KS-13RT-7047 peeked sharply around the corner and immediately ducked back. A couple of blaster bolts struck the edge of the stone building but did him no harm.
"What shall we do, Lieutenant?"
Forty-Seventh adjusted his grip on the DC-15blaster rifle. Oh yes, now I'm a lieutenant. Due topersonnel losses, he—being the only combat-ready clone remaining in his squad—had been appointed commander, promoted him two ranks at once, and tasked with gathering fightersfrom other battered units into a single platoon. All because he had taken command upon himself: first after the sergeant's death, leading the remnants of his squad, and then the remnants of the platoon—although there were barely enoughfighters left for two full squads. He accepted the promotion without much enthusiasm, but dutycame first, so he performed his new responsibilities properly. After retreating from the base, there was a regrouping and rotation of fighters. The platoon was replenished with new troopers, but their numbers still fell short of standard complement. However, that was the case for all units.
The clankers have taken up position on the roof of that two-story department store. They've got a four-barreled turret gun up there, and it's making life very difficult.
"Status?"
"Two wounded, four dead. But that's not the worst part. Don't you think this square is exactly the place where we shouldn't be?"
He's right. Our platoon punched through the militia's defenses quickly, but the other units fell hopelessly behind. Now they can't move forward—the fire from that gun is too intense, and it controls the two streets that converge at this square. And, as I recall, according to the plan, they were not supposed to attack that building.
"We need to suppress that gun—it's preventing our equipment and the other units from advancing."
"General Vikt ordered us to avoid such attacks, so maybe we should go around here…?" one of the newly minted sergeants began, but the lieutenant cut him off.
"Yes, he said that. But what would he have done if he were here?"
Forty-Seventh checked his remaining rounds and the amount of gas in the cartridges.
"Soldiers, weapons ready! First squad, prepareyour hooks! The rest of you, cover us from here! Forward!"
Forty-Seventh rushed out, followed by eight fighters from First Squad. The droids immediately spotted them and opened fire. Only six troopers, including the lieutenant, made it to the building's wall. The clone glanced upward. From this angle, it was clear how the droids had managed to drag the weapon up onto the roof. A one-storyextension had been built against the main structure, and the self-propelled gun had crawled onto it using its four support legs before climbing up onto the roof itself.
"Forward!"
The troopers simultaneously fired their hooks and began climbing the ropes. One of the B-1 droids on the roof must have heard the noise—its head appeared against the sky.
"Uh, here—" The droid never finished. The covering troopers took it down with a precise shot. However, when Forty-Seventh hauled himself onto the roof, he realized that had been the least of their problems. The turret wasguarded by six B-2s, and four B-1s were operating it.
"Fire!"
The clones, some dropping and rolling to the left or right, opened up on the droids. The droids returned fire immediately, and the lieutenant could tell from the squeal of his HUD sensors that his soldiers were dying one by one—there was no cover on the open roof.
The last trooper lobbed an ion grenade, disabling the remaining B-2s.
Thanks, brother. The lieutenant surged forward, bending nearly double as he dodged the shots of three B-1s, and fired back, simultaneously kicking one of them off the roof in a short arc. A second droid stepped forward, leveling its carbine at him, but Forty-Seventh blocked it with his rifle, then knocked the weapon from the droid's manipulators, and smashed the unluckyopponent's head with the massive butt in the same motion.
After that, taking out the gunner was a simple matter—he was absorbed in firing and didn't notice anything happening around him.
Shoving the droid's limp chassis onto the stone roof, Forty-Seventh dropped into the gunner'schair. Gripping the joysticks, he aimed toward the enemy's line of defense—the barrel angle was barely enough. Markings appeared helpfully on the green screen, and the clone only made a slight adjustment before squeezing the trigger. Intense fire from the four-barreled weapon scattered several dozen enemies, crushing the enemy's line of defense. .Several militiamen who had miraculously survived rushed into the alley.
The lieutenant struggled to pull his hands away from the triggers—his arms were refusing to obey him. Shaking his head, he forced the surge of adrenaline aside. Glancing across the roof, he silently approached the edge and waved to attract the attention of his troopers.
"Second and Third Squads, clear the building! Fourth, continue covering fire! Medics—get over here!"
Descending by rope, Forty-Seventh noticed that the other platoons had already pushed forward, blocking off buildings and preparing to advance. Reserve units, equipment, and medical repulsortransports were already being pulled into the square.
"How are you feeling, Lieutenant? Looks like you've been through a serious mess here."
Forty-Seventh turned. General Vikt stood beforehim. Out of the corner of his eye, the clone noticed the mobile command center on a gravity platform and the white-and-red B-1 droid trailingbehind it.
"Nothing special. Routine, sir," the clone replied with a hint of disregard. How could it be otherwise? It's our job.