Xeris even managed a nap as he sat in the dilapidated hut waiting the on sun to set, to provide him the advantage of darkness. In the corner, he found a section where the flooring had given way to dirt, and using a mix of saliva and the dirt, created a small batch of mud which he used to darken his face.
Once nightfall arrived, he waited for the Stormtroopers to take their meals and then the majority of them retreat to wherever it was that they slept. Watching from a crack in the door, and any small holes he could find in the wall, he planned out his route.
He judged it was dark enough, then slipped out of his hiding hut and began the slow creep towards the first gun he had to take down. Wyler’s vibrosword was secured in his belt, his gun was on his back, along with the knapsack with the containers, though he wished it would be practical for him to creep and hold the sword at the same time. It might have calmed some of his nerves.
Creeping along the wall of the hut, keeping it between him and the general direction he knew the troopers were. He reached the end, and getting closer to ground he peered around the corner and eyeballed the open ground in between him and his target.
Silently, he wished he’d taken up the offer to do more specialty training for stealth roles while he was with the army. But it had had connotations of dirty work, so he’d turned it down.
He took it slow, making sure that all angles were clear before moving. He did it in blocks, sinking low into the ground on his belly, then rising to a half hunch half crawl and moving again after the patrol on his left passed and he had a short period of time where he was clear. He always checked the angles before he started moving again.
For a trip that would take him twenty seconds to walk at a brisk pace, it took him the best part of an hour, maybe two.
Once at the gun, he slunk into its shadow and quickly searched for the best place to locate the explosive. He called upon his training. Out of view, minimal target armour or defense, and likelihood of causing a secondary explosion, were the three checkpoints he recalled from his sabotage instructional course. He found the perfect place, planted his package and activated the receiver.
On to the next.
The ship was between him and the next one, and while it was a much shorter trip he took just as much time due to the larger threat. It looked like their base of operations, and while he was moving to the back of the ship, and the pilots cockpit and loading bay faced the opposite direction, he was most worried of a trooper stumbling out to take a piss and coming face to face with the very large, black faced, and heavily armed mercenary.
With any luck, he made it to the ship and onto the next gun and planted his explosives.
Exiting the clearing of the mine and back into the safety of the woods was even harder. He had to get back to the hut to retrieve the extra guns that he wanted to set up to shoot into the camp, and then he had to crawl into the open towards the forest, pausing while the patrols passed, until he got close enough that he reckoned he could sprint the rest and make the distance.
He reckoned he had an hour, probably less of darkness, left, it was hard to judge, having never been on this planet previously. Hopefully enough time to coordinate with his Daggers to ensure they got through this fight without getting harmed.