Captain Cuir

Chapter Two

The hum of the LAARTY's engine vibrated throughout his helmet and skull. Cuir looked at the four other men in the hold. Each knew what they were doing. Each had his way of coping and preparing. Cegal drew designs on armour pieces and either erased them or kept them. Ali kept checking the charge on his rifle. Buir stood impassive and appeared asleep when in reality he listened to music through his helmet. Tats. Tats was weird. He would actually sharpen a culinary knife on his gauntlet. Cuir would just watch them. That was his ritual. The red light cast an erie glow across their visors. It almost made Tats' helmet look like he took a bloodbath. A bit unnerving. Cuir removed his helmet and rubbed the stubble he had been growing. "Maybe I should shave. Nah. I like it like this. Makes me look different." Cegal actually removed his helmet too, which made everyone turn. It felt like everyone had forgotten what he looked like. The scars on his face made them turn away. He'd kept his eye. It was solid white. He quickly put his helmet back on. Buir moved over to him and sat down on an ammo crate they were bringing. Cuir knew they had to be talking. Buir was nice like that. Tats slipped the knife back into the special compartment he had made in his armour. A sudden motion made each man stand and grab his weapon and brace himself. Ali took a little too long and a second jolt knocked him off his feet. He slid across the deck and MADE a handhold in the wall. "THIRTY TO DROP!!! GET READY BOYS!!! YEEEE-HAAAAAAW!!!!" Cuir never understood pilots. He found them weird and a little unsettling. Lt. Galle never voiced his opinion on them, but he knew Cuir didn't like them. But each man knew what caused the jolts. Some tinnies couldn't shoot the shebs off of a Bantha. Others could take out a gred on the bantha. Luckily, these seemed *BOOM!!!!!* Everyone knew what that was. And they relaxed a little. The cavalry had arrived: the AT-TE had touched down and fired a round. The sound of several weapons being primed seemed to signify the gravity of their predicament. Cuir felt the need to review everything in his head: Two gunships, five men. Rescuing a cutoff and out numbered platoon in hot territory. Platoon had suffered severe casualties and might not last long. But only two gunships might not be enough.

"TEN TO DROP!!!
NINE
EIGHT
SEVEN
SIX
FIVE
FOUR
THREE
TWO
WELCOME TO HELL BOYS!!!!" Shab, Cuir hated pilots. But, he pushed the thought out of his mind, drew his commando pistols, yelled OYA and charged headlong into the fray.