Specialist Jon Ferma scanned the area around him with his macrobinoculars while lying on the crest of a hill, making sure no one was slipping past that would be able to attack from the rear. Easily fitting the binoculars to his helmet, he looked for movement or signs of the forces from the Sith Empire. Nothing so far. Reports came in that the Sith Army landed on the planet. His scout squad was ordered to confirm they are here.

He wore the standard full body armor of a Republic scout, made of plastoid and covering every part of him. The issued armor was painted to camouflage with the environment of their location. As a scout he knew that would only work with regular infantry. He used clear adhesive to attach foliage to his armor to blend in better, then had his battle buddy add modifications for the parts he wasn’t aware of. As a battle buddy, he did the same for his fellow sniper.

Here. Al Saltu. An outer rim world not far from Mon Cala. The third planet for the star Al Setta. A world with much water and a lot of plants. The poles of the planet had frozen icecaps on oceans, and icy plains that became cool forests while moving closer to the equator.

Then jungle. Lots and lots of jungle. Most of the land mass was covered with jungle. Some places less dense, some more dense. Oceans, inland seas, and numerous lakes covered where the jungle didn’t. It was hard to walk easily in this place. Tall trees with vines, bushes where they could find light to grow, holes in the ground to easily sprain an ankle, and the wildlife.

Then there’s the bugs. Bugs. Bunch of bugs. They went from the tiniest ones that cannot be seen with the naked eye, to ones taller than a person. It was bad enough to have to deal with the bugs, but then supply forgot the bug repellant. A deployment to a planet with all the bugs, and no repellant. It was bad enough there was a shortage of food so only two meals were served per day, and that came with a breakfast served at room temperature when it was supposed to be cooked properly. But no. Let’s be in a symbiotic relationship with these beautiful life forms in this expansive tropical rainforest.

It’s a jungle! Fool of a bantha’s backside for someone to think this is some wonderful place. Let someone else try to eat or go to the restroom without bug spray. The planet doesn’t even have any sentient life forms. Any sentients that would try to live here would get bitten so much their skin would wart, or get sick from the bacteria the bugs carry. Nothing with hair lives here. Certainly nothing with tendrils lived here either.

Join the Republic Army. Protect the Galactic Republic. Explore exciting worlds and meet intriguing people. A chance to get away from Forty-Nine Ninety-Four of the undersurface of Coruscant. Experience daylight. Experience daylight all right. Got a sunburn training at Ord Mantell.

The mission was important, the people in his squad and the rest of the brigade were told by their superiors. If Al Saltu came under the control of the Sith, they would have a planet that can be used to launch a successful attack on Mon Cala or Lothal. Sith already controlled Felucia and Karkaris. If this planet fell to the Sith, then the Mon Calamari, the Quarren, and the sentient life of Lothal could end up getting subjugated to the Sith lords. Those people do not deserve that. Sith can keep Karkaris. Water freaks that like to bite people. They can go ahead and be Sith slaves.

Nothing was showing up on infrared nor ultraviolet. Specialist Ferma attached the macrobinoculars to his belt, then turned his head one way then the other, trying to find something out of the ordinary he could not pick up with the binoculars. The ground did not show any displacement of plants from someone walking. Ground is just awful for a tank to move. A walker would even have problems unless it had wide feet. He observed that the wind was going from front left to back right.

“Check.” Staff Sergeant Beihei wanted the roll call to make sure all were safe, and for any info not called in. The Iridonian wasn’t the nicest of sergeants to serve under, but Jon Ferma had seen worse. There were a few times he felt like grabbing the horns on the sergeant’s head and shake them. He listened to the numbers being called in with report.

Finally, his turn. “Gundark six, clear.” Gundark. Why did they have to name their squad after those ugly gundarks? Why couldn’t they be loth-wolves?

The numbers went through twelve. All clear. A majority of the squad were together in groups of two. Specialist Ferma and his battle buddy, Specialist Justin Mintu of Corellia, preferred to be alone. The sergeant allowed it. No one would disturb their concentration, and they were not that far from each other if help was needed.

Both of them were snipers, the snipers for the scout squad. Each had a Kuat Stealth Scout for their sniper rifle, in addition to the BlasTech DT-2 sidearm, and the Republic vibroknife. All weapons were inspected before the deployment. No irregularities were found with the knife. The sidearm shot with precision up to twenty-five meters. Three shots within a square of three centimeters per side at the distance of one hundred meters showed that the sniper rifle was zeroed.

There was an instant memory. Jace receiving the Stealth Scout. He looked revolted for a second when he was told the name of the weapon. Here he was, a guy from the starship land of Corellia, getting a weapon from the planet of Corellia’s rival shipbuilder, Kuat. However, Jace found out that the Kuat sniper rifle was an excellent firearm. Jace was the oddball of his family. The others in the family that were in the military went Republic Navy, just like most of Corellia. Jace instead went Army.

Then there’s himself. A boy from Coruscant’s undersurface told time and time again by family and friends that he won’t come to anything special. Yet he became one of the best shots in the company. Most scouts applying for the sniper position don’t make it. He did. Maybe the jungle isn’t so bad. It’s definitely better than Forty-Nine Ninety-Four.

Ready to grab his binoculars, something looked off in the distance. Some leaves in one tree moved right to left, when the wind was going the opposite direction. Goggles back up, nothing infrared nor ultraviolet. Some spots on the tree he observed had a little bit of starlight reflected, but one spot over a meter tall was dark. “Six. Tree. Dark spot. Probable jetpack.”

“Six. Take the shot.” Sergeant Beihei’s voice came over the speaker calmly in the sniper’s helmet.

Grabbing Sue, the name he gave his Kuat Stealth Scout sniper rifle, he brought it to bear. It was named after the nice brunette he met while he was in basic at Ord Mantell. The cute gal worked at the diner he and the others went to when done with a section of basic training. She was so nice and friendly. When he was done with basic and wanted to go out with her, she said sorry. She was being friendly because she just wanted nice tips.

Slowing his breathing, slowing his heart rate, he looked in the scope. He wasn’t looking for any person. He was looking for the darkest part of that particular tree. Something that would absorb light in a tree was probably a Sith jetpack trooper in all black armor to conceal oneself. They were known to move in trees to take advantage of the foliage while staying off the ground. Yet through training, a Republic scout learned to pick up where there was no light but should be.

There. Upper middle part of the tall tree. The dark area. He studied what he could of the wind in the dark between himself and the target. Wind caused less deviation with plasma bolts compared to solid projectiles, but there still was a little.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out all of the air. Specialist Ferma pulled the trigger, hearing the plasma bolt as his finger continued moving, having steady pressure until it came fully to rear, then released. The tiniest of recoils moved the sniper rifle back into him, keeping the scope looking at the same location. There was no need to readjust the rifle later.

The dark figure moved down slowly a little, then dropped. It did not move from its own volition, but from gravity. Once the body was found, the kill would be confirmed later unless the recipient of the plasma bolt happened to have survived the shot and the fall.

“One fall” he spoke inside his helmet. That gave the alert to the squad they had unwelcome guests in the area. Specialist Ferma observed the surroundings again then brought out the macrobinoculars to get a detailed look.

“Engagement. Look for targets” he heard over the speakers in his helmet.

At a further distance than his target, he began to notice heat signatures of some devices. He then noticed the outlines of the devices that appeared cylinder shape until they moved and he couldn’t see the devices anymore.

His helmet covered up the raising of his eyebrows and slight opening of his mouth as he calmly stated “not good.” He backed away with his belongings as quick as he could on the ground, crawling away from the crest of the hill. Explosions commenced around him from the projectiles fired. Shockwaves were around him and came at him. Luckily the plastoid armor protected his body and especially his ears. Also, this seemed light artillery fire. Still deadly, but not as powerful as heavy artillery.

As he backed, he thought he saw something in the air. “Airborne troopers” he heard from the voice of his battle buddy Jace Mintu. Looking up he noticed a few stars were blocked by some flying objects. Specialist Ferma knew there were probably eleven in the air. Twelve for the amount in a typical Sith squad minus the one he shot.

Below the horizon of the hill, he got up in a crouch and started going to his right. The fire of some Republic assault cannons could now be heard. “Ground troop movement away from target. Two trailer speeders damaged.” That was two speaking, Sergeant Sinclair from Alderaan. Basically, he was the second in command of the squad, and would take over if something happened to the staff sergeant. Those were noble people from Alderaan, he had noticed on more than one occasion since being active duty. Each one of them devoted to the ideal of the Galactic Republic. The speeders reported must have been the vehicles pulling the cannons.

With those Sith troops moving, this firefight was about to explode he concluded to himself as he moved forward to his right. He followed his order to go to Point Cookout when there was engagement. It was the spot where the battalion would meet up for an advance, and if by chance he and the other scouts could drag some of the enemy into the area, easy targets. But who thought of the name Cookout for the spot on the battlefield? Idiot.

“Ten. Empire brigade spotted. Right ten degrees at one point five kilometers. Saturated ground with numerous roots. No identifiable traps.” Specialist Duran, the sole Devaronian of the squad, found the main body of the opposition. That would be the main target, but he and the other scouts knew to look for loose squads that could circle around.

A long time ago in the Galactic Republic Army the personnel of a squad was determined by what species and gender someone was. Unfortunately, that brought about bitter rivalries, harassment, and conflicts between the squads. That was not an issue currently with the mixed squads. Now there was just that occasional problem of those pregnancies.

Specialist Duran was the first to spot the main body of the enemy, but it wasn’t quick enough. Plasma fire from cannons began hurling toward the spot of the Republic assault cannons, and other spots in the large area. The Sith Army knew of one spot where the Republic was, and was trying to blanket cover the remaining area with artillery area. In the speaker of his helmet, he heard two screams. Members of his squad, but Specialist Ferma could not tell who.

Republic artillery fire began. Most of the Sith cannon fire missed Republic positions, not knowing exactly where they were. Republic artillery was not perfect, but had the advantage of knowing where the opposition was. Specialist Ferma proceeded to Point Cookout, crouching so he would not be an easy target to shoot at in the dark. Moving amongst the trees, he went as fast as he could with his crouched form, making sure he didn’t trip over a root or put his foot in a hole in the saturated ground.

Coming upon the position of the assault cannons, he went to it, hoping the Sith Army would not shoot at that location since it was already pummeled from cannon fire. Several Republic soldiers lied dead in their armor, including the ones possessing the assault cannons. The assault cannon did have enormous firepower as a handheld weapon, but it was so bulky and heavy that hydraulics was needed in the armor to be able to wield it. A sniper rifle had less firepower, but was more efficient. He did remember though that one time he saw someone quite proficient with the assault cannon. A Pheo woman that was recently promoted to captain of the Dragon Company. She was cute too for an older woman. “Oh, don’t go there” he thought to himself. There was no good being attracted to an older officer.

Some in the position were uninjured, some were seriously injured and started to be cared for by the medics, and others who were slightly injured were given quick care and told to go on their way. He went back to proceed towards Point Cookout. He saw a Republic infantry squad ahead of him. What caught his attention though was in the air. A moving black silhouette, blocking briefly the stars above as it moved, flying towards the squad with flames shooting behind it.

Falling to the ground in front of him, he made a little splash from the few puddles of water he fell in. He brought his sniper rifle Sue to shooting position, looking through the trees with his scope, hoping the flying silhouette would come to a stationary position.

Tree in the way, spot for second then moves, tree in the way, moves and another tree in the way. He brought out his sidearm while lying in place. Breathe in, breathe out, target moving while breathe in, breathe out, target still moving while breathe in, target aiming while breathe all air out, steady pressure he pulled the trigger all the way back. The plasma bolt went through the right side of the chest below the armpit. Head slumping over, the jetpack started moving the body forward and upward in an uncontrolled path. Another kill.

Specialist Ferma knew he had no time to celebrate with the battle continuing on. When he heard what sounded like the rocket from a jetpack above him, he really knew he had no time to celebrate. “No good” he said out loud, mainly for himself. He quickly rolled to his right then got up to get behind a tree. Blaster fire from a sidearm followed him, trying to get him while lying on the ground. When he got up, the airborne trooper tried to shoot ahead of him, trying to predict where he would go. The shots would have succeeded in hitting him, except the tree he was behind got in the way, wood chips flying everywhere from the impact of the plasma bolts hitting the trunk.

Bringing the sniper rifle up, he made his shots while moving on the ground, trying to make it more difficult for the airborne trooper to shoot him. Without the time for proper aim, he was at best a stalemate with the Sith trooper in the sky. Continuing moving and using the trees for disruption of the line of sight, he at least made it more difficult for proper aim on him. He then saw the Sith trooper put the side arm in the left hand while grabbing a circular object with the right. His eyelids raised behind the visor, he jumped to his right in the middle of the motion of his opponent’s right arm.

Water, mud, and his armor helped lessen the impact of the grenade as it hit the ground. He got up, but not as quick as he could from the dazed effect of the grenade. The Sith airborne trooper saw the advantage, coming to a hard landing on the ground with the jetpack turning off while bringing out a Sith vibroblade. Coming upon the specialist, Jon Ferma brought up his sniper rifle, holding on with both hands. He was able to deflect the lunge of the blade, however the vibroblade was able to make a large cut into the barrel of the rifle.

The airborne trooper tried to grab the sidearm with the left hand. Specialist Ferma shoved the rifle into the visor of his assailant. Moving to his right he was able to use his left hand to grab the left wrist of the Sith trooper. The right foot of the trooper got stuck under a root, losing balance and unable to stab effectively with the vibroblade, having it deflect off the left arm instead of a stab to the torso of the specialist. With his right hand free, Jon Ferma grabbed his sidearm, and quickly brought it up and shot at the head of his opponent. Plastoid armor and flesh came flying from the impact of the plasma bolt. The airborne trooper’s body slumped to the ground, with the top left part of the head blown away from the plasma bolt shot at point blank range.

Shaking his head for a few seconds, being dazed from the impact of plastoid pieces hitting his helmet, he soon noticed the cracks on the left side of his visor. He grabbed the two sidearms of the dead airborne trigger to see if he could use them, but noticed they did not activate. “Signature firearms” he stated to himself softly. He surmised the damaged visor wouldn’t be good if there was a chemical attack. He quickly looked at his surroundings, seeing between the trees trunks the flying plasma bolts near Point Cookout. An artillery projectile from the Republic side fell onto the area, coming with it the loud explosion. He heard another person scream in his helmet. Looking at the point, less movement was seen and the faint shape of figures lied on the ground, from both Sith and Republic side. The artillery came too close to the Republic troops.

He then thought he saw something in the distance moving to his left. Putting on infrared, the cracks in the visor distorted the view. Nevertheless, a small line of heat chest high was moving. That wasn’t an insect. It was most likely a Sith trooper that got the chest armor cracked, and body heat was coming out.

Specialist Ferma moved to his left, crouched to try to minimize the chance he would be detected. Finding a spot between a tree and a bush, he laid forward into the mud, bringing out his sidearm. The sniper rifle would not be safe to use with the cut in the barrel. Waiting patiently, the targets began moving closer, unaware of him lying there in the mud at night. He wanted a chance to have several shots in short succession to get as many targets as he could with surprise. He also wanted to have a decent view of the targets, made more difficult with the cracked visor.

Coming closer, coming closer, there. A Sith squad of infantry, probably of twelve soldiers, trying to flank the Republic. He may die from the retaliatory fire, but he had the advantage of some cover, and it will eliminate their chance of circling and having the jump on Republic troops.

Several came under twenty meters away. Focusing on the targets as best he could with the cracks in his visor, he aimed his pistol. Two steady pulls of the trigger, aim for another, two pulls, aim for another, two pulls. Two Sith troopers fell to the ground, one yelled while getting on knees as the shoulder was grabbed from an injury. The remaining troopers responded with return fire, aiming for chest high but missed due to not knowing he was lying on the ground. Two more shots he let loose, then rifle fire from elsewhere sent plasma bolts into the now exposed Sith squad as his target went down. More of the squad went down as a few retreated.

“Lucky” he stated calmly to himself, fortunate of the situation. He got up then walked a little to his left. He saw the Republic squad with their rifles, and gave them a little salute with two fingers from his right hand. He then saw past the squad a medic, a red stripe across his arms and chest of his armor to designate he was medical, moving toward a trooper on the ground. A plasma bolt went that direction. The medic, while grabbing the right arm, went down onto the knees.

Specialist Ferma evaluated the situation. Unusable sniper rifle, no long-range weapon, damaged visor, and others were in need. Unable to use his sniper skills, he would be more of a benefit to the brigade by helping others accomplish their roles. Watching for plasma bolts, he moved over to the medic. Seeing the medic on the ground panting hard, the sniper’s focus went to the right arm. Armor and flesh from the outer part of the arm was burned away. At least the wound wasn’t so deep that it got to the bone.

“What can I do?” Specialist Ferma asked as he lowered his head to the level of the medic.

“Bacta. Gel. In pack” the medic answered in between large breaths. Opening the pack on the medic’s back, Specialist Ferma brought out a tube then spread it on the injury.

“Ouch” came from the medic when the gel was first put on, then his breathing slowed and evened, as his body appeared less in pain.

“Let me get you back to the field hospital” responded Specialist Ferma as he helped the medic onto his feet.

“Aid station. Pain is getting better. I can at least help some with my left arm.” The medic put his left hand on the sniper’s right shoulder to help with balance. Eyebrows were raised behind the visor so they weren’t seen. This medic was a brave one.

Eventually the two made it to the nearest aid station. The medic took off his helmet, showing his chestnut hair cut short. “Thank you” he said as he bowed his head a little to the sniper, then went to work helping with triage and minor wound care with his left arm.

Looking around, he saw another medic in armor, ready to head out. “Need help?” he asked, noticing this medic was a woman from the shape of the armor.

“Always” she responded, as she started to walk out of the aid station.

The sniper came up to walk beside the medic. “Specialist Jon Ferma” he stated as he looked to see that she had no firearm. Some medics were willing to work for the military but didn’t want a firearm. Some were honored to help save the life of someone in the brigade, but felt with their role they should not carry a weapon. Some medics were willing or happy to carry a firearm, but had no business since they were such lousy shots.

“Second Lieutenant Rosie Sanguine. Nice to meet you specialist. Let’s get to some of the wounded.”

The two walked away from the aid station, trying to find the nearest wounded. Both could see plasma bolts flying through the air, and hear the cannons firing away. It was definite the Republic was not losing, but there was no way to tell if they were winning.

It was difficult to see the wounded on the ground, with their armor covering up their heat so infrared setting would be no good. Finally, they found someone on the ground, moving a little and in exquisite pain.

“Blast got the left hip.” Lieutenant Sanguine looked at where the armor came apart. The left side of the hip was bleeding, and the way the bones looked it was evident the soldier had a hip fracture. She got some bacta gel and applied it to where the bleeding occurred.

“It’s said that stuff can fix anything.” Specialist Ferma scanned the area, making sure there wouldn’t be an attack soon.

“It helps, but nothing cures or fixes everything.” She got up and did her best to check the soldier’s condition with his armor on. “Won’t cure that hip fracture. Need to get the trooper to the field hospital.” She knelt down to pick him up to put over her shoulders. There was no stretcher available, nor a craft that could move him.

“I’ll do that lieutenant.” Specialist Ferma knelt down, ready to pick him up.

“Let me give him a pain med. Make the pain not as bad. Could you please take off his helmet for a bit Specialist?”

“Yes ma’am.” He put his hands on either side of the soldier’s helmet, and released the locks. Slowly he took it off, showing the agony on the face.

“Take this” ordered Lieutenant Sanguine in a gentle way. She squirted some purple liquid from a small bottle into the soldier’s mouth. With a little difficulty, the liquid was swallowed. After a minute, the soldier appeared more relaxed. The helmet was put back on. Specialist Ferma squatted down. With some help from the lieutenant, he picked up the soldier, put him over his shoulders, got up, then started walking the direction of the field hospital.

Lieutenant Sanguine was able to do the triage in the field. When they got to the field hospital, he was put on a bed and started getting prepped for his surgery when the battle ceased. The two went back to look for more. They searched, then eventually found another body. Specialist Ferma raised his eyebrows behind his visor, looking at the markings on the armor.

The markings were for a sniper from Gundark Squad.

“Jace Mintu, my battle buddy.” He was unconscious from a concussion that his helmet could not protect him from fully. The area looked like it got hit by a projectile. Numerous bodies and body parts were around in the mud. Specialist Mintu was breathing, but when Jon looked over at the right leg, it looked like a bloodied heap.

“I’m sorry Specialist Ferma. Let’s get him ready then we can take him to the field hospital."

“Helmet off?” Specialist Ferma was wondering if his battle buddy would also get pain medication. Now he knows why he didn’t hear for a little while his buddy’s voice. He was knocked out of action.

“Yes please.” She squirted some purple liquid into his mouth, then put some bacta gel around the edge of the part of the leg that wasn’t injured. “It will lessen the pain when he wakes up, like giving pain medicine while in surgery.”

The helmet was put back on, and Specialist Ferma got his battle buddy over his shoulders. The two of them practiced this with each other in case it was needed on the battlefield, but Jon never thought he would have to carry Jace like this. Eventually they made it back to the field hospital, and Specialist Mintu was put on a bed to get prepped for his surgery.

Both the sniper and the medic still had energy, but they were starting to get exhausted. They went back towards the action to see if there was anyone else. As he observed the battle, there still was the plasma bolts flying towards their targets and cannons still making their sounds, but no lightsabers. That means no Sith. That was good since there was no chance now of troops getting overwhelmed by one of those Sith lords. That also meant the Sith troopers would be more likely to retreat, and try to escape to an unchartered planet if they were losing. When a Sith lord was present, retreat was not an option.

Since no lightsabers, that also meant no Jedi. Too bad. Jedi would be an asset right now. They were famed in the galaxy for how helpful they were, and their ability to turn the tide of battle. There were stories recently going around with the Republic troops of four padawans that have been fun to work with, especially that over-the-top redhead that was wicked on the battlefield.

Looking around, they stayed together as they walked and surveyed the battlefield. Hearing something whizzing in the air, Specialist Ferma pushed the medic onto the ground then got on top of her. A second later an explosion went off near them. Mud and pieces of trees went through the air as the explosion was followed by screams. The shockwave mostly went over them, but a little of it hit the sniper.

“Specialist, I appreciate your valor, but you can get off. I’m not more important than anyone else here.” She felt a bit uncomfortable with the man she just met lying on top of her on a battlefield.

“Your very important Lieutenant. You’re keeping some of us alive.” He scanned the situation, then got up when he realized for the moment it was safe. He put out a hand, and she grabbed it in appreciation as he pulled her up.

Walking closer to the area of the explosion, a quick loud breath came from her. On the ground was another medic, however the armor was wrecked at the head and chest. She quickly went up and knelt by the figure.

“Alex Hippo. From my unit. Chest wounds with suction indicate lungs punctured. Pupils of different sizes, stiffness of neck, in stupor. Probable intracerebral hemorrhage. Not good.” She took out more bacta and put it quickly on the numerous sites of bleeding.

Specialist Ferma started kneeling down, then she put a hand on his knee. “He’s my unit. Let me.” The sniper nodded to her as he helped get the injured medic up on her shoulders, then helped her up with keeping her balance.

With a little stumbling and a hand to help with balance from Specialist Ferma, Second Lieutenant Sanguine made her way close to the field hospital. When they got within twenty meters, Second Lieutenant Hippo began seizing on her shoulders. Jon held out his hand again to help with her balance.

“Really not good” she expressed in a mostly calm way. Around ten meters away the seizing stopped. Going through the entrance, she found the nearest bed and put him down, with her sniper companion helping. She took off the wrecked helmet and the rest of the armor. Grabbing an oxygen tube, she put the cannulas in each of his nostrils.

After she hooked up equipment, she saw the vitals were unstable. She began putting in data needed for head surgery to stop the internal bleeding, then an alarm went off as his heart stopped beating. Hooking up the cardiac restarter, she made sure people kept their distance as an electric charge dispensed into Alex Hippo’s chest. No change. He was not breathing. Another charge. There still was no heartbeat. A third charge went. There was no change. His body lied there lifeless.

She looked at the instruments and noticed the time. Oh Two One Four. Time of death. She put the numbers into a datapad next to the bed. Taking a deep breath, she took off her helmet then looked at Specialist Jon Ferma.

He took off his helmet to get a better look at her. Easily he could tell she was a Pantoran. Blue skin with light blond hair and golden eyes. “A beauty” he thought to himself. A few tears strolled down her cheeks.

She looked up at the human a little taller than her while holding onto her helmet. Light complexion, dark chestnut hair with brown eyes, he stood there with his chiseled chin as steady as steel.

“Lieutenant Sanguine, you’re now off duty.” Coming into the triage room, an older human male in his late fifties walked towards them, noticing how exhausted his medic was and knew she wouldn’t be able to do her duties for long. She already did much, and he didn’t want her to fall apart. He has seen that before with his medics, doctors, nurses, and techs. He has seen that all too often over the years.

She turned to look at him, the tears starting to dry up. “Yes, yes sir. I will go to the break area in a bit.”

He then turned to look at the sniper. “Specialist, what’s your name?”

“Sir, Ferma. Jon Ferma sir.” The sniper looked at the coronel while standing tall.

“Thank you for your help Specialist Ferma. I would think you have your duties that need to be finished. Again, thank you.” The older man nodded his head a little, then left.

“Thank you Coronel” he responded as the doctor left the triage area.

Specialist Ferma looked back at the medic. She went to a pack on her belt and brought out a small piece of ancient plant paper and a writing instrument. Writing for a few seconds, she put the instrument back, then stuck the small piece just inside his armor at the top of his chest. With the look of hesitancy for a couple seconds, she tilted her head up and gave a quick kiss on the lips of the sniper. “Contact me when this madness is over.” She turned and walked with a quick pace out of the triage area.

Eyelids raised for a few seconds, he watched the lieutenant walk out of the area. “Wow” he said with little emotion, stunned from the experience of the whole night. He put on his helmet, then walked out of the field hospital and proceeded to the firefight.

It was quite obvious the first thing he noticed. There was no longer any cannon fire. He then gazed at the swath of the jungle, noticing the amount of plasma bolts was decreasing rapidly. Republic troopers were sweeping the area, looking for any Sith troopers that planned on a late attack. The plasma bolts stopped. More wounded were being taken away. He saw a few of them were in Sith trooper armor. Movement at a distance indicated some Republic infantry was advancing, making sure none of the Sith troops were reforming for another attack.

“Clear.” In his helmet he heard the single syllable from the brigade commander, Colonel Orio, an older Lasat, who was indicating the conflict was over. He waited for his squad leader to speak to check on the members, but didn’t hear anything.

“Sergeant Beihei? Staff Sergeant Beihei?” Specialist was a little nervous that there wasn’t a response. “Sergeant Sinclair?” No response from either sergeant. The sniper shook a little for a second. “This is Gundark six. Check.”

“Gundark four, clear. Three sent to hospital.”

“Gundark five is at the hospital. Six clear.”

There was a pause for several seconds.

“Gundark nine, clear.”

“Gundark ten, clear.”

“Gundark twelve, clear. Eleven is dead.”

Specialist Ferma took a big sigh. Five in his squad were still on duty. Two were in the hospital, and he knew Justin Mintu would be in the hospital for an extended stay. Five were most likely dead, including the two sergeants.

“Meet up at the battalion spot.” Specialist Ferma waanted the squad to gather up so they can go over what occurred and the results of the mission.

As he headed to the spot, he looked around. The Republic won, but it looked like they took heavy casualties. An outright majority of the Sith force was dead. Rare ones were injured but still living and now in the hospital. No one was captured unharmed. The Sith troopers were trained to never, never surrender. A few retreated. If they went back to Sith space they would be executed for retreating.

Specialist Ferma knew what the retreaters would most likely do. Some would find an obscure planet far from Sith space that had no inhabitants, or one with a sparse sentient population. They would lie low so not to catch the attention of the Sith Empire. They would try to make a new life for themselves. Others would go the mercenary route, and then be hired by the Hutt Cartel or go to other bidders. A few would become pirates.

He came to the site by the tree where he took out his first target. There, lying on the ground, was his first kill of the encounter. The Sith airborne trooper lied there, dark armor with a jetpack, and a hole in the left side of the chest. The sniper crouched down and took off the armor. Lying there with no life was a woman, light complexion with sandy brown hair in a ponytail and bangs cut short. “What a day” he commented for only himself to hear. The woman looked similar to Sue, the woman he knew from the diner on Ord Mantell.

Specialist Ferma made it to the rendezvous point. He was the first one of his squad at the spot, which gave him a chance to observe the troopers from the different units. All were exhausted. A noticeable few looked numb. Numerous trees had their tops blown off.

Gundark twelve came first. Specialist Bush, the Mirialan from Mirial, took off his helmet. He stood there stunned with his green complexion and chopped dark hair. He said nothing as he stood there facing the sniper.

Gundark nine came next with the unique shaped helmet. It had a place on either side to stick the Twi’lek’s lekkus, the tails coming from the head that helped so much with balance. Private Cassandra took off her helmet, showing her blue complexion. Although a Twi’lek, she was born and raised on Coruscant just like Specialist Ferma. For being inexperienced and new to the Republic forces, she did appear calm.

Right behind her was the Pheo Private Evora Castellano, Gundark ten, taking off her helmet. Pink was her skin, amber was her eyes, and what little there was of brunette hair was in a buzz cut. She also seemed unscathed from the battle. The sulfur smell, well known from the Pheos, was evident from her. No one cared. She was alive, that’s what cared. The two women definitely were great battle buddies that supported each other.

Finally, Gundark four. Specialist Bombus, a Duros that was born and raised on Ord Mantell, the planet they all did their basic training at. He was the munitions expert for the squad. Taking off his helmet, he nodded a little to the sniper, then went to checking his equipment.

Although victory, the Republic forces sustained heavy losses. There were the two thousand four hundred twenty that were not hit or only received minor injuries. One thousand four hundred and fifteen lost their lives, including five in their squad. One thousand nine hundred and thirty-six were injured and hospitalized, including the squad’s two.

For the next several hours, the squad went to officially identify the five Gundarks that lost their lives, including their two sergeants. They helped set up tents and beds in the new camp, one tent for the males and another for the females. They finally crashed, falling on their beds exhausted after taking off their armor.

The remaining squad members slept through the night, knowing there were fresh guards able to patrol the camp. Waking up the next morning, they reported to the second lieutenant for their platoon, then rested for the day while checking on their gear. The camp, now named Camp Al Republica, was starting to transform into a permanent camp.

The second day after the battle was reserved for the funeral. A raised large plot of land that sustained damage to the trees was cleared and made into a cemetery. All of the fallen were given a large service, the sermon done by the colonel. Afterwards, each trooper was given a small funeral with members of their small unit in attendance. The squad knew this would likely happen after a battle, but they never expected funerals for five squad members in one day.

The third day became a more joyful one. Medals for recognition were given to the squad by their company’s major, Eric Thom from Alderaan.

“Next we recognize Specialist Ferma. For your success at the last engagement, I am honored to present to you the Republic sniper commendation ribbon.” Claps came from the people around as the ribbon was put on his uniform. Later, he will get another of the same ribbon for his formal attire. “Also, for actions beyond the line of duty, medical has awarded you the medic meritorious ribbon.” Louder claps and a few cheers came from the crowd as the second ribbon was put on, with one of those clapping a Pantoran lady who was in the back. “Because of your service Jon Ferma, you are now promoted to Sergeant Jon Ferma, in command of your scout squad.

Jon Ferma smiled and raised his eyebrows. He did not expect this. His battle buddy Justin Mintu smiled and cheered from his bed in the field hospital, watching the live ceremony as it was being transmitted to his monitor by the bed. Sergeant Ferma saluted the major while responding. “Thank you sir. It is an honor to lead this fine squad.”

For the next few days, Sergeant Ferma fixed his armor and realigned his weapons. He spent a full day with Sue, repairing the barrel and realigning the scope. It took hours with readjusting the sniper rifle before he had it the way he wanted, three shots in a row within a square three centimeters per side at a distance of one hundred meters. His battle buddy Justin Mintu was there that day, now with a cybernetic right leg, helping him readjust the sniper rifle. Less time was needed to work on his own rifle. Although he was still a specialist, he was now second in command of the squad, assigned to help the new sergeant and to continue his sniper duties.

Also coming back to the squad from injury was Gundark three, Specialist Chi from Denon. He was injured from a plasma bolt hitting the edge of his left shoulder. He would still need physical therapy to get back into top shape, but he was enthusiastic to be back.

However, he was no longer Gundark three. He was now Loth-wolf three. Sergeant Jon Ferma was allowed to change the nickname for the squad, and all were happy about the change.

Five privates fresh out of basic training came to the squad. Each of them was given a sponsor from within the squad to help acclimate to active duty life. They were then paired up with each other as battle buddies, except one Togrutan was given to Specialist Bush. Through training together, the Loth-wolf scout squad became a well-oiled machine.

Camp Al Republica became Fort Al Republica, with a village that became a town to support it. Al Saltu became a successful defense point for the Republic in the outer rim.

It was not all work and no play for Loth-wolf squad. Ten days after the battle of Al Saltu, they were given a fifteen-day block leave to relax and enjoy themselves.

* * *

Sitting in a restaurant overlooking the vast ocean of Mon Cala, Jon Ferma enjoyed the view of the water with the puffy clouds in the daylight sky. His forest green sweater kept him warm and dry from the Mon Cala weather. The brown trousers, with matching belt and boots, did the same. A large animal jumped out of the water in the distance. He hoped his order of mollusk soup with broiled krakana was the right choice.

Although he enjoyed the view of Mon Cala from outside the window, he enjoyed the view from across the table even more. There sitting across the table from him, in a maroon dress with gold jewelry, was a Pantoran medic, just recently promoted to first lieutenant.

“So, Rosie, what type of music do you like to listen to?”