[right][h3]Josten I
Nammor Quarry, Groslk Reserve[/h3][/right][hr]
“SK-1024, repeat your coordinates.” SK-1024 read the coordinates off the tactical readout displayed across his visor aloud into the open comm. “SK-1024, are you in a river?”

“Negative, Command, we are in the field due west of Central. We have vision on some kind of quarry. Moving to investigate.”

Lieutenant Josten Kannik, designation SK-1024, motioned for his partners to advance. Each of the scout troopers cradled an E-11, sights forward and prepared to fire. There was some kind of malfunction with the tactical network that had them jumpy, but orders were orders. Scout the periphery for the advancing column in the wake of the orbital bombardment, execute limited engagements with the local rebels, report in with coordinates where they found pockets of resistance. 

Josten took a position on the lip of the quarry and looked through the scope of his E-11s. It was a depression hewn into the rock of Uslam by the local mining guilds. There were a few industrial structures down there that stood to be cleared. The scout troopers had dismounted their speeders and had proceeded on foot. Reports had come in that the rebels had cleared their line positions in the face of the orbital bombardment, so all that was left was to clear out any holdouts along the way to protect the Imperial column’s vulnerable flank.

His fireteam had been given the order to kill on sight. They’d found a couple of ragged stragglers, who he scoped out and put down himself with two precise shots from his long rifle. 

He did a slow sweep over the quarry, and found movement. Something—someone—had made a dash from a structure built into the wall of the quarry. Two more followed, carrying blasters and garbed in the irregular combat outfits of the Uslam militia. 

“Command, this is SK-1024, we have contact,” Lieutenant Kannik reported in. No response. Static. Had the comms gone down? “Command do you copy?” He heard blasterfire from the quarry. They’d made contact. He switched over to his fireteam’s commline. “Rebel contact confirmed, open fire and fall back,” he ordered, but again, no response. 

Swearing, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope to line up covering fire for his team. He lined up his targeting sights on a woman emerging from the building, tall, dark hair, and squeezed the trigger.

[hr]
Corte tripped. At that same moment, she felt the heat of a blaster bolt across her shoulder blades, inches from burning a lethal hole through her from shoulder to shoulder. She caught herself with practiced athleticism and rolled into cover behind one of the quarry’s buildings.

“Sniper!” she shouted over the din of shouts and blasterfire. Vash, emerging from the mine rail entrance, raised his A-300, in its targeting rifle configuration, to his shoulder and searched for the enemy above them.

[hr]
Lieutenant Kannik swore as the woman fell. He knew it was a miss just as the blaster bolt flew. He searched for a new target, bringing the sights back on that building’s entrance. Rebel soldiers were pouring out of the entrance now, dozens of them, maybe more. 

Target rich environment.  

Lieutenant Kannik lined up a shot. He went to squeeze the trigger, but saw a glint from a corner of the targeting display. He paused for a heartbeat, or half of one.

He saw a red flash.