Chapter 4: An Old Grudge

Something was off. They’d docked with the ship and made their way through several corridors, following the ping coming from the stolen stealth generator. The only opposition they’d run into so far was automated defenses. Mostly fixed-place turrets, but a few war droids had impeded their progress as well. The three of them hadn’t had any trouble taking care of the defenses they had encountered, but the lack of any crew or personnel was suspicious.

The squad moved quickly but quietly to the next intersection, Lacroix taking point. She signaled for them to stop, then peeked around the corner. Taking another step, she lowered her rifle and fired twice, then signaled for the others to follow. Rounding the corner they saw another combat droid sparking on the ground, one hole in its chest and one through its head.

“I don’t like this,” grumbled Jorgen. The tracking signal was coming from the next room, which if Elara had to guess was a large storage bay. The fact that they were this close and still hadn’t seen anybody?

“Me neither. Be prepared for an ambush.” The lieutenant moved up and leaned against the door, straining to hear anything on the other side. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she tapped the panel next to the door, raising her rifle as the durasteel slab slid open with a soft whoosh. Jorgen and Elara followed suit, both bringing their weapons to bear. 

Elara’s hunch was right: the room revealed was a wide open area dotted with crates and shipping containers. It wasn’t very full, which meant there wasn’t a lot of cover, and the tracking signal was coming from a container in the middle of the room, far away from anything else.

“It’s that crate isn’t it?” Jorgen said, the exasperation in his voice tangible.

Not bothering to answer, Lacroix took one step into the room, checking the angles and scanning for threats. Finding none, at least for the moment, she turned to the others and quickly made a series of hand motions. Elara had almost never used nonverbal commands while she’d been with the Republic, but was glad that she’d memorized them nonetheless. 

Jorgen, climb that container and post up behind the crate on top of it. Dorne, hug the wall and get to the far side of that crate, so you have eyes on Jorgen and the stealth generator. Cover me while I retrieve the cargo.

Both Elara and Jorgen nodded their understanding and swiftly moved to their assigned positions. Elara felt her heartbeat speed up as she pressed her shoulder against the cold metal of the crate, her fingers gripping her pistol securely. Keeping her shoulders loose, ready to turn to face whatever direction the danger came from, Elara scoured the room as the lieutenant took methodical steps toward the objective. There was no noise apart from the hum of the ship itself and the muffled thud of Lacroix’s boots. 

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Continuing to sweep her gaze about the room, Elara felt her anxiety heighten. Something was certainly about to happen. Squinting her eyes slightly, she stared past the lieutenant, something on the opposite wall pulling her attention. There wasn’t anything there, but she swore that … 

There it was again. A shimmer. The slightest distortion of the view in front of her. Slowly raising her weapon, Elara braced against her other arm. She watched as Lacroix got ever closer to the stealth generator. Another shimmer, and this time Elara could almost make out a silhouette. 

She pulled the trigger several times in quick succession. The discharge of her blaster was jarring against the near silence that had permeated the area. Lacroix immediately dropped into a crouch, head whipping back and forth. Elara’s first shot hit the wall, and for a nanosecond she was worried her mind had been playing tricks on her. But the subsequent shots stopped before the wall, their impact causing a glitchy flickering before an Imperial commando became visible, slumping back against the wall before sliding to the floor, lifeless.

By this time, the lieutenant had determined both the shooter and the target. “They’re cloaked!” she shouted, darting toward the nearest cover. “Jorgen, EMP!”

There was no verbal confirmation, but Elara saw a small cylinder arcing into the air. She gritted her teeth, preparing for the device to detonate. Although the electromagnetic pulse was only damaging to any electrical equipment, she knew there was a good chance that her headset would let out an ear-splitting shriek as it lost power. The lieutenant was already firing, presumably making use of the thermal vision in her helmet before it too was rendered useless by the grenade.

There was a flash and sparking tendrils of blue scattered across the room. Elara’s headset screeched, causing her to flinch even with the preparation. Refusing to let herself be distracted by the discomfort, Elara smiled when she saw four other commandos pop into view, their red armor glinting. Three of them were holding their heads, while the fourth had already overcome the effect from the EMP and was leveling his rifle at Elara.

A pair of shots from atop the crates took down the commando targeting Elara, and Lacroix quickly dropped another. The two remaining finally came to their senses and dove in opposite directions, each getting behind cover. The next few minutes consisted of the two opposing forces taking shots at each other while attempting to get to move to more advantageous positioning. Unfortunately, each time one of the members of Havoc Squad attempted to move up, a hail of blaster fire held them back.

Elara crouched behind a pile of crates, a few steps ahead from where she had eliminated the first commando. Peeking her head up, a red streak forced her to duck back down again, hissing in annoyance. Glancing off to her left, she saw the LT, shoulder pressed firm against a large cargo container. She looked at her and held up a hand, signaling on my mark then pointed at the corner where the two commandos had hunkered down. Nodding, Elara tensed her legs, ready to burst from cover.

Lacroix signaled Jorgen, and a moment later the Cathar sprung up and started unloading, laying down a blanket of cover fire. Elara knew that it wouldn’t be long before one of the commandos got a shot off at their squadmate, and as expected, she saw Lacroix slip out from behind her container, leveling her rifle and firing a single shot. As Elara charged toward the enemies, she saw her lieutenant’s shot hit the fragmentation grenade on the belt of one of the dead commandos who happened to be fairly close to the two who were remaining.

An explosion reverberated through the hold, Elara shielding her eyes against the flare even as she sprinted ahead. She heard Lacroix’s footsteps behind her, and as the smoke dissipated, had a clear view of both commandos. They had been thrown from their cover, and although neither appeared very injured, they were both obviously disoriented. Havoc Squad took advantage, Elara eliminating the target on the right while the lieutenant took care of the one on the left. A quick sweep confirmed that there were no further enemies, and only then did Jorgen jump down, joining them on the ground level.

“Excellent tactics, Lieutenant,” Jorgen stated, and Elara found herself agreeing. The LT had adapted to the situation and defeated a force of superior numbers and equipment handily. It was no wonder that General Garza trusted her to track down the defectors.

Lacroix walked back over to the crate that the stealth generator was supposed to be in. Upon opening it, a recorded holomessage began to play, showing the former leader of Havoc Squad, Harron Tavus.

“As I’m sure you have already gathered, I am not aboard the ship.” The mustachioed traitor spoke with very little emotion, as if he was bored with what was transpiring. “I knew that the stealth generator was being tracked, and was therefore certain that you would be close behind. Given how you disrupted the operation on Taris and killed Needles, I find it only fair that I return the favor.

“For years, Havoc Squad had a rival in the Empire: the Shadow Fist. Neither unit was able to eliminate the other, so I thought it fitting for the new Havoc Squad to be destroyed by my former enemies. A shame you didn’t take our offer to join us, Lacroix. Goodbye.”

The recording blinked off, and Elara took a moment to absorb the information she just learned. Not only had Lacroix joined a unit only to have the entire squad defect, but she had willfully defied her commanding officer and refused to follow. Her respect for the lieutenant grew, and she found herself even more appreciative for the opportunity to work with her.

“Shadow Fist is a pretty dumb name,” Jorgen commented, kneeling down to check the integrity of the stealth generator.

“Well, it was appropriate for their method of attack,” Lacroix reasoned. “Though it didn’t do them much good in the end thanks to our newest squadmate here.”

Elara’s focus snapped to her commanding officer, who was looking in her direction. Though she still had her helmet on, she could feel the gratitude, and the praise had her endorphins singing.

“Thank you, ma’am. Glad to be of use.”

It looked like the lieutenant was going to say something else but then Jorgen slammed the case closed and stood up, lifting it into his arms.

“Everything checks out. Let’s get it back to the ship.”

“Agreed.” The moment had passed, and Elara found herself disappointed that Lacroix had been interrupted. She knew it wasn’t very professional to hope for compliments, but given how few she’d received in recent years, she felt like she was due a handful. “Time to update the general and see if she has any more leads for us.

—

While General Garza wasn’t pleased that the stealth generator had just been used as a trap, she was satisfied that Shadow Fist had been dealt with. In the interim, one of her agents had reported that the Imperials on Tatooine were suddenly terrorizing civilian populations with bombs. Normally that wouldn’t be something that caught her attention, given that the Imperial garrison on Tatooine had been moderately active for months. However, these bombings were not only a sudden change in their tactics, but remnants of the explosives that had been recovered from the bomb sites showed signs of Republic design, specifically special forces.

“There’s no guarantee that this is one of our targets, but regardless, we need to determine how the Imps came across these designs,” Garza stated, her face as serious and stony as ever. “At the very least, this Imperial contingent on Tatooine must be eradicated to prevent the designs from spreading further.”

“If I may, General,” Elara spoke up from behind Lacroix, shuffling to the side to get in view of the holocamera. “These designs echo the work that former Havoc Squad member Vanto Bazren was fond of using.”

“While I don’t need your confirmation, Sergeant,” Garza stated, “I appreciate the additional evidence.” Elara shrank back behind the lieutenant, chagrined at General Garza’s response. “Lieutenant, head to Tatooine and see if you can find Vanto Bazren. I trust your work. Contact me when the mission is complete.”

“Understood General.”

Without so much as a nod, the video cut out and the call ended. Lacroix turned to her two Sergeants. “Jorgen, we’re going to drop by Nar Shaddaa before Tatooine. That M1-4X droid we took out is apparently rebuilt and reprogrammed. I need you to go make contact with our SIS friend and get the details on it BEFORE we pick it up.”

“You got it, Lieutenant.”

As Jorgen headed over to the communications terminal, Lacroix turned back to Elara. As Elara waited for her to talk, she realized that she’d never really noticed how handsome she was. She supposed it made sense, though. Elara never really found any physical attraction with somebody until she got to know and respect them on a personal level. This made it a rare occurrence for her to get to the stage where she knew somebody well enough to be able to evaluate their physical features. Most people she’d worked with either didn’t make an effort to associate with her for one reason or another, or they weren’t someone she respected, so the desire to further a relationship was eliminated.

Lieutenant Lacroix, however, had quickly circumvented both of those barriers. She not only appreciated Elara’s work ethic and drive, but had a similar one herself, striving to help those in need, not engaging with the politics or power grabs of many of their colleagues. She appeared to have a strong sense of right, and wasn’t swayed by threats from those higher up the chain.

Immediately, alarm bells rang in Elara’s mind. Lieutenant Lacroix was not only a superior officer, she was her superior officer, which meant that any sort of entanglement was a very bad idea if it wasn’t approached properly and through Republic protocol. She wasn’t naive enough to think that soldiers and officers didn’t have clandestine liaisons, but just because it happened didn’t mean it was acceptable.  Power dynamics existed, no matter what anybody said, and they had to be dealt with appropriately.

Lacroix’s voice pulled her out of her head and she listened intently. “You’re going to be boots on the ground with me when we get to Tatooine. I’m expecting that your knowledge of Fuze’s work will help us either trace him or help mitigate any damage from the explosives that might be planted. Most likely both.”

Elara wasn’t a demolition specialist, but as long as the explosives being employed continued to follow Bazren’s designs, she should be able to disable any that they came across. “I assume Fuze was Bazren’s callsign in Havoc, sir?”

A grim look crossed Lacroix’s face, and her eyes drifted for a tick. “Yes, Fuze was the one I was most surprised went along with the defection. I didn’t know any of them much, but Fuze seemed …” Lacroix trailed off, then cleared her throat. “Regardless, we will find him, apprehend him, and do what we can to minimize further casualties. As I said before, we’re going to pick up that reprogrammed droid before we hit Tatooine. What you do between now and then is up to you. Dismissed.”

Elara snapped her hand up, saluting her commanding officer as Lacroix strode toward the cockpit to plot their course. As she walked to her quarters, her previous train of thought shifted back into focus. With a scoff, she quickly dismissed it. It was most likely a case of hero worship, given the fact that she finally had a decent, competent boss for the first time in a long time, potentially her entire career. After a few missions the feelings would fade, and she’d fall into a comfortable new normal with a commander that she knew would make the right choice. If it didn’t fade …  

She scoffed again. There was no reason to believe it wouldn’t, and it wouldn’t do any good to ruminate on future what-ifs. Dropping into her desk chair, she pulled up the Republic databanks and began brushing up on bomb defusal procedures. 

This was what she needed to be focusing on. If her feelings became a persistent feature in the future, she would address it then, not before.