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Viozaer examined the battlefield. The corpses of Imperials and his men littered it. The moans and screams of the dying echoed as reminders of the cost this day of victory. The COMM is his helmet buzzes and the HUD shows is it the CO.
“Sir?”, Viozaer enquires.
“Captain, SITREP.”, Major Oca demands.
“Sir, we held, but barely. The Imperials threw everything at us.” explains Viozaer. Continuing he says, “They tried a new tactic this time - Sith dressed as rank and file. We only noticed the lightsabres we they were close... Say 10 metres.”
“Disguises, eh? They are nothing if not desperate Captain.” reminds the Major.
“What were our loses?”, he asks.
“Out of the 20 of us here, numbers are: 5 dead, 6 wounded. Of those 6, 2 are serious enough I called for MedVac. The other 4 are walking wounded, but they’ll gut it out, Sir.”, Viozaer explains looking at the tags of the dead in his hands.
“Grab your gear. New orders in from SpecOps. The 521st is in route to relive you.”
The low drone of troop transports and gunships echoed down the valley. Viozaer looks up and switches his HUD to IFF. As the ships came into view all registered as friendly, although that doesn't stop any of his men from tracking them with their weapons.
“SatScans and HoloImages show the Imperials pulling out of that sector.”, the Major continues. “Rally point is now Bravo-two-zero. Confirm”
“Bravo-two-zero. Understood.”, Viozaer repeats back.
“I am bringing 2nd and 3rd with me. Be there no later than 0200 Zulu. Copy?”, the Major asks.
“0200 Zulu. Copy that.”, Viozaer confirms.
“Oca out.” With that the transmission ends.
“LADIES!”, Viozaer shouts into the COMM. “Gather your gear. We are leaving. Rally is Bravo-two-zero. Copy!?”, Viozaer asks.
Over his COMM comes the combined reply “Sir, YES SIR!”.
“And Ladies,” Viozaer adds “Good job. OORAH!”
“OORAH!”, comes the reply as one.
At this point the troop transports touched down while the gunship circle providing cover. From the lead transport a lieutenant emerges, his armour gleaming in the sunlight. His men follow and fan out creating a perimeter. The lieutenant approaches, salutes and says, “Lieutenant Wilton reporting, Sir. We are your relief.”
Viozaer returnes his salute looking about at the men of the 521st and says, “Lieutnenant you shouldn’t have any problems from now on. The two-oh-three took care of the vermin problem in this area”.
“Copy that, Sir!. Anything else I should be aware of?”, the lieutenant asks.
“I have called MedVac for my two serious wounded. ETA is 2 hours. Keep them comfortable, and bury the dead.”, Viozaer says.
“But Sir, that is not the job of...”, Wilton begins to say before Viozaer cuts him off by raising his hand and says, “I don’t give a Wampa’s asshole what you think. Get a detail together and bury the dead. BOTH SIDES. Copy?!”
“Sir, YES SIR!”, the lieutenant says, salutes, spins on his heels and heads off to form a burial detail.
“Craphats...”, Viozaer mutters to himself wonders if that armour will every see action.
“Ladies, make for the trans....”, Viozaer is saying as the transports fire their repulsers and head skyward.
“STANG!”, Viozaer exclaims. “Well, our rides left without us. Looks like we yomp. Sergeants Thavious and Fairbairn!”
“Sir?!”, came the unified response.
“Get’em moving!”, Viozaer demands.
“You heard him! Let’s move out!”, Sergeant Fairbairn shouts.
Quickly the men move into position and the 203rd moves as one towards the rally point....
“Sir?”, Viozaer enquires.
“Captain, SITREP.”, Major Oca demands.
“Sir, we held, but barely. The Imperials threw everything at us.” explains Viozaer. Continuing he says, “They tried a new tactic this time - Sith dressed as rank and file. We only noticed the lightsabres we they were close... Say 10 metres.”
“Disguises, eh? They are nothing if not desperate Captain.” reminds the Major.
“What were our loses?”, he asks.
“Out of the 20 of us here, numbers are: 5 dead, 6 wounded. Of those 6, 2 are serious enough I called for MedVac. The other 4 are walking wounded, but they’ll gut it out, Sir.”, Viozaer explains looking at the tags of the dead in his hands.
“Grab your gear. New orders in from SpecOps. The 521st is in route to relive you.”
The low drone of troop transports and gunships echoed down the valley. Viozaer looks up and switches his HUD to IFF. As the ships came into view all registered as friendly, although that doesn't stop any of his men from tracking them with their weapons.
“SatScans and HoloImages show the Imperials pulling out of that sector.”, the Major continues. “Rally point is now Bravo-two-zero. Confirm”
“Bravo-two-zero. Understood.”, Viozaer repeats back.
“I am bringing 2nd and 3rd with me. Be there no later than 0200 Zulu. Copy?”, the Major asks.
“0200 Zulu. Copy that.”, Viozaer confirms.
“Oca out.” With that the transmission ends.
“LADIES!”, Viozaer shouts into the COMM. “Gather your gear. We are leaving. Rally is Bravo-two-zero. Copy!?”, Viozaer asks.
Over his COMM comes the combined reply “Sir, YES SIR!”.
“And Ladies,” Viozaer adds “Good job. OORAH!”
“OORAH!”, comes the reply as one.
At this point the troop transports touched down while the gunship circle providing cover. From the lead transport a lieutenant emerges, his armour gleaming in the sunlight. His men follow and fan out creating a perimeter. The lieutenant approaches, salutes and says, “Lieutenant Wilton reporting, Sir. We are your relief.”
Viozaer returnes his salute looking about at the men of the 521st and says, “Lieutnenant you shouldn’t have any problems from now on. The two-oh-three took care of the vermin problem in this area”.
“Copy that, Sir!. Anything else I should be aware of?”, the lieutenant asks.
“I have called MedVac for my two serious wounded. ETA is 2 hours. Keep them comfortable, and bury the dead.”, Viozaer says.
“But Sir, that is not the job of...”, Wilton begins to say before Viozaer cuts him off by raising his hand and says, “I don’t give a Wampa’s asshole what you think. Get a detail together and bury the dead. BOTH SIDES. Copy?!”
“Sir, YES SIR!”, the lieutenant says, salutes, spins on his heels and heads off to form a burial detail.
“Craphats...”, Viozaer mutters to himself wonders if that armour will every see action.
“Ladies, make for the trans....”, Viozaer is saying as the transports fire their repulsers and head skyward.
“STANG!”, Viozaer exclaims. “Well, our rides left without us. Looks like we yomp. Sergeants Thavious and Fairbairn!”
“Sir?!”, came the unified response.
“Get’em moving!”, Viozaer demands.
“You heard him! Let’s move out!”, Sergeant Fairbairn shouts.
Quickly the men move into position and the 203rd moves as one towards the rally point....
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