The Abiding Force: A Knight of the Empire (Star Wars)

19

Val was not fond of the Imperial standard insertion vehicle. A form of heavily specialized drop ship intended to attach to the hull of an enemy ship, then bore through with a specialized high-intensity beam, the ship lacked any sort of defensive weaponry or shielding. The thick armor plating was supposed to be resistant to most anything short of a turbolaser bolt, but unfortunately, almost all capital ships carried turbolasers. Fifty men and women packed into a coffin, just waiting for a hammer to find the mail that would seal their fate.

Val gripped the straps around his chest tightly, not immune to the heavy g-forces now being pulled by the ship's pilot. By necessity, these pilots were often top-of-class types, those that fell just short of starfighter qualifications or held qualms about the necessary killing that came with a jock's profession. This pilot, though Val could only see the back of his helmeted head was a Mirialan named Rezhh. Val had come to hate the man in the short minutes he had been his passenger. Rezhh was a maniac, his Mirialan frame better suited to the g-forces being pulled than his human counterparts. As the magnetic locks clamped into position, sealing them to the hull, Val breathed a sigh of relief.

The cutting crew assumed their position, executing each move with practiced ease. Within moments the hull section was falling inwards, glowing edges fading as the residual heat dissipated. Val followed the platoon commander, a squat but muscular Corellian man called Foroth. Lieutenant Foroth had recently been promoted to his post from his previous rank as sergeant. The last commander of the platoon had been killed at Skorrupon, freak accident by all accounts, fell off his bunk and broke his neck. Val had seen Foroth's mind, finding no trace of regret there. If what Foroth believed was true, that Lieutenant would have gotten them all killed.

There would be a time to account for that, Val knew. Right now, the Empire needed these marines, even Foroth as despicable as he may have been, Val may have done the same in the man's position. What's wrong with me. He thought, revulsion welling in his stomach. He didn't used to think like that, not at all.

"Follow me sir." Foroth said, his heavily tattooed, cord-like arms bare, totally out of regulations. Foroth had nearly 20 years on Val, with a long list of honors accompanying his career. It was only natural that the man would hold some disdain for a young noble with a surplus of power. The sergeant hefted his heavy blaster carbine and jumped through the hole rolling as he did so. His initial momentum carried him through into the larger ship's relative gravity while the roll allowed the man to correctly orient himself. It was a practiced movement Val was certain each of the marines around him had mastered.

Luckily, Val could draw on something other than the experience he lacked. He leapt through, drawing on the force to correct his orientation. To anyone observing, he may as well have been flying. It was something he could only manage for short periods and at great exertion, but it was useful in such situations. Foroth was focused otherwise and so did not see Val's graceful entrance. A low alarm blared, hull integrity had been compromised and the enemy knew exactly where it had occurred. It would be a matter of moments before the first enemy forces began to arrive.

The rest of the platoon filed in behind Val, moving with purpose in all directions, setting up a secure position encompassing the entire block. Val moved slowly behind Foroth, whom raised a hand to signal his first squad to follow his lead. They rapidly approached an intersection, the two branching corridors curving off left and right out of sight. Foroth made a move to check the right hall, but Val stepped up, signaling for him to stop. Val could sense the trap awaiting ahead, four men and a heavy blaster turret that would shred the squad if they continued into its range.

"Ambush." Val said, inclining his head down the right hall. Foroth smiled, "Not really, but I get your point." He replied, citing the literal definition of an ambush. "Left it is." Foroth said, raising then indicating the direction to the rest of his squad with his hand. Two marines surged forward rapidly, taking the lead. Foroth took a position at the center of the hallway as they moved deeper into the vessel, the goal of their operation was to seize the main reactor room. There were three other platoons making similar entries across the ship, each targeting a specific vital system, the bridge, the primary hangar bay and the shield ward. The capture of all of these systems would render the ship combat ineffective and allow for the Empire to take control with a second wave of naval personnel.