The droid assaults continued for another two days, each one smaller in number, but the pressure in the trenches—and on the soldiers holding them—was not only palpable, it could be cut with a knife. The attacks came in intervals to avoid giving the defenders any respite, and while this happened on the ground, the battle for air superiority was even fiercer. The sudden nature of the invasion had prevented air battles in the very first moments, compounded by the distance between the airfield and the base. But after three days, air control was no longer absolute for the pirates, who had now been identified as Black Sun.
In the skies over Ryloth, Z-95 Headhunters, CloakShape Fighters, and Me 262s clashed for dominance of the planet. The Me 262 had long since been decommissioned and deemed obsolete by Max's technological standards, but for Outer Rim worlds, these fighters/interceptors could still fulfill their roles alongside several Z-95s. Compared to the CloakShape, which had a top atmospheric speed of 950 km/h, the Me 262 could reach 871 km/h—only a 79 km/h difference, though the real gap was in service ceiling. The Me 262s could also be equipped with 250kg or 500kg bombs or 5.5cm R4M air-to-air missiles, which could also be used in air-to-ground roles, not to mention their four 30mm MK 108 cannons, making them viable for close air support as well.
On the ground, the assault had resumed again—but unlike previous waves, the trench line was completely abandoned when Black Sun troops reached it. All they found were old Maxim M1910 machine guns without ammunition and a large number of spent casings scattered over Ryloth's dry soil. Despite being mercenaries, pirates, and criminals, Black Sun troops did not lower their guard after taking the position. On the contrary, they began fortifying it for their next push on the canyon base.
Inside Black Sun's new command post, one of the assault leaders discussed their next steps, particularly regarding the wall protecting the base entrance.
"These past days have shown us their will to fight, as well as some of the weapons they have and use. We'll apply the same tactic to gauge the wall's defenses. Send in all remaining OOM units."
"What if they use artillery again to wipe them out? We only have one battalion—just over 550 droids."
"A valid concern, but we're racing against time. The base's distress signal has surely been sent already, so it's only a matter of time before their fleet shows up."
"I doubt they have the forces to spare with the trouble they're dealing with. It's not just us besieging them—plenty of people aren't happy with this new group and were looking for a way to take them down. We've just handed them the perfect opportunity."
"That doesn't matter—he's right. We don't know what their fleet's first target will be, or how many fleets they actually have in the galaxy. To this day, no one's found where their base is."
"Back to the point—could we request support from our fighters and ships to soften up their defenses, or even punch a hole in them?"
"Impossible. The terrain prevents effective close support, and their planetary air forces respond every time our ships enter the atmosphere."
"Must be some kind of radar or scanner—but we still haven't located it."
The silence in the room grew heavier as their options dwindled to a frontal assault on the base walls.
"What if we send our armor to the gate to break a hole in their defenses?"
"Not a bad idea. If we breach, the assault will proceed much faster and more effectively. But two problems—one, we don't know what's behind the wall; and two, they'll throw everything they have to stop us from breaking through."
"What if we force them to focus elsewhere—say, on the other entrance?"
At the mention of the other entrance, the leader pulled out a holo-projector, which displayed a Falleen with a grim expression.
"What is it?" he said curtly.
"We need you to draw their attention to your entrance for as long as possible. If necessary, we'll send reinforcements."
"Fine, but we haven't even breached their trench line yet."
"Doesn't matter—just keep them busy, no matter the losses."
After a few words to finalize details, the call ended.
"Begin troop and vehicle transfers—tomorrow, we take the fort."
{Ryloth / 0600 / Grim Covenant base}
The first rays of light shone on the wall where soldiers stood in position, ready for whatever the day might bring. The sound of engines alerted the defenders, who took cover behind the wall and in the adjacent bunkers, waiting to open the hatches and fire. From the horizon, several WLO-5 tanks advanced rapidly toward the defensive positions, followed by Black Sun mercenary troops.
The tanks' heavy blasters opened fire on the wall. Though it withstood the impacts, it would not last long under such power. The infantry joined in, laying down suppressive fire on the wall.
The situation seemed desperate—until concealed hatches on the sides of the wall, carved into the rock itself, suddenly opened. From them, two M2 machine guns unleashed crossfire on the enemy soldiers, joined by troops in the bunkers firing RPG-7s at the enemy armor. One WLO-5 took a hit on its rear side, limiting mobility but not firepower. Another was struck directly on the front and turret, erupting in an explosion that also disabled the nearest tank's main gun. Of the initial eight tanks, only five remained fully operational, from which more mercenaries disembarked.
As the mercenaries returned fire at the bunkers, one gunner aimed directly at one of them.
"Everybody out!" came the shout from inside.
Heavy blaster shots hammered the bunker like waves against rock. One unlucky hit struck an ammunition cache, engulfing the bunker in a massive explosion and leaving a gaping hole in the rock. Concentrated enemy fire began to wear down the wall until mercenaries planted thermal detonators on one section, blasting open another breach in the colonial troops' defenses. Luckily, two more tanks were lost during the breach—one to concentrated grenade fire, the other immobilized by debris from the wall explosion.
With two openings, the mercenaries poured in, triggering brutal close-quarters combat. Colonial forces began retreating deeper inside, their casualties mounting.
"Keep advancing—no prisoners!"
The order triggered an immediate chain reaction—mercenaries began executing surrendering enemies while others pursued the retreat. Leading the formation was one of the three remaining tanks—until, to the mercenaries' shock, it erupted in a massive explosion. Machine-gun fire shredded the attackers, and more explosions echoed in the distance—along with sounds in the skies.
Inside the command tank, the Falleen in charge of the assault called the same Falleen leader from the night before.
"What's happening? What are those explosions? And why aren't your troops advancing?"
"Everything was going fine—we were about to take the first trench line—until they suddenly started using heavy artillery. Their fighters are also giving them support, which means we've lost the orbital fleet or it's tied up fighting theirs. I recommend you evacuate immediately, or at least fall back to a defensible position. I thi—"
The transmission cut off abruptly.
The Falleen's expression was one of anger—and fear for his life. He quickly ordered a retreat. Most of his remaining troops obeyed, while others abandoned their gear and fled in any direction, even surrendering or playing dead to escape notice. Colonial troops saw the withdrawal as an opportunity and opened fire on the mercenaries with the same mercy the mercenaries had shown them earlier.
Unfortunately for the fleeing Black Sun troops, they had to exit the same way they entered—and what awaited them outside were tanks they had never seen before, along with a large number of soldiers aiming their weapons at them. Those who had stayed to cover the retreat were already captured or neutralized.
"You're surrounded—surrender or die."
The ultimatum was clear, but the Falleen chose the worst possible option.
"Fire!"
The mercenaries didn't dare obey—between life and credits, they chose life, throwing their blasters to the ground and raising their hands.
"Traitors, every last one of you."
He drew his blaster pistol—only to be cut down before he could fire it.