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The Sandtrooper's Story - Part II (Fan Fiction WIP)


Tyranus
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A split second after visually confirming the fugitive across the room against the wanted poster displayed inside his visor, a calm settled over him. His pulse began to slow, and his breathing became rhythmic and measured as he waited.

The man he watched ordered a drink for himself and the woman beside him. The noisy bar was thick with smoke, and patrons busily shouting out their bets on various races and sporting events being broadcast on large screens around the room. There were many people between him and the man across the room, so he waited. He waited for the crowd to thin and finally part, giving him a clean shot.

As it did, he immediately raised the custom EE-3 rifle, snugging the stock up against his shoulder and adjusting a setting before taking aim. Relaxing, he squeezed the trigger slowly between breaths, between heartbeats. The boisterous, raucous crowd was suddenly silenced by the blast discharged from his weapon.

When the barrel of his gun stopped smoking, he laid it gently across the crook of his left elbow and silently made his way across the room. The woman seated at the table stared wide-eyed at the Mandalorian warrior as he approached, tears streamed down her face, and her body shook uncontrollably with shock and fear.

The fugitive and most of the table he stood beside had suffered a direct hit from his broad spectrum, wide-angle disintegration blast. Both the man and the furniture had been instantly incinerated, and yet both retained their shape. The blackened man stood unmoving beside the charred table.

Fett slowly turned his head to the woman, uttering only a single word. “Go.”

The terrified woman slipped out of her seat and ran off into the crowd.

The bounty hunter cocked his head to one side and reached out, touching the man on his shoulder. As he did, what had been the man fell forward into the table, both collapsing to the floor in a silent cascade of ashes. Fett took a step closer, wiped away the fine ashes that had settled on his gauntlets and chest armor, and knelt.

He ran his gloved fingers through the ash pile, searching for something he could use to identify his victim. Except for a few bone fragments and the molten remains of a small sidearm, there was nothing left.

Images of the races and games flickered overhead on video monitors, announcers busily commenting and crowds cheering. Other than those voices, the room was silent, and all eyes were on him. He retrieved a small transparent vial from one of his belt pouches, dropping three of the bone shards inside before scooping up a bit of the ash. He pressed a stopper in place, sealing the container as he stood up. The stunned crowd silently parted, clearing a path to the door.

If this unlucky guy had seen him first, he might have run, but he would have just prolonged the inevitable and died tired. The holonet wanted poster that bore his image had clearly stated dead or alive. With that said, Fett knew all too well that Vader and the Emperor savored their trophies.

Shortly after his father’s death, the new Emperor had given him a job, and paid handsomely for it. His first bounty had been the recovery of the broken and defeated body of Jedimaster Mace Windu. He had struggled with and dragged the almost unrecognizable corpse of his father’s murderer from the dirty back streets of the surface of Coruscant. He dragged it in to claim his money and give the Emperor the first of many dead to occupy the grisly trophy room for slain Jedi beneath his carbonite prisoner meditation garden.

Since then, there had been so many others. Some bodies returned, some just ashes like this latest victim. Over the years, Vader had been none too happy about receiving a pile of ashes for expected payment. The Dark Lord had a macabre need to see the bodies. He knew most of the victims; he needed to see that they were dead.

The bones rattled as he shook the vial and slipped it back in his belt pouch. The Empire would just have to identify the bone chips on this one.

He passed through the door out into the cool night air, thinking to himself. Spotting and identifying this loser had been the first favorable turn of events since his ship had been damaged on Yavin IV as he watched Solo slip away. The repair team he’d brought in had found the mangled outrigger torn off during pursuit of the ‘Falcon, but they couldn’t make repairs in the jungle. It took some time, but they were finally able to re-calibrate the one remaining outrigger to stabilize a short flight.

After limping here to Vorzyd V, the real repairs had begun. Fabrication of custom replacement parts were necessary, but taking too much time. He was losing money in unclaimed bounties. Until the ship was finished he knew there was little he could do, and had resigned himself to being stranded until repairs were complete. Thankfully, that time was almost upon him.

Two attractive, blue-skinned dancers passed by, eyeing him as he stepped into the street. He turned his head to admire them. He’d spent most of his time waiting in the bars and casinos, luckily his weakness for Twi’leks made it bearable.

* * *

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At some point in the still blackness of the pre-dawn hours, nightmares of Belliran V had once again awakened Rogue; terrifying nightmares of suffocation and death, trapped beneath endless piles of dead Ithorians. Unable to shake the memories and images from his head, he got up and set to work, anxious for the next day to begin so we could be on our way.

He filled the time while everyone else slept by leading the Eopies up from the pit, and raising the half-buried repulsor sleds to the surface. He fed and watered the animals, harnessing them to the sleds, readying them for the coming day.

Now everyone was awake and preparing to leave. There could be no fires or fusion furnaces this close to the fort; no detectable heat plumes could be risked. Etz chewed on a high energy ration bar and tossed one to Rogue as he walked by, heading for the forward dune position. He unwrapped it, and took a bite as he looked back over the men under his command and the civilians along for the ride. Diffused light had begun to chase away the darkness as daybreak drew nearer, but the suns had not yet risen, and in the ambience of the pre-dawn light, the sand beneath our feet took on a mystical glow.

Daegan packed his bag, never taking his eyes off Rogue as he made his way through the camp checking everyone’s progress, continuing on to the forward dune.

Ddraig, 0600 and I were lining up the Eopies and sleds when Blade appeared, striding over the forward dunes’ sandy crest heading toward Rogue.

“The herd’s awake and some are starting to wander off. We need to get moving if we’re going to follow them, but we need to do it quietly.” He turned toward the mountains that rose up behind the fort. “You see that linear dune over there?” indicating a sandy ridgeline winding to the left side of the fort. “It goes past the mountains out to the open desert beyond. Several banthas were already heading along the side facing the fort.”

Rogue nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. That’ll give us perfect cover. We’ll follow on the back side of that dune line until we’re beyond the mountains. You and Ddraig keep the herd in sight as they head that way. We’ll catch up to you once we’re out in the open. Keep your commlinks on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Blade turned and disappeared over the dune as Rogue motioned Etz, 0600 and Ddraig over to him. They assembled around him. “Get everyone ready to be on our way. We’re leaving in five minutes. We’ll be moving along the far side of that dune line.” He indicated the ridge that snaked out to the open desert. “Tell them we’re all to maintain absolute silence until we’re beyond the mountains. Move it.”

“Yes, sir” replied Ddraig, and they scattered.

*

We had been walking in silence for a little over an hour when 4120 and Rogue, broke away from the head of the group, climbing to the top of the dune

The rest of us stopped walking while they moved up to check our position. They peered over the crest of the dune, spotting Ddraig and Blade just ahead.

Beyond them, a group of Banthas lumbered into the open dunefield of the ‘Sea. As far beyond them as could be seen, the crests and valleys of countless dunes rose and fell, disappearing into the rippling heat waves off near the horizon.

The rest of the caravan crossed over the ridge, falling in line with Ddraig and Blade behind the slow-moving herd.

Daegan and Ash kept a close eye on the troops ahead as they cautiously spoke in hushed tones. Ash looked away toward the open desert. “Well, wasn’t that the plan? Lay low with no communication?”

Daegan kept walking, staring straight ahead, eying Rogue carefully. “Yes. I mean, I know the mission was a success, they destroyed the station, but everyone in my strike team was supposed to have been contacted by now.”

“Give it time” said Ash. “That mission generated a lot of heat. That’s all got to die down.”

Daegan shook his head. “I just have a bad feeling about it. It was our job to steal the information and pass it to wave two on Toprawa. After that, we scattered and hid, just like we planned. Wave two transmitted the data to the Alliance from there and were supposed to disappear for a while and then signal everyone in wave one. Something must have gone wrong, otherwise I’d have heard from Bria by now. I just hope . . . “

Ash quietly shushed him as Etz came walking past toward the rear of the column. Both continued walking in silence.

The hours silently slipped by as we followed the herd further and further into the ‘Sea. It was mid afternoon when I turned back to check our progress against a landmark, only to discover that the mountains and fort were almost completely gone from view. I pulled the stopper from my canteen and took a drink. I never had cared for the water from my backpack, and as long as I had fresh water, I’d decided to drink that first.

A fine spray of sand whipped across the ground, forming and re-forming delicate ripple patterns on the untouched landscape. Most of the dunes out here in the open were hundreds of meters tall, more like sandy foothills than mere dunes. This place was as raw and beautiful as it was deadly.

Toward the middle of the procession, between two of the sleds, Falker walked quietly beside ‘Lina. Finally he looked over to her and broke the silence with a question. “So, do you know anything about that fort? I thought the Tusken Raiders were cave-dwellers. Did they build that place?”

“No.” began ‘Lina, shaking her head. “The Sandpeople didn’t build it, they stole it. Part of my research here is Ghorfa history.”

“Ghorfa?” asked Falker.

She grinned. “Ghorfa is the proper name of their race, but they’re known as Sandpeople for obvious reasons.” She brushed her hair from her face, trying to distill everything she knew about them down to a concise, yet interesting level.

“The fort itself was actually built by settlers from Bestine IV, who named it ‘Fort Tusken’ after an island on their homeworld.”

A wind gust blew her hair into her face. She reached up, brushing it away as they continued walking.

“About two years after it was built, the Ghorfa clans united and led raiding parties to the fort, assaulting and battering it. The attacks were relentless and went on for nearly three years until the settlers finally abandoned it.”

“Nice of them to be so friendly” said Falker.

“It was those attacks that earned the Sandpeople the nickname Tusken Raiders” she continued.

“Briefly during the Galactic Civil War they lost control of the fort to a group of moisture farmers and the mercenaries they had hired to help recapture the fort. Unfortunately, it was short-lived. A union of the Ghorfa clans mercilessly attacked in numerous waves and reclaimed the fort.”

Stopping in her tracks, she looked off across the sand, then over to Miren. “Actually, would you like to hear a recording of one of those moisture farmers?”

“Sure.” Said Falker, wondering what she might produce from her bag.

“Miren? Miren, come here” she called out.

Miren stopped walking and just waited for them to catch up to her.

“Hey, do you have the sound clip I jacked out of that recorder? Remember?” asked ‘Lina.

“Jacked out?” asked Falker.

Lina smiled again and Miren rolled her eyes as she reached into her bag and handed over the recorder. “Yeah, we were looking through some stuff at a Jawa junk sale when I found it. They wanted way too much for the beat up old recorder, but I really wanted the message I’d found on it, so while Miren distracted them, I jacked in and moved the file over to her recorder.”

He flashed a reproachful look.

“What?” she asked innocently. “The message has historical value, and they can still sell the recorder. No harm done.”

She selected the recording from a menu and pressed the button to play it. Nothing happened; there was no sound at all. She pressed the play button again several times, but the recording would not begin.

“Did you break the recorder, Miren? I can’t get it to play now.”

The silence that followed was broken by Rogue as he walked back along the line of people, addressing everyone. “An old bull and cow have stopped to bed down for the night. The rest of their herd is moving on without them. We’re going to stop here for the night and follow the older members tomorrow. They’re our best bet of being led to the recording.”

He continued on past them, giving the directions again for those further down the line.

Frustrated, ‘Lina stuffed the recorder in her bag. “I’ll look at it once we get settled down for the night. When I figure out what’s wrong with it, we can listen.”

“Ddraig and Deckard have been working on an astromech back at our base. I’m sure they could help with it if you want.”

She nodded as they headed forward to the selected camp site.

*

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Rogue connected the commlink to the pulsing fusion generator and switched it on. There was no static, no sound at all. He looked at it disgusted.

4120, who stood beside him offered an observation. “It probably has to BE charged to work, not actively being charged.”

Rogue switched it off and laid it beside the generator. “I’ll let it sit overnight and try them again in the morning.”

Topolev poked at the dying fire in the center of camp, and added another compressed fuel core. The hour was late when Ddraig finally managed to get Miren’s recorder to work. ‘Lina hugged him enthusiastically, grabbed the recorder and invited him to watch. He followed her over to where Falker was stretched out.

“It’s working! Ddraig got it to work”she said excitedly. “There’s no holo image or even a video feed, only audio, but it gets the point across.”

The two troopers watched as ‘Lina selected the recording from a menu, pressed a button and the rough, static-filled recording began to play.

I cocked my head to one side and listened to the nearly forgotten voice on the recording.

"We've finally managed to fight off the remaining Sand People from Fort Tusken. As the last one fell, I was overwhelmed with profound pride as the fortress had at last been recovered from the hands of the foul murderers who have soiled its halls for so long. I look forward to sending word to... what's this... another wave of Tusken Raiders has appeared! They seem to fight with renewed vigor and have reinforced their numbers with much more powerful warriors this time. Perhaps my thoughts of victory are far too premature . . ."

At that point, the recording completely filled with static and stopped. We all sat in silence, mentally replaying the snippet in our heads, realizing the moisture farmer’s captured words were probably his last.

“You three should get some rest” I said, settling back down on my bed roll. “Morning comes early out here, and we move out when the Banthas do.”

‘Lina nodded. Ddraig helped her up and they each went back to their makeshift beds.

A brief slash of light seared across the sky overhead. Without thinking, I made a wish, the way my parents had shown me when I was little. I opened my eyes, staring at the darkness where the light had been, memories of that faraway place and person flooding in.

Closing my eyes, I willed myself to sleep.

* * *

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  • 3 weeks later...

Chapter 36 - Unforeseen

It was somewhere between mid-morning and noon and the heat was already reaching near unbearable levels. The Banthas course had been parallel with a chain of hills to our left, following the ridgeline to stay up where the air was moving. A change in the dune pattern once again forced man and beast alike to climb dunes and descend into the deathly still valleys between them, the heat of which very nearly sucked the breath from your lungs. What little reprieve we had seen in recent days had abated in favor of more torturous temperatures.

We in the 104th were somewhat protected by thermal suits, but our guide and the civilian entourage of archaeologists lacking such equipment required more frequent stops to rest, cool down and take a drink. Fluids were flowing out of them almost as quickly as they were being replaced.

We pressed on until just beyond midday, when the suns began their customary decline in the afternoon sky. This time we stopped for water and lunch.

As the others relaxed under makeshift shades and pulled food rations and water from the supply sleds, I took a good long look at where we were, not just the next foot placement ahead in the sand. I shielded my eyes and turned completely around, realizing that the mountains, all landmarks of any kind for that matter, had seemingly fallen off the edge of the planet and we were very much alone, adrift in the ‘Sea. We were midway up the slowly inclined slope of a dune with limited visibility directly ahead, but there was only sand as far as you could see in any other direction.

0600 and 4120 watered the animals, then made their way to the food and water station set up by Etz. I slipped my canteen under the water nozzle and filled the container to the top, grabbed a ration bag and sat down in the sand with my back against the back of the supply sled.

I had just taken a drink and bitten off the second piece of Ronto jerky when a small swarm of tiny, sand-colored animals came racing over the ridge of the dune, down its face, and straight through our small group of travelers without so much as a second thought.

Miren and ‘Lina quickly clambered on top of one of the sleds to get away from them. Zu just unholstered her pistol and took several shots at them, little sand plumes spraying up where the missed blast points hit.

Sandie was laughing hysterically at the little creatures and dancing around to the strains of unheard music flowing through his head.

“Scurriers!” yelled 0600. He quickly pulled the rifle off his shoulder and squeezed off several shots, hitting nearly as many of the tiny beasts. “That’ll taste a lot better than this protein bar, that’s for sure.”

“Scurriers?” I asked.

He looked over my way. “Yeah. You haven’t seen them around the spaceport?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“They’re basically desert rats, but pretty tasty when cooked properly” grinned 0600 as he took aim again. “Usually they steer clear of humans” he said, turning to eye the dune they had come scampering over. “I wonder what they were running away from in such a hurry.” He lowered his rifle without firing again, and walked the rest of the distance to the crest of the dune to have a look at the other side. I followed him up the grade.

I was a few steps behind, and still climbing when he dropped to his knees, shading his eyes from the suns’ glare. When I reached his side, we both saw what had driven them our way.

An enormous Jawa sandcrawler lumbered slowly along the floor of the next valley. Its treads clanked noisily but efficiently, propelling the massive ‘crawler forward at a slow, steady pace. Several Jawas walked beside it, shooting at the fleeing scurries. Several larger, dead furry beasts hung from the lower handrails along the side of the desert transport.

“See those?” 0600 asked.

“Yeah.”

“Those are Womprats; nasty things. There must be some ahead somewhere. We’ll have to keep our eyes open.”

He must have seen the confusion on my face because he asked, “Did you think we were alone out here? I saw you lookin’ around back there.”

I nodded slightly.

He chuckled. “Besides heat and constant change, the Dune Sea is a master of deception. With the height and length of the dunes out here, you begin to lose perspective of relative size and distance. Someone could sneak up on you and you’d never see them coming; they’d look like nothing more than a small speck against the sand.”

He started to walk back down to the rest of the group, then stopped and turned back to me. “You have to really be concentrating hard to see them.”

I was following him back, walking between the others in our party heading back to my helmet and supplies, and stopped to grab an energy bar from one of the sleds. While I looked for one, I overheard Felth’s voice crackling through on Rogue’s commlink.

“That’s correct, sir. There was no one in either ship, and no sign of 1265. I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you, but I thought it pertinent to conduct a thorough sweep of both ships, the bays and the surrounding areas within the spaceport to be certain, but there wasn’t a single trace of Kaird or Guri.”

Rogue sat a moment, staring off into the dunes. “Good work, Felth. Get back to base, and contact me if you hear from 1265. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes sir.”

Rogue switched off the comm, and was getting to his feet as I closed the lid on the ration crate. “Deck, let’s get everyone down the line ready to push on.” He tucked the comm back in his belt. “We’re on the trail again in ten minutes. I want to catch up with the Banthas before they stop for the night. And keep your eyes open.”

I took a bite of the bar. “Yes sir.”

*

Felth switched off his commlink, placing it down on the bench as he returned to the damaged Republic Commando helmet he had been working on from down in the cache.

He pressed a small chin switch control inside and tilted the helmet slightly so he could more easily see the video playback on the tiny screen inside.

Images splashed across the screen, revealing a previously unrecovered piece of Holder’s puzzle.

Felth’s mind raced and he was lost in thought as the video ended.

* * *

Artoo’s systems flashed online, and the little ‘droid woke up, still secured in the socket of his master’s X-wing fighter. Luke had activated the ship’s converters, which alerted the blue astromech, awakening it and the ship’s entire system from an extended idle time power save shutdown.

The snub ships of Renegade flight were falling into formation as the platform’s crew brought the ALLANTRID’s repaired reactor online. All appeared to be going fine, and main engine tests were to begin momentarily.

Then, Commander Narra’s voice came through everyone’s headsets

“Renegade Flight, this is Renegade leader. I’m getting some interference on my sensors. Maintain close visual scanning. Renegade 4 stay closer to your transport ship.”

“I copy boss.”

Narra’s voice broke through again. “Transport ships keep close together. Luke, get them into hyperspace once they’re clear of Derra IV’s gravity field. Fighters stick close to the convoy and keep your eyes open, all of you.”

“Roger that, Commander” replied Luke, speeding off toward the lead transport.

“Renegade Leader, this is Renegade 7. Boss, I have a visual sighting of a number of small craft coming at high velocity from the far side of the planet.”

“Can you identify them?” Narra countered.

“They’re moving awfully fast.”

Suddenly, cockpit alarms were triggered.

“Imperial TIE fighters, sir, must be 20 of ‘em.”

“Renegade flight this is Renegade leader, engage, engage, engage! Transport ships you’re clear to jump to hyperspace as soon as you have viable coordinates.”

“This is Renegade 3, boss there’s another bunch of them dead ahead in our course. They’re breaking for attack.”

“This is Renegade 2, more TIEs approaching from Sector II, they’re all over the place here they come!”

The ALLANTRID’s engines fired to life, and the huge transport vessel began to slowly pull away from the platform.

“Renegade 3,4, 5 and 6 get up there and clear the way for Commander Skywalker and the transports. The rest of you protect the convoy. Luke, make sure they get away or we’re done.”

With Luke flying escort, the transport ships ran for it, throttling up to maximum acceleration.

Narra’s eyes swept over the incoming swarm of TIE fighters. “All right renegade flight, let’s hit ‘em.”

Chatter filled Luke’s headset as he rolled to one side, vaporizing a TIE that had broken away from the others toward the transports under his protection.

“Watch it renegade 2!”

“I see ‘em.”

“On your tail, Renegade 7!” yelled Narra. “Scissor right, scissor RIGHT!”

“Here I come.”

“Get ‘em off me!”

“Gah! Boss we can’t stop ‘em there are too many.”

“Boss they’re going after the ALLANTRID and the others. They’re going to . . . ” An explosion followed by silence completed his sentence, as his ship was destroyed.

“Protect the transports! The transports have to get through!” yelled Narra.

The two lead transports pulled away from the fighting and slipped into hyperspace headed for Hoth. Once he was sure they were clear, Luke followed them. He didn’t want to leave the battle, but if there was an ambush here, there could just as easily be one at Hoth waiting for them. Behind him above Derra IV, the battle raged on surrounding the remaining transports.

A brilliant explosion lit up the darkness outside their cockpits as one of the lumbering transports was destroyed. It was immediately followed by another massive flare and shockwave as the reactor of a second transport was pierced by enemy fire, ripping the ship apart. Renegade Flight scanned the areas around them, but neither of the two had time for deployment of any escape pods.

“Boss, they’re all over us, they just got Transports 3 and 4.”

“This is Renegade 2. I’m hit! I’m hit! I lost both port-side engines!”

“Keep going” yelled Narra.

“This is Renegade 3, there are four TIE’s on me, somebody help me, I can’t shake ‘em.”

Renegade 2 pulled his damaged ship between the TIEs and Renegade 3, firing on and destroying two Imperial ships before spiraling headlong out of control into a third.

Several fireballs erupted against the blackness

“Renegade 3???” screamed Narra.

Only static rolled back through his headset. “Renegade 2?”

“They’re gone, boss. There’s no way out, they’re all around us.”

“Boss, there’s a bunch of em headed your way.”

“All ships this is Commander Narra. Break contact and escape if you can. Break contact and run for . . . .”

Static replaced Narra’s voice over the headsets of those remaining in Renegade Flight Wing.

“Boss!?” screamed Renegade 7. He rolled his ship around just in time to see the fireball that had been their Commander fading to black. He keyed his comm, “Narra is gone; I repeat, Narra is gone. The transports are all burning or destroyed. Renegade Flight, scatter and re-group at the rendezvous point.”

The few remaining ships each quickly plotted a hyperspace jump away from the onslaught, leaving behind the burning wreckage of transports and friends among their crews.

* * *

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(Author's note: The forum filters are working. The OH **** comment below was supposed to be OH SH!#)

On this third day out from Fort Tusken, the morning had broken as it had the previous days, and we’d followed the two old Banthas further and further away from any hint of civilization into the interior of the Dune Sea.

The days, though still hot, were more tolerable and nights were becoming cooler as temperatures in general had begun to drop. Most friendly conversation enjoyed during the earlier days of the journey had now been played out and we were all acutely aware of remaining focused enough to simply place one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.

It was afternoon when the crushing glare reflecting off the near-white sand beneath our feet began to dim almost imperceptibly as we followed our eccentric guide deeper still into the ‘Sea. We were marching single file away from the suns, following the old Banthas out ahead of us when the light winds we had enjoyed since morning suddenly died away to a still, silent calm. A dark shadow fell across the sand as the twin suns behind us were suddenly and totally eclipsed.

Rogue snapped his head back to look. Instead of the blazing fireballs he expected to see, an enormous, towering wall of boiling darkness several hundred meters high, stretching from one edge of the horizon to the other, was advancing across the dunes, heading straight toward us.

“SANDSTORM!” he yelled, reflexively breaking into an urgent sprint.

Everyone turned to look back at the churning sand heading our way as he raced to unhitch two of the closest hover sleds from their Eopie harnesses. He dragged them side by side and switched off their repulsor fields. Both slammed into the sand, creating a two-meter high barrier between the approaching storm and us.

‘Lina’s mouth fell open in disbelief, Miren just stared, and Zu pulled the shiny blue goggles off her eyes, raising them in stunned disbelief to her forehead, whispering “Oh ****!”

Immediately we broke formation, shouldering our rifles and running, backtracking down both sides of the animal caravan.

The roar of the approaching storm was undeniable and escalating quickly. It was as if the subtly changing dunes had become enraged by our unwanted presence, rising up in a churning cloud of protesting fury, rolling over any and all that dared venture this deep into the vastness of the ‘Sea. Tendrils of lightning violently lashed out from within the cloud, twisting jaggedly into the darkening sky.

“Deck, get help from them.” I saw 4120 pointing to the archaeologists as he yelled to be heard over the increasing roar of the wind. “Get the rest of the animals over to Rogue’s position! Danz! You three grab those sleds and get them over here; move it! It’s almost on top of us!”

“C’mon!” I yelled. Members of the research team raced back to help me, scattering to control the spooked Eopies and centralize the gear toward where I had last seen Rogue.

As he ran to help gather everyone together, Danz noticed how this storm dwarfed the one out at the Lars homestead. Blade and Etz helped him lead six Eopies toward the makeshift shelter Rogue had started. They unhitched the remaining repulsor sleds, dragging them into position on either end, creating a curved barrier wall.

We took the tethers, corralling the freed animals into a group, lashing them to one of the provision crates behind our makeshift wall. As we did so, Erek, Ash and Daegan helped 0600, Falker and Ddraig unload and lift a small shield generator to the top of the center sled and brace it as he worked to start it up. I herded ‘Lina, Miren, Doc and Zu behind the crates as they worked. Etz, Danz and Blade moved in behind us as the leading edge of the storm bore down on us.

Sand churned furiously around us now, hurled on the gusting winds of the ever-darkening sky as we all took cover behind the barrier. The spooked pack animals bent their long legs and lowered themselves to the ground, where they proceeded to shove their heads into the sand beside the sleds, bracing themselves.

Danz sat down with his back to the wall, pulling on his helmet, “I almost died in a flood of water once as a kid back on Bestine IV.” He yelled. “I never thought in a million years I’d die in a flood of sand.”

With his back to one of the sleds, Sandie wrapped cloth around his face and over his head. “Stay put and keep your heads down, and nobody’s gonna die!”

“Get that shield going, hurry up!” yelled Rogue to be heard over the howling winds.

4120 crowded in beside me now. I turned to look through a narrow crack between the sleds, watching as the landscape changed before my eyes. Dunes eroded into valleys, as what had been familiar was now completely foreign.

Suddenly, small orbs of bright light about a meter across began to appear, rising out of the ground sand as I watched. The blowing sand popped and sizzled, sparking along their edges as they continued expanding to several meters across, steadily growing in intensity until each suddenly ejected a jagged web of energy, arcing up into the sky to merge with a connecting bolt of lightning slashing down from within the cloud in a deafening blast.

“Did you see that?” I yelled

“Ball lightning!” yelled Sandie, nodding. “Very dangerous!”

Then, through the blasting sand, a darker shape began to appear.

I lost sight of it as the full fury of the storm was upon us now, blowing a near solid curtain of sand between us and whatever it was. The roar was deafening and the sky grew dark. Sand immediately built up against the wall of sleds and crates, rising higher and higher, creating a new dune as it covered the equipment. I felt the weight of the deepening sand on my body increasing as I was buried further and further. I closed my eyes, worried more manifestations of ball lightning might suddenly rise out of the sand beneath us.

0600 yelled to the others with him, “That’s it, get down, I’m starting it up.”

The five others dropped below the level of the sleds, and 0600 threw the activation switch, dropping down behind them.

As he did, an energy dome spread out from the top of the shield generator, extending out to a circumference of roughly eight meters, completely containing the animals and us. The stinging sandblast abruptly halted as the protective barrier of the shield dropped all the way to the ground, intervening between the air-born sand and us.

Immediately, sand began building up against the outside of the energy wall. As the winds howled fiercely, we watched the collecting sand creep higher and higher up the outside of the power membrane, diminishing what little light there was. One of the Eopies brayed and snorted anxiously from behind the archaeologists as the sand finally covered the energy dome, plunging us until total blackness.

After what felt like hours trapped in the cramped darkness, the snarling winds finally passed, and the roar of the flying sand subsided.

When there was absolute silence outside, 0600 stepped up onto the platform of the repulsor sled, and reached up, switching off the shield generator.

As he did, a shower of sand fell on us from the roof above as the thin energy membrane dissolved, and the darkness we were in was suddenly broken. Light from the suns filtered through the swirling dusty haze that filled our pit, and a small trickling of sand tumbled in on all sides, sliding into what had become a crater in the altered landscape above.

0600 carefully climbed the rest of the way up and stepped off the top of the supply sled to the newly formed ground level above. “Hey Rogue? 4120? Get up here.”

Our command team glanced momentarily at each other and then hurried up over the packed crates on the supply sled to the surface above. As they stepped onto the sand they saw 0600 about ten meters away, standing in front of a once-hidden desert secret that the fury of the sandstorm had seen fit to reveal.

Both men were speechless.

The others of us below in the crater curiously followed their lead, quickly scrambling up the contents of the sled out of the hole to the surface. The air was noticeably cooler now, in the wake of the storm.

As he climbed out, Doc pushed the crimson lenses of his goggle up on his forehead. “Oh my.”

As I stepped up beside him, I realized this was what I had seen emerging from beneath the sands of the adjacent dune. The others followed behind me.

Sandie and everyone in both teams stood silently, staring past Rogue and 4120 as 0600 walked with helmet in hand, toward the huge, gleaming metallic hull of the medium range starship that lay before them, half submerged in the lapping sands of the Dune Sea. He reached out a gloved hand and touched the brilliant, silvery skin of the downed vessel.

Etz took a step closer, squinting. “She’s so shiny!”

Blade walked up beside him. “The winds out here have been sand-blasting this thing for who knows how long. She must have gone down and been buried in a sandstorm or the Jawas would have found her; picked her clean by now.”

Rogue leaned closer to 4120. “A medium range ship? This far out from a major port? They must have come in for a low level, low visibility approach to the spaceport, or outlying area, and gone down in a storm.”

“I wonder what they were hauling?” said 4120, scratching beneath the frayed synth-skin where his arm met his mechanical hand; perspiration rolling off his forehead.

Etz and Ddraig walked up beside them as Rogue answered. “Probably smugglers of some sort; could be anything really, but most likely weapons, medical supplies or spice.”

4120 perked up a bit. He glanced skyward, noting how late it had become. “We should probably make camp here tonight. By the time we get everything ready to move out, it’ll be time to stop for the day anyway.”

Rogue nodded in silent agreement.

“What about the animals?” asked Ddraig.

“We could just leave them down in the pit until we adjust the hoversled repulsors to raise them up here to the surface. It’ll act like a natural pen,” offered Etz, looking to Rogue, who again nodded his approval.

Sandie stepped up close to Rogue; a little too close for Rogue’s liking, and he took a step back. The pungent old man took a step closer to once again close the gap between himself and Rogue. He leaned close, whispering through his scruffy beard. “What about the Banthas? We need to find them again. I don’t mind moving ahead with a scout team to try and . . .”

Rogue cut him short, “The bull and cow most likely kept moving through the storm to keep from being buried. Don’t worry; we put trackers on the older ones after we left Fort Tusken. They’ll be bedding down for the night soon. We’ll find them in the morning.”

Sandie’s eye twitched a bit at having been shut down, and he hurried away, muttering to himself.

* * *

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Chapter 37 – All That We Must Leave Behind

As darkness blanketed the frozen surface of Hoth, the frigid temperatures fell beyond the range of bodily discomfort into the area of true danger.

Solo stood in the frigid winds with a half dozen of Rogue group’s pilots beside their ships. The ‘Falcon and a handful of X and Y-wings had been moved outside the main base hangar, allowing the new Ion Cannon’s reactor a broad path from the outer shield doors all the way to the oversized turbolift at the back of the ice cavern.

Han and the others wore protective goggles and extreme thermal gear, and still all were shivering in the painful wake of the night winds. Each gust pierced straight through their gear, chilling them to their cores.

Chewbacca grunted nervously to Solo, throwing his head slightly to the left in the direction of the ships. The Corellian smuggler swept his eyes over the hulls of the snubships and the ‘Falcon. All were sporting a thick layer of frost and ice that thickened as he watched. He glanced back at the Wook, nodding before herding the pilots into his ship to wait it out.

Peering through the white haze of horizontally blowing snow, from just inside the shield doors, Mon Mothma and the last of Alderaan’s royal family stood watching the progress. Leia was able to make out the shapes of two large transport ships hovering just above the frozen ground, beyond where Solo and Rogue group were gathered. External cargo covers on the transports had been retracted, exposing the precious cargo within; cargo that Luke had been able to escort here safely, delivered at the cost of Commander Narra’s life and the lives of many members of Renegade flight. The war continued to chip away; taking, always taking.

Several crews were busily offloading components for the one remaining stolen Ion Cannon. The twin to this defense gun had been lost when the Allantrid evaporated above Derra IV. From the second transport, two other teams simultaneously worked to retrieve the partially dismantled reactor that would supply its power. The princess was watching Luke unloading hardware alongside them when Yané and Torynn stepped up beside her.

The one-time handmaiden from Naboo bowed her head slightly, lowering her eyes as she addressed the princess, “Your highness.”

Leia watched as they both bowed. Her life in the royal house seemed a lifetime ago, and yet, without thinking, the royal grooming she had been endlessly taught as a child effortlessly found its way back to her. “Rise.”

Both women raised their heads as Leia introduced Mon Mothma. Again, both women bowed their heads momentarily in a show of respect.

Yané peered into Leia’s eyes, “Your highness, this is Torynn Farr. She’s a communications expert that will be working with you in the Command Center, who shares the loss of your homeworld. She too lost her family on Alderaan.”

Yané’s eyes pleaded “I thought perhaps you could meet and become acquainted as kindred souls, to help support each other.”

Leia nodded “Hello Torynn, I’m pleased to meet a fellow survivor. Will you both excuse us for a moment?” The two women stepped several yards away from Yané and Mon, speaking of Alderaan and remembering their home.

Mon watched Yané watching them. “That was a nice thing you did.”

Yané turned to her. “The poor girl is grief-stricken, and feeling isolated by her pain. She desperately needs someone who understands her loss.”

Mon glanced at Leia, smiling softly “And what about Torynn, how is she?” She cut her eyes back to Yané.

The handmaiden lowered her head slightly, smiling herself.

Mon continued “There’s been precious little to no time for it, but Leia hasn’t allowed herself to grieve the losses she’s endured either. Having someone that shares that loss will do her some good.”

Yané looked off toward the two daughters of Alderaan “That’s what I had hoped.”

“And what is your position here on the base?” asked Mon.

Yané was unprepared for that question. The blank searching in her eyes spoke volumes as she turned to the rebel leader, silently locking eyes. “I’ve only just arrived, and don’t really know what my future holds. I can’t really go home, and . . . well, I don’t know.”

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot” said Mon. “Where was home, and why can’t you return there? What did you do there?”

“I’m from Naboo” Yané offered. “For many years I served the royal house as handmaiden. As a young woman I served with Queen Amidala, and grew older with Queen Jamilla.”

Upon hearing Amidala’s name, Mon’s eyes grew a bit wider as her glance cut to Leia. The princess was unknowingly in the presence of one of her mother’s most trusted confidants.

They both took a step to the side as crew members began moving reactor parts past them on enormous repulsor sleds toward the rear turbolift.

Yané continued. “Captain Solo was kind enough to fulfill a promise to my niece Bria’s father. He kept a necklace I had given to her as a child for safe keeping while she was away. He kept it, waiting for her return. When she didn’t come back, he gave it to Solo, begging him to deliver it to me with the news of her passing.”

She touched the necklace against her chest. “While Solo was with me in Theed, the Empire seized control of the capital, looking for him. I helped him escape.” She clutched the pendant tighter now. “My lovely Bria . . .”

Mon’s eyes flashed back to her as thoughts raced through her head; thoughts of Leia somehow piecing things together, of the deliberate protective deception unraveling before it was time. “Bria? Not Bria Tharen?”

Yané looked puzzled. “The same. How did you . . .”

Mon’s eyes lit up as a smile of recognition took control of her face. “I’m so very sorry for your loss. Bria Tharen was responsible for transmitting the technical plans for the Death Star to the Princess from an Imperial communications tower on Toprawa. The plans she provided to us saved the Rebellion and an untold number of lives across the galaxy. Your niece was a hero.”

“That’s my Bria” answered Yané, staring at the pendant. “This is all I have left of her now.”

Mon glanced outside at the last of the equipment being moved inside. “This might seem a bit sudden, but would you consider working with me? I’ve just lost my aide of many years to a horrible accident and I’m quite lost without her. Your background would make you a perfect fit, and it would honor what Bria was fighting for, if you’re interested.”

Yané rolled it over in her mind as Leia and Torynn came walking back.

Torynn smiled as the princess continued speaking, “I’d like that. It’s been too long since I’ve heard the anthem play, and I’m sure we have so much more to talk about.” As Leia turned back to the others, she saw the look on Yané’s face and could feel they had interrupted something. “Is everything all right?” She looked to Mon.

The handmaiden nodded, smiling “Yes, everything’s fine. I’ve just agreed to join the Rebellion as Mon Mothma’s new aide.”

All four women smiled, and congratulations were given as the ice-encrusted ships of Rogue Squadron flew slowly past into the base, the engines’ roar drowning out their words. The sunbships were followed by the deep-frozen Millennium Falcon with Chewbacca at her controls. Luke followed Han on foot through the massive hangar entrance a moment later and continued on with the crew to the turbolift. Along the way he gave a nod to the control booth. The shield doors lurched, and began their slow journey closed.

Solo walked up to where the ladies were gathered, opening the front of his parka. He threw back his hood and pulled off the frosted goggles, revealing his red face. As he did, the shield doors closed together with a slam and locked behind him. “The others’ll dock the transports and come in through the south entrance.” He glanced back at the doors, unleashing his lopsided smile. “I wouldn’t want to be caught on the wrong side of them. A night out there, in those freezing winds, it’d be a death sentence for sure.”

Leia rolled her eyes and shook her head as the women turned and walked away from him, continuing their conversation.

He pulled off his gloves, watching them go, then walked to where the ‘Falcon had come to rest. He wasn’t used to such rejection when he was being so charming. His co-pilot descended the boarding ramp, grunting and groaning a few words his way, leaning his head to one side as he barked the last word.

Solo shook his head as he walked up the ramp. “Buddy, de-icing the ‘Falcon’ll be easy.” He paused beside the Wook cutting his eyes toward the princess. “But I’ve got a better chance of thawing out this whole planet than I do of thawing her out” and he disappeared inside.

The Wook woofed a slight laugh before following him in.

* * *

Rogue closed the supply crate of rations, latching it down tight. “I know you think we should investigate the ship, but we don’t have time to do it properly right now. We can tag it and come back when we’ve found the recording.” He looked up at the shiny hull “We’ll come back when we can do it right. There are too many things that could go wrong, especially with these civilians along for the ride” and he walked away.

They had just finished their evening meal and everyone was eagerly making a place to bed down after the long day.

4120 sighed, then looked up into the darkening sky. The last streaks of light were disappearing below the horizon and the black of night was closing in quickly. He turned his head to watch Rogue go. He’d just have to wait.

*

The still of the night covered them like a blanket. A cool, gentle wind lightly blew at the storm-loosened surface sand.

When he was sure everyone was asleep, 4120 quietly pulled his empty gear bag off one of the supply sleds in the pit and carefully made his way to the side of the ship. He located a mechanical number pad beside the main lateral hatch.

Quietly he depressed one button, then another and another in the universal emergency rescue combination. Each button remained depressed until the last digit was entered, then all seven sprang back flush with the ship’s skin. As they snapped out, the end of a lever arm popped out.

He glanced around to make sure no one had heard, then turned back to the hatch. Gripping the lever arm, he pulled down slowly and firmly, feeling a mechanical release somewhere inside. As it disengaged, the hatch was pulled slightly into the side of the ship and opened in to the left. Sand poured into the lower portion of the doorway, as the bottom quarter of it was below the surface.

4120 took one last look around the camp and stepped into the darkness within. He moved into the airlock, powering up a small luminary on his belt when he noticed that the inner door seal was already broken. He stepped through and past a withered body in a flight suit still gripping the inner release arm for the airlock. The sunken face was emaciated, dried out; mummified. He turned away from the nameless victim and made his way to a central corridor, turning into it, heading for the rear of the ship.

Walking half on the pitched bulkhead wall and half on the deck to maintain his balance, he moved along the dim, sloping hallway, carefully stepping over another mummified corpse in a flight suit. He moved slowly, with his back armor sliding along the wall of the slowly descending corridor until finally he came to two hatches; one on the left side of the hall and the other opposite it on the right.

He was familiar with this style of ship and decided that based on their position, these were most likely twin cargo holds straddling the central corridor spine that ran all the way to the engine room.

Not thinking, he reached out and pressed a control button beside the first door, expecting the hatch to slide open. Of course it didn’t. The battery cores had undoubtedly been drained long ago.

Immediately realizing his mistake, he reached out with his free hand running a gloved fingertip along the edge of the door until he found a slight indentation in the deteriorating seal. Wondering if it was locked, he pushed a fingertip between it and the frame and slid the door open a few inches, smiling at his luck. Pushing his shoulder into the small opening he’d made, he was able to slide the heavy, shielded door aside.

Inside he could see empty shipping crates, miscellaneous mechanical parts and empty cargo nets hooked on the wall; nothing in there.

Was that a sound?

Whipping his head around, he peered back down the long hall to make sure no one had followed him in. Once confident he was alone, he turned to the other cargo door across the dark hall, forcing it open the same way he had its twin.

He scratched at the red skin above his synthetic wrist stump as his eyes swept over the contents of the room. Several black metallic canisters lay open and scattered across the floor. Hundreds of small bundles in dark, light-shielding wrappings were strewn across the deck.

A slight twitch formed in the corner of his left eye as he realized he’d found the main cargo of the ill-fated flight. There was more spice here than he could fit in the emptied gear bag he held. He turned back, checking the hallway once more, then stepped through the threshold of the open hatch toward the awaiting spice.

Just inside the compartment, at about knee height, a sand-weathered sensor lens flickered imperceptibly to life as he tripped the motion sensor of a time-weary security system. The light behind the lens flashed dimly several times, followed by a substantial creak and groaning in the wall as the ancient hatch began to slide closed.

He spun around as the hatch slammed shut; mechanical locks firing into place, sealing him in.

The moment the door secured, sirens screeched out their loud, wailing cry of danger, echoing off the metal walls of the rotting ship and white strobing lights filled the compartment, flashing across his armor, revealing the sudden terror in his face. His hands moved frantically over the bulkhead around the door looking for a release, but the control box had been removed and a flat plate of metal had been welded in its place.

Without warning, rushing jets of iridescent pink gas streamed from security nozzles in the ceiling, clouding the room.

Turning his blaster around, he slammed the butt into the transparisteel window in the door several times. It bounced back, leaving the unyielding pane defiantly intact. He coughed as the gas began to fill the room.

Suddenly a null gravity security device kicked in, and he lost his footing as he lifted off the floor along with the rest of the cargo. The strobing, staccato lights made his rapid movements appear jerky, and nauseated him; or was that the gas? He turned his head into his arm, coughing again, this time expelling a fine spray of blood across the white of his armor. Wrapped packages of spice floated around him in the billowing pink clouds.

The gas was definitely a highly caustic irritant that burned his skin, and he began coughing violently as it burned deep inside his lungs. Now floating upside down, he un-holstered his blaster, flipped off the safety, leveled it at the hatch and fired. The recoil rolled him over backwards and the bright flash lit up the pink gas momentarily. The blaster bolt slammed into the door with a flash, immediately ricocheting off, flying past his head and searing a smoking hole in a shipping container on the other side of the room.

“Magnetically shielded. Not good.” He released the blaster, which spun in the air and disappeared away into the expanding pink fog.

Twisting in the air, he coughed again; spraying out more blood. He was in serious trouble unless someone outside found him, and fast.

*

The heat absorbed under the constant beating of the twin suns had at last released itself from the top layers of sand, surrendering to the cool of the breeze. Our small band of travelers and animals had all finally settled for the night; each finding a place and position of relative comfort for sleeping.

The immense, black sky above was adorned with a tapestry of stars trailing off into the infinite reaches of space. The thin slivers of the two visible moons hung just above the horizon and threw too little light to spoil the view. High up in the atmosphere, several meteors burned by in short-lived, fiery streaks.

I sat leaning back on a bank of sand mounded up against one of the ship’s exposed wings, staring out into the dunes. I was having trouble sleeping, and remembering the time spent submerged in black Anoat sewers looking for Moff Rebus; remembering how I had wished for somewhere dry to be. I knew as I watched the sky overheard, recounting the events of the day, that this place was certainly the other end of that wish. Working and living in Mos Eisely didn’t give you an appreciation for just how desolate and dangerous this planet truly was, even more so than Dantooine on its worst day.

As I sat thinking, another flash ignited in the upper atmosphere overhead. This one grew larger and brighter, streaking past in a long arc, striking the ground in a brilliant impact and shower of sparks. I quickly grabbed for my macrobinoculars, training them on the distant glow. It was too far away to see more than just a light, but I marked the location into the macro’s memory.

It was roughly straight ahead on our caravan’s present heading. Maybe in a day or two, if we remained on this course, we might be close enough for me to check it out. I lowered the macros, turning around to see if the noise had awakened anyone. The Eopies were stirring somewhat, and Topolev was rolling over to change positions, but otherwise, the camp was quiet.

Doc and the rest of the diggers slept around the supply sleds. Sandie was stretched out on the ground near the animals. Most of the others were in line along the side of the ship’s hull. Rogue had set up a bed roll against one of the supply sleds, next to 4120 as a sort of command post.

I paused, then looked back. Where was 4120?

I stood up and was cautiously reaching for my blaster when alarms abruptly sounded; piercing the night as they wailed from deep within the half-buried smuggling ship. Everyone awoke with a jolt.

The startled animals were immediately spooked, braying loudly and pulling hard against their restraints. One of them broke free of its tether and ran off into the blue-white sand of the dimly-lit dunes.

Rogue jumped up, looking down for 4120, who wasn’t there. I was racing toward him now, “He’s not there. I noticed he was missing just before the alarm went off.”

The doc was pulling on his glasses and running toward us pointing to the side of the ship. “The hatch is open!”

Bem held a frightened ‘Lina, and Miren covered her ears as Erek and Zu grabbed their blasters and ran with Daegan and Ash to our assembled group by the ship.

Rogue powered his blaster on. “Deck, you and Falker come with me. Tops, take 0600, Etz and the others and secure a perimeter around the ship.”

“How can we help?” shouted Zu over the wailing.

Rogue turned back to her, yelling as we entered the hatch,“Take orders from 0600. Nobody gets in or out.”

0600 quickly directed Zu to the front of the ship, sent Daegan and Ash toward the back and positioned Erek at the hatch opening. “You heard the man. No one in or out.”

Erek stood at the opened hatch, blaster in hand watching the others disappear into the night. When they were gone, and he was certain we were far enough ahead, he turned and stepped through the opening.

The ship was listing quite far to one side and the rear was still quite buried in the sand. Once inside, we moved into the main corridor, walking half on the wall and half on the floor.

To our left was the cockpit, to the right was a main hallway leading down the backbone of the ship toward the rear cargo areas and engines. As we moved over a tangle of debris and hanging wires in the tilted hallway, Rogue activated three bright fusion glow rods, keeping one and passing the others to Falker and me. The screeching rise and fall of the alarm was utterly deafening. It went way beyond loud toward a distorted vibration of our eardrums that threatened to throw us off balance, and we were reduced to simple hand motions for communication.

Quickly we moved deeper into the ill-fated vessel looking for 4120 and whatever had triggered the alarm, passing several lateral gunners’ stations. Rogue motioned to the second gun and the dried, skeletal remains of a dead crew member in a grey flight suit and headset that was slumped over its controls. The intense heat of the sand had long ago sucked all moisture from the ship, and the dead.

A third corpse lay sprawled across the floor and wall ahead, clutching a blaster. We pushed past the dead gunner and stepped over the other body as we moved still deeper inside.

The ear-splitting screech of the sirens steadily grew in intensity as we moved aft, passing through an open set of airlock doors with control panels illuminated by the fading emergency power. We continued on beyond them, working our way through a tangle of wires spilling from the overhead panels, clearing a path until finally, we arrived at the twin cargo areas. Here, we could feel the alarm rattling our bones and flashing alarm strobes streamed out of both hatches; one was open, one closed. We opted to check the open one first.

Rogue stepped quickly through the open hatch as Falker and I covered him from the either side of the opening. Aside from flashing lights, there was no movement in this room at all. We both raised our blasters as Rogue retreated back into the hall, stepping closer to the hatch on the opposite side. Through the small transparisteel port in its center we could see strobing lights filtered through what looked like pink smoke.

Falker reached for the door control, but Rogue grabbed his arm. “Wait! I don’t like the look of this, it could be a trap.” We all looked closer, studying the window pane.

Suddenly, what was left of 4120’s face slammed into the window, leaving a bloody smear in its wake. Each of us jumped, the hairs on our necks instantly standing on end as we backpedaled, stumbling back in absolute shock and terror. Rogue and Falker slammed into the bulkhead across the hall, I fell through the open hatch to the floor in the other cargo area.

“4120!” Rogue blurted out, horrified.

I quickly got back on my feet, as we all watched helplessly. One of our own was struggling and dying against the inside of the hatch panel and there was nothing we could do. Visible in the strobing pink light, his face was liquefying, the crimson droplets of blood and tissue floating away.

Rogue lunged for the control panel, “Get him out of there!”

Falker grabbed him, throwing him back against the bulkhead, staring him in the eyes. “It’s too late! It’s too late.”

We watched in horror as he clawed at the glass. His mechanical hand finally separated from his stump, spinning away into the gas as what remained of his arm liquefied. Once it disappeared, there was no more movement from inside.

I abruptly leaned over and vomited on the hallway floor.

As I wiped my mouth, Erek appeared out of the darkness behind Rogue, pushing past him, reaching for the door controls. “Get him out of there! What are you waiting for?”

Falker and Rogue both tried to stop him, but it was too late; he had slipped past them and was already pressing the hatch release. As he did, time slowed to a crawl and things shifted into slow motion.

Falker’s eyes went wide. He turned away from Erek, dropped his glow rod and grabbed Rogue and me by the arms, shoving us into the dark hallway ahead of him. “Run!”

The instant the hatch seal was broken, the pressurized gas inside blasted out into the hallway, throwing Erek back into the wall, knocking him down before rolling through the hallway after us.

We tore through the corridor toward the front of the ship, ripping through the web of tangled wiring until we passed through the threshold of the central airlock doors. Falker slammed his palm against the dim controls to close them. They lurched, and slowly began sliding across the hall, powered by the fading emergency batteries. The gas churned down the hall toward us, closer and closer.

“Come on! Close! Close!” yelled Falker, reaching out to grab the window pane in the door, urging it to slide closed faster. Stubbornly the door continued its slow closure. Under normal power situations, this door would have slammed shut instantly, sealing off the rear of the ship, protecting the forward compartments and the cockpit.

The hatch finally met the opposite side of the hall, locking and seating the seals just as the gas curled up against the other side.

Each of us had backed away from the door, breathing hard; bodies shaking from the sudden adrenaline rush.

“What the **** just happened?” Falker yelled, slamming a fist into the wall. “What the **** just happened?”

There were grim looks all ‘round. 4120 was gone.

With the gas contained, Rogue took a step closer to the hatch, his mind reeling with what we’d just witnessed; 4120’s final grisly moments, and the horror of knowing what suffering lay in store for Erek.

As we did, the young archaeologist appeared on the other side of the airlock door, banging furiously on the inside of the transparisteel port trying to get out, his skin already bubbling and dissolving.

All we could do was look away; he had sealed his own fate.

We turned away somberly, trying to push the image of Erek’s frantic face far back in our minds as we headed for the airlock to the outside. We stepped through the hatch, out into the night air. As we did, we passed 0600, who had taken up Erek’s guard position by the hatch.

“Did you guys find anything in there? There’s still no sign of 4120, and Erek disappeared from his post here by the hatch. Nobody saw anyone or anything take him away from . . .”

“He’s inside. Erek’s inside. He and 4120 are both inside” Falker yelled, cutting him off grimly.

I jumped in to help Falker, who was suddenly unable to continue speaking. As I did, the screeching sirens from within the ship fell silent as the emergency power batteries finally died. I, however, was already yelling to be heard over them. “They’re dead. Gone. Erek and 4120 are both dead.”

My screaming voice, intended for 0600 only, had filled up the sudden silence, bluntly announcing their fate to everyone. The weight of my bluntly delivered words slammed home.

Doc and the rest of the diggers that had come running to hear what was happening froze when they heard the news.

0600 looked away for a microsecond, then questioned in disbelief. “Dead? How? What happened?”

Ash turned away, eyes closed in shocked acceptance.

Bem’s mouth fell open.

Daegan shook his head incredulously. “He was right here not five minutes ago” he said pointing to the ground outside the hatch. “What happened?”

‘Lina and Miren were shaking now, hands held over their mouths in shock.

Zu had an arm around doc, comforting the old man.

All eyes were on me, pleading with me to repeat what I’d spewed out and somehow make the words be different.

I was about to reply when Rogue cut in. “4120 was inside the ship for reasons unknown, and fell victim to a smuggler’s trap, a highly corrosive gas that seemed to act like Vergesso nerve compound. Erek tried to set him free. Deckard, Falker and I were forced to retreat to a set of airlock doors and seal off that part of the ship.”

“And kill Erek in the process!” yelled Daegan.

Gravely, Rogue stared into the young man’s face. “He was dead already; they both were the instant they were exposed, it was only a matter of time. We had to seal the airlock to protect ourselves and everyone in proximity to the ship, including you. It could have killed us all. I’m sorry, it was not an easy decision to be made, but it had to be made.”

The black of the moonless sky above seemed to reach on for infinity. A slight wind blowing across the sand was the only sound now, except Miren’s sobbing. ‘Lina comforted her as everyone silently turned and walked away, heading back to their sleeping areas. Doc trailed after them, pausing briefly to glance at Erek’s bed roll before moving on to his own. The young band of research diggers leaned on each other, grieving together as a group.

The rest of our troops, still in their positions securing the perimeter, were called in by Rogue, and each told what had happened. As the heavy reality of loss crept in again, we too scattered; each of us dealing with it in our own way.

Rogue lay back on his bed roll, going over what had happened, replaying those terrible moments inside the ship over and over in a constant loop.

Falker walked off into the darkness beyond the fringes of our camp, into the small dunes that surrounded the camp.

I walked away in the opposite direction to get some air. We had all lost 4120 and Erek, but Falker, Rogue and I carried some pretty vivid images to process. I knew eventually we would push them to the back of things and bury them deep, but they would haunt each of us for some time to come.

We all re-evaluated our involvement in this quest. The troopers of the 104th MFP existed outside the official capacity of the Empire now, Rogue’s holocron orders told us that when we arrived here. Did we really need to be searching for this recording? Was it worth the price we had paid already?

The darkness of that endless night somehow managed to slip painfully by, but even the idea of sleep was elusive to all.

* * *

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  • 1 month later...

Did you get a NOOK for Christmas or Hanukkah this year? You can download ANY or ALL chapters currently available for 'The Sandtrooper's Story' right here:

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  • 1 month later...

Thank you!

I am on a bit of a hiatus with the story, so I can dream up where I want it to go, and hopefully keep it fresh and interesting. More is coming, I just need some time to flesh it out.

If you are reading, or have read in the past, I'd truly appreciate a LIKE on the Facebook page for the story:

https://www.facebook.com/TheSandtroopersStory

Thanks!

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