Vehora III - Phase 1
Summary: Hawks Talon Legion will fulfill the first phase of the mission.
Word Count: 3.428
Characters: Jedi Helena, Commander Shade, Commander Hawk, Soldiers of Hawks Talon Legion
Author's Note: Part 1 out of 4, probably. :)
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The Invictus hangar thrummed beneath the gunboats’ engines, primed for take-off. The air reeked of oil, metal, and a taut anticipation only present before a mission. Between steel racks, Hawks Talon troops glided in formation, checking straps, HUDs, and magazines. No one spoke; none needed to. Commander Hawk stood beside his LAAT/i, helmet on as if already deployed. His expression was impassive, visor fixed on the mission display—positions and coordinates long memorised, but checked again. A shadow stepped beside him, not quietly, but decisively. Helena. ‘The air defences must be taken out before they even see our squadron,’ she said. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, yet carried the full seriousness this mission demanded. ‘If they see you, we’ve lost. Everyone is counting on you.’ Hawk nodded. ‘Then they won’t see us.’ ‘Your men know what they’re doing,’ Helena continued, her gaze fixed on the troops boarding the transporters. ‘But they’re looking to you.’ Hawk turned, but before he could answer Helena, heavy footsteps echoed behind them, causing both to look back. Shade. He paused, surveying the gunboats, then Hawk, then Helena. His eyes were glacial, precise—not hostile, just piercingly observant. ‘If you fail, the whole Corps loses air. So don’t fail,’ he said tonelessly. Hawk looked at him – not provoked, not impressed. Just calm. ‘Understood, sir.’ A signal flashed at the hangar door. It was time. ‘Talon – all aboard. Departure in twenty seconds.’ And without another word, he climbed in. Helena and Shade remained side by side, both keeping their eyes on Hawk as he climbed into the gunboat. Helena broke the silence, calling after him, 'Time to impress me, Commander. Let’s see what’s really behind your reputation.'
Shade, still watching the gunboat’s doors close, replied to Helena without looking at her: "Just watch, General, but don’t be disturbed. It would be a shame if we suddenly needed a new Jedi. Again."
The atmosphere above Vehora III was a single massive storm. Lightning flashed through the thick cloud cover, casting bright light on the outer hull of the LAAT/i gunboats as they moved silently through the turbulence. Below them lay a black carpet of jungle, motionless and silent, yet it seemed alive – as if it were breathing. Commander Hawk stood in the open side entrance of his command boat, his hands on the magnetic mount, his gaze fixed through his visor on the overgrown hills. ‘Hawk to bridge,’ he said calmly into the radio. ‘Talon squadrons approaching target coordinates. Visibility limited. Vegetation dense. Suspect natural camouflage of enemy positions.’ A brief static. Then Helena replied in a clear, calm tone. ‘Confirmed. Suspected defence cluster at Sierra Three elevation. Confirm visual markers as soon as possible.’ ‘Understood,’ Hawk replied curtly. ‘Initiating reconnaissance. Units switching to whisper mode.’ For a moment, only the electronic crackle of the jamming signal could be heard. Then Helena added something, more quietly this time – a voice that commanded not, but trusted: ‘And Hawk… You’ll get them through safely. I know you will.’ He didn’t reply immediately. A brief, silent nod. Then he switched channels – internally. Only his squad leaders could hear him. ‘Talon One to Four – status.’ The squad leaders responded in turn, each voice coming crisply and without hesitation. ‘Squad ready. Visibility poor, systems stable.’ ‘No visual contact with the ground. We are maintaining zero-sound mode.’ "Scans show increased heat signatures east of the target coordinates. Possible droid movement – confirm after touchdown. " ‘Trajectory slightly corrected. Ready to cover the southern flank.’ Hawk listened silently, then spoke again – calmly, firmly, razor-sharp. ‘The objective remains to eliminate the anti-aircraft guns without attracting attention. No firefights, no traces. Mark and disappear. We’re not here until it’s too late.’ He paused for a moment before uttering the last sentence – to everyone, but almost like a vow to himself: ‘No casualties. Not in Phase One.’
Squad 1 The jungle swallowed them almost instantly. As they left the gunboat, engine noise faded, replaced by soft leaf rustling and the crackling of damp branches under boots. Military training lets them move silently. It was dark—not night, but a dense canopy blocking nearly all light. Five soldiers moved silently through the thicket. One led, the others followed at intervals – keeping their distance, not standing in a group. They knew an anti-aircraft gun emplacement lay somewhere ahead. Their maps provided an approximate location but not its hidden disguise. Everything on this planet seemed to conspire against their technology: scanners flickered, display devices distorted. ‘Over there,’ muttered one of them, pausing briefly. Through the visor, an unusual structure could be seen between ferns and roots – not a tree, not a stone. A slight source of heat. The leader raised his hand. Everyone stopped. The position was well hidden. Two droids stood in front of it – B1 units, as they were known. They hardly moved. It wasn’t much – but too much for a loud attack. ‘We’ll split up,’ the leader said quietly. ‘Two of us will go around them and set the marker. No noise. No attention.’ Two soldiers carefully moved to the side, between vines and damp tendrils. One of them knelt behind a slanted tree trunk and pointed a small device at the position – a marker that sent an invisible signal. The device flashed green. Target acquired. Then they heard it. A crack. Soft, brief – as if someone had stepped on a dry branch. Everyone paused. Nothing moved. Not even the birds were singing anymore. The jungle was suddenly silent – too silent. The marker was set anyway. The second soldier attached a small charge to a nearby power cable. Then they quietly withdrew. Ten seconds later: a dull thud, almost like a cough underground. No fireball, no noise – just smoke, a little pressure, and then: silence. The position was destroyed. No alarms. No reinforcements. No counterattack. Just the same oppressive calm as before. They had succeeded. And yet something had changed. Something was watching them.
Squad 2 Not far away, barely a ten-minute walk through the maze of undergrowth and fog, the second squad moved cautiously through the undergrowth. There were five of them, too, all crouched down, all silent. The leaves clung damply to their purple armour, water dripped everywhere, and the fog between the trees had thickened – as if the forest itself wanted to swallow them up. ‘We’re close,’ said one. ‘Scanner is working again – signal weak, but present.’ The squad leader stopped. In front of them lay a steep, moss-covered slope. Something metallic protruded between the roots – no bigger than an arm, but clearly not a plant. ‘There it is,’ he muttered. ‘Partially embedded in the slope. Camouflage is good. No guards visible.’ He thought for a moment, then activated the radio on his armband. ‘Talon Two to command. Target visually acquired. No ground access. Request: air strike.’ A few seconds passed. Then the radio crackled: Hawk: ‘Approved. Set laser targeting. Twenty seconds to impact.’ The squad leader nodded. One of the men set up a small tripod, barely bigger than an arm. A red laser beam silently targeted the gun – no light visible, only on the devices. They crouched behind the slope. Then it came: a short whirring in the air, almost too fast to notice – and then a sudden flash from the sky. The explosion was pinpoint accurate. The slope shook, birds scattered, but there was only one clean impact. No echo. No alarm. When the smoke cleared, nothing remained of the gun – only burnt ground and a few charred roots. ‘Target destroyed. No casualties. Change route to next position,’ reported the squad leader. But before they moved on, one of them noticed something. He turned around once more. Between the trees, far in the distance, something seemed to be moving. Just slightly. Something big. But when he looked more closely, it was gone.
Squad 3 The third squad advanced from the southern landing site via a dry riverbed—the easiest route, never a good sign, as easy usually meant traps. ‘The target should be right in front of us,’ said the soldier in front, tapping the display on his wrist. ‘But I can’t see anything.’ The others paused. Before them rose a wall of rampant vines, half covered in rocks, half in gnarled roots. Nothing metallic, nothing conspicuous. But the data was clear. ‘Something’s not right here,’ one of them muttered. ‘The gun should be right behind that hill.’ ‘Or in it,’ said the squad leader quietly. They took cover, climbed cautiously onto a small ledge and peered out over the green sea. And there it was: embedded in the rock face, barely recognisable – an anti-aircraft gun emplacement, camouflaged with a net of moss, branches and hanging leaves. Only the sensor attachment protruded into the sky like a dark eye. ‘It’s not moving,’ someone noted. ‘But it’s alive. Active.’ The squad leader thought for a moment. An explosive device was risky – too close to the roots, and it was unclear whether the net itself would trigger a reaction. So they had to get close. They approached slowly, one by one. No droids. No sound. But just before they reached the range for the marker, one of the men stepped on something soft. A crack. Then a soft hiss. Everyone froze. The ground beneath the camouflaged device began to move – very slightly. And a moment later, it was clear: this was not a mine. It was something plant-like. Leaves uncurled. Thin, nearly transparent tendrils pierced the foliage. A plant—or something similar—reacted to pressure. ‘Back! Slowly. No sudden movements,’ said the squad leader immediately. They retreated cautiously, step by step, while the ‘flower’ slowly collapsed back into itself. ‘The gun is secured – not by droids. By the jungle itself,’ someone muttered. They retreated ten metres, repositioned the marker, this time from a greater distance. It was a risk, but the target acquisition worked. The squad leader detonated the marker – the air strike would follow in seconds. When the impact came, it was loud. Too loud. The hill shook. And as smoke rose, the soldier at the rear turned around once more – certain he had seen something out of the corner of his eye. Wasn’t there…? No. Just shadows. Probably.
Squad 4 The last squad – Talon Four – had the lowest position. Their target was to the north, at one of the highest points in the jungle area. An old lookout point, long overgrown. The perfect place for a heavy anti-aircraft gun. ‘This is Talon Four. We are approaching the target. Visibility zero, humidity high. Scanners are… strange.’ The squad leader’s voice came through the radio, slightly distorted. Hawk heard it in his helmet and leaned over the side panel in the cockpit. ‘What do you mean, strange?’ he asked. ‘The signature… jumps. One moment we see it, the next it’s gone. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Like a… living cloaking device.’ Hawk frowned. Next to him on the hologram, the last transmitted coordinates flickered. ‘Continue. No risks. If the position is active, mark it. If not, no games. Understood?’ ‘Understood, Commander. We’ll keep the radio open.’ Seconds passed. A minute. Then two. Only faint static. Then suddenly: ‘…Commander, we have… there’s something. Not droids. An animal. It’s standing… just standing…’ Crackling. A scratching sound. A deep, grinding noise. Then contact was lost. Just like that. Hawk froze. ‘Talon Four – confirmation. Repeat. Talon Four, come in.’ Silence. He switched to the bridge channel. ‘This is Hawk. I’ve lost contact with a squad. Last ping: North Plateau. Noises before termination – no known droid patterns.’ Helena’s voice came first. Calm, but alert. ‘We’ve detected the same silence to the north. No signs of life – not even enemy ones. It’s as if there’s nothing there. Too quiet.’ A moment later, Shade. ‘They’re dead. Mission failed.’ Hawk didn’t respond. The last coordinates were reflected in his helmet. Then he reached for the side strap and tightened the rifle's strap. ‘I’m going to check it out.’ ‘Negative,’ came Shade’s voice. ‘You’d better think about how you’re going to excuse your failure.’ ‘With all due respect, Commander, these soldiers are my responsibility.’ Hawk was already stepping away from the transport as a new squad gathered. ‘I’m taking three men. No noise. No detours.’ Helena intervened – not to disagree, but to go with him. ‘I’ll mark the route with minimal disruption. Keep the radio open – as long as it lasts.’
The jungle was denser than before. The air was still. No birds. No insects. Not even the dripping sound of the trees. Hawk moved quietly, each step calculated. The men behind him said nothing. After a few hundred metres, they found traces: torn plants, a dropped torch. And… scratch marks. Deep, long, circular. Not mechanical. Not natural. The jungle was empty. Too empty. ‘There’s something here,’ one of them muttered. Hawk raised his hand. Everyone stopped. A sound. Muffled. Behind them. And suddenly, silence again. This time, it wasn’t a neutral calm. It was the kind of silence that makes you feel you are no longer alone. Something was here.
The jungle was silent. Every movement seemed wrong, every sound too loud. Hawk and his small squad moved cautiously through the root-strewn terrain, which seemed more like a grave than a living wilderness. Then: a movement. A body lay among dense ferns. Armour damaged, helmet askew, breathing shallow. Hawk immediately knelt beside the trooper. ‘You’re alive.’ The clone blinked. His visor was cracked, his gaze empty, distant. He was trembling. His hands were clenched, as if he wanted to hold on to something that was long gone. ‘What happened?’ " Hawk asked, as calmly as possible. The trooper shook his head slightly. ‘I… I don’t know. We saw the target. The station… it was there. Then… then we weren’t alone anymore. Something was there.’ ‘What?’ ‘I… I don’t know. It was fast. Dark. Something took them. The others… they… they were just gone.’ His voice broke. ‘I shot. I screamed. No one answered.’ Hawk put a hand on his shoulder – just briefly. Then he activated the radio. ‘Hawk here. Found one survivor. In shock, unable to walk. Need transport immediately, inconspicuous – no sighting from above.’ Helena replied immediately. ‘Transport is on its way. Three minutes. Hold position.’ Hawk looked at his men. ‘Tao, you stay here; the rest of you keep going. There might be more.’ They left the injured man in cover, his brother protectively by his side. The rest followed the trail of blood – it was impossible to miss. Dark red, fresh. Drops turned into pools. The trail led through dense vines, past torn plants and cut lianas. And then – they found it. The station. Intact. Undamaged. Too undamaged. It was undefended. Not a single droid. No camouflage. As if it were waiting. ‘It’s a trap,’ whispered one. Hawk raised his hand – then he saw it. At the edge of the clearing. Something was moving. Black. Much too large. Silent. Then another. And a third. Beasts – shadow beasts – that Helena had spoken of. They stood at the edge of the light. Their outlines blurred with the trees. Teeth flashed red. ‘Back. Slowly,’ Hawk ordered. His voice was calm. ‘Don’t run. Don’t rush.’ But then… came the growling. Deep. In all frequencies at once. They had barely retreated ten metres when the shadows began to move. ‘Back,’ Hawk repeated. Quieter this time. His men moved slowly backwards, between tree trunks, over mossy roots. No quick movements. No noise. Just the adrenaline pounding in their veins. Then his radio crackled. Helena. ‘Hawk, get out of there. Now. Three unknown signatures in your area. Large. Fast. Not mechanical.’ Hawk replied immediately. ‘Shadow beasts, visual contact confirmed. We’re evading.’ ‘Glider on its way. Less than two minutes. Hold position south of the position.’ Hawk looked at his men. A nod. Then they moved faster. Not frantically – but purposefully. Two of them provided cover; the others moved through the trees, keeping low and breathing quietly. The beasts did not follow. Not really. One of them – the largest – stepped to the edge of the clearing. Half hidden between roots and darkness. Its shining eyes rested directly on Hawk. He paused for a moment. Not out of fear. Out of what came next. The creature did not move. No attack. No sound. Just a look. A look that said: I could. But not now. Then it was gone. When the evacuation glider appeared between the treetops, with Tao and the injured trooper already on board, the forest was silent again. No shots fired. No explosions. No heroic deeds. And yet – something had changed. Hawk was the last to climb aboard. ‘One target remains active. The station has not been destroyed.’ Helena did not respond immediately. Then she said only: ‘It was never the target.’ Hawk sat down on the bench without saying a word. And as the glider lifted off and Vehora III sank beneath them, he knew – the war had only just begun.
No sooner had the glider touched down on the Invictus’ landing platform than Hawk jumped out. Dirt and blood splatters stuck to his armour, and half of the HUD displays were still malfunctioning. He took off his helmet and took a deep breath. Helena approached him. She wanted to speak – calmly, directly. But then Shade arrived. He was already there, standing in the middle of the hangar. Arms crossed behind his back, motionless as always. ‘Let me summarise: mission failed, orders disregarded, fled, resources wasted, time wasted, and all for a man who is only half alive.’ Hawk’s gaze shifts to the injured trooper who is being carried into the infirmary on a stretcher. Viper, Frost and Havoc appear behind Shade. Their faces are expressionless. ‘Sir—’ ‘Don’t make me reconsider your position. It wouldn’t be difficult for me.’ No contradiction, no explanation. ‘The final target is still standing. I want it destroyed – immediately. No discussion.’ Helena stepped forward. ‘Shade, he just—’ ‘You do not speak for my officers,’ he interrupts her harshly, almost shouting, so irritated is he. ‘I speak for more than that, and if I may remind you, Commander, I am the one here who has the final and decisive word. If you do not value settling this matter sensibly, rationally, like a true leader—’ She is interrupted again, but this time by Hawk. ‘General, I appreciate your efforts, but the commander is right. The target must be taken down. I’ll go in with two men, no support needed.’ With that, he turns and walks back towards the gunboat. Helena followed him a few steps, speaking softly. ‘Are you sure you want to do this alone?’ Hawk paused briefly. ‘He wants it to end. So do I.’ Then he left. Back into the jungle. To the position. To the place where the beasts stood and let him go. And this time, he didn’t know if they would let him go again.
The glider descended silently over the canopy. Hawk stood at the open bulkhead, his rifle slung loosely over his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the clearing he had left only minutes before. Next to him were two men – quiet, focused, no words between them. None were needed. ‘Three minutes into the mission,’ Hawk said, barely audible. ‘No contact. No game.’ The glider hovered directly above the old position. No movement. No sound. Nothing had changed – and that was what made it unsettling. ‘Set the marker,’ Hawk ordered. One of the men jumped out, rolled into cover, and set up the targeting device. The other provided cover, and Hawk himself got out last, weapon at the ready. The marker flashed. Green. Locked on. Hawk looked around – no eyes, no teeth, no shadows. ‘Confirm air strike.’ A high-pitched hum came from the darkness above them – a silent launch. Seconds later, a precise, glaring flash struck. The position collapsed, triggering a rock burst. A sound shot through the jungle. Not a roar – but like the echo of anger that was not shown. The three stood there for a moment. ‘Target destroyed,’ said Hawk. Then, more quietly: ‘No sighting. Phase I of the mission successfully completed.’ The beasts did not show themselves. They just watched. The glider returned. They climbed in – and no one spoke on the way back.