I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Jegora thought as he led his squad down a dark corridor. The six man squad consisted of three privates, a corporal, a sergeant, and Jegora himself. It was a rather obnoxious group, one that Jegora was happy he didn’t have to work with on a regular basis.

Sweeping his A-280 blaster rifle in a wide arc down the hall, Jegora searched intently for any sign of a hostile force. Switching his vision filter to an infrared setting, he scanned the walls and adjoining rooms of the halls. He found nothing, but was still uneasy. It was too easy to fool heat sensors of any sort, and the infrared filter in the stormtrooper helmet wasn’t the most advance piece of equipment out there. Plus, Jegora had learned to trust his instincts. They proved right more often than wrong, and had saved his life many times over.

The squad came to a crossroads, a four-way intersection that posed a variety of problems. Should the squad proceed into the intersection there was a very real chance they could be caught in a crossfire ambush. If they turned one way or another, then it was feasible they would be exposing their backs to the enemy. If they went straight, it was entirely possible they would miss the mission objective altogether. There was no easy solution, and as the senior ranking noncom it fell to Jegora to make the decision.

“Ah hell,” Jegora muttered out loud, low enough that his helmet mic didn’t pick up anything more than a slight bout of static. One of the privates, an extremely enthusiastic and rather annoying kid by the name of Waide, was quick to inquire into the noise.

“Did you say something boss?” he asked as respectively as he could, and even then the question came out as snobbish. Jegora wasn’t sure why he had taken such a disliking to the young man, but he had decided earlier he wasn’t going to go through any effort to keep them in check. This was a one-time deal, he had told himself. He didn’t have to make friends with these people.

Shaking his head, Jegora straightened up from his crouch, staring at the intersection only five meters away. Thinking hard, he decided to go straight ahead. There was a chance they would miss the objective, but left or right could mean death by crossfire, a fate Jegora was keen to avoid. Designating two privates, one of them Waide and another fellow by the name of Quent, to watch the left and right flanks respectively, Jegora took up the point position once again and began a slow trot forward.

As they reached the intersection Jegora’s bad feeling intensified. As he took one step out into the cross-hallway he nearly broke out in a sweat from the intense feeling of imminent danger. He took one more step, and without thinking threw himself to the floor. His squad, still a step or so behind him, followed suit, although only one man (Jegora couldn’t remember his name right then) was also in the intersection.

Jegora had gotten dirty just in time. Laser rounds flew overhead, issuing from the hallway to his right. Luckily, there were several crates stacked in the hallway along the walls, for what purpose Jegora wasn’t sure. He didn’t care, though. Right now it provided cover, and as long as he stayed low he wouldn’t get shot. However, the squad was now trapped in this hallway. If they tried to advance at all they would emerge into the open center aisle of the hall, exposing themselves to the vicious fire that was coming their way. Now Jegora was thinking again.

Re-orienting himself so that he was facing the direction of the fire, Jegora crouched low and looked around, trying to devise a plan. The intersection was, for the most part, open, the heavy steel create that Jegora himself was crouched behind, against the right-hand wall, being the nearest cover he could see. However, on the left-hand side of the hallway, a little farther up, was another crate. If one of his troopers could reach that spot safely, then they would have a good shot at the enemy forces and could lay down suppressive fire for the rest of his squad.

Jegora motioned for one of the troopers to move up next to him, and was soon rewarded by Waides white armored form crouching right next to him. Giving a small sigh, Jegora resigned himself to dying. If Waide was the only one who would volunteer to lay down covering fire, they were all doomed. Still, there was no time to argue with the young man. Instead Jegora pointed to the crate, and explained the situation.

“When I say go I want you to sprint to that crate and lay down suppressive fire for the rest of the squad. Understand?” Jegora told the younger man.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, ready to be the hero. Letting out a small sigh Jegora unclipped a boom-and-zoom grenade from his belt. He pulled the pin and depressed the button, pausing the disorienting weapon’s short timer.

“Alright, get ready,” Jegora cautioned, then threw the grenade. There was a loud pop and a flash of light, and then he yelled, “GO!”

Go he did. Whatever Jegora held against Waide, he had to admit that the lad was quick. In no time he was behind the crate against the opposite wall, and began to lay down covering fire. The enemy forces quickly cut off their assault, hunkering down behind their own crates in order to escape the deadly fire that was now coming their way. Jegora did his part as well, moving up next to Waide. As soon as he was in position he opened up with his own weapon, the A-280.

The other five members of Jegora’s squad were carrying E-11s. While deadly, they weren’t very powerful, or accurate, and the enemy forces knew they could peek around corners and fire off a few shots without any real risk.

The A-280 changed all that.

Deadly accurate and extremely powerful, the A-280 changed the entire battlefield. Now, instead of Jegora’s squad being unable to move, the enemy squad was unable to move. Jegora let loose a rain of fire upon the crates the hostiles were hiding behind, forcing them to duck down farther and fire even less. The rest of Jegora’s squad, which were only now crossing the intersection, were letting loose some fire as well, but it was mainly an illusion. Moving as they were the friendly stormtroopers couldn’t really hit anything, but it made the enemy forces even more afraid to pop their heads up.

Suddenly Jegora had another feeling. He knew where the objective was. “Belay my last command. Advance on the hostile forces,” he ordered over the squad’s radio. The troopers obeyed instantly, changing course and advancing on the enemy position. Jegora himself moved out from behind the crate he had been using as cover, slowly making his way towards the now-immobile hostiles.

Jegora knew that the hostiles would be guarding the objective. That was their mission, after all, and they didn’t seem bright enough to not hide right next to it. Jegora knew what he had to do. He just didn’t know how to do it.

Taking up a position by another box, Jegora kept up the suppressive fire, but at a lesser rate. He only had so much ammo, after all. Now his men were getting close, within a few meters, and were waiting for his commands. Jegora had nothing to give them. He had no idea how to take the men out without losing a life. He had already used his only stun grenade, and the thermal detonators they carried would cause too much structural damage to the building, which command wanted to keep mostly intact. He was out of ideas, out of energy, and out of time.

So he got desperate.

Hoisting the A-280, Jegora cringed at the thought of what he was about to do. Even in theory it seemed so wildly unprofessional that Jegora fully expected it NOT to work. Still, he had little choice, and his death would create a large enough diversion that the rest of the squad could complete the objective.

Still, though, he REALLY didn’t want to die. He rather liked living. Still, he could see no other options. “Alright boys,” he said into his helmet mic, “lay down some heavy cover fire. Give them something to look at besides me.”

The troopers all nodded, none of them realizing just how stupid of a plan Jegora had in mind. That was alright, though, as long as they did their job. Shaking his head one more time, Jegora drew in a deep breath and began to move even closer to the enemy. He was now within a meter and a half from the enemy forces, just on the other side of the crates. His own trooper’s lasers were whizzing by and above him. He was, he realized, caught in a very deadly crossfire of his own design.

There was nothing for it. In one swift motion Jegora stood up, pointed his A-280 straight downwards on the other side of the crate, and opened fire. After a few seconds he let up on the trigger to take a look at his handiwork.

Immediately after he quit firing the whole hallway lit up with intense white light, and only the filter on his helmet kept him from being blinded by the sudden glow. The enemy troopers stood up and took off their white helmets. Jegora did the same, still amazed that his ploy had worked. Together the two six-man squads, who only moments before had been enemies, got up and moved towards an open door only a few meters away. Once inside they were greeted by a rather pleased-looking 2nd Lieutenant, the same 2nd Lieutenant they had been meeting with for the last week.

“Well, well,” the commissioned officer said, a small smile on his face. “Not too bad.”

Jegora resisted rolling his eyes. He hated this young officers who though that just because they were officers that they were superior to the enlisted men. What he wouldn’t give to go one-on-one with this sorry piece of—

“Sergeant Fal,” the officer said, interrupting his rather nasty thoughts. “That was a stupid and irresponsible maneuver. If your squad had not demonstrated their mastery of the techniques we were teaching here today you would have most surely have been killed.”

“Mhmm,” Jegora responded, his tone non-committal. The officer’s eyes widened at the casual response.

“What was that, soldier?” he nearly screamed. The rest of the troopers backed away, but Jegora stood his ground and turned his cold blue eyes on the young officer. Instantly some of the fury went out of the younger man, but he still looked rather livid. Jegora sighed and decided that it would be best to play this one safe. He needed this certification for a pay raise.

“Sorry Sir,” he said, his voice as respectful as he could make it, which wasn’t very. Still, it seemed to appease the officer, who softened and took a step backwards. When he spoke again he was addressing the whole group.

“As I was saying,” the officer continued, his voice dry and monotone from reciting these lines over and over again to each class that passed through. “You all have done very well. I am proud to have been your instructor over this past week. With my congratulations, you are dismissed.”

Jegora sighed again, turned, and left the room through yet another door. His certification would update to show that he had successfully completed fire support tactics training, and his paycheck would increase by a few hundred credits. It was a small sum, but worth the small effort that went into the class. The only downside was the people he had to work with, but Jegora figured that as long as he got to shoot some of them at the end it was all good.

As the newly certified Platoon Sergeant left the simulator wing of the Army Training Center on Tadath, he felt an unexpected sense of pride over his new certification. It was a small thing, hardly notable on any service records, but it wasn’t the actual certification that Jegora was proud about. It was the fact that he had gotten through the week without killing any of his classmates.
His self control must have been greater than he thought. Maybe I’ll take some more of these classes, he thought to himself. I could use the discipline.