consequences wrote:
Keep up the good work, and update your sig, which is now misleading.
Sig. Updated.
Thanx, anyway I can improve? Did the extensive dialogue bore you?
Can you suggest a name for the Independant rebel group? Or better yet the whole fic?
Nothing springs immediately to mind. Of course, I am predisposed towards insane droids, as well as any sort of rebel group thgat actually has something resembling balls, and in awe of people who manage any sort of extended dialogue, as I have problems writing out a conversation.
Independent Rebel group, hmmm. Bantha Pudu?
Seriously, I got nothing.
Ok Rather short enstallment here but enjoy all the same.
***
Chapter Four: Confrontations.
“It’s Time. Let’s move out.”
Arla said again. Or more likely screamed. The explosives were counting down. If they didn’t find a way out soon they go down in flames with the com station and shield generators they were here to destroy.
Carter was a couple of hundred metres behind the rest of the group and the charred remains of his armour, demolitions expert and precious V4–40 were about 50 metres behind him. He turned and ran across the large courtyard reaching his comrades–in–arms in a couple of seconds. A couple of dozen army soldiers and several Stormies were pilling in to the courtyard. Blaster bolts hailed down on the strike team.
Fabian swung his lightsabre in complex never ceasing hieroglyphs, deflecting quite a few of Blaster blots heading for his team, dodging more but only ones that could only strike him.
“I can’t hold them off forever, Arla. So get us the hell out of here.” He roared of the hiss of his sabre and the roar of
“What makes you think it’s that easy, sorcerer?” she screamed back while flaming down several Army grunts with a stolen E11 and attempted to hack the door code with the other.
“I’ll make it a bit clearer shall I? Get us the hell out of here before we’re all charred meat burgers.”
“Ok, Ok. I’ve got it.” The small blast door ponderously rose.
“Pratchett, Jenkins secure the exit corridor. Olu’uln and me will cover you.”
Arla and the small mousy man named Pratchett ran through the blast door. While Carter and the large twi’lek heavy weapons man held off the troops. More stormtroopers piled into the area as they made their escape.
Fabian closed he blast door and pulled out his heavy T–800 Pistol, nicknamed a “terminator” for its extreme high power bolts. One shot vaporised the control mechanism.
“Well, that’ll hold them for a while.” Carter grimaced as small twinges and pains from numerous small burns, contusions and scrapes ran amok over his body. “Any one get any Idea where this back waters getting all the stormies from? I did think the Emperor sent more than a couple of units to these territories.”
“Well there’s a lot more than couple of units in that courtyard alone” Said Pratchett stating the bleeding obvious as usual.
“Well in any case we better get moving” And with that the battered four man team, starting walking along their chosen escape tunnel. Behind them an Imperial Base blew apart sending violent gold flames shooting up into the night sky.
***
Despite Carter’s misgivings and his continued opinion the sole purpose of the mission was the get them all killed, the team approached their assigned escape vehicle. They had not seen the Imperials for many hours and hoped they had lost them.
But as they strode, walked or limped (in Pratchett’s case) along a dark dank back alley, the door to the hanger opened.
Beyond was a man in an Admiral’s uniform. Well not quite in an Admiral’s uniform. The man had black gloves and a clock both with silver tracery all over it. He had short black hair and a long aristocratic face. An although he had code cylinders equivalent to the uniform hew wore, the emblem on his chest and belt buckle was not the blocks of the Imperial navy, It was a circular starburst, it marked him as a Jedi hunter, as an Imperial Inquisitor.
