Survivor's Quest

Drask rumbled something deep in his throat. "You do not understand," he bit out.

Fel looked aft along the corridor, trying to ignore him. The game of diplomacy, he decided, was rapidly losing whatever faint charm it once might have possessed. As soon as he reasonably could, he would indeed get back to the others, turn Drask back over to Formbi, and be done with him.

In the distance, somewhere beyond this particular Dreadnaught's fleet tactical room, he could see a glow that seemed stronger than anything permlights could put out. "Looks like the local civilization is back that way," he said, pointing. "Stormtroopers?"

There was a short pause as the stormtroopers turned their sensors in that direction. "Infrared and gas-spectrum analysis readings indicate approximately thirty to forty humans," Grappler reported.

"Picking up voices, too," Cloud added. "The pitch would suggest mostly females and infants."

Fel frowned. Infants? "Let's take a look."

Drask rumbled again. "Commander Fel—"

"We're going to take a look, General," Fel said shortly, sending the Chiss's glare right back at him. "If you choose to argue with me every third or fourth step, it's going to take a lot longer."

"Very well, Commander," Drask said, his eyes blazing. "As you wish. You are in command of this unit, after all."

And don't you forget it. Again leaving the words unsaid, Fel gestured the 501st forward.

They headed down the corridor, Grappler in the lead, Cloud and Shadow behind him, Watchman bringing up the rear behind Fel and Drask. The general maintained a stony silence, and possibly because of that they hadn't gone more than a handful of steps before Fel began to hear the sounds of infant squeals and gurgles and female conversation. A few steps after that, and he was able to see the light he'd noticed spilling gently out into the corridor from a large room he tentatively identified as the forward sensor analysis complex. "Easy, everyone," he murmured as Grappler neared the archway leading into the room. "We don't want to scare them. Better let me go first."

Grappler nodded, and the three stormtroopers in the lead slowed their pace and moved apart. Fel passed through the middle of the formation; to his a

"If you pause to argue, this will take longer," Drask countered. "Let us finish and go to D-Five."

Fel squeezed his hand into a fist. Having a stranger drop in on unsuspecting women and children would be bad enough; having two strangers, one of them a glowing-eyed alien, would be an order of magnitude worse.

But there was a set to Drask's jaw implying that further argument would be a waste of time. Sighing to himself, Fel stepped into the archway.

Even at first glance it was clear why Cloud had picked up only female and infant voices: by its furnishings and decor, the room was clearly a large and well-equipped nursery. Perhaps twenty women were visible in the nearer section, sitting on comfortable-looking couches and chairs, some of them clearly pregnant, the rest just as clearly monitoring the activities of a herd of infants, crawlers, and toddlers. There were also about a dozen older children in the seven-to-eight-year-old range, that group standing in a half circle around another woman as if listening to a story or a lesson. He had just enough time to see every eye turn to him, and to catch the startled or frightened expressions on several of the women—

The attack came as a stuttering burst of full-auto blasterfire from somewhere farther aft, a screaming volley of red bolts sizzling and spattering across the stormtroopers' armor. Instinctively, Fel ducked down, grabbing for Drask's arm only to find that the general's combat reflexes were better honed than Fel's and had already put him flat on the deck. The stormtroopers' reactions were just as quick: Watchman shouted something Fel didn't catch, and suddenly a set of green blaster bolts was scorching the air in the other direction.

"Cease fire!" Fel shouted over the din. "Stormtroopers: cease fire!"

"No!" Drask barked. "Lay down protective fire and retreat to the fleet tactical room. Fel, come."

Before Fel could even form a protest, Drask had the two of them back on their feet, rapidly retreating behind the stormtroopers' moving defensive screen. They reached the fleet tactical room, and with a quick look inside Drask shoved Fel through the doorway and jumped in after him. A second later, with one final burst of covering fire, the four stormtroopers were inside as well.

"Report," Fel ordered, feeling like an idiot and hoping the effects of the exertion would adequately cover his embarrassment. Getting shot at was hardly a new experience for him, but usually he was in the cockpit of a clawcraft at those times, with a familiar collection of sensors, shields, and weapons at his fingertips. Being attacked in dress uniform had startled him more than he would have expected. "Injuries?"

"No armor damage," Watchman reported. "Those bolts were weaker than standard."

"Comes of using the same Tiba

"No," Drask said. "We go back."

Fel felt his jaw drop a couple of centimeters. "What are you talking about? We're here to help these people, not trade shots with them."

Drask eyed him curiously. "Interesting," he said. "You have more restraint than I would have expected from one trained under Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo's authority." He gestured down the corridor. "But in this particular situation, such restraint is inappropriate. Those warriors are protecting something. I wish to learn what it is."

Fel took a deep breath, his opinion of Drask's soldiering skills dropping a few notches. "They were protecting that nursery," he said, as if explaining it to a small child. "Women and children. Remember?"

"No," Drask said. "If that had been their purpose, they would have been positioned between the turbolift and that room."

"Maybe there aren't any good defensive positions this far forward."

"We passed at least three of them," Drask countered. "I am a ground soldier, Commander. Such things are my business."

"He's right, Commander," Watchman put in. "Actually, for that matter, the position they were firing from wasn't very secure. Best guess is that they were on their way forward from somewhere else when they ran into us."

Fel stepped to the doorway and hooked a cautious eye around it. Beyond the open nursery door, he could see two figures jump-stopping toward them along the corridor. "In fact, I would suspect they are right now taking advantage of the lull to move to better positions closer to us," Drask said from behind him.

"They're coming, all right," Fel confirmed, his estimation of Drask reluctantly returning to its previous level. "Looks like just two of them."

"Then let us move quickly," Drask urged. "If we hesitate too long before launching a counterattack, the subsequent battle will take place near the nursery and risk injury to the women and children. That is unacceptable."

"I thought launching attacks in general was unacceptable to the Chiss," Fel muttered under his breath as he gestured the stormtroopers forward.

"They fired first," Drask reminded him coolly. "They are now fair game. Do we go?"

Fel clenched his teeth. "We go," he confirmed. "Watchman? Clear out those snipers. Try to do it without killing them."

"Copy, Commander," the stormtrooper said promptly. "Grappler, Shadow, Cloud: Overrun Pattern Three. Go."

Grappler touched his fingertips to his helmet in acknowledgment and swung halfway out into the corridor, dropping onto one knee and opening up with his BlasTech on full auto. The other two stormtroopers gave the pattern half a second to settle in, then ducked out into the corridor and charged out toward the waiting enemy, Shadow adding his own blasterfire to the barrage.