It was all on Iktac to make the first move. I couldn't see him—no one could—but once one of the tall, bipedal, and impossibly hairy Tronkans went down, it was on me to move in next to take out the other one. Still, I was tense and ready to jump the gun if I had to. They were closing in on my position and if they rounded the corner I'd be spotted for sure. I'm just a bomb guy after all, not a sleuth like Iktac. Explosive Ordnance Disposal to be exact.
My particular suit of armor weighs at least more than double that of any one of my teammates due to my massive chest plate and shoulder padding. Extra protection, should a bomb ever go off whilst I'm trying to defuse it. It also sports a dark, violet-over-indigo color scheme, which wasn't too noticeable against the black of space, but in a mostly steel gray setting lit by pulsating LED lights, it didn't do much in the way of camouflage.
I risked a quick peek around the corner. I was glad that I did, because a second later I saw one of the two patrolling Tronkans collapse to the floor. Iktac's invisibility module wore off and he reappeared on top of the fallen Tronkan with a gleaming Reptilian Warsword in both hands. The other Elite, the one still on its feet, whipped around at the sound of the commotion and, knowing what he would see, I broke from cover and trundled full speed down the hall. My every footfall produced a cannonesque bang on the narrow metal flooring.
Hefting my dense weight as though it were a weapon of its own, I dove and speared the shaggy creature's midsection just as it unholstered a Panther. I heard something like a bone crunch beneath me when we landed and the Tronkan's phaser pistol went skittering out of reach. Years of training activated as I removed the serrated, standard issue Galactic Bounty Hunter's Association combat knife from my shin sheath and plunged it deep into his eye socket.
I flicked the blood off my blade and stood, staring down at the alien I'd just killed. He wasn't getting up. Neither was his partner, who had been ceremoniously decapitated. Threats neutralized, I went about my task of rigging the rest of the explosives. I found a blank section of wall to my right and adhered a ten-inch wide block of C-80 moldable plastic to it. As I did so, Iktac radioed the team leader.
"Roy, Volryn here. Sven is placing the last charge now."
I could hear Alvin's brusque response on the COM channel through my helmet's audio feed. Cacophonous phaser fire peppered the background.
"Good. Now hurry up and get back here. We've got a situation out here."
I finished just then and gave Iktac a thumbs up when he told the commander we were on our way back.
Then to me, he said, "C'mon, sounds like trouble."
He wasn't wrong. The closer we got to the hangar, the harder the walls and ground shook and rumbled. Trouble was an understatement. Once we got to the end of the hall, a blinking steel gray door slid open with a mechanical exhale and gave us a preview of what we were in for. If I had any delusions of this being not being some kind of suicide mission, they were dispelled immediately. Nonetheless, we strode confidently through the threshold into the depths of hell, and the door automatically sealed shut behind us.