OBJECTIVE 3: WIPE THEM OUT. ALL OF THEM.
Location: Cave of the Sojourner, Neshtab
Objective: Evacuate
TAGS: OBJECTIVE 3
The Pariahs fled into the caves, Stormtroopers chasing them.
Masosh, young Grotta of the Pariahs, scrambled through the snow, still unused to the cold and the strange soft ground. He could see the warriors of the Legion defending the exits: the Stormtrooper armour, Graug explosives, laser rifles. Strange weapons native to Neshtab were deployed in static emplacements, turrets that fired a strange pulsing beam, and several warriors of the Nests were up here on the surface in their bulky surface suits as well.
He heard the screams of his clan-siblings and elders, his instructors and his carers. He looked around instinctively for them, watching their lifeless bodies fall into the snow, cut down by blaster fire. Those that lived shouted the same as all the others:
RUN
He was chased into the caves, the Stormtroopers following. A blur of events: running into the ceramic panelled walls, not dissimilar to the Conservatory. He saw Legionnaires clashing with the Stormtroopers, their lifeless visage ever scanning the environment. Shooting the stragglers. He saw the Stormtroopers ambushed and driven back, only to enter from another tunnel.
Masosh ran and stumbled until he ran into a dead end. There must be an exit here. He banged on one of the blast doors out of this room, but nothing. He peeked around the corner and saw a group of Pariahs, humans and Graug alike, turn into the corridor. A grenade exploded amidst them, dust and snow and light. He fell backwards, and when his vision cleared, he saw the stormtroopers march forward, blasters firing in an eerie staccato. The flash of blaster bolts shone off the walls, each one marking the death of another warrior, a parent, a child, a friend.
A Pariah.
Before Masosh could do anything, someone pulled him by the arm from the side, yanking him off his feet. The Grotta struggled, grunting, not even realising he'd been pulled past the blast door he'd hammered it, before the person let go. Masosh whirled around to see it was a human Pariah.
“Quit struggling! Damned grogs…”
Masosh snarled.
“Stand down, both of you. The Grotta is merely bewildered.”
Masosh looked past the human and saw none other than his Clan Chief. The wizened Graug approached the pair and motioned behind him, to where other survivors were gathered.
“Keep your wits about you. Young one, remain steadfast and focussed. You are among friends again,” he laid a strong hand on Masosh’s shoulder and moved past swiftly, his Legionnaires with him while the Raiders hung back, guns at the ready. The first group trundled down the corridor that Masosh had just left, and even from here, he heard the sounds of violence and blaster fire.
“The invaders are gonna be sorry!”
Masosh turned back to the group of survivors and saw that it was his clutch-sister Toza.
“
You’re safe!”
“Of course I am! I bit one of the invaders in the leg when he tried to kick me! I thought you were dead; did not think you could make it through those tinheads.”
“
Where’s the rest of our clutch?”
Toza shrugged, picking at one of her skull-sponge tendrils.
“We were separated when we left the rec room. They’re tough: they should be with another survivor group,” she stated matter-of-factly.
The sounds of argument drew Masosh’s attention again. He turned to see the Chief and his warriors had returned, arguing with the Raider commander in the group.
“Chrog, you will take them.”
“I am worth more in the thick of the fighting than running and hiding,” the Raider leader held up her axe by way of demonstration, the broken light fixtures reflecting off the blood on it and her specialised armour.
“There will be no argument regarding my Clan’s business. The Warlord put you under my command.”
“Under your
direction. We would better serve-”
Shouts and the telltale crunch of boots ice and stone rang out from the corridor again. More were coming. The Chief hefted his weapon and turned from Chrog.
“Lead the survivors! I will not argue further. Go, into the tunnels!”
Masosh was confused. Why were the adults not standing to fight? What did they see?
The Chief grunted in frustration and pushed Warrior Chrog in the chest.
“Do not argue! Go!”
Chrog snarled, clearly insulted and angered. After a beat, the Raider relented and turned around, sheathing her axe.
“Listen to your Chief! Those who are to come with me, come!”
Masosh stood still, fixated on the corpses. They were clan-mates and elders he had known since before they landed on their new home. They were so still…
“Masosh! This way!” Toza called out to him. Most of the group had split off with Chrog, heading deeper into the tunnels.
Masosh followed, looking back at the Legionaires that remained with the Chief. They were apprehensive, he could tell, even the humans in armour. But there was no time to stand and gawk: the Grotta followed the evacuee group into the tunnels, deeper and deeper.
Other Legionaires rushed past, back in the direction of the surface, their communicator devices chattering away. The adults at the head of the evacuation column picked up the pace as the minutes went by. The walls of this place, earlier made of metal and ceramic panels, were slowly replaced by hard stone as they ventured deeper.
They passed a bend and continued past Legionaires setting up barriers of some sort, weapons and shields facing the way they came from, their faces grim with determination. Masosh wanted to say something, do something, but he was powerless: he wanted to cry, to call out, to shout, to do anything about the family and friends that died in front of him, but he was struck with total paralysing fear. He found himself walking along with the column, keeping pace, one foot after the other. Everyone appeared ordered yet he could almost feel the fear from everyone, the anxiety torching his skin like the sun.
The corridor suddenly widened, and the panelled walls fell away into a large stone cavern. He was too short to see past the crowd, though he noticed some sort of central… installation? The cave was truly cavernous, and he could see hundreds if not thousands of other Pariahs milling about, funnelled into this chamber and being directed to other tunnels on the other side veering off deeper into the earth. The noise of chatter, barked commands, wailing, and mechanised droid noise was like a din amplified by the dome-like cave. Some Legionaires were here directing the foot traffic, along with offworlders he did not recognise, wearing similar white armour to the men that had slaughtered his kin.
“How long do you think we will walk?” Toza grumbled beside him. His clutch-sister was always impatient.
“As long as is needed,” he said, thinking of the fallen.
A surge of Pariahs bumped into their column, this group much more disorganised. Masosh was swept off his feet, and in the blink of an eye he was lost again. He heard shouting and whistles, barked commands. The crowd seemed to stop roiling an ocean, and Masosh pushed his way out of the group. However, he could not find his group again.
Bewildered and alone as he was, he felt someone approach.
“You appear to be lost, young one.”
Masosh turned and his jaw dropped. It was the Warlord Ironhide himself, flanked by a posse of Raiders.
“Y-yes sir. My group was somewhere … there,” he tried to point in the direction he thought he came from.
“What is your Clan name?” The Warlord asked, looking in that direction.
“Barrad-Muk, sir.”
“Ah, Chrog was sent to bring you here, yes?”
“Yes sir, there was a Raider warrior named that.”
Ironhide called for one of his warriors, pointing out the group. Masosh was too short to see, again.
“Bring the Grotta to his kin, then join the escort for that group. You are too wounded to harry the enemy again,” he added swiftly, seeing the warrior about to protest.
“Yes, Warchief,” the Graug grumbled before heading off, pulling Masosh along. As the Grotta left, he turned to wave at his Warlord.
“Be strong, young one,” he called out. “
They cannot break us unless we let them.”
The words of the Pariahs. Masosh felt some measure of comfort and strength in it. He saluted before the Warlord disappeared from sight as the Grotta was pulled through yet another crowd.
=====
They cannot break us unless we let them.
Words he’d lived by for a long time. Ironhide had seen the Horde through a lot, but this might be The One that ended it.
No. We survived the sorcerers and blood witches of the old days. The faceless trooper cannot eradicate us.
Already he had received confirmation that some of the Pariahs had been evacuated deep into the Nests. Not enough, but enough that not all of them would face genocide. But as to the bulk of the Pariahs…
“Warlord, the Alliance tells us a major Imperial landing was spotted outside Exit Aurek.”
He grunted his affirmation, walking towards the Alliance commanders in this evacuation node. The other leaders were to be extracted from Netus, but Ironhide would stay and fight. His human and Graug seconds-in-command were with them at Netus, against their protestations. Someone needed to keep the fight going with the Alliance, but Ironhide had to stay here and lead from the front.
Just earlier he had led a quick sally to mop up a few stranded Imps, taking care to take note of their tactics and operations. They were well-armed and equipped, displaying the same tenacity and technological savvy as in the Civil War. They were armed in cold-weather gear down to the last man, and deployed their blasters and flamers effectively, making use of what armoured support had been stranded with them. The group he had eradicated was small, barely a few dozen, but enough to prove they could be beaten, albeit at a cost.
Ironhide gritted his teeth. He’d seen his people - civilians and warriors alike - gunned down without mercy. The evacuation from the Old Link had been extremely costly. Tribunes and Chiefs gunned down. Entire broods killed without mercy. The Pariahs were no stranger to ruthlessness; Ironhide simply hated having to see it happen again and again to his people.
The meeting with the Alliance command was swift: coordinates relayed, intelligence updated, defences set up. Ironhide sent a communication to the closest Tribune, a commander of the human contingents of ex-Sith-Imperial stormtroopers among the Pariah Legion, relaying orders to flank the Imperials once they entered the main cave entrance.
Further commands were made to any Clan Chiefs still in reserve to bring their warriors forward to repel the incoming Imperial assault. Without waiting for confirmation, Ironhide signalled to the Raider still with him: two dozen of his best warriors, clad in Stormtrooper-grade Graug armour. They would hold the line where they could with him. The defence of the caves would be decentralised from now on, at least until Alliance assistance came, or until they were pushed far deeper.
Ironhide sent one more message on his communicator, encrypted and routed by hidden relays. He prayed to the gods he hated that it went through.
“
Warriors, with me,” he stated tersely, and they went to meet their doom.
