<"Go!">
The squadron leapt out from the dropship, free falling through the cold air. Snowflakes fluttered around, matching the white Imperial armor of the Myrmidon Mandalorians. In the frost, jetpacks activated in burning flame as the squadron slowed their descent to the ground. Their boots thudded into the snowy ground. As the snow sprayed around them, the leader spoke into his buy'ce's comlink, <<"Alright, everyone. We have a job to do.">>
As she checked her equipment one more time, a small trooper looked up to him. She could not help but admire his beskar'gam. Despite the traditionalism of Imperial culture, even the Empire's Mandalorians had their own custom beskar'gam - if they could earn it - and their commander most certainly had. He lead the way; his royal purple armor standing out against the winter scenery.
The young Myrmidon followed as the troops approached the ruins of an old battlefield. The cherry trees were burnt away, though new buddlings were starting to become visible. Turned over vehicles, crashed ships, and frozen stormtroopers forever crystallized in their armor made this a haunted place where time slowed to a crawl. The young Mandalorian shivered. The battle here had taken place before she was born, yet it felt like the place has been abandoned yesterday.
<<"We will fan out.">> Their leader ordered, <<"Search for any signs of Lord Dooku. Krayt!">>
The youngster pulled a quick salute, <<"Yes, sir?">>
<<"Can you sense anything out of the ordinary?">>
She took a glance around the graveyard. Indeed, she felt something off. Something tainted. Something wrong. She could see nothing, but she still felt it.
<<"The Dark Side permeates here. And it doesn't feel as dead as it looks, in an odd kind of way.">>
<<"You heard the Shaman! Darth Caelitus's abominations may still lurk here. Be careful, gar shuk meh kyrayc. Let us find our lost leader! For the Empire!">>
<<"For the Empire!">> The rest of the squadron chanted before they each decided where they were going. As they set off, the Shaman looked around the gruesome place with doubts rolling in her mind. She had been born right around the time Lucien Dooku, the heir to the Empire, had disappeared. Why should he pop up now after all these years? The Force Sensitive Novanian felt no Force Signatures promising a powerful Imperial Knight, and her foreboding was growing with every step. She paused at a clearing where a large walker had fallen. She clenched her rifle in frustration. These searches were a waste of time.
<<"Haar'chak...>>
She turned to continue the fruitless search, when her Precognition blared in alarm. She looked down just to see a frostbitten hand reaching up from the mound of snow. It grabbed her ankle.
Immediately, flashes of fractured memories raced through her mind. A Stormtrooper desperately shooting at the undead shells of his own squadron as they overcame him. The flashes ended as soon as they began. Feeling the hand pulling her down, she grimaced and activated her jetpack. She yanked her leg free as she took to the air. Perhaps, if she could remain quiet, this lone zombie would not be a problem. But she was not looking where she was flying and rammed into the walker. As she landed in the snow, she heard the awakening groans of undead, followed by the racket of metal from inside the walker.
<<"Aww, haar'chak.>>
She stood up and aimed her rifle as a cluster of zombies piled on top of each other after falling out of the walker. She shot one round, then another. As the zombies clumsily climbed over each other, she was able to take out most of them. Two scrambled out of the pile and made way towards her. One ran on all fours, the other ran like an enraged drunkard. She fired her rifle at one, then quickly took out the other with her charric wrist blaster.
She was far from done, however, as more groans were coming up from behind her.
She turned and saw a hoard of them crawling out from under the wreckage and swarming towards her. She could hear blasterfire nearby as well. She was not the only one running into trouble. She lowered her rifle and extended her Mandalorian Vambrace towards the zombies. A wrist rocket flared up as she frowned. We never should have come here.
<"To your left!">
The trooper fired another shot from his vambrace, killing the zombie. The commander panted as he watched his soldier check his wrist blaster's ammunition.
<"I'm out."> He panted, trying to keep his cool.
<"That Darth Caelitus! Even in death he's a pain!">
As the commander fired another round from his rifle, his companion switched to using his twin pistols.
There's too many, and it's looking grim. He thought it over as he turned and noticed three more right behind him. As his whistling birds took them out, he winced beneath his buy'ce, Lord Dooku can't be here. Perhaps, I should order a ret-
<"-Sir!">
Turned around to see a zombie biting into his partner's arm, having found a gap in plating to piece the bodyglove. He was about to shoot the zombie off him, but another shot finished him first. He looked up to see the Shaman standing atop a nearby fallen ship with her rifle, <"There's more coming! Use your jetpacks!">
Immediately, the two joined her atop the ship. The commander immediately saw the entire hoard creeping from the snow and fallen vehicles. In the corner, he spotted one of their own included in the mob. He gritted his teeth.
<"Sir....">
He looked over to see his companion pulling his buy'ce off, eyes wide as he looked right at his fate. <"K-kill me-">
<"No!">
The Shaman lowered her rifle and ran over to inspect the wound, <"I-I can fix this! I can heal-">
The vod gently extended his hand, keeping her from coming closer. He was unable to speak, throat tight.
The commander sighed, speaking into his comlink, <<"Everyone, retreat! We're going back to the landing zone and rocketing back up. That is an order.">>
He looked over to the shaman and held himself together, <"I'll handle things here, rookie. Please, make sure all of our squad mates make it.">
The Shaman looked to the infected soldier one more time, then looked back to her commander and nodded. As she rocketed away, the veteran held back his tears as he looked to his companion.
<"I'll make sure your buy'ce is returned home, vod.">
Gritting her teeth, the shaman motioned for her final teammate to fly up, <"Go! I'm not losing anyone else!">
She panted as she shot her final jetpack missile towards the incoming swarm. She jetpacked to the sky as she counted the Force signatures in her head, ... one, two. Not accounting for the commander and two infected, we're missing-!
She tried searching for their Force Signatures, but could not feel it. She was about to return to the ground to search for him, when-
<<"-How many made it?">>
Elise hissed at her failure, <<"I only found two! I spotted two more infected, and one is-">>
<<"-Infected too. We're the last ones. I'm right behind you, go!">>
Elise didn't want to believe it. Including her and the commander, there were only four left. They arrived as eight! She teared up as she rocketed upwards. She felt the Force Signature of her commander close by; and by the time she was at the dropship, they were side by side.
Elise fell to her hands and knees at the ship, panting and struggling to control her urge to sob. She heard the sound of cluttering, and looked to see that the commander had collected every fallen's buy'ce to return to their families. She gritted her teeth, holding it in. She could sense... that everyone else was holding their tears as well. The commander felt like a wreck inside, and she had to yank her Force Empathy away from him.
<"When we get to the destroyer, everyone immediately go quarantine and sanitize. We don't need to spread that abomination to anyone else. I'll report in and... let them know our Lord is not here either.">
Elise watched the two remaining Myrmidons just... huddle together and fall asleep. It would be a short ride, but their exhaustion was apparent.
The commander let out a heavy sigh, slumping against the wall. Elise looked up, feeling tears slipping down her face. <"We lose people everytime...">
The commander clenched his fist, before scoffing in exasperation, <"I'm tired of this, kid. We haven't found him in two decades...">
<"Then why try?"> Elise shot in a moment of hotheadedness, <"Shouldn't we be focusing on the future, and not the past?">
A large whirlwind of emotions inside him alerted her that, perhaps, she had spoken out of turn towards the commander. But the man only slumped, <"You wouldn't understand, rookie. You weren't even born when we lost our leader. But... logic is bound to overcome our loyalty and emotions eventually. As much as I hate to admit it...">
He choked as he whispered, <"We lost too many today... to a graveyard. Fitting, huh? Overcome by the dead past we refuse to let die.">
Elise pulled her buy'ce off and started wiping her tears away. A sob shook her back as she felt all the survivor's emotions meld with her own. She sort of slumped as she gazed at the buy'ce's of the fallen. She closed her eyes, remembering her younger sister's thirst for the glories of old. Was it wrong to want these things? Or could it lead to good? Had it lead to anything good today?
She closed her eyes, pondering, as the dropship entered the Imperial Star Destroyer in the sky.
