[right][h3]First Shot[/h3][/right][hr]

The Grolsk reserve was a forested area, as much of the planet was, far enough above the equator of the planet to be cool in the summertime and frozen over in the winter. The hardy forms of plant life that survived up here were coniferous trees that grew large and threw up a wide canopy; the snow would accumulate on the branches and then slide down as the branches bent, rather than broke. They were hard to cut down, traditionally, because they were so damned wide at the trunk. The branches grew toward the top, above even the worst accumulation of snow that happened in the winters.

The ground was grooved from the erosion of countless thaws, creekbeds of snow surrounded by rock and mineral formations, exposed to the air. Hardy vegetation clung to the hills created from this erosion, also above the typical snows, fast growing weeds that threw down their seeds during the brief thaws.

And the 7th Uslam Liberators used mining tunnels beneath the surface to deploy. They used specialized equipment to tunnel through the snow and set charges close to the surface, frozen beneath a thin surface of ice, on the likely approaches. They used repulsor sleds to move equipment and repulsor suspendors for moving over the snow lightly, giving the Uslamers a loping gait as they got over the snow. It was a common technology for the locals that kept them from sinking down into the snow if they had to move over the top. 

For guerrillas, that meant few tracks for scout-troopers to spot as they made their passes. 

Silence reigned over the area, but they saw the landing craft activity and knew that the Empire had finally come. Sensors in system detected a large force of starships bearing in. They all knew the Empire would come back for its pound of flesh, and made preparations accordingly.

Jenk could hear only the wind and the rustle as snow rolled off the branches of the trees and hit the ground with a loud hissing sound that Uslamers all knew in these parts; you curled into a ball if they were coming down, and dug yourself out later. They all had the means to do so. The wind chapped at their exposed cheeks, when they weren't wearing something to cover against that raw exposure. Like many of those that could, he'd grown a dark, bristly beard to help cope with that. 

And they'd done just that when they saw an accumulation above them in a likely spot. They put shelter structures in place so that the snow would come down on them, and give them camouflage. Then they dug out portholes so they could see. Then they waited. The 7th took a pasting in the fight for Lorya, storming the secondary Imperial garrison there after the sappers put det charges in where they though they could create an entrance. Uslamers were miners, they were good at that sort of work. Still, the Empire put up a stiff fight and the 7th was under strength now. But they were blooded. So they were put out as the screening element outside Lorya, to try and keep the Imperials pinned down to buy the city time. If possible, they were expected to fall back. Worse came to worst, disperse and carry on the fight.

They used sandbags for cover behind the snow and turned the little snow-houses into snow-fortresses. But no one was throwing snowballs here.

They had a Merr-Sonn Mk.II medium repeating blaster and a Golan Arms portable rocket launcher, his squad did anyway, in expectation of a need to take out vehicles and anything that strayed into their killing zone. He was a combat engineer attached to a heavy weapons unit, and his job had been to find the most ingenious ways to make the best use of sensors, mines and other equipment of that nature, even as they supervised emplacements for larger weaponry. Mostly, as was typical for the Liberators, it was experienced mining foremen, like Jenk, telling others their assignments and providing their specs. With a planetary population used to doing mining work, preparing fighting positions here, and fortifications further back, was relatively easy.

The infantry heard the whining of a speeder bike and tensed up, but it was too far away and going in a different direction. The sounds of blaster fire, bursts of it, echoed through the cold air, and then an explosion. Then more silence. 

"Movement on sensor grid 33-alpha," Jenk noted from the wrist-mounted tablet he was using to keep track of such things, "humanoid sized."

Minutes passed like tense hours, beings bundled up in the heated body gloves under the other equipment, to ward off the elements clutching their weapons and breathing, along with some muttered talk.

"Shut it," snapped Koller, the infantry squad's sergeant, even as she took a look down the electronic sights of her A280 rifle, trying to spot movement. Trying to hear movement.

"Contact, 318, counting squad strength, stormtroopers of some kind. 140 meters, wedge formation."

Others were tempted to shift over and crowd the firing ports, but the Koller waved them back down into position, hissing, "concealment!"

"When they come to 100, engage by zones," the Sergeant stated quietly and firmly in her alto voice to the rest of her people, as he started to nurse the power settings on the Mk. II. Jenk kept his mouth shut; he had a rocket launcher to engage anything larger, vehicles or anything that required the extra firepower, but he didn't shift up yet. He had an eye on the sensors, but they were only so good and not shielded, so the Imperials were likely to start taking them out once they were noticed.

"Open fire!" 

And then the world exploded into light, and the smell of ozone as blasters fired in rapid, aimed fire, trying to catch the Stormtroopers flatfooted. But soon enough, the return fire came in, and people started taking hits even behind hard cover, because even sandbags had their limits. People were keeping up the fire, but also taking hits and others were trying to screw themselves into the ground, plowing into the snow just to get deeper into the ground. Natural instinct when death was flying in over-head.

Even while the firing went on, Koller called in her contact, making sure that platoon and company were informed of the situation, even as they poured on the fire. They had casualties, and a medic seemed to crawl through whatever he crawled through to patch up two guys, ignoring the already dead guy as a matter of course. He murmured reassurances to the men while trying to keep them from screaming loudly.

Then the silence reigned again, except for the moans of the wounded and the panting breath of the guys that just had a minute and a half of shooting behind them, already wrung out from the adrenaline.

And that's when Koller said, "We just got orders from the LT, we're shifting back to the rally now," even as she started to break down the Mk. II, wrapping the black blaster in a white sling/tarp so she could carry it strapped across her chest without it looking totally out of place against the planet's natural palette. She was slender, but had the shoulders of a miner, and plenty of muscle to lift the thing.

"Let's get out before the stormtroopers call it in and the kriffing Empire hits this position with artillery."