Bedtime Stories: Chapter III

One month later…
“Victory Squad, this is Beta Troop: Hound Squad, Alpha Squad, Kal Squad, and Omega Squad. Feel free to introduce yourselves, and good luck.”
Said the holo of General Zey, finally disappearing. The troop bay of the Laat/I, an ordinary one piloted by one of the most daring pilots in the Army, CT-0424, or Flyboy as he wanted to be known, became filled with an awkward silence. Flyboy had flown Victory in on Geonosis, and gotten his Larty blown out from under him. After barely surviving, Flyboy was given another Laat/i.
“Shall we introduce ourselves?” RC-1309, Niner, says, breaking the silence.
“Well, this is Victory Squad, I’m RC-1875, Ky’ram, that’s RC-2312, Rancor, he’s RC-1001, Uno, and that goofball over there is RC-1876, Sixer.
“We’re Hound Squad, I’m RC-1137, Pikt, he’s RC-1751, Fringe, that guerfel is RC-1380, Jeboe, and he’s RC-1909, Nomad.
“Alpha Squad, I’m RC-4223, or Top, that mir’shebse is RC-2319, or Breeze, he’s RC-2501, or Diver, and that’s RC-3629, or Mack.”
“You guys know us, we’re Omega Squad.”
“We’re Kal Squad, I’m RC-1990, Ram’ser, he’s the wise-crack, RC-1737, Ve’vut, that’s RC-1985, Slice, that’s RC-1987, or Fixer.”
“Well, great to meet you all.”
“Two minutes until drop. And by drop, I mean a HARD drop.”
The plan was to free fall out of the Larty, and use a wingpack to glide into position. As I look out of the window, feeling the cold, Slice, Diver, Jeboe, Atin, and Uno gather into a group and begin talking about how to hack through a Holonet circuit. Fixer, Breeze, Fringe, Darman, and Sixer talk about jury-rigging the device they are going to use to blow up the supply depot.
“Okay, boys, drop time!”
The back hatch of the Larty opens, and the biting wind of 14,000 feet above the snowy surface fills the troop bay.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Hound Squad jumps, then Alpha, then Kal, the Omega, and finally Victory jump, the door shutting behind them.
“And…eject wings…now.”
Wings sprout from the backpacks of 20 clones, and the commandos face toward the ground, rapidly approaching the ground.
“Move into gliding formation…now.”
The troop changes position, and begin a slow descent toward the ground.

When we reach the ground, we spread out into an arrow formation.
“Alright, there’s the depot. Dar, Fixer, Breeze, Fringe, Sixer, begin jury-rigging. I’ll contact the man in charge.”
I key in the comm code for GM-0352, recently promoted to commander of the Galactic Marines, immediately under Bacara.
“Kerbs, this is Ky’ram, we’re beginning jury-rigging sequence.”
“Beta Troop, nice to speak to you again. Okay, we’re moving into formation to attack the base. When you blow the base, we’ll begin our attack while they’re confused.”
“Got it, sir.”
“And it’s warm out there. A nice and cozy negative 30 degrees.”
“Hah hah, thankfully, we have temp controlled suits.”
“See you soon.”
“You too.”
I close the comm, and check on the men working on the bomb.
“We’re good sir. Might wanna back up, though.”
Sixer says, tossing me a detonator.
“Agreed. Let’s move back.”
We move several hundred feet back, and I press the det. A flash morphs into a rumble, and the depot explodes. Several minor explosions occur as tanks, fuel trucks, and ammo carts explode.
“Let’s take that base.”
We run toward the base, passing flaming wreckage.
“There are the droids! Take ‘em out!”
Pikt yells, placing the anti-armor attachment onto his DC-17m.
“Oya vode!”
I yell, almost in synch with Niner, Top, and Ram’ser.
The snipers of Beta Troop open up with their sniper rifle attachments, as the demolition experts begin pounding the droids with shells. The sergeants and the hackers open up in eight bursts of blaster bolts, providing cover for the rest. A Galactic Marine trots up to me, and greets me, Mando style, and says:
“Good to see you, Ky’ram. It’s me, Kerbs, and we’re breaking through the droid defenses. We can take it from here. I’m sending in a Larty to pick you up.”
“Please tell me it’s not that nut job Flyboy.”
“No. It’s a guy named Hush, a new pilot. He’s bringing in some ARCs, and picking you up.”
“Huh. Interesting. Okay, well, we’ll keep it up until he gets here.”
Several minutes later, the wonderful sound of a Larty pierces the barricade of noise we built up.
“Alright, you di’kute, I’m here, now hoist your shebse up, and I’ll take you to HQ.”
“You must be Hush.”
I say, motioning for the troop to stop firing.
“Yes, that’s right.”
We step into the troop bay as a squad of ARCs, led by a yellow trimmed ARC and a silver and blue camo ARC, step out.