Project Boussh: Charge Of The Dark Brigade
by Policrat'

Lieutenant Chase sprinted out of the log cabin door, and zig-zagged across
the open ground towards his crouching AT-ST. From the darkeness up ahead, he
heard the familiar whine of a carbine, and part of his mind registered that
the lines of red energy which stitched the night sky were blaster-fire from
their beseigers, aimed at him.
    But even before the throaty roar of an E-Web answered, silencing the
snipers, Chase knew he was safe. It had been Sergeant Yagger who had noticed
that the Ewoks were trying to keep the fight away from the log cabin which
had been the Imperial assault's original objective, and suggested they used
it as a back-stop for their AT-ST. His guess had proved right. The Ewoks
evidently had strict orders to avoid so much as scratching the cabin.
    "And sir," Yagger had concluded, his voice as level as ever. "You do
realise you've been the brigade's ranking officer for the past three minutes?"
    Chase's first act as acting commander of Imperial forces on Terra had
been to order all surviving personnel to fall back on the cabin.

That had been two days earlier. He had found, when he had time to take
stock, that the fighting strength of the 37th Assault Brigade consisted of
an understrength company of stormtroopers and about the same number of
battledroids, two technicians from the drop-barge crews, and one navy pilot
- Flight Lieutenant Eze Euqs, the only other officer left in his attrited
command. While the techs tried to cannibalize a commscan array to contact
the _Admonitor_, they had all hunkered down in the cabin, and waited.
    A few more stormtroopers had managed to join up with them, but they had
listened helplessly on the local comm as many more were slaughtered by the
Ewoks. And after so long, his helmet filters could not quite hide the smell
of charred human flesh drifting towards them from the siege-camps.
    Chase wasn't sure whether it was the droidtroopers dug in with heavy
weapons around the cabin, and the AT-ST providing fire-support, which  kept
the Ewoks from delivering the killing blow, or the fact that the Rebel
leaders didn't want their futons stained with Imperial blood, but - except
for occasional bursts of sniper fire - they held back, and that was what
mattered.
    In return, Chase made sure his men kept the cabin clean. Partly, he
didn't want to do anything that would prompt the Ewoks or their commanders
to launch an all-out attack. Equally, the cabin felt like a refuge from the
insanity of the mission. He understood why the Rebels didn't want to damage
the cabin, even if he felt it was sheer hypocrisy in the middle of a battle.
    When the last voices on the comm - from what had been a platoon from the
9th Regiment, cut off no more than five hundred yards away - turned to
screams and silence, Chase decided to act. There had always been backup
plans for any troops who found themselves cut off on Terra, even if they
hadn't expected the New Hampshire assault to turn out quite the way it had.
    The only problem was that they were surrounded by five thousand armed
Ewok commandos who made Noghri look positively cute. What they had to do...
all they had to do... was break out.
    Or try to.
    Chase scrambled up the side of his walker, swung across the roof, and
dropped into the cockpit, pulling the hatch shut behind him.
    Yagger sat at the controls, his face unreadable behind the scarred mask
of his helmet. In the gunner's seat was Lieutenant Euqs, her hair matted,
her face and uniform filthy, but still seeming far too pretty to fight -
except when you looked into her eyes.
    "We're ready, sir," Yagger said. Euqs just nodded.
    "I'm going to ride shotgun," Chase said, glancing at the twin-mounted
E-Webs propped against the rear bulkhead. "Patch me through to the troopers
and the droids."
    "Aye, sir."
    Opening the hatch again, he picked up the guns, and hauled them up with
him. Locking them in place on the the improvised mount, and checking over
the improvized magazine feeds, he smiled grimly.
    The AT-ST was a well-designed machine, but had one crucial disadvantage
- all its guns faced forwards. It could turn quickly, and the turret
rotation allowed a limited arc of fire, but AT-STs were designed to operate
in groups, each troop keeping a tight formation, each machine covering its
neighbours' flanks. Which meant one waklker on its own was vulnerable to
attacks in the flanks and rear.
    The generals who had developed modern walker tactics a generation
earlier had simply assumed there would always be more men and machines to
throw into the battle to fill the gaps in the line, whatever sort of
attrition the first wave suffered. It had been treason to even think that
the unstoppable Empire might find itself in situations where practical
problems got in the way of doctrine and dogma.
    Which meant that Imperial armour was utterly screwed when the formation
broke and there were no reinforcements to replace the lost machines.
    And now Chase's AT-ST was the last piece of Imperial armour left on
Terra.  The stormtroopers followed him not because he was the brigade's
senior surviving officer, but because he was armour, and the armour corps
were the cavalry, the Empire's iron fist, and they knew that they had no
chance of punching past the Ewoks without him. They just didn't seem to
understand quite how vulnerable a single AT-ST was.
    Which was why he and Yagger had spent previous two days modifying the
mount for the pathetic little repeating-blaster which was the AT-ST's
standard backup weapon to take the twin E-webs. It meant that one of them
had to go into battle topsides, but it had a decent field of fire, and it
ripped Ewoks to bloody shreds.
    It gave them a chance.
    "You're patched in to brigade comm, sir," Euqs' voice sounded in his
ear, breaking his thoughs, ice-clear and with no trace of irony.
    "Thank you, Flight Lieutenant," Chase answered "Corporal Sinup?"
    "We're ready, sir," crackled back the stormtrooper's voice.
    "R8-F?" he asked.
    "Roger roger," the battledroid commander answered.
    Behind his mask, Chase smiled grimly.
    "Now," he said.
    The AT-ST shuddered as it rose from its crouch. Blaster-fire from the
enemy lines spattered harmlessly against the turret armour, and the walker
shook as the grenade launcher discharged a series of flares, lighting up the
night. The snow shone, but the shadows in the trees seemed blacker than
ever.
    "Now," he said again, and the walker lurched forwards.
    The battledroids rose up like silent ghosts from their dugouts and
trenches, and behind them, the grey-armoured stormtroopers charged out of
the building.
    Chase pulled the triggers, firing blindly into the night, and screamed
an incoherent war-cry as the AT-ST plunged into the woods. He felt the
E-webs shudder like a living thing in his hands, and the deck began to buck
as Euqs opened up with the chin-canon.
    The flares were fading, but the night was bright with blinding bursts of
fire, and the shrill whine of carbines, the roar of the AT-ST's guns, the
screams and war-crys, all thundered in his ears, wave after wave of noise,
each crashing over the last.
    "CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

    "You can stop screaming now, sir." It was Yagger's voice.
    Chase blinked, and looked around, unclenching his stiff hands from the
triggers. One E-web had jammed, the other one was out of ammo. And the AT-ST
was louping over open country. In the pre-dawn light, the snow-covered
fields of New Haphsire were the same dirty grey as the walker's armour. And
there was no sign of Ewoks.
    They were out of the woods.
    Dropping into the cockpit, Chase pulled off his helmet, and breathed in
the sweet smell of sweat, engine oil, and burnt Ewok.
    Yagger sat at the controlls. Euqs was bent over a tattered road-map.
    "Any idea where we are, Flight Lieutenant?" Chase asked.
    She looked up, and her filth- and blood-spattered face creased into a
smile for the first time since he had met her.
    "I think the highway's thattaway," she said, gesturing with her thumb.
    "Can you be any more precise than that, Lieutenat, ma'am?" Yagger asked,
without taking his eyes off the horizon.
    "Just drive, sergeant, you supercillious bastard," Chase laughed. "And
that's an order."
    "Aye, sir."
    The snow was beginning to sparkle in the new light, as the walker
lurched round towards the east, towards the dawn.