Prôxes
May 21st, 2001, 06:14 PM
It was a few hours after the Four Hundred and Thirty-First Barrage and the Ready Room of the Sentinel-Class Landing Craft Bane was alive with activity.
Captain Vronn Colvox, Trooper AX-531 of Imperial Spec-Ops unit Epsilon readjusted his belt straps and glanced around the room. His fellow soldiers were in various stages of last minute training for the forthcoming mission; some were perfecting their aim at the blaster rifle range, others were warming up on the drill machines, and still others were making last minute checks of their various specialized apparatii. With a final tug, Colvox secured his backpack and wiped a bead of sweat from his ashen forehead. It was his first actual mission; after years of hard work and training, Vronn had graduated from the academy on Carida with honors and was finally going to see some action. He had thought that now was what he had always dreamed about; a chance to fight and test his combat skills. But, as he stood five titanium-plated centimeters from the outside world, he was having second thoughts.
“AX-531!”
His thoughts interrupted, Vronn pivoted to face his commanding officer, a rough-faced, balding man of at least fifty years. Colonel Grizzer, known better by his serial number RN-919, was a veteran officer, albeit not a very good one, his subordinates believed. Grizzer was believed to have progressed through the ranks only because he out-aged most of his peers.
“Sir?” Colvox automatically snapped to attention at the bellow of his name.
“Relocate yourself to the Training Core and get prepared!” Grizzer’s face was infamous for reddening easily, and about then it appeared the approximate shape and color of an overripe tomato.
“Right away, sir,” Vronn muttered reluctantly. He shouldered his rifle and shuffled over to the congregation of stormtroopers at the Training Core. Unexpectedly, Colvox’s eye caught the image in a viewport and he approached it curiously.
A small, grayish-colored moon met his gaze -- N’Chob, it was once called. It was covered with misty canyons and desolate valleys, darkened craters and looming mountains. Where blue sky might have been on Earth was only the cold void of empty space. A dozen or so thick, black tendrils of greasy smoke emanated from what must once have been Rebel campsites; the aftermath of intense turbolaser bombardment from the Bane’s parent fleet a short while before.
Vronn turned away from the macabre scene, confused. He tapped the shoulder of one of his men, Lieutenant Benedict, hoping to receive clarification of the scene he had witnessed. This Benedict was friendly to everyone, yet trusted no one; an unlikely combination. A strange and unclear incident involving a meeting with the Rebels had hindered Benedict’s progression through the ranks.
“AX-727, take a look out there,” said Vronn, gesticulating towards the viewport. Benedict set down the automatic pistol he was cleaning and stared outside.
“Our gunners really nailed them, eh? There won’t be a womp rat left for us to mop up on this mission,” Benedict voiced casually.
“Exactly my point,” returned Vronn incredulously. “Why send down an entire battalion of Spec-Ops to clean up a space-to-surface assault that effective?”
Benedict shrugged. “I don’t question my orders, I just follow ‘em. But, just between you and me…” He glanced around, and finding no one within earshot, led Vronn to a vacant corner near the bulkhead. “I overheard some brass in the Mess Hall saying that Intelligence is real worried about this operation. There wasn’t any resistance from them Rebels when we flashed ‘em, just some droid fighters and a couple of KDY w-165s. Everything was automated, and they don’ know if the whole base was a decoy or if Rebels were stationed there at all.”
Vronn’s forehead creased as the ship vibrated slightly from the retracting landing gear. “And we get to go down there and figure out what the deal is.”
* * *
When the last storm trooper within the makeshift Briefing Room of the landing craft had silenced, Colonel Grizzer lowered his hand and engaged a switch on his lectern. A holographic image of the ruins of the Rebel camp flickered into view.
“As you can see, the campsites appear to have been obliterated. However, the Empire likes to be certain of everything. Squadron commanders, take your assigned platoons and search the ruins for Rebel survivors. If you find any prisoners," Grizzer paused, his voice turning grave and dark, "do what you think is best.
“Also, I just received word that Master Sergeant Malcoam has been detained due to 'suspicious behavior,' so Captain Colvox will be substituting for him. I’m hopeful that the captain will prove to be a suitable alternative.” Colvox raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; such changes occurred frequently due to the Empire’s paranoia.
The soldiers began to assemble into their respective groups. Colvox consulted his platoon roster with surprise. Except for Benedict, he didn’t know a single man in the squad. He found this realization startling, considering how many years he’d trained on Carida. He pushed the thought away and waited patiently next to the supply depot for the platoon to join him. Within moments, his unit had assembled, but their overall demeanor was surprising. They looked uneasy, and more than a few were whispering anxiously to one another. Vronn removed his personal datapad from a pocket and switched it on. Reaching for the buttons that would open the file containing his squadron’s orders for the day, Colvox was surprised to see that the file had already been accessed earlier that day. This was unusual, because all orders were transmitted to squadron leaders via computer; never by human hands. Of course, it was possible, however unlikely, that Sergeant Malcoam had viewed his orders prior to his detainment, Colvox reasoned. He thought back to what Benedict had said earlier. Things did seem slightly unusual today…
Abruptly he realized that he was delaying the group, so Colvox cleared his throat unsteadily and spoke to the awaiting soldiers.
“I’m Captain Colvox, replacing Sergeant Malcoam, and I’ll be your commanding officer for this assignment. You know the basics from Colonel Grizzer, but more specifically, we’re executing an S-and-D for sectors Aurek through Qek.” He glanced around at his unit, trying to get a feel for each of them. Colvox got the distinct impression that, being a substitute commander, he was the outsider of this platoon; that he was intruding. “Any questions?” he asked suddenly, brushing the intuition away.
No one had any, so they outfitted themselves from the supply depot nearby. Colvox, an excellent marksman in his mind, chose a smallish Blastech rifle with a scope and barrel suggestive of a sniper’s weapon. When his platoon had suited up, they boarded an uncomfortable, utilitarian Triet-class troop transport. Their flight to the drop site was uneventful. Colvox found himself staring out the viewport on the shuttle more often than he’d liked; he had hoped to conceal his feelings of not wanting to be there. Finally, the ship slowed to a creaking halt and the boarding hatch depressurized. Colvox stood up slowly and deactivated the safety switch on his weapon.
“Men, this is sector Aurek. Sweep the area in groups of two, and keep your scanner packs activated. The scanning trooper leads, and the other man covers. Does anyone have any questions?”
Benedict raised a gloved hand. “What should we do if we encounter a Rebel survivor?” he asked in an odd tone of voice.
Captain Colvox frowned; he had hoped to avoid such a question. "'Do what you think is best, Lieutenant,'" he murmured quietly, quoting the colonel. The platoon glanced at one another knowingly. “We'd better get moving if we're going to stay on schedule. Lieutenant, you can come with me-”
Colvox was interrupted by a flash of orange movement in the rocks ahead of him. "Down!" he shouted, diving for cover behind a protruding boulder. In one fluid motion, he unslung his blaster rifle and brought it to bear. The rest of his platoon scattered behind other rocks and debris. Crouching, Colvox positioned his rifle on the top of the boulder and activated the targeting scope. But it was too late; whatever had moved was long gone. His men were grumbling amongst themselves as they got up from the dusty ground. Benedict spoke up again.
"Sir, what’d you see?"
"I'm not sure," murmured Colvox, shaking his head. "It must have been a surviving Rebel; this moon doesn't host any indigenous life." He frowned. "Or maybe it's just my imagination. Either way, we'd all better keep alert. Lieutenant Benedict, come with me, and bring your scanner. The rest of you; pair up. We should meet up again at…" He checked his map. "…Sector Osk. The Rebels' interrogation center."
* * *
Captain Vronn Colvox, Trooper AX-531 of Imperial Spec-Ops unit Epsilon readjusted his belt straps and glanced around the room. His fellow soldiers were in various stages of last minute training for the forthcoming mission; some were perfecting their aim at the blaster rifle range, others were warming up on the drill machines, and still others were making last minute checks of their various specialized apparatii. With a final tug, Colvox secured his backpack and wiped a bead of sweat from his ashen forehead. It was his first actual mission; after years of hard work and training, Vronn had graduated from the academy on Carida with honors and was finally going to see some action. He had thought that now was what he had always dreamed about; a chance to fight and test his combat skills. But, as he stood five titanium-plated centimeters from the outside world, he was having second thoughts.
“AX-531!”
His thoughts interrupted, Vronn pivoted to face his commanding officer, a rough-faced, balding man of at least fifty years. Colonel Grizzer, known better by his serial number RN-919, was a veteran officer, albeit not a very good one, his subordinates believed. Grizzer was believed to have progressed through the ranks only because he out-aged most of his peers.
“Sir?” Colvox automatically snapped to attention at the bellow of his name.
“Relocate yourself to the Training Core and get prepared!” Grizzer’s face was infamous for reddening easily, and about then it appeared the approximate shape and color of an overripe tomato.
“Right away, sir,” Vronn muttered reluctantly. He shouldered his rifle and shuffled over to the congregation of stormtroopers at the Training Core. Unexpectedly, Colvox’s eye caught the image in a viewport and he approached it curiously.
A small, grayish-colored moon met his gaze -- N’Chob, it was once called. It was covered with misty canyons and desolate valleys, darkened craters and looming mountains. Where blue sky might have been on Earth was only the cold void of empty space. A dozen or so thick, black tendrils of greasy smoke emanated from what must once have been Rebel campsites; the aftermath of intense turbolaser bombardment from the Bane’s parent fleet a short while before.
Vronn turned away from the macabre scene, confused. He tapped the shoulder of one of his men, Lieutenant Benedict, hoping to receive clarification of the scene he had witnessed. This Benedict was friendly to everyone, yet trusted no one; an unlikely combination. A strange and unclear incident involving a meeting with the Rebels had hindered Benedict’s progression through the ranks.
“AX-727, take a look out there,” said Vronn, gesticulating towards the viewport. Benedict set down the automatic pistol he was cleaning and stared outside.
“Our gunners really nailed them, eh? There won’t be a womp rat left for us to mop up on this mission,” Benedict voiced casually.
“Exactly my point,” returned Vronn incredulously. “Why send down an entire battalion of Spec-Ops to clean up a space-to-surface assault that effective?”
Benedict shrugged. “I don’t question my orders, I just follow ‘em. But, just between you and me…” He glanced around, and finding no one within earshot, led Vronn to a vacant corner near the bulkhead. “I overheard some brass in the Mess Hall saying that Intelligence is real worried about this operation. There wasn’t any resistance from them Rebels when we flashed ‘em, just some droid fighters and a couple of KDY w-165s. Everything was automated, and they don’ know if the whole base was a decoy or if Rebels were stationed there at all.”
Vronn’s forehead creased as the ship vibrated slightly from the retracting landing gear. “And we get to go down there and figure out what the deal is.”
* * *
When the last storm trooper within the makeshift Briefing Room of the landing craft had silenced, Colonel Grizzer lowered his hand and engaged a switch on his lectern. A holographic image of the ruins of the Rebel camp flickered into view.
“As you can see, the campsites appear to have been obliterated. However, the Empire likes to be certain of everything. Squadron commanders, take your assigned platoons and search the ruins for Rebel survivors. If you find any prisoners," Grizzer paused, his voice turning grave and dark, "do what you think is best.
“Also, I just received word that Master Sergeant Malcoam has been detained due to 'suspicious behavior,' so Captain Colvox will be substituting for him. I’m hopeful that the captain will prove to be a suitable alternative.” Colvox raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; such changes occurred frequently due to the Empire’s paranoia.
The soldiers began to assemble into their respective groups. Colvox consulted his platoon roster with surprise. Except for Benedict, he didn’t know a single man in the squad. He found this realization startling, considering how many years he’d trained on Carida. He pushed the thought away and waited patiently next to the supply depot for the platoon to join him. Within moments, his unit had assembled, but their overall demeanor was surprising. They looked uneasy, and more than a few were whispering anxiously to one another. Vronn removed his personal datapad from a pocket and switched it on. Reaching for the buttons that would open the file containing his squadron’s orders for the day, Colvox was surprised to see that the file had already been accessed earlier that day. This was unusual, because all orders were transmitted to squadron leaders via computer; never by human hands. Of course, it was possible, however unlikely, that Sergeant Malcoam had viewed his orders prior to his detainment, Colvox reasoned. He thought back to what Benedict had said earlier. Things did seem slightly unusual today…
Abruptly he realized that he was delaying the group, so Colvox cleared his throat unsteadily and spoke to the awaiting soldiers.
“I’m Captain Colvox, replacing Sergeant Malcoam, and I’ll be your commanding officer for this assignment. You know the basics from Colonel Grizzer, but more specifically, we’re executing an S-and-D for sectors Aurek through Qek.” He glanced around at his unit, trying to get a feel for each of them. Colvox got the distinct impression that, being a substitute commander, he was the outsider of this platoon; that he was intruding. “Any questions?” he asked suddenly, brushing the intuition away.
No one had any, so they outfitted themselves from the supply depot nearby. Colvox, an excellent marksman in his mind, chose a smallish Blastech rifle with a scope and barrel suggestive of a sniper’s weapon. When his platoon had suited up, they boarded an uncomfortable, utilitarian Triet-class troop transport. Their flight to the drop site was uneventful. Colvox found himself staring out the viewport on the shuttle more often than he’d liked; he had hoped to conceal his feelings of not wanting to be there. Finally, the ship slowed to a creaking halt and the boarding hatch depressurized. Colvox stood up slowly and deactivated the safety switch on his weapon.
“Men, this is sector Aurek. Sweep the area in groups of two, and keep your scanner packs activated. The scanning trooper leads, and the other man covers. Does anyone have any questions?”
Benedict raised a gloved hand. “What should we do if we encounter a Rebel survivor?” he asked in an odd tone of voice.
Captain Colvox frowned; he had hoped to avoid such a question. "'Do what you think is best, Lieutenant,'" he murmured quietly, quoting the colonel. The platoon glanced at one another knowingly. “We'd better get moving if we're going to stay on schedule. Lieutenant, you can come with me-”
Colvox was interrupted by a flash of orange movement in the rocks ahead of him. "Down!" he shouted, diving for cover behind a protruding boulder. In one fluid motion, he unslung his blaster rifle and brought it to bear. The rest of his platoon scattered behind other rocks and debris. Crouching, Colvox positioned his rifle on the top of the boulder and activated the targeting scope. But it was too late; whatever had moved was long gone. His men were grumbling amongst themselves as they got up from the dusty ground. Benedict spoke up again.
"Sir, what’d you see?"
"I'm not sure," murmured Colvox, shaking his head. "It must have been a surviving Rebel; this moon doesn't host any indigenous life." He frowned. "Or maybe it's just my imagination. Either way, we'd all better keep alert. Lieutenant Benedict, come with me, and bring your scanner. The rest of you; pair up. We should meet up again at…" He checked his map. "…Sector Osk. The Rebels' interrogation center."
* * *