Join Date: Jul 2009
Current Game: Natural Selection 2
QUICK NOTE: im terribly sorry about the delay. writer's block is the biggest reason. and also, ive got other project that require attention so... anyways, enjoy.
NOTICE: ive noticed a few typos as i read through this, some minor, others major. if you do happen to notice any, please email me or leave a comment on my page. thanks for the support
Port Barracks, Liberator, High Orbit, Hypori
3 Standard Weeks after Delta’s Mission to Kashyyyk/ 806 Standard Days (2 Years and 70 Days) After the Battle of Geonosis
“Fixer. Wake up, Fixer,” A consistent voice said. “Fixer, it’s about Scorch. Wake up. That’s an order soldier!”
“Yes, sir!” Fixer bolted right up and saluted. He opened his eyes to see Boss right in his face, shaking him wildly. “What is it, Three-Eight?”
“It’s Scorch; he’s gone!”
“He just got out his bunk, grabbed his kit and left.”
“Did you follow him?”
“Yeah, he went to the hangar and began prepping up a shuttle.”
“Why didn’t you confront him?”
“’Cause we’re going to stow away on that shuttle.”
“What? We can’t do that. You know how many rules and regulations we’ll be breaking?” Boss wasn’t listening; he was just gearing up. “Lead, Lead? Oh, fierfek.” Fixer quietly got up from his bunk and suited up.
“We’ll want to travel light. Just grab your deece and pistol.” Boss said. The two grabbed their blasters and headed out the door.
“Oh, I just know I’m going to regret this.” Fixer muttered as the door closed behind him.
The halls were cluttered with troopers going about on tedious inspections and shift changes. Very few took notice on the commandos’ presence. Those that did either saluted or stared.
As they approached the hangar, the sound of a nearly-ready-to-launch shuttle could be heard. They approached that hangar doors and stopped. Boss peered into the shuttle bay. Scorch was making final preparations by loading up extra blaster clips and fuel checks.
“Okay, when he unplugs the fuel pipes and heads up the ramp, we’ll make a run for the shuttle and hide in a storage compartment.” Boss planned out.
“Respectfully, sir, but we won’t fit into those tiny compartments.”
“Oh we’ll fit. You just have to work it out.” Fixer said nothing.
The pipes unplugged and Scorch began to head up the ramp. Boss jumped into a roadie run for the shuttle ramp. Fixer hesitated and closely followed. Inside the shuttle, Boss looked for empty compartments as Fixer kept a look out for Scorch. Boss couldn’t find any, forcing him to empty out one for himself and another for Fixer.
“Like I said, I know I’m going to regret this.” Fixer mumbled as he crawled into the claustrophobic space.
Sev being was beaten, bruised, burnt and tortured. A small window revealed blue sky and a mountain similar in shape to a Geonosian spire, and the sound of alien songbirds can be heard. This prison, so it appeared to be, was of a very crude design, clearly Trandoshan. The interrogator then showed his face, he was Aqualish. He was handed Sev’s cherished DC-17m blaster with the sniper attachment. The interrogator examined the rifle and then aimed at Sev’s shaved, bloodied, ragged head and fired. A flash of blue and a spray of red ended it. Sev’s headless body then crashed to the floor and-
“NO! SEV!” Scorch awoke, covered in cold sweat and feeling nauseous.
The others wouldn’t understand. They were too focused on their orders, not their morals. It was wrong to leave Sev on Kashyyyk. Nobody cared. They were all clones; faceless, mindless, soulless drones of the Republic. They were no better than droids; without a purpose other than personal greed. Sergeant Kal Skirata would have gone after Sev, Walon Vau would have too. But no matter, if Scorch were to find Sev, then maybe his nightmares would end.
Scorch stumbled to the back of the shuttle, he tripped over something. He averted his blurry gaze to the floor. It was a first aid kit. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the deck; ammo crates and grenade packs had been strewn across the shuttle.
Scorch injected himself with nausea meds and then walked over to the storage compartments. A faint thump came from two of the compartments. Scorch opened one and…
“Fixer?” He opened the other. “Boss? What are you doing here?”
“Trying to stop you,” Fixer said as he stretched and popped his neck. “Oh that feels good. It’s time to go back to the Liberator.”
“No, I’m not going back.”
“Yes, you are.” Boss said.
“No, I’m not.”
“Six-two, face it, Oh-seven’s dead.” Fixer laid his foot down.
“No! He’s not! I know what I’m doing!”
“So you’re just going to abandon the Republic after everything we’ve done to protect it? You’re going rogue, just like the Alphas? What would Oh-seven do were he in your position?”
“He’d come to my aid. I have to do this. If it’s going to end my nightmares, then it’s worth it.”
Scorch explained his nightmares in full detail as Boss and Fixer listened intently.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Boss asked.
“Because you wouldn’t listen to me,” Scorch snapped. “It got so bad that I requested a councilor. I ended up being visited by Master Yoda. He told me that that the Force is trying to tell me that Sev is still alive, that I should go to where these nightmares are happening.”
“Was that an order or a suggestion?” Fixer interrupted.
“I couldn’t tell. You know how the Jedi are; full of mystery and riddles.”
“Where is this shuttle heading for?” Boss asked.
“How do you know Seven’s there?”
“The songbirds exclusive to the planet, the unusual population of Aqualish. You know, rule number fifty-six: always check your intel. Plus, I just know he’s there.”
“The first two I understand, Six-two. But that last one is one of the biggest loads of osik I have ever heard,” Fixer crossed his arms. “But whatever. ETA to Ando?”
“Another hour or two. How about a nice piece of osik that the nutritionists call food?”
“I think I’ll take a nap.”
“A nap for me, too,” Boss said. “Enjoy your ‘meal,’ Six-two.” And as he plopped down in a seat, bones cracking and armor clanking, Boss fell asleep.
The vortex of hyperspace always hypnotized Scorch. The beauty of the endless, swirling blue was impossible to describe. The annoying alarm that alerted pilots they were approaching was the only thing that could break Scorch’s trance.
Scorch pulled the shuttle out of hyperspace and gasped as the tiny shuttle, undetectable by Separatist sensors, nearly crashed into the bow of a massive Recusant-class light destroyer. The sight of the behemoth forced horrid memories into Scorch’s mind; memories of the mission to Kashyyyk, of Sev’s disappearance.
As the trauma of the mission began to fade, Scorch realized that he was on the floor, covered in cold sweat. Fixer had pushed Scorch out of the seat and took over the controls.
“You brought us out of hyperspace not only too close to the planet,” Boss said, helping Scorch up. “But too close to a Sep cruiser.”
“We missed it by nearly a dozen meters. But we’ve got worse problems than nearly hitting a Separatist cruiser.” Fixer added.
“We’re coming in at too steep an angle. It’ll take time to fix the angle of the descent, but I can do it.”
“Well hurry up. I don’t want to become a no man squad.”
Scorch finally came out the dizzying trance that he was in and looked out the window. The vast ocean world was slowly being consumed by fire. But it wasn’t on fire; the shuttle was entering the planet’s atmosphere. Soon green blobs became landmasses with massive volcanoes and dotted with small cities.
The shuttle zoomed past the mountain in Scorch's dream eventually came into view. Scorch pointed it out and Fixer began to circle the mountain. On the northern side of the mountain was a Trandoshan fortress.
Upon seeing the fortress, Fixer looked for a spot to land when an alarm sounded off. Boss looked at a flashing light above the radar screen. A red blip was quickly approaching the center of the screen that symbolized the shuttle.
"Fixer, what is that?"
"It could be anything; an enemy probe, fighter or missile," A loud explosion rumbled through the shuttle. "And it's a missile," Out the viewport the world began spinning in circles. A trail of oily, black smoke followed where the port wing once was. "I've lost control of her. We're going to crash."
"Delta, get your helmets on, brace for impact!" With a thud, and the sound of breaking tree branches and crunching durasteel, Boss was thrown on the floor and everything went dark.
Last edited by Dread Advocate; 02-21-2010 at 03:50 PM.