Sam Jack Dunn sprinted the last few steps to the blast crater, bright green blaster-fire slashing the air all around him, then pushed off the ground with both feet and leaped into the hole in the ground, his E-11 Carbine pointed out in front of him, his gloved finger jammed down on the trigger. He didn’t bother to aim: he didn’t need to. So long as the enemy were ducking long enough for the rest of the squad to get to the natural cover that the crater provided. It was just natural – someone needed to get to that position first and hold it, which meant someone had to rush headlong into enemy fire. To those who knew him, the fact that Sam ALWAYS volunteered for the job came as absolutely no surprise. The man was already well-known for his penchant for risktaking.
He landed in the crater and hit the ground running, already making his way to the lip of the crater and firing his weapon over it. The armour over his left shoulder was blackened and smoking from a blaster hit, but the Stormtrooper gritted his teeth and forced the pain back into a forgotten corner of his mind. Right now, it could only slow him down. He raised his rifle over the lip of the crater and jammed his finger on the trigger again, providing suppressing fire for the rest of his squad to move up. The higher rate of fire was why he chose the E-11 over the more deadly E-45: He knew he wasn’t much good with a rifle, so he valued the weapon for its ability to pin hostiles down. If he wanted to kill, he’d use the DL-44 strapped to his hip.
It wasn’t long before Brightstar appeared beside him, and added her own fire to his. Sam definitely appreciated his Squad Commander’s wild streak – she was almost as much of a risk-taker as he himself was. As a result, the two almost always led from the front. Not that it mattered, though. They were so badly outnumbered that blasters alone wouldn’t be enough to carry the day.
“Dunny! We need gunship support NOW! Call it in, we’ll cover you.” Brightstar ordered tersely as Lightray and Therex dropped into the crater and moved up to make full use of the cover. Sam nodded in acknowledgement and took a few steps back, retreating to the center of the crater so that he had some room to work with. He reached into one of the large pouches that dominated the lower part of his Scout Trooper uniform, and drew out…
…oh dear. It looked like the portable communicator had taken a direct hit during his mad dash. The antenna had been sheared clean off, and it looked like a lot of the wiring had been fried, too. So were the microphone and speaker. The casing was blackened, and had a pretty big hole, but fortunately it appeared like the speaker had taken the full brunt of the blast. Unfortunately, the speaker was also slightly necessary in order to maintain proper communication. He drew out the busted communicator and looked at it, raising an eyebrow as if to express his disappointment in the device for not being blaster-proof. Then again, on the bright side, it had prevented what would have been a crippling gut-shot.
“Uh, Sarge? About that comm. It’s busted.”“No excuses, Dunn – get it fixed! Without that support we’re dead!”Oh, good. No pressure, then.
He let loose a heartfelt sigh as he lowered the device to the ground and inspected the damage more closely. The microphone and speaker were definitely beyond repair, and the antenna was gone. Not just ruined, but literally not there anymore. Other than that, the major problem was the wiring – it was shot, which meant he’d need to replace it. Not to mention the battery had shorted out, and was useless. If he had the right equipment: A spare microphone and speaker, a replacement aerial and some wiring, it wouldn’t be an issue – hell, it’d be a fun and engaging diversion for a minute or so for the technically-minded Stormtrooper. A lack of parts and certain death, however, definitely ruined it.
Okay, one thing at a time. Compartmentalize, prioritize, and take it one problem at a time. First off, he had to fix the aerial. Without that, there was no way they were going to be able to send or receive jack shit. He needed something conductive. Looking around, his gaze fell upon his long-abused E-11 Blaster Rifle. It was dropped, scuffed, submerged, kicked – hell, it’d even been used as a club, and yet the rugged weapon had not failed him even once. Whilst many people preferred the newer E-45, Sam loved the reliability of his chosen sidearm. Plus, it was lighter and could be fired with one hand – always a plus for someone who preferred to use knives.
He looked at the galvern circuitry barrel of the blaster, then to the busted communicator, then back again. Well, if it could conduct blaster fire…why not? He reached into his other pouch, and snatched up his beloved PDA – the closest thing to a journal he had. He sighed as he cracked open the case, and carefully ripped out the wiring. This was going to be tricky…
…A minute and a half later, Sam Dunn felt like some kind of mad scientist. His blaster was attached to the damaged shoulder plate with tape and superglue, and wiring connected the blaster to a tiny hole he had made in the side of his helmet, where it connected to his helmet’s own speaker and microphone system. A second set of wiring trailed down under Dunn’s breastplate and into one of the pockets of his combat webbing, where the communicator itself stood. It was a Franken-contraption of wiring and sheer stubbornness that was typical of Sam Dunn. He drew his DL-44 pistol in one hand, then stepped up beside Brightstar.
“Look boss – no hands!”Joking aside, it was time to call in the support.
“Jester Sunray Minor to Phoenix, over.” He spoke loudly and clearly into the helmet’s microphone – he’d already set the frequency and rigged his helmet’s interactive HUD to transmit to the comm if he spoke with his right eye closed. All he had to do to talk to command now was wink. He’d established communications and identified himself – that was all that was needed until he got a response from command. Until it happened, Sam was content to pick off New Republic troopers with his pistol from his own little patch of cover. It was about 30 seconds before a reply crackled in over his helmet’s speakers.
“Phoenix to Jester, over.” Sam smiled to himself and suppressed a whoop of triumph as Company Command responded, acknowledging his message and letting him know that they were listening. They didn’t need to say anything else – short, concise messages were harder to break into, harder to decrypt and easier to understand. Sam didn’t waste time, the situation was pretty damn dire and time was of the essence.
“Jester to Phoenix – Skyreq, over.” Skyreq was the current code for an Air Support Request. It wasn’t the request itself – a proper Skyreq was longer than one word, but it informed Command that one was indeed coming, and it was probably a good time for the Company Command’s CommTech to get the attention of any nearby flyboys. As an ex-pilot himself, Sam understood this only too well – he’d been the Air Support for ground units in trouble before.
“Phoenix to Jester – Wait out, over.” That wasn’t what Sam had been hoping to hear, but it was what he’d been expecting. There weren’t any birds in the air nearby at the moment, which meant Command was trying to find the closest fighters in order to divert them. Given that the command had been wait instead of a negative, that meant that Command was trying to find them the support they needed. Sam didn’t envy the job of the Company Commtech.
After a few tense minutes, Sam’s speakers finally crackled with transmission, and the familiar voice of Phoenix sounded.
“Phoenix to Jester – Send, over.” That was exactly what Dunny had wanted to hear, and he gave Lightray the thumbs-up to let her know that support was available. He didn’t waste time – Jester was in trouble.
“Jester to Phoenix, Skyreq as follows:
Aurek – Jester Squad.
Besh: GR 141475. I say again, GR 141475
Cresh: GR 146478. I say again, GR 146478
Dorn: NR Boots & Hover. I say again, NR Boots & Hover.
Esk: Marker will be green smoke.
Forn: Situation Vermillion. I say again, Vermillion.
Over.”That was everything that Command needed to know in order to clear an airstrike. The people calling it, the locations of both them and the target, the nature of the target, how the friendlies would mark their own location so they didn’t get bombed, and the situation. Vermillion was pretty dire, it basically translated into ‘We’ve got ten minutes if we’re lucky.’ After he’d sent the request, Sam concentrated on holding the line with the others, plinking away at the enemy infantry with his pistol, completely ignoring the hovertank that even now was starting to rake their cover with heavy fire.
“Phoenix to Jester – Skyreq approved. ETA 4. Over.”“Jester to Phoenix – Received. Out.”And that was that. The world turned grey as the simulator shut down, and Sam Dunn smiled. He had shown knowledge enough of the radio’s internal workings and resourcefulness enough to restore it to some semblance of working order, and he had obeyed communications protocols to the letter. Were Jester in such a situation, he knew he could rely on his ability to operate communications devices if needed. Jester had just gained a valuable asset, and the knowledge that he was able to put into practise what he had learned was gratifying. The specialization course he had taken had paid off. Even if he had done so in a simulator. With his recent skin graft, he couldn’t do it for real until he healed…
- OOC:
- 1,684 words.
