“Can you maintain position?” Janzor asked.
“Aye, sir.”
Janzor took a deep breath, and the resolution returned to his expression. He looked determined, maybe a little angry. “Sergeant, prepare your men.”
“Sir,” the sergeant bellowed. “You heard the captain! Load up.”
For some reason, the sergeants had it out for me on this mission.
“You, Dower. I have a job for you,” Strepp said with a big grin, as he pointed toward the skylift. Skylifts are special hoists used for especially long drops. I took my blaster and stepped onto the 10-meter grating of its floor.
“Permission to drop with the corporal, sir?” Strander called to Strepp.
“That will not be necessary, soldier,” Strepp called back. The readout in my goggles showed that he and I were about to have a private communication. “You’re on point, Dower.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, sounding nervous.
“Don’t worry, soldier. Our arrays show that there are no Wookiees in this area.” He paused to laugh. “No living Wookiees. There’s some smoldering Wookiee tissue a few meters above us.”
“Thank you, sir,” I responded.
Three troopers loaded crates on to the base of the skylift. The base shook as hoists lifted it off the ground then lowered it through an armored hatch in the bottom of the transport. I slowly dropped through the meter-thick floor. Even in the temperature-controlled environment of my armor, I could feel the heat of the engines as they fired just enough to keep the big ship in place. Then I saw the sensor arrays and cannons, all deployed to protect me. Actually, I was flattering myself. The cannons were meant to protect the supplies in the crates. I just went along for the ride.
Looking through the durasteel grating, I could see the forest below. The decision to send troopers instead of TIE fighters was wise. I looked up and saw the branch that had nearly capsized our transport. It looked like a twig compared to the thick-limbed outcroppings below me. The trees grew as thick as swamp grass. Their enormous branches butted up against each other and fused together, forming an intricate web that likely could have supported the weight of an AT-AT, not that there would have been room for such a large vehicle to walk.
Then the words “First Sergeant Tak Bazierre” flashed in my goggles. I stared at a tree, but I did not see anything. Using an optical command, I enhanced the view. Bazierre lay wrapped around a branch like a towel strung over a rack. At first I thought he might have survived. Then I realized that he was lying face up, his back snapped perfectly in the middle.
And still the skylift continued to lower me. I dropped at an even pace of one meter per second, meaning that I dropped for a full 200 seconds before reaching a stable floor. I pressed a button and conveyor belts slid the crates on to the wooden ground. “Cargo secured,” I said into my communicator.
“I will send the next load of supplies,” Strepp responded.
“More troopers?” I asked.
“More crates,” the sergeant said coldly. “We’ll cover you from the transport.
I wanted to jump on the skylift shelf as it rose. There was no possible way they could protect me from the transport; I was straight below them and too far away. Transport cannons might offer some protection at this distance on a flat open battlefield. In this forest, I would be surprised if its accurate blast radius were 30 meters wide. It would take nearly seven minutes before the skylift returned with more crates. Unless Wookiees moved as slowly as swamp slugs, a Wookiee force could easily rush in, shoot me with their bowcasters, cut me, cook me, and hang the leftovers out to dry by the time Janzor and his men made it down here.
I turned up the audio feeds into my helmet and listened to the rustling leaves and creaking branches. Using optical commands, I ran an infrared search of the trees around me, revealing scores of rodents and insects, but not much else. Even so, I could hear my own heart pounding inside my armor. So could Strepp. “You surviving down there, Dower?”
“All clear, sir,” I said.
“Good. Just one more load of supplies and I will send down reinforcements.”
A warning light flashed in the top corner of my goggles, and they automatically switched back to infrared heat detection. Through a sheath of leaves, I saw the outline of a large biped with long arms and a huge head, skulking under the cover of branches. It could not possibly see me without optical enhancement, but it seemed to know I was here.
“Sir…”
“We’ve got him on our array,” Strepp said. “Unload the skylift as if you don’t see him. We have the situation under control.”
The skin of my shoulders and neck tingled as I nervously moved toward the cargo and started the conveyor belts. As the crates slid forward, I looked around the grove. Through the infrared lenses, the leaves looked gray and the trees turned black. The red shape of the Wookiee cautiously brushed leaves out of its way and moved closer. I could just make out the shape in the Wookiee’s hand—he carried a bowcaster. Whether by sound or feral instinct, the creature located me and seemed to know I was alone. He crouched to peer through an opening in the branches. From where he now stood, he had a clear view of me. I started to reach for the butt of my blaster. Pretending to look in a different direction, I watched as the Wookiee lifted his bowcaster.
The last crates slid off the skylift and a warning light blinked, telling me to turn off the conveyor belts. Not taking my eye off the Wookiee, I reached for the cutoff switch. As I did, I saw the Wookiee’s finger slip around the trigger of his bowcaster. He made a cursory glance in the scope. I had placed myself in the worst possible position. The Wookiee could easily shoot me long before I could draw my blaster.
With the conveyor belts switched off, the skylift’s cables snapped and the shelf creaked as it lifted into the air. I tried not to look, but could not stop myself. His finger on the trigger, the Wookiee continued to aim at me through the leaves. Diving for cover would not help. Even a child could hit me from this range. The red alert ring flashed on in my helmet.
Suddenly the air rang with the sound of a laser bolt, and my readout reported the presence of ozone in the air. My infrared lenses flashed white and automatically switched to the unenhanced optical mode. When I looked back, I saw the Wookiee’s legs under a pile of smoldering leaves.
“Nice shot, sir,” I said.
“We’re lowering reinforcements now,” Strepp replied. “Hold your post.”
A few moments later, the skylift lowered with 10 troopers and three gravity-reversing repulsor carts. Three of the troopers loaded the crates onto the carts as the rest of us stood guard. It took nearly three hours to lower the cargo, three speeder bikes, and the rest of the platoon from the transport. The sun began to set as the skylift went up for the last time. We all stood silently and watched as the transport engines flared and our only link with the rest of the galaxy lifted out of sight.
Janzor turned and walked over to the dead Wookiee. He stood over the carcass admiring it like a man who has just dug an especially deep hole then looks back to inspect his work. He jostled the dead animal with his shoe. “Not as big as I had imagined,” he said as he turned and looked at his platoon. “You might want to switch your goggles to day-for-night view; we’re not staying here for the night.”
“I think Strepp has it out for me,” I said to Strander as we watched Janzor examine the Wookiee one last time.
“What was your first clue?” Strander asked.
Captain Janzor knelt beside the carcass this time and nudged it with his blaster. Then he shoved it with his foot toward a break in the floor. With a second push, the dead Wookiee fell into the hole and slid through.
“How far up do you think we are?” I asked Strander.
“Four or five hundred meters, at the very least,” he said. “I took an infrared scan through the branches while I was unloading cargo. I did not see anything; but whatever is down there, I would not want to see it up close.”
“Animals?” I asked.
“Some nearly as big as rancors,” Strander said. “I think I know why Wookiees live in trees.”
“Strander,” Strepp’s voice called out.
“Yes, sir,” Strander answered.
“You get to haul cargo,” Strepp said.
Before walking to the repulsor carts, Strander paused to give me one final ironic glance. I imagined a confused look crossing his rugged face beneath his helmet. Now he got to pull the lousy duty for a change.
“Dower,” Strepp continued.
“Sir?” I said.
“You’re on point.” I could hear a muffled chuckle coming through Strander’s helmet.
The speeder scouts went first, heading north and charting a path for us. In open spaces, those scouts would have shot off at 500 kilometers per hour. Up here, they had to travel at less than 100 kilometers per hour to avoid running into vines and branches. If I had not known we were at treetop level, I would have thought we were deep in the jungle. So much bark and leaves had rotted up here that the matted branch floor had its own thin level of composted soil. Beneath that soil, this second-floor forest offered uneven footing with hidden pitfalls. We had to watch our footing as we marched. An unlucky step could result in a broken ankle or a trapped foot.
And I had the pleasure of leading our band of soldiers, my blaster ready to fire at any moment. I tried to amuse myself by switching my goggles from day-for-night vision to infrared every few minutes. The good thing about infrared was that it would help me spot Wookiees long before they could see me. Unfortunately, the infrared vision caused the ground to look like a wavy mass of gray swirls, and I stumbled when I kept it on too long.
I also fiddled with my audio intakes, screening out the sound of my panting as I trudged forward. Transmissions between foot soldiers buzzed back and forth so quietly that I could barely hear them. Instead, I focused on sounds coming from trees around me. That first Wookiee moved so quietly and spotted me so quickly that I could not afford to wait for my sensors to alert me. The computers in my helmet, however, gave messages from superior officers precedence over my nervous scans. When Strepp contacted me, his voice blared through my helmet.
“You alert up there, Dower?” he asked.
“Sir, I could hear a knobby white spider from 40 meters,” I said.
“We’re not looking for knobby spiders,” Strepp said calmly.
Just as he said this, a piercing growl rose from beneath the tree branch floor. Whatever was down there this time was huge and hot. I switched on my infrared vision and saw its shape through the floor of the trees. Even the wake of a TIE interceptor would normally not register through wood this thick.
“Stay focused,” Janzor’s voice came into my helmet. “Nothing down there ever comes to this level.”
“How you doing up there?” Milo Strander’s voice hummed quietly in my hearing piece.
“Bet I’m asleep before anyone else tonight,” I said, thinking about how tired I felt.
“You’d lose that bet,” Strepp interrupted. “You’re pulling guard duty tonight.”
My spine went stiff and I stopped and looked back. “Is there a reason why I was sent first, set on point, then assigned guard duty?” I asked.
“Do you have a problem following orders, soldier?” Strepp asked.
“Gentlemen, let’s keep transmissions to a minimum,” Captain Janzor broke in. “And Sergeant Strepp, I’ve been monitoring you on this mission. Ease off on the boy.”
“Yes, sir,” Strepp answered.
“By the way, Dower, you are on guard duty tonight,” Janzor said. “Listen up,” the captain continued, now in open communication with the rest of the platoon. “There is a small Wookiee outpost five kilometers north by northwest of here. Capturing this outpost is our first objective. We must block its transmissions, then storm it before it can send out a signal. Assuming we can make a clean capture, this will become our base of operations. Do you have any questions? No? Then prepare for assault.”
The speeder scouts flew ahead, stationed themselves around the outpost, then switched on equipment for blocking transmissions just as we first caught sight of the outpost. It was a round building with arching beams and supports. A few antennas stuck out of its roof. Confused that their radio communications were cut off, a Wookiee peered out the window. When he saw our approach, he let out a screaming growl and ducked behind a wall.
“So much for the element of surprise,” Strander said as he came beside me. “Just the same, I don’t think he knew we were coming.”
“Okay, men, we need five soldiers to go in and flush them out,” Strepp announced. “Dower, Strander, you two circle around the outside of the building and shoot any Wookiees trying to escape to the north.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, relieved not to be one of the lucky five storming the building.
“No second chances on this one, guys,” Janzor chimed in. “If word of our invasion gets out, we’ll be fighting our way to a clearing and praying that the transport and air cover come in time to save any of us.”
Sergeants Strepp and Dalia led the charge on the outpost. I watched as they knelt down behind the cover of a stump. Troopers on the east and west sides of the building fired shots at the windows, and Strepp sprinted closer to the door as the red bolts dissolved into the walls in a shower of sparks. Agile and unafraid, he darted left and right, finding cover behind the smallest thickets. As he approached the chest-high fence surrounding the outpost, two Wookiees popped up from behind a window and fired bowcasters at him. Strepp dove to the ground and rolled behind a small branch.
Ten of our best marksmen sat waiting for the Wookiees to show themselves. When one of the Wookiees looked out to locate Strepp, three soldiers fired. It looked as if all of them hit their mark. “Remember, Strepp,” I heard Janzor say in an open transmission, “no collateral damage. No detonators, no wasted fire. I want this building in one piece.”
The second Wookiee peered through the window, then dropped for cover as our sharpshooters opened fire. Five bright red bolts flashed in the window, passing through the exact spot in which the Wookiee had stood. A moment later, Strepp leapt over the fence, rolled to the side of the building, and crawled under the window. He rolled onto his knees with his back pressed hard against the wall of the outpost, then slowly rose to his feet. From there he waited for Janzor to send him the “go ahead” signal.
Other soldiers followed. Sergeant Dalia waited in the back, bravely standing in almost open ground, shooting at any Wookiee that dared to approach the window. With snipers targeting them and an endless barrage of bolts from regular troops stationed around the perimeter, the Wookiees could not put up much of a fight.
Then the blaster fire stopped, and Strepp dove through into the outpost through the window. I saw the glow of his blaster but could not tell if he had fired at anything in particular. Then three Wookiees came running out the back of the building. “Incoming,” I yelled as Strander and I fired volleys of bolts, taking out all three of the battle-stunned Wookiees as they came through the door.
“Not bad, Dower,” Strepp’s voice said in my audio piece.
Up to this point in the mission, everything had gone better than planned. We landed unnoticed, disposed of any evidence of our landing, and captured our first objective nearly unopposed. Imperial forces operate in perfect order. The Empire operates in perfect order. That’s why I love it.
Emperor Palpatine had barely brought order to the battling shards of the collapsed Old Republic when age-old forces of chaos arose to challenge him. The last of the Jedi, a class of charlatan fighters feigning some sort of priesthood, traveled the galaxy trying to restore their fallen theology. Small planet systems demanding autonomous rule needed to be crushed and returned to order. I even heard rumors of disgraced politicians tying to create alliances within the Senate to fight against progress. Emperor Palpatine built a huge army to bring Pax Empirica to the galaxy. He would need an even bigger one to maintain it.
The Wookiees’ outpost was a s
turdy but outmoded building, almost childish in design. It was perfectly circular and built around the trunk of an enormous tree. Its rooms were arranged in four concentric rings around that trunk. Someone must have helped the Wookiees rig it with an impressive array of communications technology, because we found scads of communications components. We also found the unassembled parts of a shield generator. I saw nothing that suggested that these animals were even mildly unintelligent. Perhaps the Wookiees had planned to bring power cores to this outpost as well. They would have needed them for the shield generator.
Five men in our platoon were trained battlefield engineers. While the rest of us unloaded the repulsor carts, the engineers set up power cores in the second ring of rooms. With three power cores working, we would have enough energy for shields and perimeter cannons and a full array of sensors. If all went right, our little outpost would be the most powerful fortification on Kashyyyk by morning. You had to love Imperial efficiency.
And so, as our engineers scurried to assemble power cores and get our base up and running, Janzor discussed the next phase of our invasion with Strepp and Dalia in an inner chamber of the Wookiee outpost. In the meantime, the luckier soldiers, Strander included, set up barracks in the outermost ring. I, on the other hand, had guard duty. The closest I would come to barracks on this evening was a spit of trees approximately 60 meters west of the outpost. And there I camped as the sun came up and my vision automatically changed from day-for-night to daytime vision. I sat and I watched.
But the Wookiees did not come from the west. They came from overgrown trees to the east. This gave them additional cover, and somehow they caught the trooper guarding that area unaware. He did not radio for help, nor did he have time to fire his blaster. Someone would have heard the shot. The Wookiees would certainly have registered with our sensor display, but the power cores were not yet complete.
Star Wars - Pax Empirica - Wookiee Annihilation Page 2