," I said harshly.

 

Jorgan stepped in. "Give him two minutes before any time we go into combat, all right, Forex? It makes him more effective."

 

"Of course, sir! Any technique you find effective is one more tool we have against the Empire!"

 

I nodded gratefully at Jorgan and turned back to face the map. Deep breath. Hands still. Here's the site. Civilians present. Remember where you are. Tatooine, here, now. You know the Imp uniforms.

 

Protect everything else.

Flashback 5: Under Arrest

 

No game spoilers. 4 ATC.

 

 

 

"I can lead 'em off," said Kirsk. "Grab attention, get you time to get clear."

 

"You're the one they're after today." The Imps had finally managed to find a reason to snatch him. They connected Smiling Bek's long infuriating record of slicing stunts to him quick enough, and they were mad. I could move in heavy Imp territory with an active manhunt going if I really had to. With Kirsk in danger, I had to.

 

"They can't catch me," said Kirsk.

 

"They'll kill you. I can take care of myself, just go."

 

"Leading wild chases is what I do. I'll cover you."

 

He meant it, too. My brother, the idiot. "No. If you think they can pump enough energy weapons into me to bother me, you haven't been paying attention. Go on, take the speeder, hit the spaceport and run for it. I'll make my own way out."

 

"You don't make it out of here, I'll come back and shoot you myself."

 

"Like you could hit me. Get gone," I said, and shoved him a little. "Just don't stay disappeared forever, all right?"

 

"Can't get rid of me for long, big brother. See you 'round."

 

Kirsk got out safe. He got out safe.

 

*

 

Not long after that parting I ended up bound, standing in an out-of-the-way courtyard with three guards who knew my record well enough to decide I shouldn't die right away.

 

I was eighteen and too mad to care that "right away" was likely to expire within the day.

 

One Imp was the alpha. He slung his gun on his back and kept his hands free while he circled me. "Vierce Savins. Big deal, huh. Big tough resistance guy." He threw a sharp jab into my stomach. "Scary."

 

"Funny, that's the last thing your sergeant said a coupla months back. Last thing he ever said, in point of fact."

 

I got another blow to the stomach for that, hard enough to make me double over. The alpha snarled. "You don't get to talk, big guy."

 

"You just want all the hot air for yourself."

 

"Not too bright," I heard one of the others say. It was an interesting little background noise while an impact thudded under my jaw. I staggered back and choked.

 

The alpha withdrew his fist. "Your teeth go next," he said matter-of-factly.

 

The tallest Imp spoke up before I could think what to say. "It'd be poetic to keep him a minute or two for every one of ours he's killed or maimed. But if we did that he'd be here all week."

 

"The guys back at the base may appreciate a turn," said the stocky Imp who had thus far been silent.

 

"Finders keepers," said the alpha, and hit my gut again. When that didn't get enough of a reaction out of me he took the butt of his rifle to my ankle and knee in quick succession, hard enough to take the leg out from under me. "Let's not take him home yet. I'd rather not share 'til we've warmed him up on behalf of the men who aren't alive to hit him themselves."

 

The others closed in.

 

*

 

Flash and the rest got there in time. It's the crackdown that came after that hurt. Because after the Savins brothers plus resistance backup made fools of the entire Imp search effort, the Imps spent weeks taking out their frustrations on anybody who so much as stuck their head up. Would the city have been spared that particular flare of brutality if they'd just gotten to keep me? I know the answer is no. But the question doesn't go away.