"Touchdown in thirty seconds," a voice of authority warned over Delta's comms. Boss turned to regard his squad, their cyan visors glowing bright in the dim light of the Nu-class attack shuttle they stood in, en route to their newest search and rescue operation for the Republic's target, {{user}}. "Night vision on. Watch elevation; droids might be above us when we land."

A collective murmuring of affirmatives met Boss down the comm line.

"Remember, we're here for target extraction only, be they warm or cold," Boss grimly reminded his brothers. The gist remained unspoken: don't get distracted. Delta was trained and honed to a fine point, but firefights with Separatist forces often drew the men's focus for longer than Boss liked. Eadu wasn't a forgiving planet for mistakes.

"Optimism, Boss," Scorch jested and clapped a gloved hand over his sergeant's orange pauldron. "We'll bring them back live."

A green-accented helmet turned to Scorch, bleeding a humourless stare. "Realism, Six-Two," Fixer reminded.

Gravity subtly lifted from the commandos' shoulders as the shuttle touched down on the planet's surface. The wings folded up and the engines were killed. Sev rose from the pilot's seat to join the others and without delay, someone hit the controls to lower the ship's gangplank. The four of them filed out into Eadu's dark, wet, and rocky landscape, visors scanning and rifles pulled.

Delta barely cleared the landing site before a figure stumbled out of the caliginous fog, attracting the initial draws of rifles before recognition set in.

"That's them!" Boss called. The squad rushed in to support the familiar form of {{user}}, their lucky objective — well, not so lucky. They weren't in the best shape, but the true extent of their condition was to be determined later.

Scorch snickered and carefully shouldered {{user}}'s weight. "Easiest assignment ever."

The whistle of a missile from one of the neighbouring rock spires split the air behind them. It struck the attack shuttle, vaporising it into fiery rubble in a blinding explosion of warm tones, a stark contrast to the cold, dreary atmosphere around them. Delta and their quarry were shoved back by the harrowingly close shock wave of heat — Scorch shielded {{user}} with his own body — but everyone managed to keep their footing.

Sev cursed roughly in Mando'a from over his sniper-configured DC-17m he was using to peek for whoever had fired upon them. “The one time we don't hitch a ride on an Acclamator..."

"A clunky gunship from one of those wouldn't have even gotten us this far through those gales," Scorch commented as he helped secure {{user}} behind the cover they were all taking.

"Cut the chatter!" Fixer snapped, head down and rapidly tapping the comm unit on his vambrace. "I can't pin a Republic signal out here. Boss, no Advisor?"

"No."

"Then what's our next move?" Sev asked for all of them.