Featherhead - pt. 2

Maedune was up before dawn. He drank his breakfast, more of the whiskey. He wasn’t hungry. He suited up, cleaned up the best he could, making sure to bring his aviators, before making his way to flight ops.

“I’d tell you that you don’t have to go back down,” said the commanding officer when he saw Maedune. “But we need everyone out there today.”

The CO, a man with thinning hair, turned to the tactical display map. He waved his hand at a tributary at the north-east end of the basin, where the fighting was thickest, causing the map to expand to terrain-level detail.

“Some scouts got into a big firefight about three this morning. They were trying to find a way to get into the jungle hills to get at the Imps, but they bit off more than they could chew. Got hit by a battalion of Imp’ regulars. Bad fight. Weren’t Stormtroopers, but they still had the number advantage. Anyway, we sent down a *Pathfinder* scout to secure a landing zone. Canopy’s real dense, so you’re gonna have to land in the river on this one.” The map pulsed the location as he spoke the words. “Bringing back wounded on this run, so don’t go in guns blazing. The river’s shallow, so you can set down or hover while they load the wounded aboard. Need you to be in the air in the next five, “Dune.”

Maedune turned, grabbed his flight helmet, and headed to the berth where *Nomad Four* waited. He felt the CO watch him go. Both men knew Maedune shouldn’t fly, but everything was precarious right now, and a bad night led to a bad morning.

*Nomad Four* looked like *not* new. Where she’d been shot up, there were grey patches of hull plaster. At least the co-pilot’s glass in the side canopy had been replaced. Delstes' brains were gone.

Maedune climbed the short ramp to the landing pad and met WO Rhoro, his door gunner. He was a big Wobanki that towered over him. Maedune chose to ignore the look on the cat-man’s face. He grabbed a datapad from his utility belt, and chose to look at it instead. He was still slightly drunk, and found himself not caring much. People like Delste were getting wasted in this fight, and he didn’t care. “Might as well get killed too,” he heard himself think.

“Uh… Sir,” began the Wobanki gunner. “They still haven't assigned us another gunner, but we got a new…” he stumbled a bit, “Co-pilot.”

Maedune looked up, above the lenses of his aviator shades. He remembered he wore them to cover his not-so-inconspicuous blood shot eyes. Too bad he had forgotten to shave. That would have helped with the sobriety act.

Across the pad lumbered a tall, ancient looking droid. “You’re kidding,” started Maedune. Rhoro shook his head, indicating that he was not kidding his Captain in any way, shape or form.

“What the hell is that?” muttered Maedune.

“That is a bonafide KX-series security droid,” yowled Rhoro, “But security is anything but. Pure war droid, plain and simple. And as I understand it from the ground crew, since there are no more pilots ready for re-assignment to our bird, they’ve swapped Lieutenant Delste...” The Wobanki paused. They’d all been pretty close. Rhoro started over, “They took out the co-pilot’s seat, and installed a docking interface for the droid.”

The droid was easily 7 feet tall, and wore a matte black coat of paint, but to Maedune, the droid looked like nothing more than a large robot child. At least it didn’t have the Imperial markings on its shoulders. All the while, it’s dopey face watched the ground crew perform a final pre-flight check. “Well… Why not?” thought Maedune “It might as well be this way.” He clipped his datapad back to his utility belt.

“Don’t worry, Sir,” Called Rhoro, “They told me they don’t go haywire and kill everyone, anymore.” Another U-wing departed off a nearby pad. It moved, nose down, filled with replacement marines, staring out the ray shielded window, where the pintle-mounted M-45 ion blaster was located. Maedune never felt comfortable with the ray shields. One electrical failure meant the ship was exposed to open space, and contrary to popular belief, during combat, things did fail. As a consolation to himself, he wore a closed helmet with a life support module.

The pilot taking off gave a two-finger scout’s salute, before blasting off through the magnetic shield, enclosing the hangar bay, causing warm blast wash to sweep the pad where Maedune was standing. Maedune tried to walk past the old war droid like it wasn’t there. He hoped it wouldn’t speak to him. If it’s voice was anything like he’d seen in the holos about the old Clone Wars era commando droids, it would be like working with a nightmare. Their audio vocalizers were designed to inspire fear and dread in enemy combatants. They had been intended to be the embodiment of the proverbial death machines that sentient beings feared they’d some day make real, so they could kill themselves more easily. Instead, the voice that spoke to him was pleasant, even cordial. The deferential voice of a protocol droid.

“Good morning, Captain, my name is K-3P9, I was told to report--...” Maedune continued past the droid, mumbling and shaking his head. As he climbed into the cockpit, the droid said, “I hope I have what it takes to be of service today, Captain.”

Maedune moved from the cargo bay and troop transport deck to the pilot’s cupola, shaking his head as if some note of finality had been rung. "On the bright side," he thought, "At least it doesn't have a sense of humor."

Maedune turned, facing the droid. “Climb aboard, metal head, and try not to get us killed.” The war droid climbed up onto the fuselage like some mechanical beast and folded itself into the co-pilot’s section of the cockpit. Maedune was already in and checking systems.

“I assure you, sir, you will not die as a result of my actions. This does not mean you won’t die because of--...” Maedune cut the droid off, mumbling. “Yeah. Sure.” He set the repulsors to stand-by, and ran the yoke through its actions, checking thrust ailerons and thrust compensators to see if the maintenance crew really had fixed them. “Trust me, I get it.”

“Warrant Officer Rhoro is aboard,” the droid reported. “We are ready for departure.” A few minutes later, it was gear up, and the droid had obtained the necessary clearances. “Shall I fly, Captain?” asked the droid.

Maedune shot the droid a withering glare. Then, a thought occurred to Maedune, and just for the giggles his dark sense of humor required, he asked the droid, “Have you ever flown before… Uh...” He had forgotten the droid’s designation already.

“K-3P9,” the droid supplemented genially. “No, Captain, I’ve only had the proper programming installed for three hours and thirty-six minutes, but the software has made me fully proficient, and I am keen to try.”

“Maybe another day, metal head.” Maedune guided the U-wing away from the landing pad, he passed through the magnetic shield that kept the vacuum from sucking everything inside the hangar bay away.

The trip down to the surface was simple. Maedune engaged the electronic warfare suite the U-wing came equipped with, causing the dropship to be invisible to all sensors. The U-wing effortlessly evaded the three *Dreadnaughts* entirely, as well as its complement of *Preybird* snubfighters. At that time, Maedune thought the presence of *Preybirds* and *Dreadnoughts* were strange.

“Imperials still had TIE Fighters and Star Destroyers, right?” he thought. But he shot down that thought quickly. He was on mission. Focused. The rest of the flight was quiet till they approached the planet’s atmosphere. The droid did re-entry checks, and Maedune brought the S-foils of the U-wing into the position recommended for atmospheric operations. At the same time, he kept the U-wing in proper descent profile for re-entry, while still remaining in their LZ target vector.

After dropping into the atmosphere, Maedune leveled out the dropship, keying his comm after switching to the Marine’s ground frequency. “Duster One, this is *Nomad Four*, come in. We are inbound on your position in five. Heads up.”

There was a heavy pause. Finally, Duster One responded. In the background, the din of combat could be heard. “We read you, Nomad, we’ve got Imps all over us. We’re hunkered, but when you get down to the LZ, it’s going to get real kinetic, real fast.”

“Duster, we’ll come in fast and get them aboard as quick as possible, then we’re out. How many wounded? Any expectants?”

Another pause. Maedune pinpointed the LZ below, graphing in digital lines and showing the route to approach that the *Pathfinder* had marked out. He then adjusted the yoke for descent profile, but left the power at cruise.

“I see nine wounded,” replied Duster over the comm, “Make it fast, Nomad, once they see you comin’ in, they’re gonna light the jungle up with artillery. If you have to wave off, drop us a speedball, we’re low on tibanna cartridges.”

Maedune replied, “Negative, Duster, we’re pulling you out. No hurries, no worries.”

Static filled the pause. “Well, we’re gonna be hurrying once you’re down here, Nomad. See you shortly. Duster out.”

Maedune leaned forward as the U-wing plunged through a somewhat foggy tree top canopy below. Clouds were rolling in. “What shall I assist with during the landing, Captain Maedune?” asked K-3P9. “I am very good at checklists. I have a full suite of-...”

“You’re on gears, metal head, don’t crank ‘em out till I tell ya’, and watch our clearance in the river and the trees. If one of the intakes sucks in a branch, we’re dead. Stand-by to give me full flaps, forty.”

The fog cleared as the dropship screamed in over the tops of the jungle, and dashed out above a muddy, brown river.

“We got Imps,” yowled Rhoro from the back. He’d been quite so far, this morning. Maedune had almost forgotten he was aboard. The Wobanki cat-man opened up into the jungle with the M-45 ion blaster pintle-mounted to the portside cargo door. Automatic ion blaster fire raked an Imp patrol that was making its way along the bank, south, where there was heavier fighting. Huge plumes of water erupted in sudden sprays from the river in front of the scrambling army troopers as Rhoro tried to find his range on them.

“LZ in sight!” screamed Maedune, fighting for volume over the noise of the U-wing’s large engines. They were louder in-atmosphere. “Stand-by for full repulsors!”

As they neared the glowing rectangle on the HUD that let Maedune know he was over a shallow spot to land in the river, pre-marked by the *Pathfinder*, Maedune pushed the throttle full forward, causing the dropship to halt in air. Intake valves flared as engines switched from drive to repulsor.

“Give me the gears!” Maedune shouted as he pivoted the bird to line up with Duster’s requested LZ. The marines would be hiding back in the jungle for cover. They’d come out at the last second, as would the Imps. The ship needed them to be lined up properly for them to board quickly.

K-3P9 efficiently dropped all four of the fat gears, and started calling out altitude readings to gear down. “I hope you got the depth right,” muttered Maedune as the gears disappeared beneath the swirling, muddy, brown river. The craft settled into the mud, tilting slightly. Just then, overhead, rain began to fall from the sky, as nimbostratus clouds began to roll in.“We’re coming out now,” said Duster over comm, “Cover us.”

Rhoro traversed the gun back and forth, scanning the engine blasted treeline for any sign of Imperial troops. And then blaster fire was everywhere. The marines carrying their wounded comrades waded out into the muddy brown shallows, the heavy thud of rain water weighing them down even more. In the aft cabin, the M-45 ion blaster cycled and whined, filling the air inside the cabin with acrid, burned ozone. On the far bank, the Imperials were loping out into the water, braving the murderous onslaught. Their short barreled blasters were held high, their open helmeted faces were a mask of hate, determined to bring the marines down before they reached the ship.

Above the heavy whine of blaster fire, Maedune heard a distant but unmistakable whistle, growing louder. A massive geyser of water erupted in front of the U-wings cockpit. The Imperial artillery was beginning to find it’s range on the LZ.

“We got one more group comin’ out,” shouted Duster over the comm. “We’re getting pushed from inside the jungle, try and hold--” Blaster fire drowned out the rest of the comm message. A second later he was back. “If you have to go, do it.”

Another artillery round exploded out, further down the river. Marine medics were pushing out through the river towards the dropship. Maedune was pumping his hand, motioning for the medics to hurry. Then he spoke over ship comm.

“Rhoro, tell the medics to get in, we’re taking everyone.” The second group of medics began their push towards the U-wing. They were carrying fewer wounded, but the marines were firing back into the bush where they had come from, all wearing green tiger stripe camouflage.

“C’mon, guys!” Rhoro growled, “You’re in my line of fire! Can’t fire when you’re standing between me and the Imps!” Despite this, Rhoro was in, what tactical officers would call, a ‘target rich environment.’ Rhoro stepped over the wounded, and reached the other end of the cargo door, manning the M-45 there. He charged it, and began to open fire into the opposite tree line where more Imperials were charging forward, racing towards the LZ.

As two more marines stepped onto the bank, one tossed out two thermal detonators into the bush, while the other backpedaled into the water, not letting up his fire from the A280 blaster rifle that he carried. Maedune recognized the man. Duster.

As Duster turned around, pumping his gauntlet to let Maedune know that they were the last out of the jungle, he caught blaster fire. It spun him around, and sent him into the thick mud along the bank. Immediately, the nearest marine turned back and plunged towards the shore. The water around him was alive with blaster fire as though a school of carnivorous fish had chosen that spot for dinner at that very moment. Without regard for the danger, he waded back up onto the bank and reached Duster.

“We got a man down back there,” said Rhoro, matter of factly. “Spool up, Captain. It’s getting hot. We gotta leave or we’re gonna end up blown to pieces.”

“He’s right,” thought Maedune, as two more artillery strikes came in. One hit further up the bank, causing splintered trees and mud to go flying everywhere, while the other landed in the river behind the bird, sending a massive splash of water to land on top of it, coating the U-wing in muddy water.

The marine that was attempting to help Duster was struggling through the water, executing a fireman’s carry in an attempt to reach the dropship. The backwash from the repulsors was making it hard, pushing the soldier down and away. The Imps swarmed across the river, emerging from the jungle on all sides. Maedune moved his hands to the repulsor controls, feeling the knobs as he prepared to grasp and pull to get out of there.

Without a word, K-3P9 unfolded itself from the co-pilot’s seat, climbing back through the aft cargo compartment to reach the river. It loped out towards the two marines that were struggling, engaging targets of opportunity with it’s wrist blaster. With only several strides, the droid reached the two marines, the one that had been carrying, handing the other over to the droid. He flipped around, pulling his rifle to engage the Imperials that were now just feet away.

It was a real knife and gun show, Imperial troopers being shot down at almost point blank range. K-3P9 pulled the wounded marine aboard while the still fighting marine covered. Duster was able to gather the strength to retrieve his sidearm, firing it towards the incoming Imperials intent on their demise. One bolt struck its intended target, scrambling the brain of an incoming trooper, causing him to fall into the muddy river, clearly dead.

Rhoro swore, switching blaster turrets. He opened up on the jungle in front of the last remaining marine. Massive swaths of tropical palms and vegetation disintegrated under withering ion blaster fire. A moment later, K-3P9 had Duster aboard the dropship, and the second marine was pulled in by his brothers.

Maedune didn’t waste a second. It was gear up, and the U-wing spun and rose away from the impromptu battle, heavy artillery raining down in earnest.