"First and Second Squads, secure the entrance hall. Third and Fourth, with me. We're pushing deeper."
He moved toward the nearest doorway, stepping over bodies, his boots leaving bloody prints on the marble. The doorway led to a corridor, long and narrow, lined with doors. Perfect ambush terrain. Lux paused at the threshold, his helmet's sensors probing ahead, searching for heat signatures, movement, anything that would give away an enemy position.
There. Three signatures, twenty meters down the corridor, behind a corner. Waiting.
"Contact ahead," Lux said quietly. "Three hostiles, entrenched position. Wraith-Four, flash-bang on my mark."
Drace moved up beside him, a flash-bang grenade in his hand. Lux counted down silently—three, two, one—and Drace threw. The grenade bounced down the corridor, and Lux turned away, his helmet's visor automatically darkening.
The flash-bang detonated with a blinding flare and a concussive boom that rattled Lux's teeth even through his helmet. He was moving before the echo faded, charging down the corridor, his rifle up. The three hostiles were staggering, disoriented, their weapons lowered. Lux didn't give them a chance to recover. Three shots, three kills, and he was past them, deeper into the mansion.
Behind him, Third and Fourth Squads followed, their white armor stark in the corridor's dim lighting. Lux's HUD updated with new data—Kael and Venn had breached the secondary entrance and were pushing toward his position. Good. Once they linked up, they'd have enough firepower to punch through to the upper levels.
The corridor opened into a large room—a dining hall, judging by the long table and ornate chairs. And more hostiles. At least a dozen, positioned around the room's perimeter, weapons trained on the entrance. They'd been waiting, and now they opened fire.
Lux threw himself to the side as blaster bolts sizzled past, impacting the wall behind him. He hit the ground rolling, came up behind the dining table, and returned fire. The table was solid wood, thick enough to stop blaster bolts, and he used it for cover as he engaged the hostiles.
"Suppressive fire!" he ordered. "Keep their heads down!"
Third and Fourth Squads poured into the room, spreading out, finding cover, laying down a withering barrage. The dining hall became a war zone, blaster fire crisscrossing the space, furniture exploding into splinters, the air thick with smoke and the smell of burning wood.
Lux spotted a hostile trying to flank from the left. He tracked the target, led him slightly, and fired. The bolt caught the trooper in the side, spinning him around, and he went down. Lux shifted targets, fired again, dropped another. But there were still too many, and they were dug in.
"Wraith-Four, I need heavy ordnance on the far side of the room. Clear them out."
"Can't use the PLX in here," Drace said, his voice tight. "Too much risk of collateral damage. We're in an enclosed space—the blast could bring the ceiling down."
Lux cursed. Drace was right, but they couldn't stay pinned down. He scanned the room, looking for an advantage, and spotted it—a chandelier, hanging from the ceiling directly above the hostiles' position. It was massive, ornate, probably weighed half a ton.
"Wraith-Four, can you hit that chandelier?"
Drace followed his gaze. "Affirmative. One shot."
"Take it."
Drace rose, his rifle braced against the table, and fired. The bolt hit the chandelier's mounting bracket, and the entire structure came crashing down. It hit the floor with a sound like a bomb going off, crushing two hostiles and scattering the rest. Lux was up and moving before the dust settled, charging across the room, his rifle barking. The disoriented hostiles tried to regroup, but they were too slow. Lux and his squads cut them down in a brutal, efficient slaughter.
"Room clear," Lux said, breathing hard. His armor's environmental systems were working overtime, cooling his body, filtering the smoke-filled air. "Wraith-Two, Wraith-Three, status."
"We're through the secondary entrance," Kael reported. "Linking up with your position now."
A moment later, Kael and Venn appeared in the dining hall's far doorway, their black armor scorched and pitted from combat, their squads behind them. Lux felt a surge of satisfaction—his Wraiths were together now, a unified force. Thrunn didn't stand a chance.
"All units, listen up," Lux said, his voice carrying across the comm. "We're pushing to the upper levels. Thrunn's war room is on the third floor, central wing. That's where he'll be. We go in hard, we go in fast, and we don't stop until he's in binders. Understood?"
A chorus of affirmatives echoed back. Lux nodded, satisfied, and turned toward the staircase at the far end of the dining hall. It was time to end this.
The staircase was a nightmare.
Thrunn's guards had fortified it, turning each landing into a defensive position. They had heavy repeating blasters set up, overlapping fields of fire, and enough ammunition to hold off an army. Lux's forces hit the first landing and were immediately driven back by a wall of blaster fire that turned the stairwell into a death trap.
"Fall back!" Lux ordered, retreating down the stairs as bolts chewed into the walls around him. "We can't push through that. We need another approach."
"There's a service stairwell on the eastern side," Kael said, studying a schematic of the mansion on his HUD. "Narrower, less defensible. If we can get a squad up there, we can flank their position."
"Do it. Take Third Squad and push up the service stairs. Wraith-Three, you're with him. The rest of us will keep the pressure on here, keep them focused on the main staircase."
Kael and Venn moved out, taking Third Squad with them. Lux turned back to the staircase, his mind racing. They needed to keep the hostiles occupied, make them think the main assault was coming up the stairs. That meant putting his troops in harm's way, exposing them to fire, accepting casualties.
It was the calculus of command, and Lux had made it a hundred times before.
"First and Second Squads, suppressive fire on the landing. Fourth Squad, with me. We're going to push halfway up, draw their attention, then fall back. Make them think we're committing to a frontal assault."
It was a dangerous gambit, but it was the only way to give Kael and Venn the time they needed. Lux moved to the base of the staircase, his rifle ready, and started up. Fourth Squad followed, their boots thundering on the steps. The hostiles on the landing opened fire immediately, and Lux felt bolts sizzling past his head, impacting his armor's shields. He fired back, not aiming, just laying down suppressive fire to keep the hostiles' heads down.
Halfway up the stairs, he stopped and took cover behind a stone balustrade. Bolts hammered into the stone, chipping it, sending fragments flying. Lux leaned out and fired, his shots precise despite the chaos. He dropped one hostile, then another, but there were still too many.
"Wraith-Two, how long?" he demanded.
"We're at the second floor," Kael responded. "Pushing to the third now. Thirty seconds."
Thirty seconds. Lux could hold for thirty seconds. He had to.
"Fourth Squad, hold this position! Return fire!"
The stormtroopers around him opened up, their blasters adding to the cacophony. The stairwell was a hellscape of noise and light, the air thick with smoke and the smell of ozone. Lux's HUD was a mess of threat indicators, his helmet's computer struggling to track all the incoming fire. A bolt hit his shoulder plate, and he felt the impact through his armor, a sharp jolt that rattled his bones. Another hit his chest, and his shields flared, absorbing the energy.
"Wraith-Two, now would be good!"
"We're here!"
The hostiles on the landing suddenly turned, their fire shifting away from Lux's position. He heard the distinctive sound of Wraith blasters—heavier, more powerful than standard issue—and then Kael's voice, calm and professional.
"Hostiles engaged. We're clearing the landing."
Lux was up and moving, charging up the stairs, Fourth Squad behind him. He hit the landing just as Kael and Venn finished mopping up the last of the hostiles. Bodies littered the floor, smoke rising from their scorched armor. Kael's black armor was pitted and scarred, one shoulder plate cracked, but he was still standing.
"Good work," Lux said. "How many more floors?"
"One," Venn said, reloading his rifle. "Third floor is the top. Thrunn's war room is at the end of the central corridor."
Lux nodded and switched comm channels. "Actual, this is Wraith-One. We're on the second floor, pushing to the third. What's your status?"
The Commodore's voice was strained, the background noise of the space battle louder now. "Thrunn's flagship is down, but the rest are still fighting. We've taken damage—shields at sixty percent, minor hull breaches on decks four and seven. How close are you to securing the objective?"
"Minutes away, sir. We're moving on the war room now."
"Understood." Was the prompt response.
He turned to his Wraiths. "This is it. Thrunn's on the other side of that door, and he knows we're coming. Expect heavy resistance, expect traps, expect anything. But we're taking him alive. No matter what. Clear?"
"Clear," Kael, Venn, and Drace said in unison.
"Then let's finish this."
The third floor was eerily quiet.
Lux led his forces up the final staircase, his rifle sweeping the corridor ahead. The walls were lined with portraits of Imperial officers, their stern faces watching the Wraiths' advance. The floor was carpeted, muffling their footsteps, and the lighting was dim, casting long shadows. It felt like a tomb.
"Spread out," Lux ordered quietly. "Check every room, every corner. I don't want any surprises."
The stormtroopers moved down the corridor in pairs, clearing rooms methodically. Lux advanced with his Wraiths, his senses on high alert. Something was wrong. They should have encountered more resistance by now. Thrunn wouldn't just abandon the third floor.
Unless he was waiting.
"Wraith-One, this is Second Squad," a voice crackled over the comm. "We've found something. You need to see this."
Lux moved to the indicated room—a small office, sparsely furnished. One of the stormtroopers was standing over a body, a dead officer in Thrunn's livery. But it wasn't the body that caught Lux's attention. It was the datapad clutched in the officer's hand, still displaying a message.
Lux took the datapad and read. His blood ran cold.
"All units, fall back! It's a trap—"
The explosion cut him off.
It started in the corridor behind them, a series of shaped charges detonating in sequence, collapsing the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Lux felt the shockwave hit him like a physical blow, throwing him forward. He hit the ground hard, his armor's shields flaring, his HUD flickering with damage warnings. Around him, stormtroopers were screaming, dying, buried under tons of rubble.
"Report!" Lux shouted, struggling to his feet. "All units, report!"
The responses came in slowly, fragmented. Half of his force was cut off, trapped on the lower floors. The staircase was gone, collapsed, impassable. And the corridor ahead—the one leading to Thrunn's war room—was the only way forward.
"It's a kill box," Drace said, his voice grim. "He's funneling us into the war room. He wants us to come to him."
Lux looked at the corridor, his mind racing. Thrunn was desperate, cornered, and desperate men did desperate things. But Lux had come too far to turn back now. The Commodore was counting on him. The Empire was counting on him.
"Then we give him what he wants," Lux said. "Wraith-Two, Wraith-Three, Wraith-Four, you're with me. Everyone else, hold this position and wait for reinforcements. We're going in."
Kael, Venn, and Drace moved up beside him, their black armor battered but intact, their weapons ready. Four Wraiths, against whatever Thrunn had waiting in that war room. The odds weren't good. But Wraiths didn't care about odds.
They moved down the corridor in a tight formation, weapons covering every angle. Lux's HUD was painting the war room's door in gold—the objective, the end of the mission. It was a massive durasteel blast door, sealed tight, probably reinforced from the inside. Getting through it would take time, and time was something they didn't have.
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