MORNING AFTER BATTLE
Sun broke on weary eyes. He was the last of his squad- the other members of his squad having been picked off in the heat of the night's long-lasting firefight. There was a young soldier next to him, who struggled up until the last breath he took. A real fighter.
Setter took his ammo and put a fresh magazine in his suppressed slugthrower. He braced his elbow against the window, and glanced down his scope, picking off another Imperial trooper who happened to poke his head out. They returned fire, blaster and disruptor bolts slamming against the worn face of the once-pristine office building.
He had no communications equipment. They were either jammed, or out of battery, or plain old shot up. The one around his ear wasn't working, not since early in the night. He checked the box that hung from his hip. Sure enough, the thing had a scorch mark on the side of it. He sighed, rolling back to cover as the Imperials weighed their options of determining whether he was alive or dead.
They'd come soon, and Setter was running out of options for getting out of this alive.
There was a CP roughly six blocks away. He could maybe signal for a pickup there. He put himself on a knee, and set his brother in a comfortable resting position, and closed his eyes. He held the Zabrak close, wishing him well as he became one with the force. He'd probably join him soon. Hopefully there was someone here. He patted down the Zabrak, taking enough ammo to last him a good few more firefights, two grenades, and a flare. Just one flare.
He did a brass check on his weapon and ran out of the building out the back, leaving the Imperials nothing but corpses. Maybe they'd buy that they got lucky over the night and that they finally got him over the course of the long fight they were having. Either way, Setter had to move. And hope. Hope for the best.
The nearest landing for any size aircraft or even a decent speeder was six blocks away. Hopefully, in those six blocks, he'd find someone on his side- and people to get him the hell off this planet. He'd fought hard enough, and they lost. Nothing could change that. So they needed to get out. Just get out. He crouched behind a broken barricade, amidst what he assumed was an Imperial squad that was slaughtered by a Jedi. He sighed deeply, leaning his helmet up against the duraplast barricade that did in fact, not save the soldiers.
He needed to keep moving, keep running.