Our Songs, Our Family

Chapter 4

Our Fears

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

Earlier

From their vantage in the apartment complex, Bilek could see the military compound in the distance. Red banners flew over its walls and the soldiers were neatly marching through the streets. He turned, looking to one of the masked Cerean soldiers in his employ. The man nodded at him, "Sir. The senator's family has been restrained, he won't give us any trouble."

Bilek nodded at the soldier, patting him on the shoulder and moving past him quickly. He fiddled with the dark green bandolier on his chest, adjusting it neatly over the black plasteel vest that he wore. It was lighter material than most, but it would do its job of protecting him from anything too damaging. The soldiers around him were all dressed similarly. Dark vests to protect from debris and blunt force blows, but enough that they would be able to move quickly. They all wore some form of civilian trousers, necessary to sneak into the capital city like this, and their faces were obscured by wrappings and gas masks. There were six men in this building, while another six were stationed in the building across the street. Two additional groups, four men each, were stationed at the other levels of the building. These teams were fully blended in, and would assist in the exfiltration of the whole group. Twenty men, some of the best Ajon had to offer him, though Bilek knew that they were all members of his own camp following. He grimaced under his mask at the cruel power play. Any men who died on this mission would hurt him more than it would hurt Ajon, and their Rattataki commander knew it.

Ajon's contacts with local law enforcement helped smuggle them into the capital, making sure that they would be able to get past most checkpoints with relative ease. Still, stealth was of the essence, which is why he chose this VIP's apartment. Cerean government officials valued their privacy, so they would not have to worry about any unwanted visitors. Anyone who did try to gain entrance would be shoed away by the owner.

The Twi'lek ran a hand over his exposed Lekku as he turned towards the old Cerean senator, sitting on rigidly on the couch. "Let me make this quite plain, my friend," he said, trying his best to sound genuine, though he knew that this man would hardly see it that way. "I don't want to hurt you or your family. Whether they get hurt is fully within your control. All you have to do is make sure that anyone who wants to come in to this room goes away." The sound of the marching soldiers growing closer attracted his attention. The six men started rushing around the apartment, preparing for their jobs.

"You do that, and we'll be out of here in no time. But I can promise you, nobody outside that door will be able to save you or your family if you fail this task, okay?" He gave the man a sad half smile and patted his cheek before standing. His eyes turned to the other side of the room where his wife and young daughter were tied up in a corner, gags over their mouths, looking fearfully at him. He hated to put innocents in this position, but it was for the good of Cerea.

He marched back into the other room, where his men were waiting. He'd scraped together all the light weapons he could for this mission, but the kicker was the large rocket launcher. A relic from the old Galactic Empire, it was reliable, accurate, and designed for anti-personnel fighting. It was perfect for this task.

One of the soldiers, a human with light brown skin, picked up the rocket launcher and aimed it out the window. Bilek fetched a pair of binoculars from his pocket and zoomed in on the building across where the rest of his men were stationed. He could see one of his soldiers, a blue Twi'lek, looking back at him. He raised his left hand and gave the okay signal.

Turning his unwavering gaze back towards the column of Stormtroopers he couldn't help but smirk. "Do it."

The human squeezed the trigger on the launcher and the missile flew out with a shrieking hiss, pumping smoke and sparks out the back of the launcher. The cloud of smoke soared down towards the column of soldiers who were just outside the podium, and exploded.

Lucky was moving, that much he was aware of. His ears were still ringing, and he could feel a hot liquid running down the side of his head. He looked at the sky again, wondering why it had turned red when things started to come back to him.

That was combat tint.

As soon as he made the connection the sounds burst into life. Screaming was the first thing he registered, before he heard another explosion go off, this time further away. He looked to his left to see a Stormtrooper dragging him, firing his blaster with one hand at one of the high rises in the city. His eyes widened as he realized that blaster bolts were also coming out of the high rise. The Stormtrooper's hand was hooked under his chest piece, dragging him by the collar.

He looked back at the Stormtrooper who momentarily looked back at him. It was 1307, he realized as he spied the blue unit designation on the HUD. "You alright!" He shouted as he placed Lucky behind a vehicle, leaning his back up against it. Lucky shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, when he saw another jet of smoke come out from the building, slamming into a group of six Stormtroopers. His eyes widened in terror as they were torn apart by the explosion.

"Lucky! Lucky focus on me!" He heard Sev shout as he poked his head around the vehicle and pumped a few more blaster bolts towards the apartment. "Where's your damn blaster!"

His weapon! He'd forgotten he had it. His mind suddenly registered that it was still in his hand. All those years of training to never let go of his blaster seemed to be paying off. He twisted his abdomen so he was peering out from around the vehicle they had taken cover behind. He raised it, aimed it, not sure what at, and started firing.

He felt the recoil punch through his forearm, jolting his shoulder back. The fear started to fade, the pressure turned to motivation. He was fighting back. His focus returned, and he saw the silhouette of a man in the window. He fired a few bolts towards him but none hit, scorching instead the side of the building, but he felt confident he'd given the bastard a good scare.

He registered a returning blast out of the corner of his eye before he actually heard it coming towards him. A steak of bright blue bearing down on him. He rolled over instinctively, and heard the sound that plasma makes when it burns through plasteel. He turned back around to see Sev on his back, arms spread out far from his sides.

He clambered over, desperately crawling towards the soldier who had saved his life. He pressed his hand down on the man's stomach, using the leverage to lift himself up, and his heart sank. The blaster bolt had burned straight through the center of his chest, completely eviscerating his heart. If he had survived the initial blast, he didn't for very long.

Another bolt crashed into the ground beside him and he turned, aiming back up at the Apartments, only to see that the locations where the incoming fire was had changed, coming instead from lower on the buildings. They were trying to evacuate. He stood and attempted to rush towards the nearest building but bolts raked the ground in front of him, sending chunks of pavement and steel into the air. He fell back down behind the vehicle, still dizzy from the first blast.

Just as soon as it began, it was over.

The blasters stopped firing, and the screams of the retreating civilians had been replaced by terrible cries of agony, as wounded soldiers crawled on the ground or limped to their feet, if they had any left. He could hear people shouting orders against soldiers shouting to see if their buddies made it out.

He tried standing, "Duce!" he called as he forced himself to his feet. He screamed again, a sharp pain cutting through his leg causing him to fall forward, hard. Rolling onto his shoulder, he found himself lying on his back again. Pressure on his chest made him aware of another soldier, and he opened his eyes to see it was Dive. He smiled sadly, happy that his friend was there.

Stormtroopers who had been in the far rear of the column, and thus not experienced any of the actual fighting, were starting to swarm the streets now, forming perimeters and providing cover as medical staff rushed to the scene.

"Here! Over here!" Dive shouted, waving his arm towards a group of corpsmen. The medics rushed over to him and removed his helmet, causing Lucky to blink rapidly at the sudden exposure to sunlight. That wasn't the worst part, though. Without the filtration systems of his head gear, Lucky was fully exposed to the smell of smoke and burned flesh. It coated the air like sludge, and he nearly choked on it. He felt hands lift him up and place him on a stretcher.

"You're gonna be fine, Lucky!" he heard dive say before he was shooed away by the medics. As he was pushed away from the combat zone he could see Stormtroopers rushing forward in the direction of the firing. He looked back up at the sky as the medics mercifully placed an oxygen mask over his face, and closed his eyes.

Ajon could not have been more pleased with himself. He'd pulled out all the stops, called in every favor big and small that he was owed in the capital, and put himself on the front page of half the galaxy. Word was spreading fast, especially in Cerea.

He stood in a dark room, surrounded by multiple screens and holo communicators. Each one held the image of some journalist shouting in a panicked voice while the blaster bolts rained around them. Holo vids were already being released as families who had been recording the event posted to various social media outlets, spreading the visions of the attack like wildfire. Not to mention the fact that almost every professional news station on the planet had been in the city. Almost immediately, approval ratings of the government were plummeting. People were accusing the president of bringing open war to the capital city, that the arriving army of the First Order was only antagonizing 'minority sentiments' among the population into open rebellion. The blame for the attack was almost completely shifted away from him, and onto a government senator who had been forced to accommodate Bilek and his team.

A blast door opened to the room he was in and he turned his head to see who it was. A cold smirk settled onto his lips as Bilek entered the room, his red skin being painted a faint blue by the immense glow of the holograms and screens. The Twi'lek commander seemed caught off guard by the predatory like smirk and the dark setting of the room, but he rallied quickly.

"I guess you know it was a success," Bilek said, leaning against one of the door frames. His armor was coated in dust and grime, but he seemed unharmed. Ajon almost thought it a pity. "Yes," he replied softly as he turned back to face the monitors. "No numbers yet, but it's over a hundred dead on their side."

Bilek nodded, satisfied with that. He wasn't surprised if the numbers kept increasing, they'd managed to catch them in extremely tight formations. Those anti-personnel missiles did some serious killing.

"We lost two in the escape, and one of our contacts still hasn't checked in, possibly compromised," he informed his commander. When Ajon didn't respond, Bilek chewed his cheek nervously. He looked a mad man in the dark room alone, watching multiple monitors and holo boards of the same scene of carnage. It was like he was worshiping it, like this was his temple. He turned to leave when his commander's emotionless voice spoke behind him.

"Good work today, Bilek."

Bilek looked over his shoulder, but instead of pride or gratitude all he felt was suspicion. "Thank you, sir."

Lucky had been awake for some time now, sitting up in the hospital bed. It was a windowless room with pale white lights shining off the drab white walls. It hurt his eyes just to look at them and he almost wished he had his helmet on for the glare reducing lenses it provided him.

Worse than that was the boredom, the not knowing anything, and the fact that there was a no visitors policy. He'd been stuck in the medical center for four days while his leg healed. He'd been concussed in the attack, and the way he landed had sprained his ankle pretty badly. Still, he expected to be discharged today, most of his injuries were healed. Now it was just protocol.

The automatic door hissed open as a Cerean man in a white coat entered; his doctor. "RE-1313, how are we today?" he asked kindly, but there was a hint of discomfort. The Cereans had been treated rather rudely since the attack. Many of the Stormtroopers blamed them for not having the security tighter around the event, and the doctor was forced to work in a rather hostile environment. Still, the old Cerean man carried on with his duty, just like the rest of them.

It would have been a fine alternative career to this, that's for sure. Lucky could see himself in a hospital at odd hours, doing his best to help the injured and sick. It was a noble calling, something they both shared.

Except while his doctor cared for the wounded, Lucky would be the one wounding people.

"Doin' fine, doc," Lucky replied. "Just waiting for my release."

The Cerean man's eyes stared at Lucky from under his brow for a moment before flicking back to the chart in his hands. "Well your injuries have all healed, and we've given you the recommended down time…" he drawled slowly as he tapped on the datapad. Lucky could hear the clicking of keys as his long fingers danced over the surface.

"Yep, you are good to be released," he said with a genuine smile. Lucky grinned at the doctor and tossed the sheet off him. "Easy, son. Your ankle is healed but it's been a while since you've walked. Take it slow," he advised.

Paying no heed to the Cerean doctor, Lucky swung his legs over the bed and felt them touch the cool ground. He stood up and felt the world go sideways. The doctor quickly caught him and helped him stabilize his balance. When the stars and black spots cleared from his vision he stood tall, rolling his stiff shoulders and neck. He gave the doctor a grateful not and he quickly left to fetch him his clothes.

Stripping out of his hospital gown and donning the bland off duty uniform he made his way through the unfamiliar medical wing of the compound. He could see other Stormtroopers moving around, men who were worse off than he. He saw one sitting in a wheel chair, his left leg gone. The man stared at him with hollow eyes as he passed. Behind the defeated stare he could see envy and anger. Angry at the fact that Lucky still had his legs; that he could walk and carry on the fight. He glanced at the room he sat outside and saw the words 'RE-1287, RE-1279, RE-1282 and RE-1261' on the listing.

He quickly moved on, not wanting to linger in the out of action troopers' gaze any longer. The poor man had lost his entire life with that leg. They'd probably attach a prosthetic and send him to garrison duty, or even non-combat all together. He hoped they'd get him a good enough one to send him back to the front, with bionics as good as they were today, but he doubted it. The First Order didn't take those kinds of chances.

Managing to get his location from the direction board at the corner of the hall, he managed to navigate his way out of the hospital and into the waiting room, where he was glad to find some of his friends waiting for him. Duce, Book, Dive, even Frosty, stood as he exited the sliding doors, announcing his presence with a sharp hiss.

"If it isn't the hero," Dive called out mockingly, a bright grin on his face. Duce rushed forward and the two shook hands. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Lucky."

Book nodded, a small smile on his face. He was happy, Lucky could tell, but Book would be Book; quiet as always. He turned to Frosty who shifted a little, before smiling ever so slightly. "It's good to see you recovered," he said simply.

"Take it down a notch, Frost, I might start crying," Dive chimed in, causing Frosty's ever small smile to subside into a scowl.

"Relax you two, the rest of the group is waiting in the barracks for you," Duce interrupted, turning back to Lucky with solemn eyes. "A lot of things have changed, man," he added as the five soldiers exited the hospital wing and entered the court yard.

Lucky was immediately taken aback at how much had changed. Hover craft zoomed across the yard, soldiers in tow, and the ramparts had been beefed up with mounted cannons and missile defense systems. Soldiers were being drilled in nearly every available space that wasn't occupied by hover-tanks or other land assault craft. He turned to the rest of the group with a curious look.

"Three hundred and sixty-two dead," Book said stoically. "Nearly every single 1200 was killed in the attack."

Lucky's mind darted back to the room full of 1200 soldiers. It made sense, thinking back. The first rocket had exploded in front of him, which meant that it would have hit the direct center of the 1200 company. Lucky's mood was further soured by the next number he gave.

"We only recovered two bodies from the ambush cite."

Two men for three hundred? Lucky could feel his blood boiling, and he knew the attitude was shared even by the normally reserved Book. Times were changing, that was an understatement. In one moment they had gone from peace keepers to fully mobilized soldiers.

Colonel Derson moved swiftly down the hall, the various soldiers and non-combat personnel quickly parting for the imposing figure. The commander of the entire RE-2nd Regiment had lost over three hundred soldiers on their first deployment, and he nearly radiated rage.

Someone had dropped the ball, and there had better be a good damn explanation. When he burst into the command center, all heads turned to see him. There were ten other people in the room besides him. Major Duforin, the commander of the RE Corps, looked a little worse for wear. He'd probably been chewed out by high command by now, which was fine by Derson. There was Ivoran, Commander of the 3rd Regiment. He gave him a soft nod of respect as he entered. 3rd Regiment had been the only other regiment to take any casualties, though they were light. Only twelve of the 362 men who had died were from the 3rd Regiment. The other regimental commanders were also present, each one in their formal uniforms.

The mood was sour, with many of the Regimental commanders furious at Duforin, which meant that their leader would be gunning to shift the blame to none other than Derson.

"How in the blazes did we miss this?"

Duforin scowled at Derson as the colonel's voice boomed over the deadly still room.

"Do not speak out of turn, Derson," Duforin snapped. Colonel Relonc, commander of the 7th Regiment interjected quickly. She leaned forward, placing her gloved hands on the table. "Sit down, Derson. We know your Regiment took the brunt of the damage in the attack, but-"

"The 'brunt?" he repeated, moving towards his chair at the table. He gripped the top of it tightly, gritting his teeth together. "Three hundred and fifty men from my regiment died in the blasted streets on their first day planetside!" He smashed his fist on the table. The dark haired woman opted to keep quiet, though she gave him a look that showed she did not appreciate his outburst.

"How did our Cerean 'allies' miss such a blatant move by the Resistance?"

All their heads turned to Duforin, who's normally pale skin had turned red. "Sit. Down." Despite his outrage, Derson complied. He was a Stormtrooper, after all, and he would listen, but he would not let Duforin off the hook. As he made a move to sit, Duforin continued.

"We're looking into it now, and I've received word that six members of local law enforcement have been arrested for possible connections of Ajon and the resistance movement. However…" He paused, drumming his fingers across the table top. "We have gotten some intelligence out of them. They only seemed to be aware of the movements of troops, not Ajon's location, but we did manage to get a name."

Duforin pressed a button on the table and a hologram sprung up out of the center, revealing a Twi'lek male.

"Bilek Toqema. An immigrant to Cerea six years ago. Used to run a horticulture store in one of the outsider cities, but was a well-respected member of the community. Cereans and other aliens to the planet counted him as a friend. No prior military service in the republic, but we imagine he is something of a rallying character for the locals," he said.

"It was Bilek who made contact with the traitors in the capital, and pressed them to allow his soldiers to move unmolested through the sewers, then to their vantage points where the ambush occurred," Duforin explained.

The ten Officers around the table watched the hologram as it rotated the Twi'lek's head, giving them all a clear image of his likeness. Not that it changed much to Derson; they all looked the same to him. He felt his knuckles grind as he clenched his fist upon seeing the face of the man who had killed so many of his soldiers. His impassive, holographic eyes brushed past him slowly, as if taunting him.

Duforin typed in a few more keys and the face was gone, slipping away from Derson once again. In its place was a large grid map. A spot on the map started to glow red, and a tag appeared that denoted it as the capital. "The capital city is now under lockdown. Our forces will stage joint operations with local law enforcement to ensure the population remains calm and accepting of our rule." Duforin levelled a steely gaze at the officers under his command.

"This is now a formal military occupation, granted by the leader of Cerea," he added softly.

Derson's eyes travelled back to the map as circles began appearing in the woods and fields around the capital city, each circle containing a marking of one of the regiments of the RE-Corps. "In the meantime, we will begin securing the land around the capital citadel, rooting out any nearby insurgent outposts."

"Will we be receiving any reinforcements?" The commander of the 5th, Baltisan, asked, his green eyes never wavering from the sector he seemed to be soon patrolling.

An uneasy silence overtook Duforin. He chewed his lip, agitation written on his face. The wrinkles on his skin became more pronounced as he straightened up slightly. "Command will be shipping in reinforcements to fill the ranks of 2nd Regiment back to full combat efficiency. Other than that… no."

It was the commander from the 9th Regiment's turn to speak up, a black skinned woman named Filian. "And just how are we supposed to pacify a planet with 10,000 soldiers?" she asked, taken aback by such a notion. The room nodded silently in agreement, and Derson could see Duforin starting to lose his patience.

"Because the First Order has commanded us to!" he snapped harshly. Colonel Filian leaned back in her seat, her dark eyes glowering but obedient.

"Derson! You and your men are going to remain in the capital and root out traitors and dissidents. With less than 700 soldiers at your command we cannot afford to have you out in the field," Duforin said, quickly attempting to divert attention away from his own misfortune.

"Sir?" Derson hissed. He began to protest but another voice spoke next, the commander of the 4th Regiment. "Derson, I'm sure you men will be more than willing to seize and eliminate the men responsible for this attack. The best place to do so is in the city."

Derson stared at his fellow officer, a balding pale skinned individual named Surmin. Derson could tell he was trying to help him, Duforin would only tolerate so much disobedience before taking action, but he could not help but feel patronized.

Still, Derson leaned back, sitting silently and staring at the glowing red ball that was the capital as Duforin read off orders and commands to the rest of the officers in attendance. He'd make sure everyone knew the iron fist of the First Order. They could strike at him all they wanted, but he would always strike back harder.

He swore it on all the men who had died.

AN: Short Chapter I know, but I feel like its an appropriate spot to stop. Next one will be longer, I swear!

Edit - Made minor changes in this chapter, dealing with all these numbers is a lot more confusing than you'd expect!