[Short Stories] - [Insider] - The ...

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Star WarsStar Wars InsiderN 65The Clone WarsThe Pengalan TradeoffBy: Aaron Allston###############################################################################The bang beneath his feet was strong enough to bounce Joram Kithe up onto his tiptoes. He came down off-balance and was afraid that he'd pitch out the open starboard side of the gunship, onto the rocky terrain rolling by at five hundred kilometers an hour. But the vehicle's inertial compensator kept its grip on him, restoring his balance.Joram glanced at the other men in the troop hold. Most were staring out the starboard access, There weren't as many as there had been four hours ago, when the gunship, part of the complement of the assault ship Sea Legacy, had set down on Pengalan IV. Then, they'd been a full platoon-plus Joram. Now, there were perhaps fifteen left, men with heat-scarred clone trooper armor, expended ammunition clips, injuries ranging from minor to life threatening.Not that they complained. Clone troopers didn't complain. At least, they didn't in the presence of observers.The platoon's lieutenant, his armor distinguished by the blue stripes of his rank, leaned back through the hatch that led into the forward compartments. His voice crackled through Joram's headset. Joram pressed the headset tighter to his ears; he was in civilian dress, so he didn't have a helmet to cut down on the sound made by the wind."Our comlink is damaged," the lieutenant said. "Sea Legacy is still not receiving us. But we're receiving them. We'll reach them in time for extraction.""What was that last bang?" Joram asked."Missile impact from a ground station." The lieutenant's tone suggested that he was unconcerned. 'The warhead didn't detonate. The pilot says the impact changed our performance characteristics. Either an engine is failing or the missile is still protruding from our underside, increasing drag.""Wonderful."Scuttlebutt aboard Sea Legacy had it that the last transmission of a Republic Intelligence agent on Pengalan IV reported that Count Dooku's Confederacy was set up here, manufacturing experimental diamond boron missiles designed to shoot down Republic starfighters. These missiles could tip the balance of power toward the Confederacy in this new war. Sea Legacy's sensors had shown a longdecommissioned manufacturing plant, the world's most significant industrial site, to be operational, its furnaces fired up and internal machinery working ... and its exterior protected by shield projectors that were distinctly inappropriate for a civilian industry. So, four hours ago, the assault ship had set down on the planet's surface and its scores of gunships had deployed toward the facility.The platoon Joram was assigned to was one of the advance forces. Its gunship had set down within walking distance of the facility an hour before dawn. The platoon, separated into squadrons, had gone on foot to the plant, silently scouted the site, found the points where the overlapping shields gapped to allow plant workers easy access, and communicated its findings to the rest of the troops. Demolitions experts from an engineering unit had arrived and crept into the site, planting their explosives, getting clear, setting them off -Certainly, the shields had gone down. Certainly, the Republic gunships had roared in to finish the job. But everything had gone wrong.The shields had sprung to life again. Joram, from his position of relative safety near the gunship, had watched in disbelief as missiles and turret lasers had stopped mid-flight, blunted by shimmering air. The foremost gunships, too close to maneuver, had crashed into those energy barriers, crumpling or exploding.Joram, although no soldier, hadn't needed a military advisor to grasp what was happening. The shield projectors destroyed by the engineers had been secondary projector terminals slaved to complete units elsewhere on the facility. It was a trap, and the trap was fully sprung when the pair of Geonosian-built corvettes-bronze-skinned, with a pointed prow split like a set of tweezers, characteristic of the Geonosian engineers-rose from one of the world's numerous canyons and opened fire. Trade Federation droid starfighters had roared in, strafing.It had been a slaughter. Gunship after gunship had gone down.In the Republic forces' retreat, Joram had seen acts of bravery and skill he considered extraordinary. Some of the combat engineers who had destroyed the false shield projectors had penetrated deeper into the facility; before being killed, they reported that there were no missile fabrication systems here, just machinery activated to provide distant sensors with a suspicious signal to detect. Gunship pilots had swooped down to make daring rescues of clone troopers. Whole units remained behind to provide covering fire for escaping craft. The retreat was not as orderly as the approach had been, but it was nearly as efficient.Ironically, Joram's personal mission had been a success. He'd seen the troops operating at the height of chaos and had found them to be courageous and effective, everything the Republic could hope for in its new army. He thought he had enough data for his report.Another impact hurled Joram upward, snapping him back to the here-and-now. This time he crashed into the ceiling of the troop bay and was held there, sharp pain cracking through his head. In his peripheral vision, he saw the aftmost portion of the bay filled with blinding brightness that consumed the trio of troopers who had been standing there.The landscape outside the starboard access was rotating, a dizzying vision like something from an amusement facility's thrill ride. Distantly, dimly, he heard someone shout, "Eject! Eject!""Negative, we can bring it in-""Initiating uncontrolled touchdown procedures." Finally, most ominous of all: "Brace for impact."<<<>>>Joram awoke with the sun in his eyes.It seemed that all his eighty kilos of mass had just spent hours being tenderized by a chef. Where he didn't ache, he cramped, and his first, foolish attempt to sit up caused his back to arch in a spasm that nearly made him black out again."Civilian's awake.""Good."Joram didn't know which clone was speaking; he couldn't recognize their voices. Actually, that wasn't true-but they all had the same voice. They pitched their voices differently for different situationslouder and deeper when exerting authority or dominance, quieter when acknowledging orders, a sort of bland neutrality when seeking to conceal their thoughts-but every one of them sounded the same.Joram merely grunted, and as the spasm ebbed, he tried again to sit up, this time using his arms for support. it worked and he came upright.Forty meters or so ahead of him lay the ruins of the gunship. Once a long boxy thing with stabilizing wings, it now looked like something a giant had drunk from and then crumpled into a loose ball. It lay at the bottom of a cliff, and Joram could see a corresponding cliff about a hundred meters to his left. They'd crashed into one of Pengalan's numberless canyons.He could see living clone troopers nearby, at the wreckage and beyond. Joram counted six of them. Good. He could still count. Counting was what he was good at. The troopers had laid out the bodies of their fellows in a straight line only a few steps from where Joram sat. Some of the survivors were picking among the gunship ruins; others were ranging farther down the canyon or using field shovels to dig graves nearby.The gravediggers had their helmets off, revealing identical features --dark, brooding, dangerous-looking. Joram had been put off by their looks until he'd realized just how passive most of them were when not engaged in battle. "What's our situation, Trooper?" Joram asked the nearest.The trooper straightened from his task. He was a moment in replying. The clone troopers always seemed to take a moment when answering Joram, or any civilian."Seven of us still alive," the trooper answered. "Plus you. One has damage that will limit his mobility. The gunship's a loss. All weapons systems out. Repulsorlifts inoperable. Speeder bikes wrecked. Medical droid destroyed.""Or so we think," the other gravedigger corrected. "We can't get to the compartment where it was stowed, but it was pretty thoroughly crushed."Joram managed to get to his feet and stood on wobbly legs. "Is anything still working?"Both men nodded in unison. "The inertial compensator," said the first one. "It can still run off battery power. It's what kept us alive during the crash. And during the roll down the cliff." With his shovel, he gestured up the cliff side. Fifty meters up there was a clear burn mark to indicate where the gunship had hit."Did the lieutenant make it?"The first gravedigger shook his head."Who's in charge, then?"Both troopers shook their heads. "We're still working that out, sir," the first said. "There are only troopers left. The procedures say that the oldest has seniority, but we're all the same age. We then default to the trooper with the highest educational level, but no one has a clear advantage there."The second gravedigger summed up: "So we drew strands."The first gravedigger turned to Joram. "Feeling better?""Yes, thank you."The trooper held his shovel out to Joram, handle first. "Then dig."Joram frowned. "I don't think so."The trooper smiled. "All of us are banged up, so you can't opt out on account of physical condition. We're military, and you're a civilian, But we won't do it if we don't have to. If we don't, though, it doubles so under these circumstances you're attached to us in an inferior our travel time." capacity. Dig."Joram reached under his ... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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