Whit received the message he had been dreading. The Major, his difficult-to-distinguish voice coming over the comms wreathed in static, crackled out of Whit's in-helmet speakers, speaking quickly and without interruption.

"Captain 7, you have new orders. General Skywalker's transport crashed near enemy lines, needs immediate extraction. Push forward ASAP, relieve the General. Expect heavy resistance and platoon-numbers of Dark Jedi. Once you engage the forces approaching the general, dig in and resist attacks. The Second and Fourth companies are on their way."

Map coordinates flashed on Whit's HUD, and after he flashed acknowledgement the Major's voice and the accompanying hiss of static cut off abruptly. He was filled with trepidation; he'd been given suicide detail, no doubt about it. He had a hundred and twenty combat-ready soldiers, and had been ordered to engage dozens of saber troops on the enemy's terms. Obviously, there was no thought of disobeying, but his indoctrination did not stop him from dreading the mission. He opened up communications to his Lieutenants.

"New orders from Battalion Command. We have been assigned to relieve the trapped troops of General Skywalker, on the airfield. Begin moving at double time, reduce covering troops to allow for greater speed. Avoid sep strongpoints, leave them for our reinforcing troops. We're tightening the front, delta platoon is to fold in and follow behind beta no further than seven minutes: you are to stay in reserve to reinforce engaged troops. Good luck clones."

Four lights blinked green, and he stood from his position on the wall and began moving out with Alpha. Alpha was the right-hand platoon, with Beta in the center and Delta on the left, Gamma swinging into a support position. His units were closing in slightly on each other, tightening their battle line to facilitate their double-time advance southwards, preparing to crash into the left side of the Dark Jedi. He was just over two miles from the airfield, and his hurried advance southwards. The quarter of an hour rush towards the south was a blur for Whit, his mind racing in preparation for his engagement with the formidable saber-wielding shock troops. He was vaguely aware of blasting at droids, pinning their forces for gamma to mop them up, his advance never stopping for more than a handful of seconds. His soldiers performed admirably, their charge not stopping for wounded or dead, which approached twenty clone casualties by the time the rush was over. To his immense relief, he ran across a small squad of clones, some lads from the 9th regiment who were separated from their unit, and he incorporated them into his weakened delta platoon, the foreign clones slotting into familiar roles as naturally as possible.

He could almost see the airfield, and could certainly hear the roar of heavy combat, when he engaged his first dark jedi. Six of them charging towards the left flank of Alpha, their lightsabers burning red down a wide avenue. They were out of position, clearly swinging wide due to a lack of discipline or cohesion, and they were fortunately unsupported by any large force of ranged troops. It could not be a more favorable engagement, to Whit. He was in a building at the end of the avenue, one with dozens of windows with excellent view of the wide street and, consequentially, the dark jedi, not suppressed by sip blaster fire and able to take full advantage of easy firing lanes. Whit sent the third squad down the road slowly, blasting at the dark jedi who were clearly pondering whether or not to engage. Their pride made their decision for them when they saw less than a dozen clones advancing towards them. The dark jedi dashed down the road, and before anyone could react the lead black-robed figure sliced a clone clean in two. Unfortunately for the rest of the sabers, they were not quite fast enough. Third squad rolled flash grenades and prepared to withdraw, and while the clone visors washed out the blinding magnesium light most of the dark jedi were not as well prepared. The building Whit occupied exploded in blue light as the rest of the platoon opened fire, the two heavy machine-blasers firing as fast as possible. Three dark jedi went down immediately: two caught blaster fire in the head or chest, large holes punched through them, killing them almost instantly. One was hit in the leg, and while the thin robed man fell to the ground he was hit again in the arm, taking him out of the fight. The three other dark jedi had not been as effected, or at least had been able to use the force to deflect enough blaster fire to get out of the line of fire, hiding behind the only real cover in the street, an overturned hovertruck. It must have seemed liked a good idea to them, to keep their cohesion and prepare a strike. Whit disagreed, and with a motion an AT trooped readied his weapon, preparing to fire HEAT at the potentially-explosive truck sheltering the three hostiles. Whether the dark jedi sensed the danger, or whether it was just a coincidence was beyond Whit, but just before the rocket troop managed to fire the overturned truck flew as though swatted by a petulant giant, hurling end over end towards the building. Whit managed to dive away from the point of impact, the shattering glass and stone missing him by more than a foot, but the rocket troop was not as lucky: his crumpled body was only kept in one piece by his armor, but his form was broken and twisted and very clearly dead. Any other, non-clone unit would have been too shocked to take advantage of the situation, but GAR troops were a cut above, and as soon as the truck cleared the ground the fire resumed, cutting down two of the remaining jedi, who were unprepared due to the extreme force exertion. Two fell to blaster fire after deflecting a few rounds, one managing to redirect a shot to kill another third squad soldier before dying to the overwhelming fire, spread over their entire body as doctrine demands, and the third and only combat-ready dark jedi, surviving by an impressive defensive display and a lighter load of fire directed towards her shorter twi'lek form, retreated with the same blistering speed that had been used at the charge.

It was a prodigious success. Common wisdom said one dark jedi on even terms equals a squad of clones at the very least. Whit, fortunately, with his perfect conditions, managed to dispose of five saber troops with only three deaths, supplemented by three lightly wounded clones who had been clipped by deflected blaster fire. Morale was understandably high, and as the advance continued he received reports of his other platoons gaining defensive positions, which Alpha managed too in a span of minutes, Whit preparing for the coming, likely extremely fatal, engagement with the dark jedi and droids he could see in the distance.