Li Norega swiftly executed Solo's orders. Four red circles appeared on the holographic map, marking the landing sites used by the Confederacy in their two previous assaults on Donovia.
These sites were all fifteen kilometers from the base, situated in four separate valleys that converged at the base's location. This strategic position controlled the only ground route between the mountains and the plains.
Two of the landing sites were nearly adjacent, forming a flat area four kilometers wide and six kilometers long.
The other two valleys were relatively narrow. One led to the plains, while the other penetrated deep into the mountains, ending in a dead end.
Their base guarded the only ground route connecting the mountains to the surrounding plains.
Solo also noted that the Confederacy base they had initially destroyed, though slightly lower in elevation, had also controlled this same route.
This indicated that the Separatists had long sought to control this area to dominate the meager trade between local native settlements.
Solo ordered, "Sumelagi, mark these locations as high-probability landing zones."
Sumelagi pointed to the blank areas on the map and asked, "General, how can you be certain the robots will land here again? Wouldn't they choose a closer or more distant location?"
"Impossible," Solo shook his head, explaining. "Tactical droids are highly efficient, but they lack emotion and flexibility. They can't comprehend unconventional tactics. To them, if a landing site has ever been effective, there's no reason to change it. Their logic doesn't account for the premise of adopting alternative strategies."
"Master, since we know where they'll land, why don't we prepare a little surprise for them?" Ahsoka interjected, her eyes sparkling with combat anticipation.
"Good idea." Solo opened his eyes, emerging from meditation. He stood and walked to the map. "The enemy has likely already figured out our defense system, including our anti-ship weapon deployments. Since they won't come to us, we'll go to them."
His fingers landed on two concealed positions on the map. "Commander Bram, can you transfer two J-1 proton cannons and their ammunition to these locations? The firing sectors from these positions will perfectly cover the landing sites."
"Absolutely, General," Bram replied immediately. "We can use Nu-class shuttles for transport. It's just the gunners—"
"Select four volunteers—two soldiers per cannon—and prepare speeders for evacuation," Solo ordered solemnly. "Additionally, assign a B-1 battle droid company to each cannon as guards against enemy reconnaissance."
"Yes, General," Bram acknowledged, immediately summoning a clone trooper with a hand gesture. He handed the trooper a data pad and gave him whispered instructions. The soldier immediately hurried out of the Command to carry out the order.
Li Norega's fingers flew over the keyboard, and yellow markers representing the proton cannons quickly appeared on the map. He had already begun calculating the firing sectors, adapting to the task far faster than Solo had anticipated.
Next, Solo continued giving orders. "Ensign, create an operational model using past landing data to predict the enemy's advance route."
"Already working on it, General," Li Norega replied without looking up.
Solo's gaze swept across the valley passageways on the map before he turned to Bram. "Do we have any landmines?"
"No, but we can retrofit proton cannon shells into remote detonators. The cannons won't be fully loaded anyway, so we can divert some shells. Reconnaissance troops familiar with the terrain can quickly lay them out."
Solo fell silent for a moment. He understood the unspoken words hanging in the air: the gunners lurking at the landing site, deep within enemy territory, would essentially be suicide squads.
"Does the end justify the means?"
"The Hutts—"
Captain KK-12-H-9237 strode into the reserve barracks, his steps steady and purposeful as the commander of the Seventh Regiment's First Company.
His company was tasked with guarding the Command Post, while the main forces of the Seventh Regiment were scattered across the base, manning various defensive positions.
"Brothers, we have a dangerous mission that requires volunteers—four proton cannon operators."
"Captain, what's the mission?" asked KL-12-W-128, the platoon leader of the second row, removing his helmet with a curious glint in his eyes.
"The Command Post wants to deploy proton cannons at the robot landing site. You'll have a chance to teach those tin cans a lesson."
"Hutts!" a lieutenant exclaimed excitedly. "That sounds awesome!"
"Don't even think about running. Platoon leaders stay with their companies to command." The captain patted him on the shoulder before barking, "Thirty-Five! Seven! Forty-Nine! Fifty-Three! Step out!"
Four clone troopers swiftly formed a line, their stances ramrod straight.
"You'll be operating the proton cannons, two men per cannon," the captain explained the mission details. "A B-1 battle droid company will provide escort, and speeders will be your evacuation transport."
Fifty-Three quipped, "Commander, if you'll pardon my bluntness, this isn't a dangerous mission—it's a vacation."
"Alright, enough chatter! The artillery is ready on Platform Six. Move out immediately! Double time!"
The clone troopers saluted in unison, formed ranks, and sprinted out of the barracks.
The military conference at Command continued. In the holographic projection, the figures of Captain Lagnos of the Acclamator-class assault ship Dingyuan and Captain Dane Jegerod of the Venator-class Star Destroyer Dawn Blossom stood out clearly.
"General, what is our mission?" Lagnos asked. "If the enemy has superior numbers, we won't be able to prevent their landing."
"You don't need to stop the landing," Solo replied firmly. "The core mission is to protect the Fuel Factory in orbit around the gas giant. You and Captain Jegerod will position your ships to blockade all approach routes and prevent the factory from being captured. We'll contain the enemy on the ground, and reinforcements are expected to arrive soon. Just be prepared to receive them."
"Yes, Commander," they answered in unison.
"Additionally," Solo added after a moment's thought, "the enemy is likely to jam communications. During the battle, you may need to make autonomous decisions without waiting for Command orders."
"Would you like to personally command from the bridge?"
"No need," Solo said with conviction. "This is where I'm needed most. I can sense the battlefield's dynamics through the Force, and this is the critical position."
Someone suddenly asked, "General, could we deploy the AT-TEs from the hangar? Their main guns are powerful and would surely be useful."
"No," Solo shook his head. "The AT-TEs' mobility is far inferior to the AATs, making them vulnerable to aerial attacks. We can't provide fighter escorts, and walkers are extremely fragile during takeoff. The best plan is to keep them as reserves and deploy them at critical moments in the battle."
"That makes sense," the group nodded, and they began actively offering more tactical suggestions. The atmosphere in the Command grew increasingly solemn and orderly.
Ahsoka stood beside Solo, watching him sit cross-legged on a crate in meditation.
The Togruta girl could sense his focus and confidence through the Force, but there was also something else, indescribable.
But she didn't dwell on it. More pressing concerns weighed on her mind.
On one hand, the battle was about to begin, and she could finally have some fun. On the other, her Master had strictly forbidden her from going to the front lines this time.
This left her somewhat disheartened. Even her Master's comforting words, "Everything has its time," did little to ease her anxiety.
Suddenly, the steady hum of the base's internal communication was shattered by Solo's voice: "Attention! Enemy warships have entered orbit!"
Everyone held their breath.
Moments later, Sumelagi, who had taken over the operator's station and put on the communication headset, reported with a trace of urgency: "The enemy fleet has reached orbital positions. Confirmed count—four Lucrehulk-class battleships, twelve Munificent-class frigates, and one Providence-class Star Destroyer!"
"It begins."
Solo slowly stood up, his voice calm.
"Commander, the enemy is jamming our communications!" Miro's fingers flew over the communication panel.
"It doesn't matter. Captain Ragnos and Captain Jejerod know what to do." Solo turned to ask, "Is the base's internal communication stable?"
"Stable, Commander. No interference detected."
Solo walked to the communication terminal and took the headset from the operator. After a moment of silence, he ordered, "Connect to the common channel."
After confirming the channel was open, he took a deep breath and began issuing orders into the microphone—
Sergeant KC-13Q-341 was observing the enemy ships in orbit through binoculars, their massive metallic contours flickering on the horizon.
"Four doughnuts," he reported, "twelve tadpoles, and one massive hulk I've never seen before!"
"This is no small fight, Sergeant," KS-13RT-7041 said, rotating the tripod-mounted blaster cannon with anticipation. "Are we going hot?"
"Don't get too optimistic, Number Forty-One," KS-13RT-7047 replied, calmly loading high-explosive shells into the launcher's magazine.
Suddenly, Command's voice came over the helmet's communication channel: "Attention! General Viktor will now address you."
After a brief pause, Solo's voice rang clear:
"Troopers! I could wax poetic about your bravery, your fearlessness, your honor, your duty. But you already have these things deeply ingrained in your hearts, even without me.
So I'll keep it short: those tin cans have come to visit. You know what to do!"
Sergeant KC-13Q-341 roared orders, "Did you all hear me, you little rascals?! Beat those tin cans until they're pissing their circuits!"
"Commander, those are robots— I mean—"
"Ahem, then tear them all apart into scrap!"
"Yes, Commander!"
The clone troopers in the trench responded in unison, their fighting spirit surging.
"Attention! Switch to internal channel! The enemy has begun landing!" The company commander's voice immediately followed, echoing in the soldiers' helmets.
Number Forty-Seven crouched in the trench, his hand resting on the cold casing of his grenade launcher, his eyes sharp. "Let them get closer. When they do, we'll tear them all apart into scrap."
TX-07 observed the planet where the fleet had arrived after its hyperspace jump.
Donovia.
That's what the files said, but to a robot, the planet's code ER-23-FJH-521 was far more meaningful than "Donovia."
Organic beings had a habit of giving objects illogical names that conveyed no information. To TX-07, this practice was inefficient, but now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters.
Its core mission was simple:
Destroy the Republic Base on the planet and seize control of the Fuel Factory in orbit around the Gas Giant.
Nothing else matters right now.
"Report! No enemy warships detected in orbit, but there are signs of ship activity around the Gas Giant," the robot operator announced in its mechanical voice.
"All combat warships, this is an order! Execute QW-2213 Maneuver, occupy orbital positions, block all approach routes to the enemy base, and protect the transport ship." TX-07 stood with his mechanical arms clasped behind his back, his voice flat and emotionless. "Initiate communication jamming. Frigates TY-324 and TY-326, execute Protocol DA-213/1."
"Roger, transmitting orders now," replied the Captain of the Providence-class Star Destroyer.
On the bridge, robot operators precisely tapped the interactive displays, their movements synchronized as they executed the commands.
Their programming perfectly aligned with their mission, leaving no room for error.
As TX-07 watched the ships gradually take their positions, a sense of satisfaction for "order" surged within him.
The tactical droid observed the ships entering their designated positions.
The Lucrehulk-class battleship descended to low orbit, remaining beyond the range of Republic anti-aircraft fire while still within the planet's gravitational field.
This was the optimal deployment, designed to defend against potential enemy warship attacks. By forcing enemy vessels to drop out of hyperspace beyond the planet's gravity well, it provided ample time to assess enemy strength and prepare counterattacks.
Behind the battle warships, Munificent-class frigates formed two staggered parallel lines. This formation not only shielded the transport ships from potential space attacks but also allowed their powerful communication systems to effectively jam enemy communications. By flooding the airwaves with meaningless data streams, they could block all channels while simultaneously serving as ground control stations for the robot forces.
Twenty minutes later, all ships were in position.
Four tactical droids materialized as holographic projections before TX-07. "Immediately deploy battle droids at coordinates FG-342, FD-244, FA-434, and FW-356. Upon landing, attack the Republic base."
"Commencing operation," the droids replied in unison. The holographic projections vanished.
The transport ship's cargo bay doors slowly opened, and countless battle droids poured into the landing craft like a tidal wave. The stage was set for a bloody battle.
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