Clone Wars: Chronicles of the 607th

Chapter 1.4-The Attack

The ride back was beyond excuriating. It seemed that no matter how much he pushed it, 7938's bike couldn't go fast enough. The idea of the Crusader being attacked made his insides squirm. Trayx was reported to be skilled enough tactician, but if they lost the Crusader, they would lose their only way off this planet, and the 607th's so far non-glorious journey would be ended for good. Reputation, however, was the last thing on his mind. All of his men looked to him for leadership, and here he was out in the middle of nowhere trying so very hard to get back to them. They needed him, and he wasn't there...again...

Finally, the village rose into sight. 7938 breathed a sigh of relief as he saw gunships ascending into the sky. With any luck, they may be able to escape this without any casualties.

Skidding their speeders to a stop, the squad dismounted as CT-5231 ran up to them.
"Commander, Captain," he addressed them; "the evacuation is progressing but it's taking longer than we would like."

"Explain," Reius ordered calmly.

"With the Crusader under fire, our gunships may be shot down if we caravan," 5231 reported. "General Tyrel ordered that we space the gunships out in five minute intervals to give the Crusader time to move into a new position to better protect our transports."

"So how many do we have left?" Reius asked.

"Transport Four just left," 5231 answered. "Transports Five, Six and Seven are still grounded."

"Alright then," Reius huffed. "Make sure Transport Five is ready to move out. Lieutenant Slice, you're in charge of overseeing the evacuation. Get as many troops on those transports as you can."

7938 furrowed his brow. Slice in charge? Obviously he could handle it, but why him and not 7938?

"Understood, ma'am," Slice nodded.

"Captain," Reius addressed 7938, "you're with me."

Well, that explained that. "Where are we going?" 7938 asked, marching to keep up with her.

"We're going to talk with the village elders," Chalea said grimly.

The village elders, as it happened, met them first.

"Jedi," the human, Wylin, said anxiously. "You must leave before they kill you too!"

"We're in the process of evacuation," Reius replied emotionlessly. "Is this why you urged us to leave? Because the Separatists had already murdered half of your mining camp?"

Wylin nodded slowly. "They came without warning. We tried to fight back...Makkim tried to use our explosives...but there were too many. My granddaughter..." he choked on his own breath.

7938's mind flashed back to the dead seventeen-year-old in the camp. "You could have told us," he said gently. "We could have protected you."

The words were out of his mouth before he realized, and he caught Reius giving him a glance. He winced, realizing that she probably hadn't wanted him to speak—and much less talk sympathetically to traitors. Would a reprimand come later? A reprimand from a self-failing padawan seemed like a joke, to be honest.

"No one else could get hurt," Makkim the Ithorian said, placing a hand on Wylin's shoulder. "Not for us. You must leave. We tried to fight, and we failed."

"No," Reius said. "We won't give up yet. We'll come back with reinforcements."

"Reinforcements means a war," Wylin said tiredly, shaking his head. "War means death for my people, but in surrender we at least have our lives."

"We need to make them pay for your granddaughter," 7938 hissed under his breath.

"We'll do what we can," Reius replied, shooting 7938 another look. "And we will be back. I promise."