Drey’s consciousness turned inward. He had slumped into the corner nearest Brair's cockpit, idly listening to the others board. His hand tugged at the shirt collar clinging to him. He hated being out of uniform, but the operation had its orders. Any possible evidence of Empire involvement avoided. No uniforms, weapons or other obvious clues left behind. Drey didn't think it mattered much. The Republic's blame would itself at their front door no matter what. 

Ever the good soldier, he followed his orders. He traded in his Imperial uniform for a merc one. The pieces of armor had seen better days. Discolored by age, they had a dull, reddish coloring to the once gunmetal gray. He had them placed on his chest, legs, and face. They protected the most vulnerable areas. The helmet had a faded skull pattern painted over the front. It served well to hid his identity while blending into the unruly crowd of mercs. Underneath it, he wore a simple brown tunic and black trousers ending in boots. His weapons were close at hand with the blaster pistol on his hip and his blaster rifle rested beside him. Any traces marking it as Empire were removed.  

When Briar rolled the cruiser to the upper right, his arms snapped and gripped his seat. His elbows locked in place to keep him from toppling over. A harsh grunt slipped past his lips when a heavier merc, far better armored, slammed into his side. The guy muttered an apology as he straightened up immediately. 

“It’s a rough ride, don’t worry about it.” Drey genuinely sounded unbothered by it. 

Briar had talent as a pilot, but her flight patterns often left newbies rattled or queasy. In one’s case, Drey heard him hurl chunks on the metal grate. Drey couldn’t help the soft chuckle muffled by his helmet. When Briar’s voice came over the speakers, his hand moved to his blaster rifle. He quickly unclipped the seat's straps and stood upright. While the others were filing toward the boarding tube, he looked at the door to the cockpit. A few moments passed until life stirred from him. 

His index finger curled then he did a few quick taps on the cockpit’s frame. Back in the day, whenever he departed from her ship, he started this tradition. It was his way to let her know she did well. Drey knew he couldn’t exactly tell her right now or guarantee he would survive to tell her afterward. So the little gesture worked best.  

He inhaled.[i]Go time,[/i] he thought then he began to file out with the rest. He doubted that Captain Corvinian knew he was on board because the rooster was vast. Drey truthfully didn’t know how Collem might’ve reacted to his presence, but he didn’t risk a negative one. Besides, he was a soldier first and a friend second.  

Drey rushed out into the hanger. He followed the last of his boarding party right into the thick of the fighting. Heavy blaster fire came in from all directions. The Republic troopers attempted to advance. They failed. 

A man next to him went down. The shot to his head took him down fast, the corpse crumbled and others kicked it away. No respect for the dead until after the fight. Drey hunched down. He overheard orders for counter fire. His eyes found nearby offloaded cargo crates and slide into cover. He took a knee then listened to the shots. His eyes caught the form of a Falleen Sith slip into one of the far, less busy corridors. Naturally, the Jedi went for the bigger threats: the Sith. The Jedi scum, unfortunately, numbered the few Apprentices he counted earlier. Eventually, a Jedi would cross their path. For now, Drey discarded this thought. Worry didn't help survival odds. 

A bolt hissed as it darted past his helmet. 

In response, Drey pulled up. He fired the blaster rifle trigger three times. One trooper dropped from a blow to the head, another clipped in a shoulder and the final shot missed. He dropped behind the crate. The man next to him popped up. He let out his own two shots and also dropped down. Like a well-oiled machine, they took turns firing in rotation. The blasts were random as they observed each other’s stance, ready to take the other's place. Drey’s heart began to thump heavily against his chest. The adrenaline filled his head until it buzzed, the idea of surviving death lingered at the back of his mind. 

“Fucking Republic,” his shooting partner hissed. 

“I rather deal with Republic troopers than the Jedi. Eventually, one will cross our path if the Sith don't deal with them.” 

The man got back up and fired, “Are they that tough?” 

“Haha, you better believe it. One on one combat, you want to avoid at all costs.” Drey answered and took his turn. 

He spotted a Republic trooper take a chance and rush ahead of schedule. When his ally rose for his turn, Drey’s hand shoved his head back down. The man went to curse at him, but a blaster shot narrowly missing his head. It silenced him. Drey turned back to his 'friend'. 

“I think it’s time to switch up the pattern. Don’t want them picking us off, right?” He suggested. 

“Right,” the merc said, catching his breath again. The shock poured into his stature, but Drey continued to ignore it. For the man, only gaining experience would change it.

“You toss a flash grenade and I’ll give you cover fire. Ready?” 

The man nodded. Drey counted down on his fingers before he rose and opened fire. Several shots flew toward the enemy. The last few stranglers dropped down for cover again. A few mercs, seeing Drey’s aggression, joined in his attack. A firestorm provided the perfect cover. The young merc pulled the pin then tossed the flash grenade. Drey's hand jerked to cut his neck as a universal gesture to stop. All fire died down from his improvised team. 

Seeing an opportunity, the enemy looked out from cover and aimed to return fire. A blinding flash followed by a deafening sound met them instead. Drey briefly ducked behind the metal crates until it died. He gestured for half of the mercs to advance before the rest started a new round of blaster fire on their targets. 

Drey watched the surviving troopers slip into the nearest corridor. Once in a while, they stopped to fire causing Drey and his team to seek cover. Seven mercs had followed him into the upcoming storm. It became a shitty one soon enough. A human woman in her late twenties walked down the hall with purpose. Her hand pulled a metal cylinder into it. It hissed to life, a green blade of light at the end. A Jedi had arrived. She began to bat away the blaster shots, deflecting them into the walls or floor. A lucky shot almost hit a merc on occasion.  

“Shit, fine.” Drey looked to the men. 

“Open fire with everything you got, but aim for the allies, not the Jedi. She will hold back to protect her allies. Don't stop firing until they stop moving. One of you get a grenade ready and toss it at the Jedi’s feet. I’ll do the rest.” 

They nodded then began to pour down a hail of fire on the small group. Drey pulled his helmet off. He needed the full range of sight for this shot. The earlier merc he befriended had gotten out a grenade and looked at him. He smiled then counted down from three. 

Three. 

Two. 

One. 

The explosive bounced toward the Jedi’s feet. Immediately the Jedi stretched out her hand to send it. She spotted Drey move into position too late. The aim to spread out her focus working perfectly. 

As Drey pulled from cover, he aimed for the grenade. When the Jedi moved to throw it back, he had already fired twice. One-shot at the grenade, the other at her ally. Drey just smirked. 

 An explosion engulfed the Jedi and her allies. It sent their bodies into the far wall as they crumbled into the floor. When it died, Drey and his team continued. Drey stepped over the corpses. He paused at the Jedi's. He aimed his blaster rifle down and double-tapped. The Jedi's body twitched from the impact but it didn't move again. He couldn’t be too careful with these force users as he rushed to catch up with the other mercs.