Deriel Quins peered intently through the wall of rain as he performed his duties as a sentry. The rest of the platoon was resting.
A detachment of the Jabiim militia had settled in a small natural hollow in the soggy ground. Most of them were men in their thirties, often withfamilies and children—simple laborers barely keeping their heads above water, living on thepoverty line. But there were also many young men who had been swept up in the wave of militaryromanticism, like Quins himself. When Alto Stratus overthrew the corrupt Congress and seized power, the people rallied around him. Help had finally arrived in Jabiim. Not from theRepublic, but from the CIS. The Separatists sentfood, weapons, medicine…
Not everyone agreed with this, and some traitors remained loyal to the Hutt Republic. The NationalSelf-Defense Forces formed by Stratus were intended precisely to fight the renegades. And at that moment, they were on the front lines, blocking a small handful of Republic soldiers who had brazenly invaded their planet.
"Commander, it looks like the droids areattacking," reported Quins, sitting on the edge of a makeshift trench. Of course, he had heard thatbinoculars existed, but such equipment was rare and reserved for higher-ranking commanders. He didn't complain.
All the fighters had received mismatched but sturdy suits and everything they needed for battle—reliable blaster carbines and rifles, ammunition, even grenades.
"Headquarters said that a general attack is scheduled for seven o'clock. It's high time to wipethe floor with these insolent bastards," replied Harm, his platoon commander, a forty-year-old foreman of a mining crew.
"What about us?"
"We're staying in position. Hundreds of thousands of droids will be enough."
"Rumor has it they have these… what are they called… vo, dajai." The second youngster in the unit, Santos, adjusted his helmet awkwardly.
"Jedi, you fool!" one of the older fighters corrected him.
The others laughed, enjoying the simple joke.
"I've never even seen them! I don't even know how to spell that word," the young man muttered defensively.
"Well, you've got that right. I don't believe they exist at all! They're supposed to wear robes, but I haven't seen a single one yet."
"Is it true they steal babies?"
"And they can cut a person in half with their laser sabers!"
" I've heard that before! How about this: they grow their soldiers in barrels!"
"The guys from the neighboring platoon went on a reconnaissance mission—they say the Republicans have huge four-legged monsters!"
"They're probably lying." Harm shrugged. "Theyalso talk about huge houses on wheels…"
Ahead, where the droids had gone, the sounds of battle grew louder and louder. And then… the ground began to tremble.
"What… what is that? An earthquake?"
"Quins, what the hell is going on?" Harm stood at the bottom of the ditch, ready to climb up.
"Something's coming! I can't make it out!" Quins shouted, trying in vain to understand what wasapproaching. "Something… huge!"
Suddenly, an unprecedented combat vehicle burst into view, breaking through the curtain of rain—spitting blaster fire in all directions. It was enormous, with colossal wheels. How huge! That was Quins's last thought. A heartbeat later, thecombat behemoth crossed the hollow, sweeping him and the other militiamen away with itsmassive wheels, grinding them into the mud and turning the entire platoon into a bloody smear…
***
Alpha-Seventeen silently slid down the slope into the ravine, sinking neck-deep into water and mud.
"Well?"
"Everything's ready. How much time is left?"
"One minute!"
"Blow it."
One of the RC clones silently pressed a button on the remote. A small explosion rumbled in the distance, followed by another… and then a full-force blast.
"The frigate is finished," nodded Chuck, Seventeen's deputy for the operation. "Well done, Puck!"
Seventeen grimaced. Although he had never agreed to that nickname, the other fighters kept using it—naturally, at the general's suggestion. The clones of the Legion generally spoke highly of General Vikt, and some even respected him. Still, Seventeen wasn't in a hurry to make conclusions—he knew too little about the Jedi to judge whether he was trustworthy.
After they arrived on the planet, the scouts rushed in all directions, and soon data began flowing intoheadquarters. The Granite Base, as the stronghold was officially designated, was located in the northern hemisphere of the planet, on one of the "continents"—Handuin—a slight elevation compared to the rest of the planet's surface. But even it had muddy "puddles," "lakes," and even"rivers." Forty kilometers from the base lay a relatively small town with a population of no more than sixty thousand. And right next to it was one of the mines. But that wasn't the saboteurs' target.
Their target was a Munificent-class frigate quietly moored at a landing site near the town. According to the scouts, the Separatists were using the ship as a command post and communications hub. It was effectively the control center for the entire region. So, naturally, it was to be blown up.
Lucky and Devil… Hutt, Seventeen didn't evenrealize when he'd started using those nicknames… went on other missions. Thirteen was supposed to blow up a power plant near another mine, cutting off its power supply, while Alpha-Fourteen led his team to locate local Jabiim loyalists aligned with the Republic.
"Let's move," commanded Seventeen.
Holding their weapons above their heads, the clones waded through the water. Unnoticed by anyone, they left the sabotage area and headed toward the agreed meeting point.
***
Cordelia strode decisively into the town hall.
"Where is Alto?" she asked the nearest Nimbus guarding the leader of the Jabiim Nationalists.
"In his office."
She nodded and headed for the stairs. Climbing to the second floor, she approached the door and pushed it open with force, storming inside like a hurricane.
"Cordelia." Stratus—well acquainted with his cousin's temperament—took it in stride. "What brings you here?"
"I heard you're having problems?"
"Yes. Those damn Republicans are well entrenched, and they're using good tactics. What's more, their military equipment is superior to what the CIS sent us. As a result, we haven't been ableto accomplish anything in four days. During the assault on their positions at Handuin, we alreadylost three thousand militiamen and more than seventy thousand droids. We'll have to issue a new call for volunteers. And it wouldn't hurt to ask the Confederacy for reinforcements."
"Dear cousin, let me take care of this problem! I'll pack these bastards into the appropriate containers in no time!"
"What will you need?"
"Six hundred thousand droids, fifty thousandmilitiamen, and two companies of Nimbuses."
"Isn't that a bit much for a little over forty thousand bastards?"
"You said yourself they're good fighters. It's time to use all our forces and kick them off the planet before their reinforcements arrive."
"Just remember, Cordelia, they have nowhere to retreat. They'll fight to the end."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Then do it," Stratus said, nodding and massaging his temples wearily.