Luck, or the Force, was with him. Brant stumbled across the body of one of the walker’s pilots just yards away from Kellaro, and he noted with relief that the Zakuulians had no discernable uniform, only an insignia on one shoulder, which Brant quickly ripped out. If Kellaro could only peel out of his trooper armor, Brant figured the major’s jumpsuit was close enough to this man’s he could pass as a walker pilot, especially with the addition of the dead man’s insignia on his chest. Then all they had to do was call for help, and the holocommunicator Brant found in the pilot’s pocket would certainly suffice for that.
Kellaro had removed most of his armor by the time Brant returned, and Brant helped him out of the last battered and burnt bits around his ankles. He noted with relief Kellaro still had both use of his legs, but only barely, and one was bleeding profusely, covering Brant’s hands in blood as he tugged the last shin guard off.
“I can’t walk,” said Kellaro tiredly. He seemed sleepy, and Brant knew they didn’t have long if they were going to get him to a medic.
“You won’t have to walk.” Brant pressed both insignia and holocom into his palms. Kellaro stared at them.
“Oh… but what about you?”
Brant shrugged. “Prisoner of yours?”
“A prisoner that looks just like me… You’re an idiot.”
Brant grunted. “Then look at it this way. You get one free shot at the idiot with a stun round, right to my face. That is, if you haven’t misplaced your blaster.”
Kellaro stared at him, and Brant was worried he might have to turn the stun round on himself, but then Kellaro was dialing the holocom. Brant had just enough time to lie down and pretend to be unconscious, when suddenly the holo of a man flickered on, casting their surroundings in a blue light.
“ID 41539870 received… processing… Corporal Farlong? Is that you? Do you copy?” said the man.
“I’m injured,” said Kellaro muzzily. “Walker down. Head wound. Lots of blood — sorry, loss of blood.”
“Copy that.” The man frowned and turned to some unseen instrument panel, keying commands into it hurriedly. “We’re dispatching a medic to you now, ID 41-5. Stand by.”
Kellaro stared into the distance, and Brant realized his vagueness wasn’t all acting. He considered taking over his brother’s mind again, just long enough to relay there would also be a prisoner, when Kellaro stuttered out, “Encountered a… F-Force-user. Saved me. D-double agent. I think? On our side…”
“Copy that,” said the holocom, then the man broke his crisp veneer to speak more like a concerned human. “Stand by, Corporal. We’re almost to your position. Just hang in there, and you’ll be home free.”
But the holocom was sliding out of Kellaro’s hands. Brant cursed, and hoping Kellaro’s lie was enough to cover him, quickly got up and crossed over to him. He stripped a piece of his robe and tightened it as best he could on Kellaro’s leg, guided by the dim light still afforded by the holo, but the cloth was soaked through almost as soon as he put it on. Kellaro was no longer moving, his breathing getting weaker.
Brant cursed. He had just started chest compressions when the headlights of a shuttle beamed down on him suddenly from above.