Things were not well for Paul Kettler. This was the end of the line for him and he knew it. Queitly the Sabre troopers held their ground in the oval room lit up by the soft glow camera screens and light-sensitive buttons. The majority of the cameras has been blacked out, there were hundreds of them and Kettler was not able to do anything currently except watch as a steady row of cameras blacked out, marking Draconis’ deadly approach. His fingers played with the detonator in his hand, waiting for Flynn’s signal. Grabbing his E-11, Paul closed his eyes tiredly.

He hugged the carbine to his body for a moment and heaved a sigh.  A few short minutes ago he had sent out Flynn. He hoped the Private would be able to handle his briefing correctly. He felt a nudge at his left shoulder. It was Shela. She was grinning at him grimly and playfully nudged again. Barely hiding his own soft flicker of a smile Kettler relaxed and dropped his head back.

“Everything will be fine chief, don’t you worry,”

“Thanks Shell, but I’d rather not try and be too optimistic, that might just kill us.” He muttered grimly.
Just then;

“Sir!”
It was the scarred zabrakian double agent who’s alert caught their attention. He pointed to one of the camera screens. Imperials was hurrying across the small screen, while one of them stood across the body of what previously belonged to Private Flynn.

“Damn it!” Kettler grunted  as his fist slammed into the dashboard.

“No, chief, look”
Something about Shela’s tone sent a shiver down Kettler’s spine while his eyes quickly diverted back to the screen. He briefly managed to identify a prisoner being hurried along across the small hall, the logo on the back of his overall standing out rather largely.  He briefly saw some face flashing across the screen and suddenly it blacked out as well.

“We still need to blow it, come on grab the charge,” Tavus urged. Kettler shook his head.

“No, no use. We had to do it simultaneously, the boy obviously didn’t know, damn it,”  Paul ignored the clench in his gut. He was used at it by now. This is how it went when he lose a trooper, and always it was his fault.

“Shit, guys, please keep the room secure, I need to go down there myself, Shela walk with me to the door,” 

His mind was spinning into disarray. The panic that rocked at his current system were quickly replace by objective thinking.
“Shela, get Dane back here, and inform him, he’s in charge now,  this building was supposed to be evacuated. Make sure there is no civilians left. I need to cut their map out.”  He whispered. He felt her fingers curling around his arm as she processed his words.

“Paul, don’t be stupid, we need you here, “

“Stand down, this is my decision,” Kettler replied with a slightly more determined voice. Shela bit down her lip and relaxed her grip on Kettler’s arm. Her other fist curled into a tight ball however.  This man’s loyalty and perseverance has always been legendary, and there was something about his determined confidence that inspired his troopers. They and the NR was his number one priority.

“Shell, I’m going, now keep the ground, and order Dane back, take care,”

***

Paul Kettler stared with shocked eyes at the seething face of Amira Darkstar.

“Mi…” he softly whispered while wincing at the pain pulsing from his ribs. He laid on the ground, beaten to a pulp already. Next to him lied the body of the technician. Unfortunately he couldn’t afford Darconis the luxury of a talking map. This is why he had to come down here. He was so careful about the halls, knowing it like the back of his hand. He only had to one target, and that was the technician.  It was no walk in the park taking aim, but he managed. In a flurry of events however, the team managed to capture him alive as soon as they recognized his rank insignias and position emblem. Somewhere he blacked out, and woke up staring into the face of his old time childhood friend Amira Darkstar. Paul Kettler failed to recognize his surroundings, and he assumed that the groups must have regrouped again in order to discuss him and approach new tactics.

“Secure the prisoner, no one kills him unless it’s on my orders, understood,” Darkstar sharply ordered. Her eyes betrayed no recognition as she met his gaze for a second.

***

Dane stifled another curse while he hurried down the corridor heading back to the control room. Paul Kettler has been captured. He managed to hear a few last words of curses and then Kettler’s com-link went out. Inside Dane was scared. Not for his own life, but for the life of his squad-leader. The man was a lion and that was the problem. He’d never kneel to torture. And this is exactly what Darconis would do.

This squad. This imperial pack of dogs, they were good. There was no denying it and Dane knew it would be only a matter of time.  Dane clenched his shaking fists, willing them to operate calmly. His eyes skimmed the faintly lit halls from one corner to the other while his two troopers trudged behind him, keeping a look-out at the back.

Suddenly, his eyes caught hold of the shafts above him. Of course! It might be a little cramped, but this was perhaps the safest way of traveling and sneaking up on the bastards.

“Shela…you there? No…I don’t know….but I have plan,”

Felp ran a calloused hand over the worn exterior of his rifle, something akin to infatuation swimming in his gaze as he looked over its solid, chunky lines. He really loved this rifle. It had saved his rear dozens of times, and taken the lives of hundreds of his enemies.

“I worry about you sometimes Felp,” Balno shifted on his haunches from where he was crouched a few meters away, a wry expression on his lean face.

“I worry about you sometimes sir,” Felp corrected, snapping out of his daze.

Balno frowned, dropping his gaze from the Lance Corporal's to the dust laden floor of the storage room in which the three members of Sabre were currently secreted. Dane was frozen solidly in place in position by the door, one eye close to a crack in the frame to monitor the activity in the hallway beyond.

Felp was about to go back to admiring his weaponry when Dane abruptly stood. Forcing his stiff limbs to co-operate, Felp came to his feet, loading his rifle as he did so.

“Jast and Welkson are here,” Dane noted absently, unaware that Balno and Felp had already gathered as much and were ready to move. He turned, jumping slightly as he almost collided with Felp's armored bulk. Shaking his head as though to snap himself clear of a daydream, Dane opened the storage room door, “Alright, we're ready.”

Jast and Welkson didn't say anything as their comrades approached, simply slotting into their ranks as they moved past. Dane took the lead, navigating the shadowed corridor until they crossed paths with the small ventilation shaft that had first caught his eye. He paused, shouldering his rifle, then gestured for Felp to give him a boost. The big man complied, jamning his ASL up into the tiny shaft.

Ignoring Valin's cursing, Felp turned to Jast, who was next in line and grinned, “Step right up.”

*        *        *        *        *        *

“They're here.”

It was more of a croak than a complete sentence that emerged from Kresh's throat as he announced the arrival of the Imperials. Shela dropped the cigarra she was smoking courtesy of Finnis, storming over the other side of the control room to view the monitors. They were there all right. A full strength squad, making their way cautiously up towards their position.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Shela signaled to Finnis, who typed in the necessary sequence to finally seal the doors. A clanging sounded as locks clamped into place, effectively sealing the three Sabre members inside. They had been hoping that Dane and the others would be able to rejoin them. Now there was no way for them to help, other than striking the Imps from the rear.

Shela closed her eyes briefly, already aware that the monitors before her and Kresh would be going dark as the Imperials cut video feed to the control room. Whispering a quiet prayer for the safety of Dane and the others outside the room, she reopened her eyes and waited for death.

Shela couldn't believe her foul luck. She sat, her eyes glued to the monitor, her heart pounding madly in her chest as the squad leader of the Imperial squad brutally forced a battered looking Kettler to the fore of the group. She listened to the woman's demands with half an ear, horribly distracted by the way one of the Stormtrooper's rifles pushed into the vulnerable soft skin of Paul's neck.

“If one of them dies, he dies...then you die,” The woman commander was saying, “The clock is running. You have thirteen minutes.”

Silence reigned in the control room as the three trapped Republic soldiers exchanged glances. Finnis, gruff as always, was the first to talk,

“We can't surrender.” He said slowly, his gaze steady, “Not now.”

Kresh, despite the fact that he had gone a deathly shade of white, nodded in agreement, “The Sarge would probably shoot us himself if we walked out there.”

Despite the grimness of their current situation, Shela laughed, the rich sound quickly swallowed up by the shadows of the room, “Too true Kresh.” Her smile faded as she reached for her comn, “Dane, you copy?”

Static was her only answer. Turning, Shela violently cast the unit at the nearest wall, shattering it into a dozen pieces upon impact. Breathing heavily, she steadied herself once again, gaining a semblance of control over the raging fear churning within her chest.

“Two minutes,” Kresh murmured, his face contorting as  a member of the Imperial squad stood forward, laser cutter in hand.

The heavy control room door groaned, apruptly under assault by the powerful tool.

“They'll use gas,” Shela noted, her voice sounding strange to her ears, “Can't risk a grenade with all the electrical equipment.” She felt detached, set aside from her body, only partly aware that Kresh and Finnis had taken their places at her side with their rifles held to the ready. The center of the door began to glow a fiery red as the last of the metal barriers were burnt away.

“”T'was an honor serving with you both,” That was Finnis again, the older trooper looking unusually red rimmed about his eyes.

The door caved inwards, crumpling away like paper. Two small cannisters followed in the wake of the smoke, clinking to a halt at the trio's feet. Shela heard someone yell something, an intelligible sequence of curses and oaths directed at the Imperial squad, unaware that the words had burst free of her own mouth. The first series of laser bolts tracked up Kresh, burning deep into private's upper chest.

Finnis and Shela opened fire, blinded by the smoke of the laser cutter, their lungs filling with the acrid chemicals of the deployed gas. Her finger locked around the trigger, her eyes streaming tears as she blindly fired before her, unaware if she was even pointing in the right direction.

Shela heard Finnis go down, felt the warm weight of him collapse against her leg. She stumbled, the rifle sliding from her grip, only to feel her body lift as she was struck heavily in her stomach. Dazed, Shela attempted to steady herself, only to realize that her legs had stopped working. She hit the floor of the control room, her face smashing unmercifully into its hard surface. Pain enveloped her, chasing the remnants of sane thought from her mind.

She didn't notice the Imperial squad enter the control room, and didn't feel the Stormtrooper boot as it roughly turned her body about to face the ceiling. Shela Bagor, renowned amongst her comrades for her infectious laugh and jovial demeanor, was already dead.

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

“We've lost comn signal.”

Dane looked over at Felp, who was uncomfortably pinned behind in the small shaft behind him, “What? How?”

Felp offered a shrug in response, “Might be these damn shafts, tough enough to even breathe in here.”

“Where bouts are we Dane?” Jast's voice sounded to the rear of the small group, his query prompted by his discomfort.

“We've circled around behind them,” Dane responded, speaking up so as the rest of the squad could hear, “They've already traveled this way, so they'll expect it to be clear.”

Ignoring the bite of his rifle as the shaft jamned it into his left shoulder, Dane ducked his head and continued forward towards the circle of light in the distance before him. He was worried for Shela in the the others, terrified in fact. There was the chance that the Imps had already hit the control room without them even knowing.

“I'm sure they're all right boss,” Felp grunted at his back, picking up on the train of his thoughts, “They'll hold till we get back. Or long enough for us to hit them from behind.”

Dane forced himself to nod and respond, “I know they will. Shela will keep them in line.” He paused as they grew nearer to the light, then spoke up again, “At ready. We're coming up on the hallway.”

Sabre did as told, a series of clicks announcing the locking of rifles. Dane slowed his stride, carefully inching towards the opening. The shaft narrowed, forcing him to duck into a crawl as he covered the last few meters.

“Um, Dane?”

He froze at the sound of Felp's voice, one hand wrapped around the edge of the shaft, ready to launch himself clear of the confining space. He turned his head, drawn by the sudden fear in the large Corporal's voice, only to realize what his teammate had spotted too late.

The tiny trip mine placed near the entrance of the shaft let out a cute little beep, as though pleased with itself for so successfully completing the task for which it had been made. Dane's mouth fell open, the warning shout failing to make it past his lips as the shaft exploded in flame, tunneling the force back in the direction Sabre had come.

The remnants of Sabre squad disappeared in an instant, their bodies swallowed in smoke and flame.

The facility rocked, its floor heaving. And then...all was still.