Wrong Side of the Right Coin

Cona

Aurelias Kazaar sent his Aggressor assault fighter into a deep dive as the X-wing splattered death towards him. He checked his shield indicator, seeing it was still at 75% and fired his own twin cannons at the nearest four-winged fighter. He smirked beneath his helmet as he saw its shields light up green, then flames start billowing out of an engine. The Resistance fighter was crippled and tried to pull away from the fight. Kazaar kept on the pace, spraying more blasts at the X-wing until it exploded and sent debris into the desert below.

“Two more coming at you!” A voice crackled in his radio headset. He spotted them on his sensors and sent his own fighter into a spin. Cannon fire from the X-wing missed, but then his indicator screamed a warning about an incoming proton torpedo. Krasst, this pilot was frackin' good.

Kazaar pulled his fighter left, and hoped he'd be able to outrun the torpedo or at least figure out a way to get it to slam into something else. His black eyes caught the blue-grey X-wing coming towards him with an even faster A-wing at its starboard. Kazaar popped off a couple more cannon bolts before there was loud explosion and his shields failed. His computer told him the Aggressor was seriously damaged but still serviceable as long as its shields were able to get to 100%.

“Where th'frack are ya, Giggles!” Kazaar knew he could eject out of his fighter, but he'd hate to have to tell Mrak why the frack he'd let one of his prized Aggressors go to waste. It was bad enough the engineer was busy trying to fix up Kazaar's normal fighter, Bren, but Kazaar would never hear the end of it if he lost another fighter. Not that Rakky didn't have another 100 he could choose from, but still...

The A-wing suddenly shot quickly towards the ground as two red concussion missiles targeted in on it. The missiles were followed by another Aggressor, this one painted an almost blue-black with long orange triangles on the hull and steering vanes.

“Just had to make sure you were ready for my help, old man.” Giggles' voice almost betrayed the nickname. Full of laughter and amusement. Giggles' Aggressor peppered the A-wing as if it were an annoying insect, causing it to completely disintegrate in a ball of flame.

The second X-wing headed for space, trying to get as much distance between itself and Kazaar and Giggles' ships. “Go after it?” Giggles' voice was hopeful.

Kazaar would have loved to chase it down, but knew it wasn't an option. His ship was too damaged, and something told him it wasn't a good idea. “Let th'bastard run. Prob'ly hopin' t'lead us t'his pals anna trap. Rather make 'im come t'us.”

“Yes sir.” Kazaar could tell Giggles wasn't happy, but knew he wasn't going to get an argument. The two fighters headed back towards the massive mining complex they were using as a base. It featured 12 buildings, each built as if the architect knew exactly what function it was going to serve. None of the structures looked the same (a massive difference from the other mining facilities Kazaar had visited), but he'd never heard the owner complain at all. In fact, Stass Tag seemed almost thrilled his facility was unique. It had cost a fortune to build, but brought even more fortune out of the metals it churned out of the ground.

The two Aggressors went into a rectangle-like structure with high ceilings and a wide interior, which served as their hanger. As the fighters settled to the ground, Kazaar cast a wistful eye towards the Pursuer-class enforcement ship which was on having one of its stabilizers replaced. Last time I try t'take on o'frackin' frigate without heavy rockets. Mrak promised it'd be ready by the next time the Resistance attacked, and Kazaar was hoping he was telling the truth. The Aggressors were sturdy ships, but Kazaar missed Bren. That ship knew how to operate.

He strode out of the cockpit, yanking off his helmet, and sticking a cigar in his mouth. He paused only a moment to light it with two matches, as Giggles caught up to him. The other pilot pulled off the T-visored helmet, showing her short, flaxen hair, tanned skin, and green eyes. Her armor was the same color as her ship: bluish-black with orange triangles on the helmet, shoulder pads, chest, and thighs. She blew one strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled.

“Good fight. Glad you didn't die. I'd hate to have to tell the rest of the company how I failed to keep you alive, old man.”

Kazaar smirked through a cloud of smoke. “Ya know Kranog ain't gonna be happy if he catches ya calling me that.”

“And Anni isn't going to be happy if she sees you smoking cigars,” Giggles, otherwise known as Ophelia Ash'kalar, shot back playfully. “She'd hate it if our 'dear leader' died from cancer, instead of on the battlefield.”

Kazaar was about to reply, but a tall, powerful man decked out in Mandalorian armor hustled up to the two. “Tag wishes to speak with you, Mand'alor.”

Stass Tag was a thin man, with clear eyes and a strong voice. His mustache was neatly trimmed, while his face betrayed no signs of aging. If it weren't for his wispy, white hair and cane he used, Kazaar would have sworn he was 40, not 80. To a certain extent, Tag reminded Kazaar of Jason Russard the Elder (a man who Kazaar was impressed by and vice versa). It wasn't surprising because Tag got his start with Russard Industries before founding the mineral excavation company Golden Galaxy Excavation. Tag was a shrewd man, who always looked for ways to innovate but never let his company get too big or get its fingers into too many pies. GGE was all about minerals and metals, and hardly strayed from its mission. It was risky, to a degree, but Tag was no one's fool. He kept his eyes on new ways to develop product, and never let his holdings get too large. What made Tag even more unique was his insistence to not accept any sort of financing deal from governments. When some Republic senators wanted the government to start issuing loans to businesses after The First Order's rise, Tag refused to accept. He wasn't interested in "owing" anyone, especially bureaucrats he didn't trust. He took care of his employees and the land he was drilling into, but ignored handouts. He was a different sort of businessman.

Which was one reason why he called Kazaar's Mandalorians with a rather outrageous tale Kazaar had to check out for himself. Tag wasn't sure why the Resistance (or a group claiming to be Resistance) first demanded his resources on Cona, saying they needed it "for the war." Tag offered to sell the resources for, what he thought was, a reasonable sum of credits only to be rebuffed. "How can we pay you," A human named Ware sneered, "If the Republic refuses to help us ." It was why the Resistance wanted the metals to be "donated" to them. The argument became heated, and Ware promised to "be back." Two days later one of Tag's smaller facilities on Cona burned to the ground when an explosion happened inside a storage shed. Officially, Tag called it an accident. Unofficially, he saw the scorches left by cannon fire and the burned bodies of workers with holes in their bodies. It was then he contacted Kazaar and his Company of the Free through a client Kazaar had helped long ago. Tag wanted a mercenary force to protect his assets and was impressed when Mand'alor himself showed up.

The old man set down a datapad and motioned Kazaar to take a seat in a comfortable chair in front of his desk. The Mandalorian grabbed a metal ashtray off a side table and tapped his cigar twice. Grey-white ash quietly dropped into the container, while Kazaar took a sip from the glass of bourbon on the desk Tag had left him.

“Mand'alor.” The industrialist greeted Kazaar, before sipping from his own glass. Tag wore a deep red neckcloth around his thin neck, while his torso was covered in a black pullover shirt which opened at the neck. He looked relaxed, although his eyes betrayed the concern for his company and employees.

“Definitely usin' Resistance ships, but ain't gotta th'chance t'scope out any bodies. Sent Giggles anna few others t'search through the wreckage. If we're lucky it'll give us o'lead inta what th'frack's going on.”

“Do you have a professional opinion?”

Kazaar smirked. “Ain't o'buncha crop dusters that's f'damn sure. Those kaffers weren't frackin' around.” He puffed a large cloud of smoke into the air. “Could be o'buncha yahoos who went on their own afta th'Republic decided not t'blow th'shit outta First Order. Could be ya gotta pocket o'Resistance which ain't happy when o'guy decides t'not give in t'what they want.”

Tag dismissively waved a hand. “I don't care about politics, Mand'alor. These are thieves, not freedom fighters.”

“Ain't disagreein' with ya. Jus' pointing out th'possibilities it ain't Resistance at all. Ya hear o'em going after any other set ups?” He had his own intel, but Kazaar couldn't help but ask. He was always interested in hearing firsthand what people were seeing and hearing.

“Only what I've seen on the Holonet. Xantion Corp.'s mine was attacked three weeks ago, but no one was killed or hurt. I gave a call to Fas Mez at Xantion to see if I could help, but I haven't heard back.” Tag shook his head. “I never got along with Xantion because of how they run their business. Too much politicking and hoping to keep the status quo. No desire to innovate, create new things.” Kazaar saw Tag's eyes start burning with anger and disgust at the thought of businesses going stale. There was definitely something different about Tag he liked.

He was about to answer when his comm went off. “Mand'alor, it's Shenn. Giggles found something.”

The sun beat down on Ophelia "Giggles" Ash'kalar as she sifted through the remains of the Resistance A-wing she'd taken down. She was fortunate the fighter was still smoldering so it hadn't taken her too long to spot its husk on the sand. It had gone down left wing first into the sand, ripping it off along with one of its engines. Given the A-wing's reputation, she was shocked it hadn't completely burned up.

Four other Mandalorian commandos went with her on the recovery mission: Harm, Inka, Birger, and Nimrod. They were all fully armored, for protection from Cona's ammonia-filled atmosphere and in case the Resistance decided to return for their parts. Harm and Birger had once been ambushed during a similar patrol, and Mand'alor wasn't one to sacrifice verd for what could end up being nothing. So it was full squads for every ground patrol. Today's air battle had been different only because the Resistance had sent four fighters in. Both she and Kazaar figured it was a scout mission to see how many Mandalorians were actually on planet. It was why Kazaar kept patrols large enough to be effective, but small enough to be make the Resistance wonder just how many were around. The Resistance did the same thing. It was a game of chess between two sides who'd show their Sabacc cards eventually. It just wouldn't be now.

Giggles didn't necessarily understand any of it. For her, it made more sense to find the nearest Resistance base and obliterate it. She brought her concerns up to "Old Man Kazaar," but he only shook his head. "Ain't like that anymore, Giggles. Much as I wanna kick th'shit outta these fracking dikuts and run 'em off, som'thing else's going on. These frackers ain't o'buncha pirates kickin' down doors f'creds. Stinks worse than o'tauntaun's inside. Too organized. Gotta wait for th'right time t'kill 'em all. Take their bosses with 'em. Or as many as we can."

Giggles mentally shrugged her shoulders as she kicked sand off the A-wing. Its pilot hadn't been able to eject and was a mostly burned husk in the cockpit. She pulled the body out, and stared inside.

There wasn't much left. The A-wing's small size meant it was almost all engine and weapons. She could see its primary flight display was toast, while the joystick broke off in the crash. Giggles had a feeling that was why the pilot (an alien of unknown origins, but possibly Aqualish) didn't have a head. For all her training as a Mandalorian commando without fear, Ash'kalar still had to knock down a shudder at the sight. She started pulling hard at the casing around the cockpit, as she tried to get into the guts of the ship.

The controls were mostly smashed to bits or burned by the crash and subsequent fire. She found the housing to the hyperdrive control and the sensor jammer, but no nav computer. Giggles sat in the cockpit, thinking.

"Any luck, Giggles?" Her helmet radio chirped.

"Negative Inka. You?"

"I found what was left of the R8 droid, but it's all shot to the seven hells. Whoever took the X-wing down hit it at just the Force-damned right spot. A blinking great shot, but not when ya need to blinking salvage something to figure out where in the blue hell these bishwags are."

Giggles was sure Inka was the only person who swore more than Mand'alor. Sometimes. "A-wings don't use R-series droids right?"

"Nope. Those birds are all engine and weapons. That's why you're kriffed and toasted when the A-wing crashes. They're death wings for a bloody reason. Never catch me flying one of those things."

Ash'kalar scratched the side of her helmet at an imaginary itch. No R-droid...no...obvious nav computer. Where in the hell do they store information? She stared out the broken cockpit window at a flap on the fuselage. The Mandalorian thought it was a stabilizer, then realized it was too close to the front of the fighter to be one.

Giggles pushed herself out of the cockpit and stepped towards the flap. Her eyes widened as she spotted what was inside and was on the horn to headquarters almost immediately.

******************************************

It took Kazaar about 20 minutes to get out there. Giggles was so excited by her find, she ended up laughing when she spotted his Pursuer-class ship awkwardly land on the sand. "You just had to bring Bren out, old man, instead of taking another ship."

Mand'alor was smirking beneath his dark grey helmet. "Ain't gonna let o'fracked up stabilizer keep 'er down. 'Sides..." he thumbed towards the Mandalorian in all yellow armor with a tool harness over his backt. "Brought Rakky too. Ain't like he's gonna let 'er go down in flames."

Mrak, the group's lead mechanic, was a short Mandalorian with a pugnacious demeanor to go along with it. "Not that he'd listen to me anyway. I almost begged him to take another Aggressor, but no...gotta take Bren out." He shook his head. "What do you have, that you needed me here, Giggles?"

The younger Mandalorian pointed at the open flap. "That's the A-wing's nav computer isn't it?"

Mrak pushed Giggles aside and studied the interior. "Sure is." He pulled out a cutter and started cutting a circle around the hatch. He motioned for help, and both Kazaar and the towering Nimrod strode forward. The nav computer was heavy enough to require two people to pull it out, but only one had to carry it.

Mand'alor smirked. "Let's get this back t'base an' see where th'frack the Resistance is."

"Something isn't right here." Mrak had the A-wing's nav computer hooked up to a much larger computer so Mand'alor could see the files on it. The bigger computer was mostly used for pulling files off nav computers in the event of some sort of space crash. It wasn't as fancy as the black box system most governments had, but it got the job done without the need for bells and whistles of the newer systems. He pressed a few buttons on his datapad and highlighted three rows of numbers and letters.

"Look like coordinates." Kazaar uttered through the cigar clenched in between his teeth. His face had gotten more wrinkled and scarred in the last couple decades, but his black eyes were as piercing as always. Mand'alor's bushy, dark hair had streaks of grey in it and was pushed back so it wouldn't get in Kazaar's eyes.

"They are coordinates, but that's not what doesn't make sense." Mrak squinted and highlighted more numbers. "These are dates, as in when the nav computer was last used...See here?" He pointed at several numbers. "That's the year. What looks wrong?"

Giggles spoke up first, her voice excitable. "The first three are from this year. But the last one is from ten years ago!"

Kazaar's eyes narrowed. "Ya mean t'tell me, this frackin' nav computer ain't been used at all inna frackin' decade?!?"

"That's what it looks like Mand'alor."

"What th'hell was it doin' sitting inna Force-damned warehouse...?" Kazaar huffed cigar smoke out and took the thick cigar out of his mouth.

"Possibly, but I'm not sure it was just the computer itself which didn't move." Mrak had a bit of a Coruscanti accent in his voice which he'd never been able to get rid of, despite having never actually lived on Coruscant. He thanked/cursed his parents for that. "I think it's more likely the fighter itself wasn't sued for quite some time.

"Look at this..." He pointed at more numbers. "That should be a planetary navigational code." The engineer entered the code in a planetary atlas program. "Look at that..."

"Sluis Van." Kazaar smirked. "New Republic decommissioned o'lotta frackin' ships then. How Bretak snagged De'Ville's Legacy and Malleus' Strike...bought th'damn things at auction."

"I remember that!" Giggles cut in. "I was just a kid, but everyone was happy to get three dreadnoughts!"

Kazaar cast a sideways look and Giggles went silent. Kids... "Gotta ID on th'A-wing?"

Mrak nodded. "Right here."

"Gimme o'copy. Gotta call t'make. Nice work Rakky." Kazaar headed out the hangar, deeper into the complex. it didn't take long for him to make it to his quarters. It was a rather spartan place with a bed in its own room, a place for his (limited) clothes, and a secure communications console. Kazaar didn't think Tag would try to tap into his comm, but he still had Rakky take the thing apart and put it back together. Nothing was found, but Kazaar would rather be more careful than not. He pressed a few buttons and made the call.

"Mand'alor." The person on the other side of the holocom was built like a statue. The creases on her face looked like a sculptor had added them as flavor to show wisdom, instead of age. The woman had brown-grey hair put up in a bun, a thin nose, and green eyes. Those eyes were currently focused on the cigar in Kazaar's mouth. "Aurelias Kazaar, are you SMOKING again?!?"

Kazaar rolled his eyes. "Yeh. And? Ya ain't m'fracking doctor."

"That doesn't mean I can't keep my eyes on your health. Did Ophelia tell you, I specifically asked her to make sure you didn't smoke?"

Another eye roll. "Don' gimme that crap, Anni. Ya ain't told 'er t'keep an eye on m'smoking in five years."

Anni, otherwise known as Annika Ash'kalar, growled. She and Kazaar has fought like a couple over his smoking for years, even though they'd never been involved with each other. It was something which just 'happened' when he'd become Mand'alor. Anni had swore she wouldn't see another leader go down to some disease, instead of on the battlefield. Kazaar knew his chance of getting cancer was slim to none, but he let her bitch anyway. It let her blow off steam, and was playful anyway.

"Fine...you win. This time." Anni's lips curdled in anger. "What do you want, Mand'alor. Sir."

Kazaar smirked. "Need ya t'run an ID onna ship. Sendin' ya the info now."

Anni lowered her eyes at the ID, like a child inspecting some sort of green food they'd never seen before. She suddenly looked startled. "This is a New Republic ID..."

"Yeh. Got it offa A-wing ya daughter shot th'frack down. Saved my ass."

"Why do you--"

"Ain't buyin' the notion it's th'Resistance causin' problems 'ere. Those frackers might be o'lotta things, but takin' out civvies seems o'bit much. 'Sides, Rakky said there was sum'thing buggy 'bout their nav computers. Wanna see how long this A-wing been out'n about in th'galaxy."

"It's going to take some time--"

"Why ya're m'Intel chief Anni. Ya find shit lotta others wouldn't. Since Spenny ain't 'round, I need ya."

Annika sniffed. "I'll get this back to you ASAP."

"Good. Mand'alor out." Kazaar tapped his cigar into an ashtray and exhaled. For five years Anni'd made his life hell over the cigars. He figured she didn't want Giggles to get any ideas about smoking. But the younger Ash'kalar never had cared about cigars. She was just impressed about going out and kicking ass.

His thoughts were interrupted when an explosion shook the complex. Kazaar's com went off a second later. "Mand'alor. We're under attack! It's the Resistance!"

Giggles was doing maintenance on her fighter when she felt the *whumph* of the explosion. She poked her head up when the alarm went off, alerting the entire complex of the bombardment.

“Giggles, where th’frack are ya?!?” It was the Old Man on her comlink.

“In the hanger,” she wiped her nose with the side of her reinforced glove, feeling the small pull from the silver ring in her left nostril. Giggles had a flat, circular stud just behind it on her nose. She quickly pulled on her helmet and started to climb into her fighter.

“Shenn just arrived,” Giggles slid into the cockpit and made sure her A280 blaster rifle was in its holster by her bucket seat. She didn’t expect to have to use it - but better overprepared than under. “Same with Thora and Nimrod.”

“Get th’frack in th’air. Sensors took a shot but looks like sons of bitches gotta few X-wings an’ somethin’ heavier.” Giggles heard another explosion in her speakers as she powered up her fighter. “Shit. Frackers took out th’damn corridor to th’hanger...Tag an’ his frackin’...hafta cut ‘cross the outside. Join ya soon.

“Shenn’s squad leader.”

Giggles stifled her groan, and was silently thankful her helmet covered the frustration on her face as Kazaar logged off. She wanted to be squadron leader - especially in a combat situation! It wasn’t like she hadn’t run scouting mission as the flight leader, and she was one of the best fighter pilots the Company of the Free had. Sure she’d spent a couple days in a bacta tank after her last fighter had been slagged by some hotshot First Order TIE Interceptor pilot - who had been harassing a group of refugees fleeing Bothuwai - but she’d taken the jackoff down too.

“Launching in two,” Shenn’s sharp voice shook Giggles from her annoyance. He always sounded on the verge of shouting, even at close quarters. “Two by two. Thora, with me. Most kills gets a free round! Oya!”

Giggles stifled a laugh as Thora suggested it be three rounds, not just one, then gave her own “Oya!” in response. She activated the Aggressor’s engine and was silently thankful her helmet’s T-visor automatically adjusted to make sure Cona’s blazing sun didn’t blind her as her fighter shot into the ammonia-filled sky.

It looked like the Resistance was doing more than a test the opposition’s strength. Six X-wings and two B-wings were buzzing around the mining complex. Shenn had already engaged one black and red X-wing with Thora going after a blue and white one.

“Nimrod,” Giggles might not be squad leader, but she’d be damned if she didn’t direct traffic in this dogfight. “We’re taking the crosses.”

“Mm,” was the only answer from she got. The left side of Giggles’ face scrunched up as she sprayed the nearest B-wing with laser cannon fire. It rose quicker than its design indicated and Giggles had to put her Aggressor into a tight turn, then altitude increase to catch up. She braked, fired more laser cannons, and decreased speed even more to stick with the B-wing’s turn. It wasn’t successful and she picked another target - this one a yellow and red X-wing.

“Mand’alor.” Nimrod’s deep voice was unmistakable. “Boarding party in inner yard. DX-9 transport.”

“I see ‘em.” Kazaar’s answer was low. “Inka...Birger. Ge’tal solus.” The Mandalorians had named Tag’s office ‘Red One’ on account of the large holo of Wild Space’s famed Red Nebula. “Don’t let any o’those frackers in.” Mand’alor switched off.

A warning went off in Giggles’ ears. Krasst! She spun her Aggressor into a barrel roll to avoid the X-wing’s fire. The skies over Tag’s GGE mining complex were starting to get crowded.

“Yeah! Scratch one pointer!” It was Thora. “You owe me, Shenn!”

“I’ve already taken down two.” Shenn shot back.

“One B-wing down.” Nimrod’s voice.

Giggles inwardly grimaced. She’d damaged a couple, but this air battle was nothing like the earlier one with the Old Man.

The young Mandalorian set a determined expression on her emerald eyes and spied the nearest X-wing. The red and white snubfighter wasn’t too far away, and Giggles switched to concussion missiles. It took ten seconds to get a lock and her thumb launched the missiles without delay. The red projectiles shot towards the X-wing and it vanished in a ball of flame and smoke.

She switched to another Resistance fighter - another X-wing painted a horrid black and white check pattern. Giggles almost felt it a mercy as her lasers punched through the shields and started knocking holes in the armor on the left S-foils. The X-wing chucked right, but Giggles had it in her sights. The X-wing lurched in an almost 90-degree angle and disintegrated - leaving what was left to shower the sand below.

“OPHELIA!” It was quite unusual for someone to use her given name. Giggles had been called Giggles ever since Mand’alor first met her - just five years ago. It quickly caught on with the rest of the Company of the Free with the only exceptions being her mother - for obvious reasons - and the man currently barking in her speakers, Nimrod.

“ELEVEN O’CLOCK!”

She barely spotted the dart-like object shooting towards her, before her computer *squawked* it’s incoming missile warning.

Giggles dove - her eyes catching a glimpse of the A-wing, the almost trill *zing* of its engine filling her speakers - while the missiles followed her fighter’s path down. She deployed what countermeasures the Aggressor had, and pushed hard on the accelerator.

The missiles briefly shifted towards the chaff -confused which target to pursue. One missile blew up. The second readjusted itself and locked back on to Giggles’ fighter.

Shit! She inwardly swore - then deployed more chaff. It had no effect, the missile was getting closer.

Giggles pulled back on her center stick, and was sure she could hear the Aggressor’s inertial dampeners scream in protest. The missile tried to adjust but its arc wasn’t as tight as the fighter it was pursuing.

The Mandalorian pilot quickly reduced throttle and pushed the stick down. The missile was briefly in her sights and she let loose with lasers.

“Ha-HA!” Giggles couldn’t keep the war-whoop from leaking out of her throat. “Take THAT you blinking be’senaar! This flygirl ain’t no sitting myno-“

Giggles had been so focused on avoiding the missile she didn’t even see the B-wing which was running almost perpendicular to her route. The bomber fighter had been trying to line up a shot on one of the other Mandalorian snubfighters and didn’t even see Giggles.

They collided with a *THUNK*.

The impact sheared off the back right aileron and part of the s-foil of Giggles’ Aggressor. The Resistance craft lost the bottom s-foil and laser cannon.

The back of Giggles’ fighter caught fire and she lost all control.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!

She was going down.

Kazaar was barrelling down the stairs of the security center/comm station three steps at a time.

“There isn’t much, Mand’alor,” he was briefed over the con by a Mandalorian affectionately called by her peers as ‘One Hand.’ The name was a bit of a joke as One Hand indeed had both hands, but was so right-hand dominant she tended to forget her left existed. “Sensors were blown almost immediately. Gunnarson isn’t responding. He was patrolling near the station.”

Frack.

“Th’frack we dealin’ with?” Kazaar almost rammed his armored shoulder into the automatic sliding doors in hopes of getting to open quickly. He slammed on his helmet and did an almost hip check to a Golden Galaxy Excavation security officer who was too slow to get out of his way. Kazaar ignored whatever expletive the seccer cried as he hit the ground. There was more pertinent shit going on to care about some passive fracker.

“Not sure,” he had a feeling One Hand scrolling through data as quickly as possible. “Things were normal two minutes ago...looks like…X-wings. Something else too.”

Kazaar cut the connection and called Giggles. “Giggles, where th’frack are ya?!?”

“In the hanger,” there was excitement in her voice and Kazaar could hear her climbing into her fighter. “Shenn just arrived. Same with Thora and Nimrod.”

“Get th’frack in th’air.” He had to slow up a bit as he reached the end of the stairwell. Tag had built the security/coms tower about 450 yards from the hangar where the Mandalorians had stashed most of their fighters. It was a seven story structure covered in solar panels for energy, with a large communications dome on top. Kazaar had made sure a second, smaller dome was put on top. It featured the scrambled frequency he used to contact the rest of the Mandalorians on planet.

Kazaar could be a paranoid bastard, but it wasn’t paranoia if there was an actual rancor looking to rip his face off. Or a buncha Resistance shitkickers - or whoever these frackers really were - wanting to stir up trouble.

“Sensors took a shot but looks like sons of bitches gotta few X-wings an’ somethin’ heavier.” He was about ready to get to the corridor which led to the hanger when the hallway shook again.

“Shit.” He stared at the crumbled in passageway. Kazaar cursed Tag’s penchant for long walkways connecting almost all the buildings with each other. He got it. Tag wanted to protect workers from the ammonia-filled atmosphere. But it was pretty aggravating when the best route to his fighter was full of rubble and impassable.

“Frackers took out th’damn corridor to th’hanger.” Kazaar pulled hard on the emergency release to a side door which led to the outside and swore at Tag again. “Hafta cut ‘cross the outside. Join ya soon.”

The dusty skies above GGE’s mining facility were full of danger. Kazaar did a mental count of the Resistance snubfighters, then spotted the DX-9 transport settling down about 400 yards from his position. He acknowledged Nimrod’s communique about the boarding party, then ordered Inka and Birger to guard Tag. Last fracking thing he wanted was to lose his employer to some kidnapper or, worse, an assassin’s blaster bolt.

His black eyes spotted dark smoke pouring from the sensor building. It had taken a direct hit from probably a proton torpedo. Its west wall - painted a rusty red - was crumpled inward. No wonder the damn sensors were out. Fracking thing wasn’t destroyed but it’d need a helluva lotta work to get back up and running. Probably would need a shield unit too. Kazaar filed the thought in the back of his mind and pressed forward.

GGE’s inner courtyard featured a small grove of trees Tag had transported from one of Cona’s vast jungles. Kazaar never bothered to ask why the corporate executive cared for the saplings - it wasn’t really his place - but he had to admit they would provide a bit of cover for his advance towards the boarding party.

The rest of the courtyard was open space with a large duracrete semi-landing pad. One of the first things Kazaar had ordered built when he arrived at the complex was the construction of thigh-high fortified barrier walls topped with grass. He’d smirked when Tag asked why. “Ya want me t’run security? Build th’fracking walls. Ain’t gonna make m’boys sitting mynocks ‘cause they don’t meet ya aesthetics.” Tag’s reply was a simple, tight grin of understanding. It was obvious he wasn’t worried about feng shui or whatever the frack it was called. The industrialist had been curious and satisfied with the answer. One of the reasons why Kazaar liked the bastard. He was smart.

“Markus.” Kazaar grunted into his comm and slipped into the trees. “Get ya brothers an’ haul ass t’R&D. They’re hittin’ it. Six by th’look o’em.”

Kazaar hefted his Imperial Heavy Repeater rifle on his right shoulder. It was a relic weapon - but a damn reliable one. He’d been shown more than a few newer rifles and dismissed all of ‘em. This one worked, and Kazaar would be chuffed if he didn’t go to war without it.

He scurried in a crouched dash from the trees to the barrier walls, and poked his head between the grass. There were definitely six targets, all in a loose wedge formation. They were moving fast - no real wasted movements. Markus and his brothers would have to get there quick to engage.

Kazaar was too far away to fire. He hopped over the wall and ran towards the transport, doing his best to avoid the cockpit. Had to hope the frackers’ pilot was more concerned with getting prepped for a takeoff, and not playing lookout. Kazaar pressed against the DX-9’s grey hull and surveyed the enemy.

They were still out of range. Frack!

He was about ready to charge when something fell on his left shoulder. Kazaar stared down at the small comlink which had rolled out onto the landing pad and his ears perked up at the muffled oath above him. Sniper.

The Mandalorian moved fast, keeping his body tight to the transport, and looked for a ladder. There wasn’t one. Had to be on the other side.

Kazaar ducked lower - again hoping whoever was piloting the transport wasn’t paying attention - and quietly slipped around the front of the ship.

He let a smirk cross his face as he saw the four rungs leading to the top of the transport. Kazaar slid the rifle from his right shoulder to his back and heard it lock into its housing. His gloved hands grasped the rungs and quietly (as possible, since he was in full armor) hauled himself up.

The sniper appeared to be human. He was lying flat on DX-9’s roof, focused mainly on the R&D building and his mates which had just reached the door. Kazaar briefly glanced at the squad which were paused by the entrance. Probably setting up a detonite charge.

His helmet comlink chirped before Markus’ accented Basic filled his left ear. “We’re on the skybridge from Engineering to R&D. Ready to strike.”

Kazaar didn’t reply. He’d pulled an evil-looking vibroshiv from his belt with his left hand and passed it into his right.

He was about ready to launch himself at the sniper when the latter suddenly shifted position into a crouch.

The movement made Kazaar change his options. The sniper was wearing a helmet and there was also a black respirator mask strap near the helmet’s edge. The neck itself was bare with about two inches of skin showing between helmet and armor. Tight, but not impossible.

Kazaar sheathed the vibroshiv and pulled the vibrosword from its housing on the back of armor. Another relic he refused to abandon for the sake of technology.

The Mandalorian raised his right arm over his head, aimed for the neck, and swung with all his might.

The sniper’s head fell off the right of the transporter’s roof while his body - still clutching his rifle - fell left.

Kazaar smirked and hopped to the ground. The vibrosword went back in its casing and he pulled the heavy repeater back out.

“Frack ‘em up.”

Giggles’ fighter was in a tight counterclockwise spin. She cut her engine, turning the Aggressor into a glorified glider as it plunged towards Cona’s sandy surface. It was the best she could do to make the descent easier. Which wasn’t much.

The inertial dampeners and stabilizers screamed in her ears. She kept her flight stick all the way to the right, hoping it would slowly start to level her starcraft.

Her stomach fluttered just before the left S-foil hit the top of a sand dune.

The fighter started doing somersaults - tumbling like someone on a bad spice trip - across the desert floor. It was like being trapped in an out of control gyroscope which somehow escaped its mooring. She felt nauseous and feared getting sick and choking on her own vomit.

Giggles heard something break off from the fighter and started to wonder which of the seven hells she’d end up residing in and whether there’d be enough of her body to bury. A hard jolt shook the cockpit and knocked her head against the buckseat’s cushion.

Her innards jumped. Giggles yanked her helmet off and spewed the contents of her stomach all over her armor and the flight stick. She gasped and heaved bile again. Her head was spinning…

But her fighter wasn’t…It had come to a rest - engine first - into a sand dune.

Breathing ragged, she grasped at the canteen which somehow didn’t get thrown across the cockpit. Water went in her mouth, around her teeth. She spat. Ew, vomit is in my nose! Giggles had to move her head slightly to the left to splash it into her nostrils. She partially choked - blowing most of the water onto her armor - and coughed so hard she saw stars. The Mandalorian had to sit for a moment to get her head straightened out.

Her breathing finally started to normalize when she smelled it. Smoke. Her fighter was still burning!

Panic seized her. There was no blinking way she’d let herself die after surviving a Force-damned, chuffing high-speed fighter crash. She had to get out!

Giggles moved quickly to unstrap her restraints. Her right arm elbowed her helmet as she reached for her blaster rifle to blow out the cockpit windows so she could crawl out of the wreckage.

Wait...her helmet.

She shoved panic aside. Slow down, you’re a Mandalorian not a graduate from the Drunken Mynock School of Instruction. Cona’s ammonia atmosphere would cause more problems for Giggles if she didn’t don her helmet. What was the point of surviving a fire if she succumbed to ammonia poisoning?

Giggles grabbed her helmet - thankful it had somehow avoided a vomit bath - and shoved it over her blonde head. She had to do it twice, since the first time hair completely obscured her right eye. The soldier secured it, then grabbed her blaster rifle. Time to get out of this death trap.

It took four blaster bolts to make a hole large enough to squeeze her armored upper body through. She threw a glance towards the rear of the Aggressor and spied flames slowly consuming the hull.

Giggles hoisted her legs one after another out of the canopy’s aperture and rolled onto the section of the starship just below the shorn forward left mandible. She rose - steadied herself on the hull - then jumped to the sand below. Momentum took her halfway down the dune before armored boots halted the descent.

Her ears heard the *whoosh* of the Aggressor’s fire suppression system (finally) coming online. Black smoke quickly turn white-grey. Giggles strode back up the dune, her face set in anger. She kicked the vane acculator’s housing next to the cockpit.

Stupid fighter.

Her comm went off, “--ggles, do you read me?” It was Shen, although the signal was spotty.

“I’m here, Shenn.” She decided to climb the rest of the dune to figure out exactly how far from the GGE mining complex she’d crashed. “Fighter is bound for the scrapheap. Completely borked. Mrak’s gonna be pissed.”

“He’ll get over it, eventually.” Blaster fire from Shenn's fighter interrupted his voice, but the signal was more clear.

Giggles reached the dune’s summit and surveyed the landscape. She could barely make out the administration building - its wide, solar-paneled exterior reflecting brightly against Cona’s sun. Her fighter had gone down north of the GGE facility.

Snubfighters buzzed above the facility like gnats. There was no idea who was winning, but the fact Shenn raised contact suggested the Mandalorians were ahead. Several specks hightailed it for the stars and a grin crossed her face. No one fracked with the Company of the Free.

Her eyes were then drawn to a small plume of smoke coming from a rocky section of the desert.

“Did we lose anyone else?”

All three Mandalorian pilots responded. They were still in the air.

“Gonna check out some wreckage nearby,” she hefted her blaster rifle, then checked to make sure her Personal Energy Shield was fully charged. “I’ll radio in if I see anything.”

The dune Giggles scurried down gave way to a flat area of sand before a mostly rock base took over the topography. Tag’s mining complex was about ten miles to the south. More sand stretched out to the east while the west was a mix of plateaus and small hills. She’d seen mountains beyond the plateaus on the flight in - but the job had prevented any real exploring. Most patrols had been limited to just outside the perimeter of the complex, although scouting expeditions did scope out the plateaus. Giggles just hadn’t been involved in any of them.

She passed by parts of her destroyed fighter and the s-foil of the stanged B-wing she’d - check that - which had collided with her Aggressor. A pox that chuff-sucking bastard!

The smoking wreckage came closer into view. It appeared to be a yellow and white X-wing which had smashed hard on the dirt and rock lip, then skittered across sand before coming to a rest on its side. The hull appeared mostly intact although it was lacking its starboard s-foils and engines, plus its cockpit canopy. There was no way of knowing if the wings ripped upon impact or if they’d been blown off during the dogfight. The missing engines were burning in a nearby debris field.

The pilot was nowhere to be found.

Kneeling down by the cockpit, Giggles placed her blaster rifle on the sand. She’d just started poking around for the X-wing’s nav computer when a low mechanical wail caught her ears. The rifle came up but she held fire.

It was a droid. A small one with a black, rectangular head.

“Hey, little guy,” Giggles’ voice betrayed the smile behind her T-visor. “You okay?” The droid gave a disgruntled *blat* in reply. “I’m sorry you’re stuck like this. Can I help?”

The droid twittered a response which her helmet quickly translated.

“No use pulling you out, huh?” She remarked then slung the rifle over her shoulder. Her hands reached for a flap on the X-wing’s hull in between the missing canopy and the housing bay the droid was stuck inside. There was a lever below. “This what you looking for? Okay...give me a minute.”

It took three - mainly because she had to yank the lever several times - but whatever manual lift was inside the X-wing eventually rose high enough for the droid to fall out of its compartment flat on its head.

Giggles stifled a guffaw despite herself and righted the droid on the sand. It was a BB-series astromech droid, the first she’d actually ever seen up close, featuring a black spherical body with white tool-bay discs. Mand’alorand the rest of the Company of the Free tended to use R-series droids - mainly because of their availability - although she knew the Old Man was no real fan of newer technology. She’d never considered getting a droid...not really.

Her fingers brushed sand and dirt off the droid’s head, then came to a rest on the wide band of metal circling the round body. “A restraint collar?” Giggles’ tone echoed her look of horror. “Who would do that to you?”

The droid gave a mournful whistle.

“There has to be a way to remove it.” She leaned to the left in hopes of seeing some sort of bolt she could remove or switch to pull which would free the collar. There didn’t appear to be one. Krasst.

Her green eyes gave the restraint collar one more look over. Wait...there! An extremely small latch and keyhole came into view. “Was there an emergency tool kit in the ship?” The droid bleeted out an affirmative which brought an upbeat tone to the human’s voice. “I’ve got an idea.”

She rummaged around the cockpit, thankful it hadn’t burned in the crash and found the toolkit. A cutter sat inside.

An odd feeling suddenly went down her spine, like someone walked over her grave. Giggles kept her body tight against the ship’s hull and stared across the landscape. Nothing. Whatever had caused goosebumps to go over her flesh appeared to be a false alarm.

She sighed. “Okay...let me see if I can slice through the lock. Tell me if I hit your body.”

Her pierced tongue protruded through her lips as she cautiously went to work with the cutter. It was slow going, but her hands held steady. The collar fell to the sand causing the droid to let out an electronic cheer and did a circle around the X-wing’s wreckage.

Giggles laughed in joy and got ready to radio Shenn for transport.

The sniper’s blaster bolt struck her square in the chest.

Blaster bolts streaked through the space between R&D and the skybridge leading towards Engineering. R&D was a squat, three-story building with long, segmented solar panels placed in strips on all four exterior walls. It had only one visible door - large and similar to those used Imperials in their remote outposts - on the bottom right of the building which faced the inner courtyard and lifted up whenever opened. Tagg had built it with a four-foot recess. The skybridge was on the top left of the building.

The ambush by Markus and his brothers, Mats and Mads (a pair of twins with an extremely annoying habit of finishing each other’s sentences on a regular basis) worked almost to perfection. The Mandalorian trio of siblings had opened three transparisteel sliding windows and was using the durasteel lattice truss and duracrete half-wall as cover.

The attackers had been forced to separate. Two were huddled by the recessed door guarding a third who was no doubt trying to set the detonite charge. Another pair was hidden on the edge of the building. The sixth was nowhere to be seen.

He watched one of the invaders by the door drop to a knee after taking three shots to the chest. Another stepped in front as a shield. These guys were professional.

Kazaar threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one inside the transport was stirring. He was starting to wonder if the now-headless sniper also served as the pilot. Would certainly make cleaning up a bit easier. And possibly finding out just where the frack these bishwags came from.

He turned back to the firefight and huddled up against one of the duracrete barriers. He was just now in range and let loose a burst from his heavy repeater. The invader who’d taken a knee went all the way down with holes in his head and breathing mask. Kazaar gave a smirk which quickly froze.

The sixth member of the fireteam - a veritable giant taller than Nimrod - took two steps out from the edge of the building, then three steps forward, and hefted something on his shoulder. “Markus,” Kazaar snapped and opened fire. “Incoming!”

It was an HH-15 projectile launcher - perfect for taking out groups of enemy combatants. Kazaar’d seen one in use years ago when he’d tracked down a slaver holed up on Nar Shaddaa for his old boss, Gorgja the Hutt. Gorgja had claimed the slaver had kidnapped the daughter of an ally on Kuat but Kazaar was pretty sure the fat sluggo really just wanted to score the ransom for himself. He’d fracked up that entire plan by freeing the daughter, then watched her use the rocket launcher to burn the slaver’s hired goons to ash. The memory always warmed Kazaar’s heart. Those fracking chuffers got what they deserved...and then some.

Kazaar put three metallic slugs into the rocket-carrying attacker - but a bright shield bubble coalesced around him. Son of a…Kazaar switched to the heavy repeater’s concussion grenade launcher and pulled the trigger.

The explosive sent the target into the exterior wall of R&D. Kazaar would’ve been happy if the shot hadn’t come a second too late.

A bright streak flew towards the bottom part of the skybridge and exploded - sending dust, duracrete, and bits of glass in almost all directions. Kazaar briefly saw parts of the bridge collapse towards the ground before having to duck behind the barrier to avoid a fresh barrage from the attackers. He stuck his heavy repeater over the barrier and let loose a few bursts knowing it was unlikely he’d hit anyone.

A second, more muffled, blast happened moments later. Mand’alor risked a peek and didn’t like what he saw. The attackers had blown a hole through the reinforced security door. Two of them had already slipped through the gaping chasm while a third and fourth were on their way inside. Kazaar fired another concussion grenade but his aim was just off. It exploded harmlessly against the door.

Frack.

“Markus...report.” Kazaar slowly shuffled towards the blown out door taking a bit of a wide arc left so he’d avoid any unwanted surprises from within. He paused on the left side of the recessed frame, then sidled up to the still smoking, starburst-like gap in the center of the door.

“We lost Mads. He was behind me when the missile hit.” Markus’s nasal, accented voice sounded grim but Kazaar detected an edge of hope. “Mats claims he’s still alive. He’s pretty insistent, Mand’alor. Says it’s a twin thing.”

Kazaar didn’t doubt Mats’ sincerity. The pair did have some sort of connection no one really figured out. Lilaena De’Ville - who had been Mand’alor long before Kazaar assumed the role - probably could have come up with an answer. She’d been a Force User and Kazaar figured it had something to do with whatever the frack was going on. But De’Ville was missing for two decades and every search for her’d come up empty. It still pissed Kazaar the frack off. She was a helluva fighter and leader. He fracking hated leaving alit behind. And De’Ville’d become part of his family like the rest of the Company of the Free.

He took a peek through the door hole. Nothing. Wherever the frackers had gone they didn’t stick around the first floor. Kazaar cautiously took a step inside his rifle at the ready.

The R&D building’s first floor featured a large room typically needed for hauling large electronics or equipment. Its turbolift was built more for cargo and was so slow most people tended to take the wide staircase which led to the three top floors. The upper floors contained a server room and individual labs where scientists conducted basic tests on the minerals mined out of the ground.

The actual work happened underground. Tag had purposefully built another three levels - not including the tunnel which led to both Engineering and Administration - beneath the rocky surface. It allowed scientists the ability to conduct more thorough tests on product. He also had his own personal lab because he valued his privacy. Even Kazaar had only been allowed access once. The Mandalorian was impressed with the design.

“Mand’alor.” Inka cut in over the comm. He was up in Tag’s office. “Got holofeed of the bishwags. One little bugslut went up towards the servers. Other three went took the stairs underground.”

Kazaar was already moving towards the stairs at the far end of the hall. “Markus. Get ya head straight’n take th’fracker headed ya way. Quick’n tidy. Then go save Mads.

“Inka,” He cut off Markus and Mats before they could think of protesting. His armored back pressed against the edge of the stairwell and slid inside, his blaster rifle still up. “Sit-rep. Th’frack’m I walkin’ into?”

“The kaffers skipped past the first underground level like it didn’t exist.” Inka’s scowl could be heard over the comm. Kazaar wasn’t sure if it was because it looked like the invaders knew what they were doing or because he was too far away from the action. Probably a little of both. “Just ignored level two like a Vynock staring at a pile of wood. Whatever these shitbags want is on level three.”

“Mand’alor.” It was Tag with fear in his voice. “If they get to my lab…”

“Yeh. Onnit.” Kazaar whirled around and abandoned the stairwell. There was no way in hell he’d make it to the bottom first - not with the massive lead the invaders had. “Lemme know when they get t’the bottom.”

Kazaar stopped by the first stairwell, the one which led to the top three floors. He paused a moment, as if in meditation, then kneeled down and popped open the maintenance hatch for the lift. Tag had built it into the floor of the stairwell and it sometimes took time to find the right button.

The turbolift chute was square-like and wide. It featured lights on three of the four sides. The spot where lift doors would typically be was an uncovered arch. A ladder went all the way to the bottom. Kazaar housed his rifle, gripped the ladder’s side members, made sure his boots weren’t inside the rungs and slid down.

His descent slowed just past the second level.

“Just hit the bottom floor,” Inka’s voice over the comm. “Headed towards the end of the hall. Dast, the frell they looking for?”

Kazaar could see their shadows reflect on the lift’s walls. He waited for them to pass, then climbed the rest of the way down. His booted feet hit the durasteel ground as soft as possible and he stole over to the edge of the lift shaft.

His gloved right hand stroked the black K-16 Bryar pistol strapped in his hip holster. Kazaar had lost The Twins (his beloved pearl-handled silver Bryars) years before in a fall off a waterfall. Estelle Russard, his former partner in Rebel Special Operations and one of the few non-Mandalorians he considered a true companion, had saved his life by pulling him from the frigid waters. “I was thinking about you, Aurelias!” she’d hissed when he’d come to in a private hospital wondering why she’d bothered saving him. “You’re a bastard, but you’re still my friend! I can’t protect you, but I can still make sure you stay on this side of the ground!”

It was one of the last times they ever spoke with each other again. Russard had disappeared hours later, like the true spy she’d become. The K-16 Bryar appeared days later and Kazaar’d never gotten around to tossing it out. It was a damn fine blaster, even if it wasn’t The Twins.

He yanked the Bryar from its holster. It made much more sense in this fight given its blasting power. Whoever these frackers he was hunting wore energy shields like his own. The Bryar would punch through them faster than the heavy repeater. It’d also make more sense in a close quarters combat situation.

Tag had built the underground labs with a hallway large enough for four men to stand side by side without issue. A small labyrinth of labs was on either side until the hallway abruptly ended in a thick door.

It was here where Tag built his private lab. No one got in without going through a triple security system containing voice, keypad, and actual lock and key. The door was also thick enough to survive a single detonite charge. Kazaar took a peek. Frackers looked like they were gonna use a double charge.

He popped out from behind cover and opened fire. The first blaster bolt hit the guy setting the charges square in the back. A shield shimmered but disappeared after two more bolts and the target went down. Kazaar’s next shot at the attacker on the left was mostly absorbed by an energy shield but he still grabbed at his neck in pain.

Kazaar ducked back as a hail of blaster fire filled the hall. Looked like one kaffer was using an F-11D blaster rifle while the other had a blaster shotgun of some kind. He made a note the arms weren’t traditional Resistance weaponry.

The Mandalorian’s mind and body were suddenly shaken by a large explosion which knocked him to the ground and burned out his shield. The frackers had thrown a thermal detonator at him! He’d been lucky the damn thing hit the wall just before the turbolift’s housing or he woulda been seriously injured. Even his armor wouldn’t have protected him from the entire blast.

“-an’dalor do you copy?!” Inka’s voice seemed far away as he got up to his feet. Smoke filled the hallway and his left ankle hurt.

Kazaar pushed his way to the smoke and opened fire on a shadow he saw going through one of the doors to the lab to the left of Tag’s private one. The body fell to the ground and laid still.

Something large hit him right in the chest and knocked him back down. The weight pushed hard on his chest and hands tried to squeeze against his neck armor. Kazaar threw two punches where he thought a face might be. He connected with both but the hands stayed around his neck.

Kazaar’s right thumb pressed against a small button on the index finger of his glove. Two vibroblades shot out from their housing on the outside of his forearm. He did two more jabs at his attacker’s face and heard a bellow of pain followed by a curse. The weight slacked on his chest.

He shifted his weight forcing the attacker to the ground. Kazaar used his momentum to get on top and rained down vibroblade punches. The squishy sound of blood and bone told him everything. The guy was dead.

“Here, Inka.” Kazaar’s guttural voice was almost a gasp as he retracted the blades back into their housing. He saw his pistol, picked it up, and gazed at the three strewn across the corridor.

“Targets down.”

Giggles didn’t want to move.

It felt like a group of Wookies was using her head and chest as instruments in a tree drum music concert. Her brain throbbed and her sternum and ribs ached.

She closed her eyes. It didn’t help. The pounding and pain were still there.

What was worse was the incessant *bumping* against her left arm. There was a *trill* in her ear. When the fuck did tree drum music use horns? No...not horns…a...droid?

Her mind slowly came back and she opened her eyes. The droid...from...the X-Wing? The chest pain...she’d been shot. Her head must have smacked into the rocky sand as she fell. Giggles figured her personal shield kept the bolt from going straight through her armor. The Old Man always said never leave home without it. He was right.

Her helmet was translating the droid’s *trills* and *warbles* but it took a minute for her to understand what was going on.

“Yeh,” Giggles’ voice was a rasp. There was blood in her mouth too and her tongue hurt where it had been bitten. “Yeh. I’m alright. I think.”

She started to sit up but the droid gave a *wail*. Her brain comprehended the warning just in time. The sniper was still out there.

Giggles rolled out of the way just barely avoiding the blaster bolt which left a small divot in the ground. She pressed herself against the wreckage of the X-wing. Her head felt awful and her thoughts remained jumbled. Giggles wanted nothing more but to massage her temples to relieve pressure but knew it was impossible in the caustic outdoors. Another blaster bolt *spanged* off the X-wing’s hull.

Krasst!

She tried breathing exercises. It was hard with the sniper occasionally firing off another round to make sure Giggles didn’t move but she eventually got her mind ordered. The sniper was at the top of a steep, rocky hill hiding in some scrub brush. She’d need to get closer if she had any hope of wiping the sniper off the face of the planet with her A-280 blaster rifle. Her other hope was for a returning patrol to rescue her but they’d be in the line of fire, too.

Giggles looked at the BB-series astromech. “Looks like we’re stuck here.” She tried to sound glib. “I don’t think I’m light enough to ride you out of here.”

The droid gave a mournful *woo* then changed its vocabulator to a series of *chirps* and *bleeps*.

It backed up a foot or so then took off on a route headed towards the mining complex.

“Hey...wait!”

The droid didn’t listen. It kept gaining speed with blaster bolts hitting just behind its body.

Giggles stared at the droid before catching on what was happening. She peeked out from behind the wreckage and saw two flashes from the sniper’s rifle. A small smile came on her face. The droid had given her an opening.

She scurried across the sand, despite her pounding head, and headed towards the hill. There was no route straight to the top - it would be too steep for anyone who didn’t have a grappling hook and rope - so she moved to the right, hopefully, away from the sniper’s perch.

Giggles found a small game trail leading up about 100 feet to the hilltop. She pulled her A280 and gave it a once over. It looked okay - the scope appeared operational. The Mandalorian cursed herself. She needed a rifle more suitable for shorter range combat. At least there were still a pair of snap shot blasters in the holsters built into her wrist armor. They had only one shot each - but were powerful enough to take down almost anyone. A third snap shot blaster was in her right boot. Giggles had long sworn to get better blaster pistol but preferred rifles. They were just more comfortable.

She wasn’t the most stealthy of the Company of the Free. Giggles could sneak her way through certain situations but she knew Mandalorians who would pretty much vanish into any sort of jungle or foliage even if people were staring at them. It had always amazed her. No matter how hard she tried it always seemed like someone would find her. Even the Old Man - who had a reputation for rather loud, almost holo-thriller type blaster fights - was more catlike than she. Giggles just hoped she was sneaky enough to find the sniper without giving away her position.

Giggles scurried up the trail as quietly as possible. The path ended on the bluff’s rocky, grassy summit. It was wider than she expected with shrubs near the edge. The opposite side of the hill sloped down towards another few hills and craggy mountains above.

She got in a crouch behind a large boulder and hefted the rifle. Her vision went blurry for a few seconds forcing her to blink multiple times. It went clear in time for her to see the outline of a figure in heavy camouflage stand up from the brush and start moving towards the right.

Her first two shots went over the sniper’s head. Giggle cursed herself and started peppering the brush with blaster fire.

The sniper was caught off guard. He fired a quick shot which grazed the armor on the Mandalorian’s left shoulder but took four blaster bolts in the chest. He fell backward and disappeared from view.

A small smile came across Giggles’ face. She stood up and started forward to make sure her target was actually dead.

The movement saved her life.

Two blaster bolts coming from her right smashed into the casing of her A280. “Gah!” A third caught the scope as she turned. A fourth caused her to stagger after hitting her armor. Pain lanced up her side.

A Gran stood in front of her, a blaster pistol in his enlarged right hand. He wore a crash helmet and respirator across his goat-like snout while a black flight suit covered everything but his feet.

Giggles’ mind told her the ambusher was the missing X-wing pilot while her body acted on instinct. She dropped the blaster rifle and flicked her wrists. The snap shot blasters fell into her palms.

Her first shot was lucky. It hit caught the edge of the Gran’s respirator and punched a hole in the casing. The alien let loose a *huff* and pawed at the crack letting in ammonia. Blood fell from his head. Her second shot hit right below the Gran’s middle eye and went through his brain.

The pilot fell to the ground. Giggles rushed forward, dropping her spent blasters. She snatched up the Gran’s dropped pistol - a Glie-44 - and aimed at the convulsing alien. It was over seconds later as he died in front of her.

A *warble* came from her left and Giggles whirled towards the sound pistol ready. “You startled me, little guy,” she professed to the BB-series droid which haltingly started rolling towards her and the dead alien. Giggles didn’t have a place to holster the weapon so she let it rest in her right hand.

The droid stopped in front of the body. It looked down at the Gran, then up at the Mandalorian.

A sudden realization came to her mind. “Was this your owner?” Giggles felt a surge of apology. She hadn’t considered any sort of regret regarding the Gran. After all, he had attacked her. But she liked the droid and felt guilty.

A small compartment opened up on the BB-droid’s ball before it expressed a dark liquid onto the dead Gran’s face. Giggles’ guilt quickly faded as she remembered the restraining collar.

The droid gave a *blat* and sidled up to Giggles. “Guess you can pick your own masters from time to time, huh?” she mused aloud.

Her headache was starting to read its ugly head again. Giggles briefly thought the world was starting to get darker but shook it off. The skies brightened up. She’d probably have to see Shankar, the Company’s doctor, back at the GGE mining complex. Ice and bacta, Giggles guessed. Ice and bacta.

She started gathering up the weapons scattered along the hilltop. Her snap shot blasters were spent but could be recharged. The A280 was toast and Giggles hoped it could be used for parts. The Gran’s Glie-44 would probably become her own. It wasn’t a bad weapon, after all.

There wasn’t much on the Gran’s body. A comlink. Rations. A serrated vibroblade Giggles stuck in her boot. No ID. She removed the holster and belt from the Gran’s waist and looped it over her shoulder and chest like a bandoleer. The Glie-44 went into the belt's holster.

The sniper had fallen face up with his right arm dangling over the hill’s edge. The pack on his back may have kept him from falling down the slope. Giggles found an A295 sniper rifle next to the body. She slipped it into the empty weapons housing on her back, next to her busted up A280. Lose one, but gain another. The Mandalorian told herself it evened out, as she pushed the growing headache to the side of her mind.

She flipped the sniper on his chest and rummaged through the backpack. It seemed like the sniper had been away from base for a while. Giggles pilfered a week’s worth of rations, water, a comlink, a vibroshiv, extra magazines, and a pair of macrobinoculars. Still no ID but there was a long-range communications pack like the one used by First Order snowtroopers. The discovery brought a smile to Giggles’ face. Finally, another lead.

“Harm to Giggles.”

“GAH! FRACK!” Giggles swore as the noise forced her to her knees. What the frack?!? She lowered the volume on her com. It didn’t make sense. The settings hadn’t changed but Harm’s normally smooth voice was like a hammer. Her headache got sharper.

“Harm to Giggles.” The voice wasn’t shouting but she still winced. “Come in, Giggles.”

“I’m…I’m here.” She sounded shaky. Giggles took a few deep breaths in hopes of getting her bearings. “Reporting in.”

“We spotted your fighter’s wreckage while coming in from patrol. You okay?”

It took her entire will to push the spots in her eyes away. “Gotta bad headache. Can you pick me up? I’m sending you my location.”

“Got it...Osman says you’ll have to meet us at the bottom of the hill.”

“Okay. There’s...there’s an X-wing down in the gully. I’ll be there.”

“Copy. See you shortly.”

Giggles slung the backpack over the shoulder and stood up. It was pretty awkward with the two rifles but she managed. Her skull felt heavier than normal.

The droid *beeped*.

“We should have room for you,” she promised slightly uncertain. A thought struck her. “How’d you get up here anyway?”

A small grappling spike appeared from one of the tool bay discs on the droid’s spherical body. The BB-droid rolled so it pointed directly at the ground. The spike embedded itself in the ground with a small metal running back into the body.

Giggles’ smirk was equal to one The Old Man would toss around when impressed. “Nice. Sure beats having to walk. See you at the bottom.”

The droid was waiting for the Mandalorian soldier on the sand below the hill. They headed towards the X-wing’s wreckage in silence. Giggles was still trying to get her jumbled brain together. A passing thought suggested a concussion. Whatever it was, she sure wasn’t feeling right.

A troop transport was idling by the destroyed snubfighter. Two Mandalorians were in the traveling racks while roof turret rotated slowly ready to blow any attacker straight to hell. Another Mandalorian waved at Giggles as she and the droid came up.

“Taking in droids?” The Mandalorian’s laconic tone contradicted his waving. His helmet was painted green with two blue X's on either side of the blue-trimmed T-visor. A white eye with blue iris was above the T-visor. The armor itself featured green and blue alternating diagonal stripes on the chest and shoulders.

“Not now Osman. I have a bad enough headache.” Giggles never could figure out why one of the Company’s best snipers had such a hideous armor scheme.

Osman was an odd creature. He was unusually pale beneath his armor even though his skin tinged an olive brown. His dark hair went down to his neck. Osman’s lips tended to twist in a smile which suggested he was mocking everyone else. He was taller than Giggles by three inches and had enough arrogance for a man twice his size. Osman also had a penchant for thin, long vibroblades. He carried at least six on him at all times.

Giggles sat down in the back of the transport and strapped in. The droid rested next to her as if seeking protection from all the other mercs. She placed a hand on its cranial frame reassuringly.

Another Mandalorian - this one with mostly red armor with grey diamonds down the arms - sat across from her. He extended a fist as she took off her helmet. Giggles bumped fists with the other Mandalorian as the transport lurched as it got going.

“Jibran.”

“Giggles.”

“How was the frontier?” Jibran had been guarding one of Tag’s smaller mines with his best friend, K’lassa.

“Boring. I did get to read a bit on tactics.”

Giggles gave a wan smile. Her vision was starting to tunnel again and she was having a tough time fighting it off. The brightness inside the transport was unbearable but it was nice not having to use the helmet’s filter to breathe.

“You and your books,” her laugh was forced but worth it. Jibran was an intellectual at heart despite being fierce on the battlefield. She figured he’d get his own squad at some point. “Will you ever stop reading?”

“Probably not,” Jibran’s tone gave away his own smile. “You okay? You seem tired.”

Giggles’ face twisted into an expression. She was tired. All she wanted to do was close eyes and rest. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. After all, they still had ten miles to make it to the GGE complex.

Her eyelids got heavier and heavier as if something were sucking them down. Jibran’s voice grew faint, as did the urgent beeping from the BB-series droid.

She thought she heard someone run up to her seat as she passed out.