[Han Solo] - 03(117)
They nodded.
Han looked at Lando and Jarik, crusted with mud, and shook his head.
“Lando, if Drea Renthal could see you now …”
Chewie began laughing.
“Shut up, Han. You too, Chewbacca,” the gambler said, flicking fastidiously at his ruined clothes. Luckily for him, he’d donned rough clothing in preparation for the night’s work. “I don’t want to hear it. I haven’t been this dirty since … well, it’s a long story.”
Han chuckled, and looked at Jarik. “So … how’d you do, kid?”
Jarik nodded. “Pretty good, I think, Han. I got at least two of ‘em.”
Han clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. We’ll make a warrior out of you, yet.”
Jarik’s teeth flashed white in his mud-blackened face.
As soon as the wounded were taken away by medics, Bria keyed her comlink, then ordered her waiting troops to advance on the double.
“Let’s take that compound! Advance in squads! Demo teams, be ready!”
She turned up the volume on the comlink, and they heard: “Rainbow One, this is Green Two. I’m assuming command here. Green One is down.”
“Rainbow One copies, Green Two. What’s your status?”
“Almost done here. Just mopping up. Expect to have the target secure in five minutes.”
Bria made a face. “We’re running behind.” She clicked on. “Rainbow One, this is Red One. Front line resistance has been dealt with.
Bringing up reinforcements, and advancing into the compound.”
“Red One, status on that turbolaser?”
“Rainbow One, I have two squads preparing to deal with that now. Red One out.”
“Rainbow One … out.”
Han and Chewie watched Paol’s group as they headed off through the jungle to come at the turbolaser crew from the east. Then they were busy, advancing with Bria’s troops into the compound. They met scattered resistance from Ylesian guards, which, for the most part, they dealt with easily … as they’d expected to. The night was no longer silent, even when the guns were quiet, The moans and pleas of the wounded, yells for assistance, plus assorted shouted alien words ….
As they advanced, Bria’s squads kept reporting in: “Red Hand Leader, Squad Three reporting. Andris Factory secured. Demo teams are moving in.”
“Red Hand Leader, Squad Six reporting. Welcome Center secured. Demo team has been summoned.”
“Red Hand Leader, Squad Seven, we are moving in on the dormitory. It is under guard by the mercs … but there are only about six of them. Not expecting any trouble …. ” “Red Hand Leader, Squad Two reporting. We’re moving into position to take that turbolaser.
Estimate attack will commence in … five minutes.”
Han and Chewie stayed close by Bria’s side, as the three guarded each other’s backs. Bursts of blaster fire echoed through the compound, mixed with screams, Gamorrean grunts and squeals, and alien wails.
Han figured that there were probably a platoon’s worth of mercenaries—thirty to forty troopers, all told. The Nova Force soldiers were truly professional. They fought bravely and well until it was obvious that defeat was inevitable, then they surrendered. They were fighting for credits, not a cause, and it made sense to live and fight another day.
Once a crazed Pilgrim toting a scavenged blaster pistol came leaping out of the shadows and nearly winged Bria. Han shot the female Bothan down, killing her—he was rushed, and had no time to aim for a disabling shot.
Bria stared down at the Pilgrim in horror, and for a moment Han thought he saw tears in her eyes. “Honey …” he said. “There was nothing else I could do …. ” “I know,” she gave him a wan smile. “It’s hard, though, having them attack you when you’re trying to help them.”
Han patted her shoulder consolingly. She took out her comlink in response to a chirp from Assault Command and heard the ID: “Rainbow One.”
A minute crawled by. Bria motioned her squad to fall in behind her.
Then the AC channel spoke again, an outwardly calm voice that carried an undercurrent of strain: “Rainbow One, this is Blue One. I need some help here!”
Blevon’s voice was flat: “Blue One, say your status.”
“Thirty percent casualties, and they’ve got us pinned down with repeating blasters, at least two of them. One in the warehouse, the other in the dormitory. I need White One.”
“Blue One, this is White One. I can drop two platoons in three minutes.
Where do you want them?”
“Why don’t you take the warehouse? Put one platoon north, just on the south side of Hill Three-One. Land the other in the jungle to the east, and hit them from the side. I’ll take the dormitory.”