Kamanair Maruk sat imposingly in his throne-like chair on the bridge of the LH-1740. Beyond the massive observation windows stretched the inhospitable surface of an icy planet, its landscape dominated by greenish-blue rock formations, with only the plains covered in white ice — ice that gleamed like polished steel beneath the sunlight.
Maruk was a typical Neimoidian who had served the corporation for over seventy years and had finally attained the coveted position of governor — albeit on one of the poorer planets.
Then, like a bolt from the blue, war broke out. He followed the events with interest while, on orders from above, bringing the planetary droid factories to full capacity. Not only Neimoidians were involved in their construction — the Techno Union had also contributed. As a result, the range of droids produced was quite extensive. Yet, despite the growing tension, Maruk still hoped the war would pass him by.
However, those hopes were not destined to come true. Two Republic ships had recently appeared in orbit. With great difficulty — and the loss of one Munificent-class star frigate — the enemy's landing had been successfully repelled. Part of the Republic army that managed to reach the planet was now trapped in one of its gorges, though it had not yet been possible to destroy them completely.
Maruk dared not attack from the air — his fighters were needed in orbit, and his own air wing consisted of only two hundred Vultures.
A lone Lucrehulk without a central module hung in orbit, guarded by four Munificents. The Republic, having been repelled, seemed in no hurry to attack again — apparently waiting for reinforcements.
"I have to do this. I have to do this…" Maruk repeated to himself.
He knew what had happened to one of his "colleagues." The man had been given a simple task — to recapture an outpost on a backwater planet from Republic forces and regain control of a ship-fuel processing plant.
As Maruk learned, the attempt had failed miserably. The Republic Army had managed to drive off the droids, inflicting serious damage on the squadron of that arrogant fool. He had fled the battlefield in disgrace after losing just a few ships.
"Loser. He can kiss his career goodbye. Oh, sure — they would've forgiven him for the defeat, but losing that much money... I mean, droids and ships — that's unheard of!"
***
The promised ships arrived at the end of the first day — two brand-new Acclamators, with crews consisting entirely of clones. Each carried three full regiments, supported by twelve AT-TEs and twenty-four LAAT gunships. The bonus was that each transport carried one hundred and fifty V-19 fighters, allowing me to leave four squadrons at the base as guards.
After quickly loading the troops, we ascended into orbit. Several hyperspace jumps awaited us ahead. Once we coordinated our movements with the captains of the other ships, we set off.
I never cease to be amazed by the flight systems here. You can reach some remote corner of the galaxy in a couple of days — but if you need to deviate from the route, the journey can take weeks or even months. For example, if we flew directly to the planet, the flight time would be a whopping seventy hours. But by traveling twice the distance, we'd spend only fourteen. A paradox, indeed.
After making the jump, I retreated to my cabin and strictly forbade anyone to disturb me. In the meantime, I intended to taste the forbidden fruit — that is, to start exploring the contents of the infocrystal.
I was hooked from the very first pages. Admittedly, the language was sometimes highly technical, understandable only to people of a certain profession. Yet I still grasped the main ideas.
The Rinaun family had managed to compile an impressively vast collection of materials — descriptions of ships of various classes, their strengths and weaknesses, their methods of use; analyses of local wars and conflicts involving the fleet; ship maneuvers and tactical formations.
There were huge amounts of information compiled by different people — from squadron commanders to ship captains — each providing detailed descriptions of actions and tactical advice. Maps, diagrams, tables, lists, schematics, and much more.
I suspected that this was only a partial excerpt — Rinaun had obviously deleted the family secrets — but I wasn't offended. After all, who am I to him? Even with this amount of data, it would take me at least a month just to read it all, let alone understand it. Goodbye, healthy sleep. Ah, I could use some coffee right now…
***
But everything comes to an end eventually. Our flight did too — we arrived in the system. Two Acclamators hovered nearby, one of them belching clouds of smoke into space from a hangar on the starboard side.
Standing on the bridge beside Captain Ragnos, I looked at the planet on the surveillance screens. Hmm… an ice ball. However, there weren't as many CIS ships as I had feared.
"All ships, launch fighters! Then we'll close in! Target the enemy's 'Bagel,' then torpedo the remaining ships while they're disoriented!" I issued my first order of the battle.
"Ahsoka," I turned to my student, "get ready. As soon as we establish contact with General Squater, we'll head to his ship to coordinate our actions."
"Yes, Master, don't worry. I'll do my best!"
The Togruta assured me, already bundled in fur clothing specially purchased from the inhabitants of Donovia — only the hood remained to be pulled up. I'd practically forced her to pack it in advance, since we didn't know the conditions in orbit, and changing in the middle of a battle wasn't exactly practical. She'd accepted my reasoning — reluctantly — and was now sulking a little. Still, the upcoming opportunity to "fight" was clearly improving Snips mood with every passing moment.
Meanwhile, the Lucrehulk was desperately trying to fight back, but the combined fire of three Acclamators quickly overloaded its shields. It must have been an old model. The CIS cruisers initially tried to resist but soon retreated, jumping to hyperspace. The fighters quickly eliminated the remaining Vultures, now left without charging stations, and the battle in space was over.
Our squadron approached Squater's ships, and after exchanging greetings, Ahsoka and I boarded the flagship Acclamator aboard a gunboat.
***
Master Jedi Finion Squater did not hide his joy — reinforcements had finally arrived. The old Kubaz had been worried about his Padawan, a young Verpine named Kam'archik, who had been cut off from the main forces for several days along with two regiments. Breaking through the dense formation of droid fighters had been impossible. Many gunboats had been lost, and the general dared not risk the remaining ones, hoping instead for help from the Council.
And now — praise the Force — three ships had arrived at once. The way they had dealt with the enemy squadron gave him renewed hope for victory.
Hurrying to the hangar, the small Jedi Master barely made it in time for the arrival of the gunboat carrying the general commanding the reinforcements. The gunboat's doors swung open. The first to emerge were clones in unusually colored armor, bearing an unfamiliar insignia on their chests and shoulder plates. Then a stout figure of a man clad in blue-colored armor and an imposing appearance stepped onto the hangar floor. He was followed by a smaller figure wrapped in a fur cloak, from which only a large-eyed face peeked out.
And then… Kubaz blinked a few times, but all seven of his senses confirmed what he saw — two B-1 droids, painted white and red, stepped out of the landing compartment. A pair of clones in the same greenish-gray armor brought up the rear.
The armored figure removed his helmet, revealing a young man of about twenty-five.
"Greetings, Master Squater. I'm Jedi Knight Mikore Vikt. I was sent by the Jedi Council in response to your request for reinforcements, to assist in the capture of this planet. This is Ahsoka Tano, my Padawan." He nodded toward his companion.
"I'm glad to see you so soon," Squatter replied, bowing slightly. "It's good that the Council responded so quickly to my request." He tried to sense the young knight's strength in the Force. "Let's go to the command post — I'll tell you everything I know. But please hurry — my Padawan on the planet needs urgent help!"
"I'll do my best to launch an attack as soon as possible. That's exactly why I was sent here," the Jedi nodded.
Master Finion turned and hurried toward the command post. The Jedi and his Padawan followed, accompanied by one droid, while the clones and the second B-1 remained near the gunboat.
***
One of the clone lieutenants in the hangar approached the newcomers. He was surprised to see fellow clones — and even more surprised that they were accompanied by one of the CIS droids.
"Where are you guys from? And why's your armor painted that color? And what's this tin can doing here?"
"We're the Thirteenth Legion, under General Vikt's command," one of the soldiers replied with dignity. "And this is our trophy." The clone patted the droid on the shoulder.
"What? What?" the droid exclaimed, turning its head.
"Nothing. Shut up."
"Roger Roger!"