When You Come Home

-10-

"Boil, watch your six!" Anakin yelled over the reverberating explosion of a bomb that was too close for comfort. He dove under a scratchy hedge, throwing himself against the small rise in the uneven terrain. Shrapnel showered down around him, flames leaping up to the tree tops and illuminating them like great torches. The darkened sky, with clouds so black they were almost purple, captured the orange glow and reflected it back to the forest filled with tiny men that fought for their lives. The Sith had attacked; the war had started. And ever since, the whole world had been thrown into chaos and a desperate struggle for survival and freedom.

Anakin regripped his assault rifle, moving his other hand further up the long nozzle. He barely remembered his first time holding one of these: it seemed so long ago now. He had almost made it to six months – being just two weeks short of completing his full training program – when the announcement had flashed on every Republican TV, media channel, and website. Count Dooku of the Sith movement had declared war on the Republic. Every young man healthy and able to bear arms was being conscripted into the army in an effort to match Dooku's mighty force. The economy was left to the women who had not taken up jobs behind the front lines. The Republic had held their own far longer than anyone had anticipated, their sheer unity and grim determination rising like a powerful wall of independence. But six months in, with high causalities and dwindling hope, things were not looking as utopian as the cheerful posters and bold propaganda claimed. Anakin had tasted many battles, seen too many of his brothers fall, and experienced too much for a boy newly turned seventeen. He had heard no word from his father, nothing from Rex, and no news about Kitster. His family had become the military, and he would live and die protecting them.

"I told you to watch your six," Anakin grumbled as Boil limped over to Anakin's temporary hiding place. He turned the soldier around, carefully removing the piece of shrapnel lodged in his clothes. "Are you okay?"

Boil nodded, though his pale face suggested otherwise. "I'm fine; it's just a scratch."

Anakin frowned, but another explosion made them both drop flat. Mud seeped into their camos, mingling with the green spots and brown dirt that already covered them. They curled into protective balls as more shrapnel, fragments, and branches fell around them. The shouts and screams of other soldiers filled the air, rising louder as their ears stopped ringing from the explosion. Bullets flew in all directions. The atmosphere dripped with tension and confusion.

"Where's Cody?" Anakin shouted over the din.

Boil shrugged, uncurling to grab his own rifle. "I don't know! He was that way, but when the first landmine went off, everyone scattered!"

"But the plan will be the same: hold our ground until the Sith retreat. Let's go!" Anakin started to get up, but Boil pulled him down.

"No! The mines have ruined everything! Kashyyyk is hard enough to navigate, and that's with a map!" He waved his hand around at the tall trees. "We can't go anywhere without the threat of a landmine."

"The Clankers will know where the mines are," Anakin countered, ducking as a bullet ricocheted off the raised ground they hid behind. "They'll have to be placed in a logical enough pattern that even the simplest Clanker will have learned it."

Boil shook his head, dark eyes grave. "How long have you been on the frontlines and you still haven't realized the Sith don't care about their troops? Only a few people will know where they are, and they're probably gone by now."

Anakin slumped back, clutching his gun to his chest. "I can't believe that anyone could treat people so disrespectfully."

"Soldiers are just a means to an end."

"Not to me," Anakin growled.

"And you're not a commander yet."

"Focus!"